July (Calendar Girl #7)

by Audrey Carlan

  “I love you,” I kissed his eyebrows, and he sighed.

  “I love you.” I kissed his lips, and he opened.

  Within seconds, my back hit the bed and his body hovered over mine. “You love me?” He needed me to admit it, eye-to-eye, heart-to-heart.

  “I do.”

  His entire face broke out into an earth-shattering, gorgeous smile. “I’m going to love you so hard, sweetheart. After tonight baby, you might not be able to walk.”

  I grinned and squealed as he ripped my panties off and latched onto a nipple. Once he had me squirming and panting, almost coming from his ministrations to my breast he kissed his way down my body.

  “Open up those long legs, baby. Spread them wide. I’m about to taste paradise.”

  I complied, opening my thighs, revealing everything to him. My love, my body—proving in that moment that it was all his for the taking.

  His eyes gleamed, and he ran his fingers through my sex. “So slippery. I love how you respond to me. How your body reacts, making it easy for me to take you. First though, I need a sip of your honey. I’ve been dreaming about putting my mouth on you, sucking you dry and starting all over again. Grip the sheets, sweetheart, because I’m fucking parched.”

  “Filthy bastard,” I said before he spread me wide, opened the petals of my sex with his thumbs and laid his mouth over me. He made a sound that was a cross between a groan and a moan, and then his tongue sank deep. So fucking deep. His hands wrapped around my ass, and he tilted my hips up to his face going all in. I howled, holding fast to the sheets and let him take me there. I think it took two and a half seconds and I was coming all over his face. He made carnal noises like an animal feasting before he sat up, licked his lips and wiped his mouth on his forearm. He centered his cock and pushed in, ramming to the root.

  I jolted, my body strung as tight as a drum from the first orgasm and on its way to another. “Jesus, Wes. You’ll be my end,” I said breathlessly, losing cognitive ability as he thrust in and out. I wrapped my legs around his hips.

  “Sweetheart, I hope to be your end, your beginning and everything in between. Now shut up. I’m making love to my woman.”

  The “making love” part made my heart squishy. Then Wes set about spending the evening making love to his woman…repeatedly. Though I convinced him in the middle of the night that his woman needed a good fucking, where he promptly turned me on hands and knees, smacked my ass and pounded me until I screamed in ecstasy.

  Chapter 8

  The waves crashed against the board, water pounded against my face, and I couldn’t have been happier. Wes’s toned form paddled farther out, like a machine, intent on catching air this time. In a split second, he was up on his feet and slicing through the water. I followed his lead and, lo and behold, caught my own much smaller wave. Still, it felt amazing and together we rode the waves back to the shore.

  I tucked my board into the sand as Wes road his all the way until he was able to jump off. He pulled his board up under one powerful arm and made his way to me. His hand slid behind my head and his lips slanted over mine. Tongues and teeth gnashed as the kiss became more indecent. The hand not on my head dropped the board in the sand and grasped my neoprene covered ass, squeezing rhythmically. With a growl, he pulled back and shook his hair, which sent saltwater droplets flying. That finely muscled chest of his dripped with water as he unzipped and let the top half of his wetsuit fall down around his golden brown chest. I wanted to jump his bones as I took in all the hotness that was Wes. My Wes, I reminded myself.

  “Someone likes what she sees. Keep it up, sweetheart, and your ass will be hitting sand and my dick sinking home.”

  Thrills, chills, and bells clanged all around me as my body responded to the heady promise, not at all alarmed with the plan. Moreover, ready to take the next steps toward seeing that warning come to fruition.

  Wes shook his head grinning like a schoolboy who’d gotten the girl. He definitely had the girl. “You’re off today, right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I told Anton I needed another day, but tomorrow, I’ve got to rehearse because we’re taping the video the next day.”

  Wes hooked an arm around my shoulders. “Then you’re all mine.” Instead of admitting how very true that now was I just grinned, completely content to be held in the crook of his arm as we waded through the sand.

  “Back to the apartment?” I did not even try to act coy, my intent clear. I’d been away from Wes, enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh with Tai and Alec after I’d left him, but it wasn’t the same. Love was never involved. Before, with the other men, it was fun. Meaningful yes, a part of my journey, absolutely. With Wes though, it was just…more.

  He picked up his board and then mine. Chivalry indeed wasn’t dead. We walked back to the hut on the beach and turned in the boards and suits. I tugged on my jean shorts, tank and Converse shoes. He had his cargo shorts, boat shoes, and t-shirt on and clasped my hand when I finished winding my hair into a messy bun on the top of my head.

  Wes had rented an open four-by-four Jeep. He put the car in motion, a hand to my bare thigh as if reminding himself of still being there, gave me a cheeky grin, and zoomed out onto Ocean Drive. I decided it was best to soak in the sun and Miami heat, and enjoy being young and in love. It wasn’t a new feeling, but it was the first time in a long time I had any faith in or desire to have that feeling filling my pores, roaring through my veins, and zipping along my heart.

  We drove up a path leading to an enormous mansion.

  “Where are we?” I asked Wes as he got out of the car, came around and opened my door. I clasped his hand and hopped out, pushing the sunglasses up on my head to take in the lush gardens along with the historical-looking architecture of the building.

  “Vizcaya Museum and Gardens. I’ve been wanting to come here for a while. I’ve done a lot of research on it, and I think it could be the perfect location for an upcoming script I’m working on.” He grabbed my hand, and we entered. Once we were settled with the touristy requirements with the staff, we had free reign to roam the house and gardens. Wes led me through room after room. I could hardly take it all in. The art collections, the ridiculously rich bedrooms that were fit enough for a king to live in. Who knew these types of places existed beyond those of the exorbitantly rich and famous? Then it hit me. Shit. Wes was rich and famous. I couldn’t remember if he was just a millionaire or a billionaire. Not that it mattered to me. Money was only good to get you what you needed to live and a bit more to have some fun with. I didn’t need colossal amounts of cash to be happy. Only enough to get my Pops out of hock and move on with my life.

  Wes didn’t speak for the longest time, both of us taking in the opulence, history, and attention to detail that the designers put into something so unique. Each room in the mansion was special in its own way, laying out the foundation of one family’s life. A family that died out and donated the private Miami estate to Dade County that took excellent care of it. The estate brought in money for the county and was a place for folks to get married, where movies were made, and allowed the other ninety-nine percent of the population to ooh and awe over the extreme wealth of the previous owners. It had a magical, unreal vibe that places of extreme opulence have. Like a castle would, I imagine.

  “Would you take me to a castle?” I was trolling down the long hallway. The art collection in Vizcaya was damn near priceless, some pieces dating back to the Renaissance.

  He lifted his chin, closed his eyes and then opened them as if he was clearing something from his vision. “Sure. There are a couple of amazing ones in Germany. We can plan a trip.”

  Just that easy. We can plan a trip. To Germany. And that is how the one percent lives. The farthest I’d ever been ever was Hawaii. There was pretty much never an opportunity where I’d likely be making the kind of money it took for the cost of plane tickets to fly internationally.

  “Isn’t that expensive?” I tried to hide the anxiety that went with the simple response, ‘we can t
ake a trip’.

  He shrugged. “Not to me. Drop in the bucket, sweetheart.”

  Drop in the bucket. Taking a trip to Germany was a drop in the bucket for someone with Wes’s affluence. Shit. Eventually we’d have to talk about his outrageous wealth and my lack thereof. Suzi, my crotch rocket, was the most expensive thing I owned, and that didn’t even equal the cost of a newer used Honda Civic.

  I took a deep breath and clenched his hand tighter. Right then, I promised myself that I would not allow money to get between us. If he wanted to splurge on a trip to Germany, he knew what he could afford and what he couldn’t. Emasculating my man was not something I would do in any way shape or form, but I did want to have a conversation about it when all this was over.

  We stepped through a set of French doors and nothing but intricate lawn carvings and greenery spanned as far as the eye could see. “It’s is the former villa and estate of businessman James Deering, of the Deering-McCormick-International Harvester fortune,” Wes finally said. That meant nothing to me, but I listened and nodded. He was obviously into the history behind the place and I had to admit, I felt as though I entered the book, The Secret Garden, which was a very cool feeling.

  Wes stood in front of a staircase leading down into one of the many gardens. “The Vizcaya estate includes the Italian Renaissance gardens, a native woodland landscape as well as the original historic village outbuildings surrounding the compound. It’s magnificent isn’t it?” He asked while we walked hand-in-hand. The gardens were definitely magical and the county had to spend a mint on gardening. Everything was trimmed neatly and to pristine detail, most of it in intricate designs that reminded me of mazes as well as country style lace. Wes pointed over to one area. “The landscape and architecture were influenced by Veneto and Tuscan Italian Renaissance models and designed in the Mediterranean Revival architecture style, with Baroque elements. Paul Chalfin was the design director,” he confirmed.

  I sucked in a breath and took in the many floral scents combined with that of fresh cut grass. “It’s truly beautiful.”

  Hand-in-hand we walked and walked until we found a strange waterfall. It was a series of steps on two sides with giant pots at each level of incline. Water fell down the center of the stone and concrete. Moss and minerals colored the blocks a vibrant orange and green as the water slid over each level.

  Wes placed me next to the backdrop, stepped a few paces back and lifted his phone. I smiled and he took a photo. “Want to remember this, sweetheart,” he murmured as he took me into his arms and kissed me just under my ear. Tendrils of excitement pranced along my nerves bringing that giddy feeling back to the surface. I gave him my wide, unencumbered, all-teeth smile, and before I could stop him, he took a selfie of us smiling at the camera.

  “I want a copy!” I announced, and he hugged me to his side as we continued our stroll, only this time, our bodies touched from shoulder to hip. Couldn’t have asked for better.

  We found ourselves in front of a rectangular structure. “You see that?” He pointed to it excitedly.

  “Um, yeah, it’s pretty big, babe,” I snorted and he ignored the jab.

  “This was featured in Iron Man 3! Take my picture in front of it.”

  I laughed, took his phone, and he pumped his arms out in front of him in a very superhero-esque pose and I snapped it. “You’re so goofy!” I smiled, and he once more took me into his arms.

  “And you love it.” His green eyes dazzled, his face softening into an expression of serenity and joy. That was the face I wanted to look into forever.

  “I love you,” I countered.

  He inhaled sharply. “The things those words do to me. Christ Mia, I can’t describe it. Just so damned lucky to be hearing it. I feel like I’ve waited my whole life to hear it.”

  I smacked his chest playfully. “You’ve only known me seven months.” I sashayed out of his arms swaying my hips from side to side, putting on a show, trying desperately to lighten the intense moment. “Come on, we have a million miles of lawn to traipse through.”

  He caught up to me as I picked up my pace. “You are unbelievable.”

  With a hip bump to his side, he staggered. “You better believe it! It’s all real.”

  Wes reached for me again and caught me close. “And all mine.” Then he kissed me. Not a soft kiss. Not a hard kiss. A downright knock-down, drag-out, precursor to boning type kiss that made me pant, moan into his mouth, grip his hair, and pull him closer. I wanted more, and I didn’t care where we were or how I got it, just that he gave it to me. Now.

  “Want you…”I whispered between licks and sweet, drugging sucks of his succulent mouth.

  He grinned, and I could feel his smile against my teeth, his hand locked into my hair. “I know,” he whispered then tugged on me and gripped my hand. “Come, like you said, we have a million miles of lawn to traipse through, and I, for one, want to get you back so I can ravish you.”

  I followed, a little dazed and a bit annoyed play time was over, yet equally anticipating more play time when we got back. “Where’s the exit?”

  He tipped his head back and laughed, a deep, throaty sound that I absolutely adored. Wes gave good laugh. Then again, Wes gave good everything. “Soon baby. Anticipation sweetheart, makes everything more intense. We’ve got all night.”

  Pinching my lips together, I sneered, “But one of us has to work tomorrow and wants her man to exhaust her tonight, not by trailing through unending paths and lovely gardens, but by plundering her garden,” I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively.

  “Wicked woman!”

  “That’s right. No rest for the wicked. So come on, make me tired.” I grinned, and he lifted me up in a princess hold and spun me around in a circle. It was fun; it was carefree. It was Wes and me.

  ***

  The instant the elevator doors closed, he was on me. His hands were all over my body, his tongue in my mouth. Claiming, consuming, devouring. The hand rail around the elevator dug into my back, and I mewled and winced. Wes’s hands roamed down my back until he felt the offending bar and slid his hands over my ass and down to my thighs where he promptly lifted me. I was happy about this for two reasons. One, the bar was no longer digging a hole through my spine, and two, it put his cock exactly where I wanted it, pressing hard against my love button. It was wild, wicked, and just what I wanted.

  The doors opened, which should have stopped the very overt public display of affection, but we were too far gone, until the sound of laughter and the elevator not moving pierced through the fog that was Wes. He too moved his head infinitesimally from my mouth and took in the two bodies standing there, Anton holding the door of the elevator open and Heather holding her hand over her mouth to try and contain the escaping peals of laughter.

  “Lucita...” Anton’s voice was laced with humor. Then he looked at Wes. “I’m guessing you’re the man in her life,” his voice as smooth as honey and just as sweet. His eyes danced with mirth and his lips pursed into a pout. “Glad you finally showed up. At least you can touch her.” His pale green eyes took in the display before him not even a little flummoxed. It was as if he saw this kind of thing every day. And knowing Anton and his penchant for women—lots and lots of women, in his bed or otherwise—I could see why this didn’t bother him a bit.

  Heather waved hysterically from a foot behind Anton. Wes made an uncomfortable noise from deep in his throat that sounded like part growl, part annoyed boyfriend. I chuckled and unwound my legs from his waist, and he let me down but didn’t allow me to go far, probably because he was sporting serious wood. And by serious, I meant a massive, long, hard, cock ready to go. I pouted, missing it against me as much as I think he did right then.

  Wes’s eyes narrowed at Anton as he held out a hand and we stepped off the elevator on my floor. Anton shook the outstretched hand. “So Mia didn’t mention you were coming, but I imagine after that cabron attacked her last month, you needed to see your girl. Respect man. Mad respect.” He clapped him on the back.<
br />
  “Excuse me? What guy? Attacked Mia?”

  Anton’s face jolted back. The shit was about to hit the fan. I tried to give hand signals, throw up flares, wave down the plane, but nothing stopped him. He gripped Wes by the shoulder. “Ah, don’t worry. Her secret is safe with me. The no-touching thing though, shit man, she’s beautiful, and a man wants to put his hands on her even in a friendly way, you know. Well”—he grinned pointing to the elevator—“you know.” He winked. “That bastardo that did it uninvited, put her in the hospital; you must have been downright loco eh?”

  Wes stopped on the way to my temporary apartment. His eyes narrowed, and both hands turned into white fists. He shot a guarded glance my way. “You were attacked? A man put you in the hospital? A fucking client?” The calm way he asked was scary, downright frightening because it was laced with venom. “Mia? Answer me.”

  I stood still, tears forming in my eyes. “It wasn’t that bad,” I whispered.

  “Did this guy also try to touch you uninvited?” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward where Anton stood obviously misunderstanding what Anton meant to say.

  My eyes widened and I opened my mouth to speak but something on my face registered wrong and he flipped around and had Anton by the throat against the wall. “Did you fucking touch her?!” Wes slammed his body once against the wall. Anton recovered quickly and put his hands to Wes’s forearms. I feared he’d start a brawl. He didn’t. Anton went still and allowed Wes to hold him against the wall; Wes’s arms shook with the effort. “I asked you a question,” he shouted.

  “No.” A single word, his eyes directly on Wes, challenging him not to believe the truth.

  I placed my hands on Wes’s back, not knowing what to do. I didn’t want to make it worse. Tears scuttled down my cheeks. “Wes, baby, Anton has been trying to help me get past what happened. Please, let him go. We’ll talk. Me and you. He didn’t hurt me.”

  “What’s this about you not being able to touch her? Why the fuck would you even say that?” he thundered right up in Anton’s face.