“I see you managed to get it,” I said, taking the paper Cartier bag from him and quickly opening the red box. The ring inside was impressive, even more beautiful in real life than on the photo.
“I guess you and Emily have resolved all your issues?”
“Yes, your guess is correct. But don’t think I’ll ask you to be my best man.”
He laughed. “The thought hadn’t crossed my mind. But speaking of things getting serious, I think it’s time I told you—”
“Please don’t. I mean it. Don’t ruin my day.”
“You and I are more alike than you imagine, Ryan.”
I gave him a long stare and sighed. “So, are you going to be my stepfather?”
His expression became serious. Too serious. “I hadn’t thought of that. But I do intend to propose to your mother.” He reached inside his jacket and brought out a small velvet-lined box. “Do you think she’ll like this ring?”
“Oh, holy shit!”
“It’s not that bad.”
“You know I’m not talking about the fucking ring. After all, I haven’t even seen it yet.” I opened the box and gasped in shock, but then quickly regained my senses and slammed the box shut.
“What? You don’t think she’ll like it?” Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
“Don’t be ludicrous.” The classic-style ring was made of platinum, with a huge diamond sat on top. Money definitely hadn’t been an object. “If you’d given her a simple gold ring, she still would’ve liked it. But that’s not the problem here. My lack of trust in you is the real issue. I’m warning you. I’ll kick the shit out of you if you hurt her.”
Mike visibly relaxed and put the box back into his pocket. “Don’t worry. That won’t happen. I love her too much and, like you, want her to be happy. But I won’t let you interfere in our relationship,” he said firmly.
When Mike left, I went back to the balcony. Wearing my shirt, her hair tied in an impromptu bun, Emily was a much more stunning sight than the Eiffel Tower behind her. I leaned in, raised her chin and licked the little blob of jam stuck on the corner of her mouth.
A better moment would probably never come, so I went down on one knee and passed her the luxury box. She gasped in surprise, her fingers shaking as she opened it. Her eyes welled with tears of happiness.
“I love you more than anything in the world, Emily, and you know it’s true,” I started, cupping her cheeks. Her eyes locked onto mine. “And I’ll always love you. You know I’m yours, in body and in spirit. Marry me.”
A tear of happiness rolled down her cheek as she said, “You already proposed to me in Finland and I said yes.”
“True, but I didn’t have a ring then.”
“Nothing would make me happier than being your wife, Ryan.”
I merged my lips with hers and savored her taste, which still had a hint of strawberry jam to it. I pulled away from her only once I’d run out of breath.
“Am I not too young for you?” She asked—clearly trying to tease me—her eyes filled with playful sparks.
“You’re old enough. I want us to get married and have kids, a girl and a boy and then another boy,” I replied, while putting the ring on her finger.
“Are you being serious right now? Let me take your temperature.”
“Love makes people do crazy things. The truth is, I was apart from you long enough. Those were the most nightmarish days of my life.”
“I want to be with you as long as I live.”
“I think we can arrange that somehow.” I kissed her again, my heart beating furiously from the emotion.
Emily examined the ring. “It’s so beautiful… and so big. You must’ve spent a fortune—”
I put my index finger on her lips to shush her. “You’re my colorful butterfly.”
She smiled as another tear escaped her eyes. I wiped it with the inside of my thumb. “Any woman would be envious. I’m marrying an amazing guy, who’s offering me his heart and giving me the most wonderful ring. And if that’s not enough, we have a view of the Eiffel Tower in the background! Pinch me.”
“What?”
“Pinch me, so I know I’m not dreaming,” she repeated and, since I just stood there stupidly, pinched her own arm. “It’s real. God, I’m so happy.”
19
Ryan
Hand in hand, we visited the sights of Paris, including the famous museums, Musée d’Orsay, Centre Pompidou and the Louvre. We walked around, smiles pasted on our faces, enjoying the happiness.
The happiness of being together. Forever!
Love, sweet love… Who would’ve thought I was capable of loving anyone so much?
Next morning, we set off for Provence in the Porsche Panamera I’d rented. By the time we arrived at Emily’s house, it was almost 8 pm.
Her entire family greeted us at the front door. Emily’s grandfather, Jean-Paul, seemed like a very reserved man. He examined me carefully, trying to size me up.
I gave Chantal a bouquet of roses and she smiled politely as she thanked me. Her eyes were blue and her smile was warm. She and her granddaughter had so many similarities. This gave me the feeling we’d known each other for a long time.
Fabien was a little shy at first, but gradually relaxed as the night went on.
The women went into the kitchen, and the men sat around the table. It was stacked with all sorts of French delicacies—cheeses, cold cuts, salads, asparagus with ham, avocado with crabs, and more.
Jean-Paul slapped me on the shoulder and asked, “Do you eat meat?”
“I sure do. I love it.” My fiancée might not be too pleased with my answer, but I wanted to be honest.
“I’m glad to hear that, son. There’s nothing tastier than a juicy steak. Real men need protein. Let vegetarians remain the weaklings that they are—”
“Jean-Paul, get Ryan something to drink,” Chantal shouted from the kitchen. “Instead of…,” she continued but trailed off. She’d probably meant to say something like ‘instead of giving a sermon’. I was certain Emily wouldn’t approve of her grandfather’s words.
Once all of us were seated at the table, our glasses were filled with fragrant red wine. Fabien, had to content himself with iced tea.
“Once again, welcome to our home,” Chantal toasted and we raised our glasses in cheers.
I began the job of dismantling the huge steak on my plate. Steak au poivre, as Emily’s grandmother called it, was the stuff of dreams.
It was high time I started learning French, even though, truth be told, languages weren’t one of my strengths. And I’d never thought I’d need to learn a foreign language. In general, Americans had it easy—wherever we went in the world, most people spoke English.
But now I wanted to know more. I would’ve liked to understand Emily’s native language. Sometimes, in the most intense moments of our lovemaking, she spoke in French.
Christ, it was so hot. But I was damned if I knew what she was saying, other than ‘mon amour’, which I know means ‘my love.’
I tried to repeat ‘steak au poivre’, but it didn’t come out very well. That fucking rolled R—I had no idea if I’d ever be able to master it.
“It’s good you’re trying to learn French, son,” Jean-Paul remarked, his face displaying great pleasure.
The landline phone started ringing. Jean-Paul excused himself and went over to take the call. He started speaking in French and the entire table suddenly fell silent. Fabien stopped eating, whereas Emily and her grandmother looked at each other meaningfully.
What the hell was going on?
“Is there a problem?” I asked Emily, intertwining my fingers into hers.
Our eyes met for an instant. She opened her lips as if she wanted to say something but stopped herself before uttering a single word. Her gaze moved back to her grandfather.
“Emily, you’ve gone completely pale. Will something tell me what’s going on?” I asked, glancing inquisitively at Chantal and Fabien. One more reason to learn fuc
king French. I hated being the only one who didn’t understand.
Jean-Paul ended the call and sat back at the table. “It was Marcel Gavoin, the chief of police. Gabriel Gayet, the karate instructor who tried to hurt Emily will finally be put behind bars. His own girlfriend brought a charge against him. She told Gavoin that Gabriel had beaten and raped her numerous times.”
Fuck, that Gabriel turned out to be one dangerous motherfucker. I instinctively put my arm around Emily’s shoulder and pulled her closer to me.
“I hope he rots in jail,” she whispered.
“Gavoin believes he won’t get away with it this time. They’ll lock him up and throw away the key. People like him don’t deserve to be free to walk the streets.”
I fully agreed with his opinion. I pitied Gabriel’s girlfriend for everything she’d been through. To me, using violence against a woman was the lowliest thing any man could do. But I was also glad that Emily managed to give him the slip. And now she was completely free of danger.
The rest of the evening passed in talks about our forthcoming wedding, which we wanted to have in Florida. We then changed the subject to football and finally touched on the secret of French wine. According to Jean-Paul, it was all down to the rich soil and nice weather.
Aromatic red wine continued to pour into our glasses. Everyone was in high spirits. We were polishing off our second bottle when Jean-Paul boasted that the wine was from his own cellar.
“Have you ever considered selling it?” I asked curiously.
“My vineyard’s too small. I make just enough for us and perhaps a close friend or two.”
“For my husband, winemaking is a hobby,” Chantal chimed in. “We’re glad you like it.”
“When I grow up and start working, I’ll buy you a big vineyard, Granddad. We’ll bottle the wine, order beautiful labels and sell it online,” Fabien said, his eyes narrowing dreamily.
“Why wait until then? We could do it right now. I’ll buy the vineyard and you’ll take care of the wine,” I suggested enthusiastically, with Jean-Paul giving me a surprised look.
“You don’t need to do that for me, Ryan. You already have enough on your plate.”
“You don’t need to decide right now but think about it. It’s no skin off my back. I wouldn’t mind doing something for the people who raised the woman I love.” I kissed Emily on the cheek. She blushed pink. Was she embarrassed by displays of affection in front of her relatives?
“The only thing that matters to us is that you love her,” Chantal interjected. A lone tear fell from the edge of her eye. She wiped it quickly and smiled.
“Grandma…,” Emily said, her voice breaking.
“I’m fine, just so many emotions.”
Jean-Paul reached over and took his wife’s hand. “I’m thankful to God for giving us such great grandkids. I’m also thankful that the most beautiful girl in Provence agreed to become my wife and has, for more than forty years now, put up with my difficult character. Our marriage hasn’t always been easy, and the reason for that is me and our irresponsible daughter.”
Chantal looked at him lovingly. She was a beautiful woman, and it was obvious she used to be even better looking in her younger years.
“It’s like I’m watching one of Grandma’s tearjerker soaps, the ones she religiously follows on TV,” Fabien declared, making all of us laugh.
Now feeling more comfortable around me, Fabien started swamping me with questions. How did I manage to combine music and lyrics so well? Would I be able to give him a guitar lesson and listen to him play? Is the band going on a world tour any time soon? He was a curious, intelligent boy, who somehow managed to get under my skin. Perhaps it was only because he was Emily’s brother, but I felt close to him. I wanted to care for him and help him develop in the direction he’d chosen for his future. I had more money than I needed or could ever spend. So, when I realized he wanted to go to college, I resolved to support him in any way I could. I’d help him make his dreams come true.
20
Ryan
Emily’s room was a physical representation of her character. It was decorated with white furniture and had colorful wallpaper with butterflies and big flowers on the wall behind the bed’s headboard. A small desk sat exactly in front of the window.
“When I was little, I loved sitting at the desk and looking at the landscape through the window. Green fields colored by lavender, hills covered with vines. Wherever my eyes turned, there was greenery and peace,” Emily said as she ran her fingers across the wooden surface.
“Provence is indeed a fairytale place.” I cupped her face and kissed her gently, intertwining my tongues with hers. Her sweet taste and scent intoxicated me, made me feel whole, filled me with so many positive emotions.
I broke off the kiss and ordered softly, “Take off your clothes. I want to make love to you.”
She began to undo her blouse. Button after button, more and more of her porcelain skin revealed itself to me—delicate, smooth, perfect. The blouse fell to the floor and her bra followed it soon after. Her breasts were ideally sized—filling my hands and even spilling slightly from my palms. Her nipples were the color of rosebuds. Every time I saw them, my mouth filled with saliva.
“Aren’t you going to get undressed?” Her sweet voice brought me out of the trance I’d fallen into. I pulled the T-shirt over my head and flung it to the floor.
Her fingers undid the button and zip of her jeans. Her thumbs pulled the denim down her hips, taking her lace panties along for the ride. She kicked them aside and stood in all her naked glory in front of me.
Jesus, Emily Delon was a real beauty, a goddess who’d fully captured me, in body and in spirit.
A slight smile appeared on her face. She knelt in front of me and started undoing my jeans. Soon after, my cock was free from the briefs too. I was rock-hard, and my heart was filled with so much love.
Her lips started sucking my cock, her tongue swirling around it. Her delicate hand gripped the base of my dick and began rubbing it gently in slow upward and downward movements.
Pure bliss.
“It’s so good, so fucking good,” I hissed through my teeth.
Her tongue slid along my shaft. She cupped my balls and then sucked each one into her naughty mouth. I didn’t know where she’d learned all those tricks, but her blowjobs were amazing.
Emily inhaled my scent, closed her eyes and moaned.
I grabbed a fistful of her hair and took control of the rhythm. In and out, again and again, into her warm, soft mouth—welcoming, giving, magical. I let out a big groan.
I pulled out of her. “I so badly want to fuck your little cunt. It’s all mine—only I will ever possess it.”
I carried her to the bed and gently laid her down. My mouth quickly found hers and they locked in a wet, breathtaking kiss. I grabbed her breast and squeezed its hard tip between my thumb and index finger, making her moan loudly.
“You need to be quieter, honey. Do you want your granddad to hear us and come knocking on the door?”
Her eyes widened in shock. “Well, don’t make me scream then.”
“I can’t,” I replied, smiling. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to. The noises you make during sex are music to my ears. And you know how much I love music. But now, just this once, we need to make an effort to keep the noise down.”
My lips covered her right erect nipple and sucked on it. She looked at me and moaned, this time more softly. My tongue swirled around the pink tip, making it harden even more.
I moved back to open her legs. “I think I’m still hungry.” I bent down and dug my head between her hips.
“Please… Ryan.”
“I want to us to live for millions of years, because one lifetime won’t be enough to get my fill of you.” My lips played with the engorged bundle of nerves for a while and then my tongue sank into her wet pussy.
“Oh, holy mother of God!”
Amused, I lifted my head, my thumb continuing to rub her clit, and
said, “Let’s make one thing clear, the holy mother of God has nothing to do with this.”
Our eyes met. I saw hers were unfocused by arousal. I could tell she was close to the end.
“I agree,” she murmured and covered her face with her hand. “Oh, Ryan, it’s amazing.”
My tongue sank back deep into her. I moved it around, continuing the sweet torture of her clit. Emily came, trying to muffle her screams with one hand.
“That was really difficult,” she whispered once she’d regained her senses.
“What was?”
“Not screaming. I can’t stay silent when everything is erupting inside me.”
I laughed and kissed her on the nose. I positioned myself on top of her and slid inside her warm pussy. I started thrusting, gradually increasing the tempo, but the bed began squeaking in protest.
“What a piece of shit bed. We have to buy you another one tomorrow.”
“I haven’t heard it squeak before.”
“Because you’ve never slept with a man on it.” I winked at her and she giggled.
I stood up, lifting her in my arms, put her down on her feet and slapped her ass. “There’s nothing funny about that. I want to be able to relax in my own bed and fuck my fiancée. Being unable to is killing me.”
She caressed my cheek. “I love you.”
God, I’d never get bored of hearing those words. “I love you too, babe. But I’m pissed at your fucking bed.” I was dying to fuck her. My skin was burning as if I was engulfed in flames. “Kneel in front of the bed and rest your elbows on the mattress.”
She obeyed my order. Fuck, her ass was a thing of beauty, the left cheek slightly pink from my slap.
I knelt behind her and slapped her again. My middle finger sank inside her, making me growl, “You’re wet, babe, so wet for me.”
I leaned in, first licking her clit. Next I moved up to her pussy lips and then further up along her hole. Mine.
“Relax, I don’t want you tensed up.” I’d soon possess her ass too, but not now. We needed to be alone, so I could get her ready in peace.
Beautiful Devil: The Rockstar Duet Book 2 Page 12
