by Laura Ward
Her eyes shot down to the floor, but she didn’t answer my question.
“You’re killing me. What’s going on?” My gentle tone gone, I growled out my words.
Her head came up slowly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. My heart constricted. God, I was a fuck up. I couldn’t be here two damn minutes without doing something wrong. I should leave. I never should have come. I didn’t belong here in this fancy house with this delicate, beautiful woman.
“You didn’t hurt me.” She took in a shaky breath. “I had to stop before I… before I…” She bit her bottom lip, halting her words.
“Before you what?” My patience was growing thin. I wanted to pace the room, throw something or yell to calm my anxious nerves, but I knew with Aveline that would only make her more anxious.
Aveline blew out a breath and stood straight before me. She ran her arms up my chest, leaving a path of electric tingles as her fingers ghosted over my skin. She clasped her hands around my neck, her thumbs drawing parallel circles over my thrumming veins.
“I’m a little worked up. I’ve been thinking about this, being here with you, and what might happen, all day. When you started on my neck, and I’m already worked up, well those two things together, I… I almost came. Like right there. In front of you. Oh God, I can’t believe I said that. So embarrassing, Aveline.”
Her words came out like rapid fire, barely a breath taken in between. She stood before me now her chest heaving as she took in oxygen.
I soaked her in, my eyes devouring every inch of her. I didn’t deserve her. I was going to hurt her family. That guilt shot through me like a bullet to the chest.
I hadn’t been honest with her about anything. Our story. What she meant to me. Why I was here in the first place.
But goddammit, I was falling for her. Hard.
Bending down, I swung her into my arms. “You have no fucking clue what hearing that does to me. I’m on the edge.” Our mouths collided, taking and sucking and worshipping as we stood in her messy kitchen and I held her close to me.
I started to walk toward the stairs, knowing exactly what we both needed, but she pulled her mouth from mine. “Not yet.” She wriggled her butt and I put her down on her feet. “I’ve spent all damn day in this kitchen. I want to feed you my family’s beef bourguignon recipe and then homemade chocolate soufflé. I figured your family fed me native Peruvian dishes. I want to feed you classic French food. I want to take care of you.”
Placing a hand on her hip, she shot me a flirty smile. “And then we can go upstairs.”
My sexy butterfly.
“Okay, mariposa. We’ll eat first. On one condition.” I lifted her onto the counter, probably getting flour on her perfect little ass, but I couldn’t care less. I nudged her legs apart, my hands running up and down her creamy, smooth thighs.
“Wh-wh-what condition?” Her hooded gaze locked on mine.
“Did you really almost come from my kisses on your neck alone?” I asked, my voice raspy and urgent.
She nodded, her tongue peeking out to lick her lower lip.
My lips moved back to her neck, sucking lightly before I asked, “You’re probably hot, wet, and swollen, right?”
“Oh, Ricky.” Her answer was a breathy plea and it made my blood race faster in my veins.
“My condition is that I need to take care of you, just once, before you take care of me with this beautiful meal. Yes?” My fingers inched higher up her legs until I reached her panties while my tongue pressed on the pulse point of her neck.
“Yes,” she whimpered and at the needy, desperate sound, I steeled myself to remain calm and disciplined while I gave her what she craved.
My mouth left her neck and I placed my lips at her ear. “And I want to watch you fall apart. Because God knows you make me fall apart every time I see you.”
She shuddered in my arms, her eyes getting heavier, as my fingers moved her lace panties to the side, exposing her to my fingers. With one hand I held them back, and with the other I felt her. Standing between her legs, her hands clutching the edge of the counter, white knuckled, I stroked her. Her hips bucked, and she sucked in a breath, waiting for more.
My thumb circled, over and over again until she was moaning out loud, her head back, body arched. My middle finger entered her, slowly filling her as she clenched down, tightening around me.
Holy hell.
And then she came, her mouth open, her body rigid and then pliant, falling into my arms. I held her, rubbing her back until her breathing slowed.
“Never seen anything more beautiful.” I whispered the words in her ear and she lifted her head, a small grin spreading wider on her face.
I held her for a few minutes, feeling her heart beat slow. She pulled away with a short kiss to my lips, and hopped down from the counter, dusting flour off her ass as she yanked her dress over her hips. Aveline shuffled to her wine glass, taking a long sip before she moved to the sink and washed and dried her hands. Bending over, she grabbed oven mitts before she pulled a heavy cast iron pot from the oven and placed it on the stove top. She lifted the top and the room was filled with the heady scent of spices and meat.
Grabbing a loaf of thick, crusty, French bread, she cut it into pieces, filling a basket and placing it on the kitchen table. She did all of this without speaking. Her body and her eyes, however, told me another story. Each swing of her hips showed off her confidence and newly found sexual prowess. Each wink and lick or bite of her lips hinted that she might be starting to realize the effect she had on me.
And I took her in. Sipping my beer and watching her dish up steaming bowls of rich beef stew and pour large glasses of dark red wine. She lit white tapered candles and turned down the bright kitchen lights. Gentle music played, a woman’s low, sultry voice I quickly recognized as Adele, filled the air around us.
Aveline took my hand and led me to my seat. My body was taut, anticipation of what was next almost too much to handle.
“This is a dish my mother learned from her grandmother. It takes two days to make. I hope you like it.” Her shy smile only made my body ache more for her. God, I loved her quiet nature, yet at the same time I wanted to be the one to make her come undone. To be free and wild and reckless.
I took a few bites before answering her. “It’s absolutely delicious. Gracias. You’ve spoiled me tonight.”
Aveline took a small bite from her own bowl, rolling her eyes back in delight. “This is my favorite decadent dish. Only followed by dessert, of course. But maybe we could have that later?” She asked the question hesitantly.
My first thought was to push my plate away and carry her right upstairs. But I held back, remembering the man Mama had raised and ate the dinner my girl had prepared.
After I soaked the last of the sauce with a piece of bread and ate it, I sipped the delicious wine and wiped my mouth with the heavy linen napkin. “My first dessert tonight has to be you.” I stared into her eyes. “Ready?”
Aveline’s eyes danced in the candle lit room. “Totally.” She giggled, and her awkwardness once again lightened the mood and made me grin.
Standing, my chair scraped against the floor as it moved behind me. I scooped Aveline into my arms and jogged up the stairs to her bedroom.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aveline
RICKY CLOSED THE bedroom door without releasing me from his arms. My heart galloped and raced in my chest. I could hardly believe this was happening. That this man, this gorgeous, tough, smart, hardworking man would be the first I would ever touch was too much to process.
Ricky looked down at me, his brown eyes gentle and sweet. “You say the word at any point and we stop. You’re in charge here.”
“I know that. I’ve never felt safer.” Leaning forward, I kissed him, timidly at first, increasing with more power and desire.
Ricky groaned, setting me on my feet in front of him. His body was tense, his hands clenched in fists and his breathing hard and fast.
Slowly and
tentatively, I reached for the hemline on his shirt and pulled it as high as I could reach. He took over, yanking it over his head. I moved behind him, gently slipping off his hair tie, watching as his waves of thick black hair spread across his back like a curtain.
Moving around to his front, his eyes reflected hunger. Feeling braver and more confident than ever, I pulled his belt off. I slid the button of his jeans out of its hole and released the zipper.
Ricky’s breath sounded choppy and I looked up for confirmation before progressing. “Keep going. You’re doing great.” His words were kind, but his tone was harsh and clipped.
Guiding him to the bed, I sat him down and moved onto my knees. I unlaced his boots and pulled them off, quickly following with his socks. I pulled him back to standing and pushed his jeans down to the floor. He stepped out of them and was left wearing only his tented boxer briefs.
My fingers twitched, the need to pull them down and see the mystery inside drawing me to him like a magnet to metal. But instead of taking off this last layer, I reached down and pulled off my dress. Reaching behind me, I freed my hair from its knot and removed my glasses, setting them on the nightstand. As I stood before Ricky in my bra, panties, and heels, I felt as exposed and as sexy as I ever had.
“Fuckin’ hell. You have the finest body I’ve ever seen.” Ricky’s hands skimmed down the sides of my body, appreciating every curve.
“Funny,”—I kissed his chest—“I was thinking the same about you.”
Ricky lifted my chin, kissing me deeply and thoroughly. When he pulled away his lips were red and puffy. His hands found the clasp of my bra and it was pulled away instantly. His hands and mouth were on my breasts before I registered what was happening.
Holy crap. The warmth. The electric heat. The pure intimacy he introduced me to. Like a long-lost lover, I welcomed him closer. Needing no more words, but so much more touch.
“That feels amazing.” I encouraged him. He lifted me up to his lap and I wrapped my legs around his waist. We were face to face and when I pressed against him, my nipples rubbed against his and the heat between my legs raged.
“Your skin, mariposa. It’s like velvet,” Ricky rasped in my ear, seeming to enjoy the wonder of our bare skin touching as much as I did.
“Touch me more.” I pled, arching away so that his mouth could suck on the other neglected nipple.
And he did, sucking and biting until I squirmed in his arms. He flipped me onto my back. Moving down the bed, he slipped off my heels and placed open mouth kisses from the tops of my feet to the top of my panties.
“Oh,” I moaned. The anticipation ratcheted higher and higher.
He pulled the black lace down and I was exposed to him. His fingers parted me, and he groaned when he must have felt the moisture. His eyes shot up to mine. “You want me?” he asked, voice cracking.
“More than I’ve ever wanted anything,” I answered with unwavering determination.
He dragged his finger through my wetness and I gasped. He’d only touched me like this and I was ready, begging for more. He slid off the bed, kneeling on the floor, and pulled me down closer to him, his hands on my ankles. Spreading me wider, I should have been embarrassed, but I wasn’t.
I was ready.
Propped up on my elbows, forearms resting behind me on the bed, I watched the sexiest man I’d ever met, place his mouth… right… there. His tongue touched me, moving and circling in rhythm with his fingers. The pressure built. Like I was climbing a mountain, almost to the peak. I shook, sweat covering my skin. I couldn’t tear my eyes from him, and he kept his on me.
And I was gone. His mariposa, wings stretched, gliding, flying through the air. I left my body, soaring to the sun, the sensation so glorious, tears pricked my eyes. Suddenly, I was in his arms as he held me and kissed me. The taste of me was light on his lips and I drank it in, loving every second of intimacy this experience brought to us.
He kissed the corners of my eyes, tasting my tears, and I laughed, never having felt more cherished in my life.
“I dreamt of this,” I told him. His eyes flared, but he stayed quiet. “In my bed, I would touch myself, and think of you with your hair free, lying next to me. I would touch you.” I followed my words with actions, pulling his boxers down. He had rolled to his back, fully erect, large and thick and something I had only ever imagined. I took him in my hand, so big that one couldn’t span the width. I used both, holding him tightly and running my hands up and down.
“Keep going, mariposa. Tell me what you thought of.” His voice was as rough as I had ever heard it and I loved every second of it.
I looked up into his eyes and smiled. “I pictured touching you, stroking you, bringing you some of the pleasure you deserve.” I increased the speed and pressure as I stroked, and Ricky shuddered, his mouth falling open with a gasp.
“And while I touched myself and got closer and closer to coming,” I told him, his eyes glued to mine. “I’d imagine taking you in my mouth.”
Moving down the bed, I slid his hot, silky skin into my mouth, groaning at the feel of him. Reality was much better than my imagination. My groan must have felt good because Ricky jolted, and I heard him call to God in Spanish.
I couldn’t take him all the way in, my mouth was too small. But I licked and sucked and used my hands and gave all I had to this man who I had come to adore.
“Aveline, Aveline,” Ricky’s voice shook with warning, but I ignored him, taking all that he had to give. Who knew how long I would have the treasure of this glorious man in my life?
I wasn’t wasting a single second.
* * *
MORNING SUNSHINE STREAMED in through the windows, warming the skin on my face. I reached over and felt nothing but mattress and sheets. No Ricky.
I sat up, grabbing my glasses from the nightstand and hastily putting them on. Even with my enhanced vision, he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He wasn’t here, and neither were his clothes. Closing my eyes, I took a few deep breaths.
You knew this was a possibility, Aveline. He never made any promises to stick around the next day.
Last night had been… perfection. After we recovered, I’d brought up the soufflé I’d baked, and we ate it in bed. Ricky laughed, he actually laughed, telling me stories about his sisters and his best friends.
I had wanted to tell him about my parents being deaf. It was on the tip of my tongue to share that last part of my life with him, but our mood was jovial and light. I relished in it, picturing weeks, months, years, laughing with and loving this man.
To find him gone without a word this morning… that hurt. Deeply.
Instead of wallowing in my pity party, I decided to feed Tobias and begin to clean my disaster of a kitchen. I slid on my robe, knotting the side tightly, and headed downstairs.
Tobias trotted out to greet me, licking my hand as I entered the… what the hell?
The kitchen was clean. Spotless, with gleaming countertops and freshly washed pots and pans. Ricky stood by the sink, towel in hand, drying the last of the pots. His hair was down, shirt untucked, and feet bare. He was the most delicious sight I had ever laid my eyes on.
“Mornin’ mariposa. Can I pour you some coffee?” His grin was sultry, and my feet couldn’t move fast enough to him.
Resting my hands on his chest, I looked up into his eyes. “I thought you left. When I woke up this morning and you were gone, I thought…” My voice trailed off and I watched Ricky’s eyes narrow.
“I wouldn’t have done that to you. Not after last night. I would have woken you up to say goodbye.” His voice sounded hurt, like my words injured him.
I rose up on my tiptoes, pressing my lips to his throat, the unshaved skin prickly. “I know, I panicked. I’m sorry.” Motioning with my hand to the kitchen, I laughed. “And you were doing all this? You didn’t need to worry about cleaning. I would have taken care of it.”
Ricky kissed me gently, his lips tasting like coffee and cream. “I know. But I wanted to thank y
ou. You spoiled me last night and I don’t get a whole lot of that in my life.”
My cheek pressed against his heart, the thudding beats relaxing my body. “Message received. And plan on being spoiled a lot more. I l-love doing nice things for you.” I stammered on the word love. What wanted to come out of my mouth was that I loved him. I felt like I could, like I did, already. But that was some crazy post-sleepover high, right? I couldn’t already be as head over heels in love with Ricky as my heart was telling me, right?
Ricky kissed the top of my head and pulled away to pour me a cup of coffee. He held up the bottle of hazelnut creamer and I nodded. Wrapping both of my hands around the warm mug, I sipped, thinking that the sight of Ricky in my kitchen, sharing coffee each morning was something I could get used to.
We drank for a few minutes, watching each other, and the air around us buzzing with some sort of electricity.
I took him in, all of him. And decided.
Placing my coffee cup down on the counter, I reached for his and placed it next to mine. Taking his hand in mine, I gently tugged him back up the stairs. This needed to happen in my bed, in my bedroom where I had dreamt of this moment. Standing inside the room, I shut my door. We were home alone, but I was too nervous to take any chances.
“I don’t want you to leave. This is all too perfect. It’s… right.” I blew out a breath and straightened my glasses. “I want you to be my first. Right now. I want—no, no that’s not right. I need. I need it to be with you.”
Ricky stared at me, mouth agape, and then he paced, looking like a caged animal, a sexy beast that was close to losing all control.
“This is big. Huge. I don’t deserve this.” Ricky forced out, his face twisted with what I hoped was indecision and not repulsion.
I spoke slowly, enunciating each word so that he would know my full understanding and intention. “But I deserve you.”
That did it.
