Wedding Favors

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  “Did you wish you’d let me kiss you?” he crooned. He pressed a kiss into her hair, then her temple and her cheek, breathing in the feminine scent of her. The smell of his own sex spiced her lips as he kissed them. It aroused him even more. “Do you wish you’d given your very first kiss to an unknown boy in a deserted courtyard? A stranger?”

  “Yes,” she admitted softly. “I wanted you to come back and make me kiss you.”

  His cock went hard. “Do you wish you’d let me push you down on the grass and touch your soft, virginal body? Awaken you to the pleasures of young love? Is that what you wanted, cher?”

  She looked up at him, and he knew it was true. His heart crowed.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “God, how I wanted you to come back and touch me.”

  “I was sixteen, and you hadn’t even begun to be a woman, but I dreamed of you,” he admitted, the years of frustration rushing back through him as he reached for another condom. “For years I watched that courtyard, waiting for you to return.” He slid into her. She pressed her thighs around his hips.

  “When I learned to pleasure myself,” she confessed, “it was always you I imagined doing it to me. I may not have recognized you right away tonight, but I’ve never forgotten your face as it was back then.” She gazed at his features, stalling on his mouth. “So handsome, so temptingly sexual. You did awaken me to the pleasures of my body, Shay,” she whispered.

  Back then, he couldn’t understand why he’d felt those things for a girl so young. He blamed his obsession on that foutu voodoo tale and the gentle teasing of those who believed in it. Not that he ever did. Raging teenage hormones. That’s all it had been.

  But now they were both very grown-up. Merci Dieu.

  “Show me,” he urged, pulling out of her and lifting her up against the pillows. He spread her knees wide and held them apart. “How did you touch yourself?”

  She blinked, her cheeks coloring. “Really?”

  “I want to see.”

  Her lips parted a fraction. Hesitantly, her hand went to her pussy. Her fingers spread her folds, exposing her clit. His mouth watered as the fingers of her other hand sought out the glistening nub. She sucked in a breath as she made intimate contact. His cock lengthened in an aching lurch.

  Not letting go of her knees, he scooted down and lay between her legs, putting his face close enough to lick her. “Don’t stop,” he admonished when her fingers faltered. Tentatively, they started up again.

  He drank in the sight and the scent and the bloom of her desire for him. Watched her clit swell and weep as she coaxed it to stiff arousal. Finally he couldn’t take it any longer. He extended his tongue and joined her fingers with it. She moaned low, and he tasted the spurt of passion clear to his balls. He dragged his tongue down along her valley and filled her wet passage with it. Her back arched. She was close, he could tell.

  So was he. His taut, quickened body reminded him painfully of how much he’d wanted her all through the years. Desperation surged through him. Doing this was not going to banish his need for her! But what could he do?

  He couldn’t ask her to stay. It was nearly morning. And as much as he wanted to, he could not linger in bed with her for much longer. He had somewhere to be today. Somewhere important.

  But somehow, he had to find a way break this erotic spell she had him under.

  Suddenly, he had an idea. That damned fountain had started his misery, this whole foutu curse. Surely, it could end it, too. Did you have to believe in the magic for it to work?

  He put his hands over her fingers, stopping their movement.

  “Shay, what are you doing?” she gasped, trying to pull them free.

  “We need to finish what we started,” he told her.

  “That’s what I’m trying to do,” she said, her voice strangled.

  “No. I mean at the Jaillissement.” He raised up to his knees, grabbed her hand, and pulled her along as he rolled off the bed. “Vien. Come with me. It’s time to end this accursed nonsense!”

  Chapter 7

  “Wait. What?” Alarm filled Tessa as Shay hustled her toward the chamber door.

  “We need to get this voodoo bullshit out of our systems once and for all,” he said. “Show ourselves that there is nothing to it. Just a foolish legend.”

  Her body throbbed with unsated lust. God, not again! Why did men insist on leaving a woman unfulfilled? “But, Shay, I already know it’s foolishness! Can’t we just—”

  “Indulge me,” he said and paused to lean down and kiss her. “Please. You’ve indulged every other whim I’ve had tonight. Grant me this last one, too.”

  “But—” Oh, hell. She had a terrible feeling she knew what he had in mind. The courtyard where the Jaillissement de Plaisir stood was secluded and long-deserted. But a dozen or more of the maison’s balconies overlooked it. Even this early—or late, depending on one’s perspective—someone might be awake and see them. She wrapped her arms around her middle. “How will wishing on that same fountain prove there’s nothing to the legend?”

  He uttered an oath. “It won’t. But I need to break the damned curse it has over me,” he said. “This is the only way I can think of.”

  “But can’t it wait a few minutes, until we—”

  “Non!”

  Okay, then.

  Aching with frustration, she let him lead her down a back staircase that smelled dusty with disuse, their bare feet silent on the worn oak. A weathered door at the bottom creaked and groaned when he unlocked it and shoved it open. The morning air whooshed over them in a solid wave of sultry warmth. What was he doing?

  His words came back to her. Nothing to do with us. Or love. Or this attraction we feel. The fountain nonsense, it’s just a silly superstition.

  “But doesn’t doing this mean you actually believe in the magic?”

  His olive skin glowed golden in the wash of predawn light that hit him. His erection jutted thick and tall as he turned and gave her an undecipherable look. “Hell, no.”

  It made no sense. But if making a wish would get him back inside her ...

  He tugged her out into the courtyard and down an overgrown brick path into the feral tangle of blossoming vines and shrubs. She felt like Eve in the Garden of Eden. Flowers were just opening with the dawning light, and the perfume filling the air was exotic and spicy. Birds were awakening, singing the end of nighttime. Even a pair of beautiful butterflies flitted past. He led her into the clearing where the fountain gurgled and turned to her. A light spray of water hit her naked body. She glanced around. Was someone watching them?

  A spill of illicit excitement sifted through her. She couldn’t believe she was doing this.

  Suddenly, she remembered. “We forgot to bring any coins!” she lamented softly.

  He slanted her a dark look. “I guess we’ll just have to think of something else to offer the muses of the Jaillissement.”

  “Oh?”

  He took up a wide stance in front of the fountain, facing it, and with his hands on her shoulders he urged her down to her knees before him. “Something extra special to end their accursed reign over us.”

  There was no time to ponder what he meant by that, if not a belief in the enchantment of the muses. “Oh!”

  Oh, God.

  He fisted his hand in her hair, bringing her lips whisper-close to his rampant cock. She didn’t need to ask what he wanted to sacrifice. Scandalized, she nevertheless felt her unsated desire flare back to life with a vengeance.

  “Open for me, cher,” he commanded in a low growl.

  What could she do but obey?

  He slowly fed her his engorged member. She moaned in surrender to the man, to the act, to the bewitching spell of the magical fountain. Her senses filled with the musky male taste of him. She laved his satin head with her tongue, cradling his balls in her fingers, working his iron-velvet shaft with her hand. He was big and hard and thrillingly responsive. To every touch and every lick came an answering jerk or moan or masculine growl o
f pleasure. She forgot where she was, her reservations falling away in the sheer eroticism of what she was doing. Arousal shimmered through her clit, bringing her to the brink of coming. She increased her pace and felt his climax start.

  Abruptly, he withdrew. “For this to work, it must be both of us,” he ground out.

  Again, frustration swept through her like wildfire. “Please,” she begged, reaching for him.

  “No, like this,” he said, and swiftly lowered her to the dew-laden grass. Shivering at the drench of coolness against her back, she spread her legs for him, unmindful of prying eyes. She didn’t care anymore. She was too needy, wanted him too badly.

  To her shock, he didn’t mount her in the usual way. He sixtynined her, lowering himself onto her and thrusting his cock back into her mouth. His own mouth latched on to her, his tongue stroking over her so powerfully she nearly came in a rush. Her muffled cry vibrated through his rigid flesh, and his body jerked in response. His teeth bit down and his tongue ravaged her clit, sending shock waves of pleasure through her, enough to raise them both from the ground. She squeezed her eyes shut, starting to catapult over the edge.

  “Make the wish!” he commanded hoarsely. “Now!”

  Orgasm slammed into her. He followed close behind, spurting his essence deep into her throat as her whole body shook with double satisfaction. She tried to hang on and do as he asked. Wish for the spell on him to be broken. And for the erotic magic between them to end when they parted this morning, so she wouldn’t be under his commanding spell for the rest of her life.

  But for some reason she couldn’t conjure the right words in her head. Every time she started to ask the three dancing muses to lift their sensual bewitchment, the plea came out the same. And not what either of them wanted.

  Please, Jaillissement de Plaisir, let the pleasure go on forever!

  Luckily, the muses did not listen.

  Instantly, it seemed, the enchantment of the night was shattered.

  After lying in the grass for several gasping minutes catching their breath and retrieving their wits, Tessa and Shay quickly scrambled up and ascended the stairs back to their chamber, then spent several awkward minutes getting their clothes on as quickly as they could.

  “I’ll call you a taxi,” he said and lifted the phone.

  She ducked into the bathroom, and when she came out, he was waiting by the door.

  He slid his hands in his trouser pockets. “Thank you for tonight, Tessa,” he said as she scooped up her purse. “I had a good time.”

  “Yes, so did I,” she admitted, suddenly acutely embarrassed. This man had seen more of her, learned more of her secret sexual desires, than any other person on earth, and she didn’t even know his full name. “It was ... an interesting experience.” She opened her mouth to ask his name ... and maybe to see him again. But he beat her to the punch.

  “Your consulting fee will be credited to the bank account you provided when you registered,” he said, reminding her of their true relationship. “Double, as promised.”

  She stared at him, feeling as though he’d smacked her. “You obviously misunderstood. I don’t want your damn money,” she stated, hurt and anger clenching her stomach. What had she been thinking? That there had been more to their lovemaking than ... Oh, hell, she didn’t know what she’d thought. Obviously he didn’t agree. He only wanted to be rid of her, now that he’d gotten what he came for.

  There was a shock. It always seemed to come down to that. Men wanted, and women gave.

  “I’ll walk you downstairs,” he said.

  “No!” She took a breath to steady her reeling heart. “That’s not necessary. I can find my own way.”

  He frowned. “I insist.”

  “Fine.” She didn’t want to fight. She only wanted to get away from him.

  They descended the grand staircase, Shay nodding to the few staff members who were about at this early hour, as though he did it every morning.

  He held the outer door open for her. Her cab was waiting at the curb.

  “Will you come back tonight?” he asked, his eyes capturing hers.

  Only in her dreams. “The wish at the fountain, it was to be free of our attraction for each other, right? There’s no reason for me to come back.”

  “Bon,” he conceded. But there was something dark lurking in his expression. “Will you at least tell me your real name?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “That was the agreement,” she added, more to remind herself than him. “No names. No rules. No future expectations.” He’d been an incredible lover, but the last thing she needed was another one-sided relationship. God. Relationship? Who was she kidding?

  “Bon,” he echoed, opening the taxi’s door for her. “Very well.”

  “Good-bye, then.” She extended her hand.

  He looked at it incredulously, then slid his fingers into her hair and pulled her mouth to his. He tasted like sin and excitement and profound regret, all rolled up in an exquisitely sexual kiss. Despite everything, one last agonizing flare of desire burst through her. Damn, the man could turn her on.

  “Good-bye, cher,” he murmured, then let her go, leaving her feeling cold and empty and wanting to stamp her feet in disappointed aggravation. Disappointment at herself for wanting more. Would she never learn? Well, at least he’d been a powerful, masterful lover, tapping into her secret fantasies of being completely and utterly possessed. The night had not been a total loss in that sense. Far from it.

  She climbed into the taxi, gave the driver her hotel’s address, and let out a long, shuddering breath as it pulled away from the maison Chez Duchesne. Thank God she’d escaped in one piece! And with your heart intact, a little voice added in her head before she could squelch it.

  Her heart? Wow.

  It was true, last night was exhilarating, at times shocking, an amazing once-in-a-lifetime experience she was lucky to have stumbled into. And Shay? As he’d promised, Shay was everything she’d ever fantasized about in a lover, and more. Much more. He’d taken her body in every way possible and left her yearning for a chance to do it all over again. And again. And again.

  Okay, fine. She’d be a fool not to want him as a steady lover.

  But her heart?

  God, no. Not even a factor.

  Seriously.

  She’d be an even bigger fool to involve her heart in any way, shape, or form with a man like Shay.

  And she hadn’t.

  Honestly.

  The taxi cruised past the hidden courtyard, and she couldn’t help stealing a final reluctant peek at the spellbound fountain. And she swore she saw the dancing muses wave to her, laughing merrily as she sat back in her seat, groaned, and muttered, “Damn that man, anyway.”

  Chapter 8

  “Piron!” Shay bellowed into the bustling kitchen for his majordomo. A damn miracle had just happened.

  “Quoi?” came the answer from the walk-in refrigerator. Piron ambled out. “Dere a fire somewhere, boss?”

  Shay raised the papers in his hand and shook them. “You will not believe what this is. We got the building permit.”

  Piron’s brows shot up. “For the courtyard? C’est vrai? Since when?”

  “Since this morning. It was just couriered from building commission.”

  Piron grinned. “Damn! What made dem change their mind?”

  “The Historical Society has relented on the old brick path repair issue. Apparently the city promised to split our restaurant licensing fees with them. Money speaks. I’m shocked.” He put the papers in Piron’s hands. “Call the construction company. I want them here next week. Pay them whatever you have to. I want this done before the commission changes its mind again.”

  “Hell, yeah! This calls for a celebration.” Piron headed for the cooler. “Champagne all around!”

  “Sorry, not for me. Gotta go, or I’ll be late.” Shay reached up to fix his bow tie, glancing at his watch. It was just after one. “Etienne’s wedding, remember?”

 
Etienne Gardet was the youngest son of another prominent New Orleans family. He and Shay, along with two other wealthy scions, had grown up sharing honors as the youthful holy terrors of social gatherings, holiday balls, and charity events all across the city, then turning into the nightmare of every Louisiana debutante’s mama when they went off to college. Despite now having just nudged into their thirties, Etienne was the first of the four to get married. Naturally, Shay was a groomsman.

  The nuptials started at two, and he was not about to be late. He was most definitely in the mood to celebrate. On more than one count.

  The sacrifice this morning had worked! He was finally quit that absurd curse! The permit coming through so unexpectedly proved it. At last his luck was changing.

  Shame that auburn-haired spitfire wouldn’t be coming back to the maison tonight. He’d like to commemorate this momentous turning point in his life by tying her to his bed and giving her the hardest, fastest fuck of her lifetime. And then do it all over again.

  “See you later,” Shay said with a wave to his majordomo. “Hell, maybe tomorrow if I get lucky.” Yeah, after the warm-up with Tessa last night, he was craving a bit of kink. Surely there’d be an accommodating bridesmaid or wedding guest he could avail himself of.

  Though he really wished he’d asked Tessa to the wedding as his date. Even if the spell between them was now shattered, merci Dieu, she was still the most enticing and appealing woman he’d met in years. Possibly ever. He didn’t know what it was about her ... she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, wasn’t the most adventurous by far—though she had been very open to learning new things—nor did she seem particularly impressed by him, this morning especially, for some reason. But he just couldn’t shake her from his mind. Or the cravings of his body. Just thinking about her was making him hard. Obviously it wasn’t the fountain’s influence, since that was gone. But his attraction to her had in no way diminished. If anything, it had grown with these few hours’ separation. Why hadn’t he demanded she return to him?