by Cynthia Dane
“I know.” Seth was sated downstairs, but upstairs he kept his eyes on his glistening seed, coating her moon-white skin and toying with the fine hairs on her mound. “You look good in my seed.”
She tried to laugh, but didn’t have the energy. All she could do was run her finger along her wet slit and draw a long, lingering line through his seed. There was enough on her finger for her to lick when it came back up to her lips.
“You taste good,” she said. “Next time, come in my mouth. Then paint me with your seed on my face.”
Seth needed a cigarette and a hard drink.
Chapter 15
MIGUEL
Miguel had his fair share of French winter truffles in his life. His family may have been Spanish, but he grew up next to southern France – and anyone who was anyone in his home neighborhood served Perigord truffles on appetizers and desserts at every big function.
Nevertheless, he would not tell his hosts that there was nothing special about being served the most sought after truffle in the world. Not worth sharing when the woman next to him clapped her hands as soon as the server brought the platter of scallops into their private dining room at the region’s most esteemed French restaurant. The food is fine and most certainly French, but I forget that truffles aren’t as common on this side of the pond. At least his new companions hadn’t commented on his accent. They should hear me speak French. The worst accent. Miguel may have been fluent, but his tongue never wanted to do it. Or at least not to the standards of the Frenchmen he knew.
English speakers were much more forgiving. Even thought it sexy. He had no accent in Spanish.
“You must eat this all the time in Monaco,” Adrienne Thomas, the woman with an affinity for French cuisine, said. Her business voice was about one octave higher than the natural voice Miguel heard her use with her business partner, Ethan Cole, the other man at the table. “Unfortunately I’ve only had about three in my life.”
That is indeed unfortunate. “They didn’t have it here, but my family has an affinity for truffle shavings on their salads. Every night at dinner we would have truffles in our salads.”
“That sounds… intense.” Ethan Cole looked torn between awe of such expense and bored with the idea. “Most of our palates can’t eat more than this.” He gestured for Miguel to have the first scallop.
He served himself, picking up one small scallop laced in black truffle shavings and a fine covering of Mornay sauce. Definitely interesting. He had cheese sauce with scallops before. He had truffles on scallops before. Both at the same time? He could hear his mother cursing out the chef in heavily-accented French.
Even more interestingly, he tasted the Gruyere cheese within the sauce before the truffles. Then again, Miguel often fancied himself a cheese aficionado. His tongue had been trained to suss out a finely aged cheese before anything else, even truffles.
“Delicious.” Miguel wiped his mouth with a napkin while his hosts helped themselves. “Just like mother used to make… if mother cooked, of course.”
His hosts chuckled. Great. He had forgotten that both Adrienne Thomas and Ethan Cole were self-made successes who came from lower-class backgrounds. One would never guess looking at them in their Dior dress and Armani suit.
This dinner was purely business. One of Miguel’s first stops on his road to taking over America in the name of Bolivar was the newly merged Thomas-Cole Enterprise that was in the market for new investors around the world. They wanted to expand some of their dealings to the Mediterranean – Ethan Cole was particularly keen, since his eyes were often set on Italy, for whatever absurd reason. Italy’s not that great. Compared to Spain and France, anyway. They had good fashion and even better cuisine though, he would give the Italians that.
If Miguel liked what these two had to offer well enough, he would suggest that his family support the company’s expansion into France for a nominal return. The whole thing was God-awful boring, really. Miguel was having enough trouble as it was focusing on this business dinner since he was due to drive up to the Château to make short work of Judith in her bedroom.
It would be a late night for the both of them, but oh so worth it. Good thing I made an appointment for later instead of dropping in.
Dinner continued with more French food and enough trite conversation to last Miguel the rest of the year. He was asked all the usual things these Americans asked whenever they encountered a Monegasque for the first time: what was Monte Carlo like from his prospective? How often did he travel? Was it true that everyone was more superficial than in LA? Had he ever seen Grace Kelly? What did he mean she was before his time?
Both Ethan and Adrienne had been to Monaco multiple times, but Miguel was quickly learning that he was a strange specimen. It was starting to wear thin. For some reason it never bothers me when Judith asks me these questions. Perhaps it was the sense of adventure in her eyes. These two knew that Monaco was already old hat.
Adrienne had to leave shortly after the main course. She gave Miguel a polite kiss on the cheek and waved her fingers at him as if he should be so impressed. The moment she was shown out by the maître ‘d, Ethan conspicuously coughed into his hand and asked the waiter to bring the French white wine he best liked at this place.
“Ah, Pessac-Leognan!” Miguel exclaimed as the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc was brought out. “How did you know my favorite white wine?”
Ethan waited until his glass was half full before responding. “Lucky guess. You seem like the kind of man who likes his wine oaky, like me.”
“Good call.” Miguel grinned as his glass quickly filled as well. “It is some of the best in the world.”
Things were much more relaxing without Adrienne around. Not that there was anything wrong with the woman, per se, but her nervous energy and inability to talk about anything but business through dinner had made Miguel disconnect from his biggest appointment of the week. Why would he sit around and listen to that when he could think of better things… and people? Like Judith. I wonder what she’s doing right now. Miguel almost choked on his wine when he caught himself thinking that. As if I even have to ask... it’s Friday night… Not only that, but why would he think of her anyway? Out of all the women in the world, he was thinking of… well, he was thinking of a woman he intended to spend thousands of dollars on a month. No other woman could say she had that honor.
Miguel still couldn’t believe that he had to raise his bid. No problem with that, but who else could be vying for Judith’s fake affections? She was more popular than even Miguel gave her credit for.
“So how is America treating you?” Ethan asked, leaning back in his seat and crossing his leg. Good. The business chat was formally over. Any business that came up from now would be organic. “I hear you’ve taken up residence over by the river. Nice view.”
Miguel nodded into his wineglass. “I have an affinity for the water, if you understand me.”
“Monaco thing, I’m sure.”
“Of course. But even before my family relocated there, they lived in Barcelona. Most of my family is from the Valencia region.” Miguel spent half his childhood there, before his parents decided whether to let him get his education in the homeland or in the international school there in Monaco.
“I’ve never been to Valencia, but I have heard many good things about it.”
“You’ve been to Barcelona?”
Ethan cracked a rueful smile. “Once or twice. Unfortunately I’ve never stayed long.”
“If you ever get the chance, I highly recommend it. Spain in general is vastly underrated these days, but it has a lot to offer.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for my trip to Europe this July.”
“Business or pleasure?”
That smile grew. “In some cultures they still consider marriage a business transaction first and foremost.”
“Forgive me for forgetting your good fortune. Well, if you haven’t made any final plans yet, you must visit Spain. The beaches in summer can get crowded, but are
to die for. I go at least once a year.” That kind of commitment was a big deal for a busy man like him. “Congrats on your upcoming nuptials, by the way. I’m sure she’s a lucky woman.”
“The polite thing is to say that I’m the lucky one. Certainly, I do think that.” Ethan offered to pour another glass for Miguel, who gestured his approval. “If you have a significant other, I suggest taking her to Cape Cod in the summer. I only hear rave reviews.”
“If I had a significant other, I would consider it.” Miguel tipped back his wine and felt its silk slide down his throat. “As it is, I’m happily single.”
“There are lots of ways to fix that around here. Men don’t stay single for long, regardless of preferred types in a woman.”
Easy for the engaged guy to say. Miguel tried not to chuckle.
“Besides, you’ll need a date if you’re to come to my wedding in June.”
“Didn’t realize I had received an invitation.”
“You will now. Everyone gets a plus one. Bring your assistant if you have to, but it’s more fun to have a date. Guess you could say I’ve been to a few weddings this past year.”
One business dinner and I’m invited to the guy’s wedding. Americans were certainly open with their invitations. “I’ll be happy to come to your wedding… and I’ll do my best to secure a respectable date.” He would not be going to get one that night. Judith would probably be offended if he called her respectable.
Although their remaining time together could not be long, Miguel and Ethan managed to eke out a final conversation about dating and women. Ethan may have been taken now, but he had an extensive dating history – including his business partner Adrienne Thomas. Now she was going to be the best woman at his wedding.
What surprised Miguel the most, however, was learning of another notable ex-girlfriend of Ethan Cole’s – Madam Monica of the Château.
“You are shocked?” Ethan tried to pour more wine, but the bottle was empty. “Then you must know what she does for a living.”
Miguel snorted. “I may have been to her place of business a time or two.”
“That so? I helped her fund it when she originally opened the doors. Not that she needs my help any longer. Or her husband’s. Do you know Henry Warren?”
“I have not had the pleasure of meeting her husband yet.”
“He’s a good man. Way in over his head when it comes to that place. Even I am in absolute awe of what she has done with it. Well, you’ve seen it.”
“Indeed I have.” Miguel wondered if they could have had this conversation with anyone else present, least of all Adrienne. “There’s a lot to keep a man entertained there.”
They shared a look of mutual understanding.
Miguel looked at his watch. “I’m afraid I must be going. I have an appointment elsewhere later tonight, and it’s a long drive.”
Ethan saw him off. Miguel did not miss another look of understanding in the other man’s eyes. He knows I’m going to the Château and what I’m going there for. The only thing Miguel’s new friend could not have known was who he was going to see.
***
“Why are you resisting me?” Miguel clutched her shoulder, bringing her closer to his chest. “You’re so coy tonight.”
Judith slipped against him, her feminine scent killing him inside and out. That thing sticking out from his waist wasn’t going to take care of itself, no matter how much it thought about it. Don’t do this to me, Judith. Was she doing it on purpose? Was she feigning how difficult it was to turn him on? Or was it something else? He had come awfully late, even with fair warning. It was after midnight already. Was she tired? Was it other clients earlier that night? Judith had said there were no other appointments that Friday, but Miguel wasn’t stupid.
“Is it me?” He squeezed her, tighter, his hand meandering down her naked breasts and to her wetness below. “You don’t like me anymore.” Miguel teased her, but he wasn’t the greatest actor in these situations. It was possible she took him seriously.
Judith batted her eyelashes at him. “If it were you, I wouldn’t have been so accommodating, Mr. Bolivar.” Her breaths panted past her lips. Miguel’s cock tried to enter her again, but she pulled away, suppressing a giggle in her throat. Cute. Really cute. “Coming in here so late… acting like you own me. You think you get to have me whenever you want? You’re not my patron. Yet.”
She would be the one woman in the world still leading him on in the middle of sex. “I like it when you call me Mr. Bolivar like that. I mean, if we’re playing…” He seized her whole body. Her breasts. Her stomach. Her hips and the legs spread across his lap. For the past five minutes he had been trying to penetrate her in this position. Now he realized that what the stars intended was pushing her down onto the bed and playing rough from behind. What a sly woman. “Do you want to play with me, Judith? Do you want to get rough? I had been trying to be nice because I had missed you so much.”
“Did you really?” Her body lowered toward his, but only slightly. She wouldn’t let him in easily. “I have missed you too. That’s why I want to make this worth my feelings.”
Feelings, huh? Judith was either telling him the truth or so advanced in her seduction game that she didn’t mind dropping an F bomb around a client. Most women he cavorted with avoided it at all costs. Put as much emotional distance between themselves and him as possible. Didn’t realize I liked that word so much.
“Say the word, lovely, and I’ll spare nothing more on you.”
The way her body shivered in his grasp almost sent him over the edge. Would be a fine thing to lose it before he could even get it in. What kind of power did she have over him again?
“Go ahead, Mr. Bolivar.” She was melting in his arms. “Do your worst. Ravage me.”
“Good thing I remember your safe word.” Miguel threw his weight back and then forward again. Judith toppled to her bed, ass in the air and fingers clutching the beige, glittery gauze hanging around her bed. Miguel had arrived to find his favorite woman in the same place she had occupied his first night there – shrouded in a penetrable veil, waiting for him. Only now they knew each other, and what to expect. Like what he wanted, and what she could deliver.
Always money well spent.
Now there was no awkwardness between them. Even Miguel could be reserved around a new woman. He wanted to unleash the barbarian within. He wanted to show her what strength he had and how he could use it, to fuel himself, to fuel her with lust. He rarely had the chance to do so, however, unless he traveled to the same place all the time and met with the same women. Living nearby? There was plenty of time to get to know Judith… and he was already on his way.
Her cry as he buried his cock in her was the most delightful thing he heard all week.
The first assumption people made about Miguel when they learned his preferred dating methods – or lack thereof, in some cases – was that he saw women as expendable commodities. The truth couldn’t be farther from that. The money both brought him closer to women and established much needed boundaries on both of their parts. They both knew exactly what to expect. He respected her need to make a living and, in turn, she respected his own physical needs. This didn’t mean it never went in the other direction. On the contrary, the women Miguel consistently went back to were the ones who seemed to genuinely enjoy being with him, or at least looked forward to his visits. He believed Judith when she said she wanted to be with him. She had teased him more than once about bidding to become her patron. Miguel did not make assumptions. Whoever the other guy was, he must be decent. Judith seemed the kind of woman who would put her foot down and choose Miguel automatically if the other guy wasn’t amusing enough.
So even though he came in late, arranged for payments to be made, and already knew how much he wanted to tip her for whatever services rendered… even though the first thing he did was kiss her, grope her, tear her clothes off… even though he now pulled her hips against his so he could thrust into her, hard, deep, over and ove
r, listening to her cry into her bed and nearly tear the gauze off the frame… even though this all transpired, he still thought How can I make her feel the most pleasure possible?
It was both an altruistic thought and a completely selfish one, as most decisions tended to be. He wanted her to have a good time. Miguel got no enjoyment from a bored woman who was going through the motions to make a buck, but he also knew that the more fun she had, the more pleasure she experienced, the more he got. Her body writhing against his. Her cries so desperate, so beautiful that he responded with more power in his hips. Her skin covered in sweat and the result of their carnal union. Her hair tangling in her hands and in his. Her damn perfect cunt wrapped so tightly around his cock that he couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to.
The deeper he sank into her in this position, the more he realized they fit together almost too well. She accepted him so readily. If there was a problem, whether physical or mental, she told him and they worked it out so they could resume their fun. She was so trained in effortless communication that sometimes…
Sometimes Miguel forgot that this woman he had seen all of three times in his life was not his long-term girlfriend.
Adrenaline spiked his heart. Miguel channeled the energy into a well-timed spank against Judith’s waiting ass, sending her halfway across the bed with him still inside her. Her knuckles were turning white from clutching the edge of her bed so hard. Her voice was going hoarse. Yet when Miguel momentarily pulled out of her, he felt nothing but a cascade of her arousal falling from her body. He had to stop and think whether or not he had come. When he realized that it was 100% her, he eagerly slammed back into her to the tune of her singing his praises. Judith’s hand was between her legs, stroking both her clit and his cock as it thrust in and out of her.
No oral sex. Little kissing. This was purely from his growing need as he drove up to meet her and whatever she did to get ready for him. Was she thinking about me all day? Or was touching herself before I arrived a practical thing to do for her business? Dangerous to think about such things in the middle of sex.
