Faux Pas

by Natasha Madison

  “So wet for me,” I tell her in a whisper. My thumb now moving up and down with my fingers. “Always ready for me,” I tell her, and she opens her eyes but then slowly closes them, not saying anything. Her hips move up and down, meeting my hand. “Fuck, you taste so good,” I tell her. She moans as my fingers start moving a touch faster. “I could eat you for days and not get enough of you.” She licks her lips, and my mouth attacks hers. She kisses me with wild abandon, taking everything from me. She deepens the kiss and sneaks her hand inside the front of my pants.

  She wraps her hand around my cock, dragging it up and down, and it’s me now who lets go of her to hiss. “Always ready for me,” she says, her voice low, and she comes to my mouth again; this time, nipping at my bottom lip. “I can’t wait for you to sit down and let me slide down your cock slowly.” I close my eyes and breathe, trying not to picture it in my mind, but I lose at it. “All the way down where you stretch me,” she says, and her hips now go faster as do my fingers. “I can hold the headboard while you watch me fuck you,” she says the last words and then moans, and I know she’s coming. Her pussy squeezes my fingers, and I fuck her faster, making her ride it out. Kissing her softly, I feel her hand going limp on me, so I get up and go to my bag. She watches me now. Turning on her side, she holds her head up with one hand. I pull out the box of condoms that Giselle threw in the bag, taking one in my hand as I kick off my shoes and then pull down my pants. She watches all this, her eyes never leaving me. I put the condom wrapper in the corner of my mouth and peel it open. I’m about to roll it down when she sits up. “No,” she says and then gets off the bed to come to me. She grabs my hand in hers and the condom in the other and pulls me to the bed. “Sit down with your back against the headboard,” she says, and I do what I’m told. I sit with my back against her headboard and my legs stretched out in front of me. She gets back on the bed and crawls between my legs. “Before I roll this on,” she says, “I have to have a taste.” As she takes my cock into her mouth, her hair falls over her face, blocking my view. I moan and move her hair to the side so I can watch her take my cock into her mouth. My eyes never leave her mouth, and then her eyes look up at me, and she slowly pulls her mouth away.

  She places the condom on the tip of my cock and rolls it down a bit, squeezing the tip. My cock, knowing what is coming, gets even harder. She rolls it all the way down, then crawls over and puts her feet beside my hips, squatting over me. My hand automatically goes out to rub her clit. “Hmm,” she says, grabbing my cock in her hand and placing her pussy right on top of it. She moves it up and down and then slowly—so fucking slowly—she slides all the way down my cock. Her pussy grips me and holds me there for a couple of minutes, then her hips rotate. My hands go to her hips, and she reaches out and holds the headboard, lifting herself up and down on my cock. Starting ever so slow and then riding me faster and faster, she starts to pant when I put my thumb in my mouth and then bring it to her clit, pressing down on it and making circles. “Oh, god,” she moans, her head falling back, and she fucks me till she comes all over my cock.

  Her pussy convulses all over my cock. I wait for her to finish before I take over and flip her over to her back. “My turn,” I say, and I don’t let up. I fuck her harder than I’ve ever fucked anyone in my whole life. I throw her legs over my shoulders, taking her deeper and deeper. She lifts her hips, and I get so deep in her, she comes again, and this time, I follow her there. I plant myself all the way in her, and my body releases. I fall on the side of her, taking her with me. “I need a shower,” I tell her, and she just snuggles up to me. “Are you joining me, Chérie?” I ask her, and she just shakes her head. I laugh at her and get up, looking back to see her getting under her covers. I walk into her bathroom, turning on the lights and looking around. I throw the condom in the toilet and then start the water in the shower. The bathroom is all white, the only touch of colors are the silver handles on the drawers and the vase of bamboo. I take my time in the shower, letting the water wash over me and releasing the tension in my neck.

  When I walk back into the room, all the lights are off, and my girl is lying on her stomach when I get in next to her. I put my hand under my pillow, and she turns over. “Night, honey,” she says softly, coming closer to me and burying her head in my neck, my hand now coming out to bring her closer to me.

  I kiss her forehead. “Bonne nuit, Chérie,” Good night, I tell her softly. With her tucked into me, I finally give in to the sleep that has eluded me for the past two days.

  My eyes blink open, and I look up at the light coming into the room, a room I’m not familiar with. I look up at the brass chandelier, then turn to look over at Meghan’s side of the bed, but it’s empty. I sit up and see that the door is closed, and a look at my phone shows that it’s 10:30. I get up, grabbing shorts from my bag on the chair in the corner. I open the door, going out, and hear Meghan’s voice. “I think it will look perfect. Let me get a couple of samples worked up, and I’ll have that over to you either this afternoon or this evening.” I follow her voice down the hallway to her office. She’s sitting behind her desk, wearing glasses that I didn’t know she had with her hair piled on top of her head. I smile at her when she finally sees me, and a smile also fills her face. “Will do,” she tells whoever is on the phone and then places the phone down. “Good afternoon,” she says, smirking. “Sleeping beauty.”

  I walk over to her, bending down and kissing her neck. “Morning, Chérie.”

  “You want coffee?” She looks up and asks me, and I just nod. “Come on,” she says, getting up and walking down the steps, and I take in her outfit; her yoga pants mold her, and she’s wearing a huge tank top that shows the sports bra under it. She walks past the island and goes straight to the coffee machine on the counter in the corner. I follow her and press my front into her back.

  “Those pants make me want to do very dirty things to you,” I whisper in her ear, and she wiggles her ass back on my cock.

  “Go sit,” she tells me, “before you bend me over the counter and …” She looks over her shoulder. “And I don’t stop you.”

  I turn and smack her ass, walking around the island and pulling out one of the stools that she stores there. The kitchen is white with stainless steel appliances, and I’m facing a huge window with a big white sink in front of it. The cupboards are all white with squared glass doors. A vase full of dying white roses sits in the middle of the counter. I look at her, and she places an espresso cup in front of me. “Are you hungry?” she asks me, heading to her fridge. “I think I have a couple of things.” She looks, then she shakes her head, closing the fridge. “Nope, nothing.” She turns and faces me. “I have to go to the grocery store.”

  I grab my coffee. “I’ll get dressed, and we can go,” I tell her and walk back upstairs to get dressed, throwing on a T-shirt and grabbing a baseball cap and my sneakers. “Chérie!” I yell for her, and I hear her coming upstairs, and she looks at me. “Are you not changing?”

  She looks at me like I’ve grown five heads. “No,” she tells me. “It’s the grocery store.”

  “But you’re naked,” I point out.

  “I’m not naked.”

  “Chérie, cover yourself,” I tell her. “I see your stomach and bra.”

  She looks down at herself. “It’s my workout stuff.”

  “Chérie.” I look at her. “I can lend you a shirt if you want.” I reach into the bag and grab another shirt and toss it to her. She catches it by reflex. “If you bend over, I can see cleavage,” I tell her.

  “And?” she asks, folding her arms over her chest.

  “And?” I laugh, shaking my head. “It’s mine; I don’t share or like when people look at what’s mine.”

  “You did not just say that to me,” she says, and I walk to her, grabbing her neck in my hand and bringing her close to me.

  “I did just say that,” I whisper to her, leaning in, and her breath hitches like I knew it would. “And if you don’t do what I say, we will not be
leaving this house for a while.” She licks her lips. “I’ve always wanted to tie you to the bed and take you over and over and over again till you see reason.” I kiss her softly. “So are you going to change?”

  “What if I want you to tie me to the bed and take me over and over again?” she whispers. “But I need to eat first, and we need groceries.”

  “So change your shirt and when we get back and I get you fed, I’ll show you what I meant.”

  “Okay,” she says, “but just for the record, nothing is wrong with my shirt.” She walks away to the closet and comes back out with a nylon Nike jacket.

  “You look much better,” I tell her, and she rolls her eyes. I follow her out of the house, getting in her Jeep. We get to the grocery store where we stock up on things she wants and things I’ve never tried. We unload all the groceries and work side by side as she makes us omelets, and after that, I drag her to bed and tie her to the bed and show her why she needs to listen to me.

  I grab a towel from the cupboard and towel dry my hair, looking over and seeing that Meghan is wrapped in a towel around her chest and combing her hair. I stand behind her and look at us in the mirror. “We need to talk,” I tell her, and I don’t know how she is going to take this talk. “I was hoping we could do it after a nice dinner, but I can’t wait any longer.”

  She stops combing her hair midway down and looks at me through the mirror. The worry sets in, and the smile and happiness she had there a minute ago is gone. “What?” she whispers.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask her, and she just shakes her head. I kiss her shoulder. “It’s nothing bad,” I tell her, but I’m lying. Everything rides on this conversation.

  We walk back into her bedroom, and she bends one leg, sitting on the bed while the other is on the floor. I sit right in front of her, tucking one of my legs under me also and take a deep breath. “You’re scaring me,” she tells me honestly, and I see the confusion on her face.

  “I want to talk about the elephant in the room,” I tell her, and she just looks at me. “Chérie, I live in Paris, and you live in Canada,” I tell her, and that is enough for her to kick off and move away from me. She now stands there, holding the towel to her chest. “Come here.”

  “No,” she snaps. “Say what you need to say, Alex.”

  “Fine,” I say, getting up now. “I want this,” I tell her, and I can honestly say my heart stops. “I want to date you and see where this thing goes.”

  “What?” she whispers.

  “This,” I say, gesturing back and forth between us. “This isn’t just a fucking fling anymore,” I say, putting my hands on my waist. “I want this all the time, but you live in Canada and I live in Paris.”

  “So?” she says, putting her hands up. “So what?”

  “So how is it going to work?” I ask her, my heart beating so fast, begging her to give us a way to make it work.

  “We sit down and go over things,” she tells me. “I open my calendar, and you open yours, and we make it happen. I can come there; you can come here.” She puts her hand on her head. “It will probably cost a fortune.”

  “Money isn’t an issue,” I tell her. I still haven’t told her about our plane.

  “I don’t want your money, Alex. I want you,” she says softly. “I don’t care that you’re loaded,” she says loudly now. “I don’t care that you’re whoever you are. I care that you make me laugh, I care that you go out of your way for me, I care that you got on a plane at the last minute and flew all the way here to tell me that I meant something. That is who I want; that is who I want to have a relationship with.”

  “Well then,” I say to her, my heart beating again. “I have my own plane.”

  She shrieks, “What?”

  “Chérie, do you know anything about the British family?”

  “Um … yeah, Prince Harry, hot AF,” she tells me, and I glare at her.

  “Well, I don’t think his girl would like that, but your guy doesn’t,” I tell her, and she comes to me, getting really close.

  “But you’re hotter,” she says and leans up and kisses under my chin, hugging me now. “So what were you saying?”

  “Well, although there is no monarchy in France, the Devilles are as close as you will get to royalty.” I look at her and see her mouth hang down.

  “Shut up,” she says, and I put my head back and belly laugh. This woman who sent back my wine and pushed me gives me everything.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Meghan

  “So you’re telling us he’s like Prince Harry, but better?” Kate says to me, sitting on the stool in the kitchen. Diana’s sitting next to her and grabs her coffee, bringing it to her mouth.

  “Do we curtsy?” she asks.

  “He isn’t royalty,” I say to them, shaking my head and then looking up when the front door opens and Alex walks in, carrying a huge bouquet of white and pink roses.

  “Ladies,” he says, nodding to them and coming around the counter. “Chérie,” he says, leaning down and kissing my lips. “What are you ladies up to?” he says while I grab the flowers and find a vase.

  “We were talking about if we need to curtsy to you or not,” Kate says. “I say no.”

  “I think you curtsy his father,” Diana says. “Definitely his grandmother, but she is so funny.” She looks over at me as I stare at her with shock. “What?”

  “How would you know?” I ask her, placing the flowers in the warm water.

  “Oh,” she says, “I was on FaceTime with Giselle.”

  “It was WhatsApp,” Kate says, “not FaceTime.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she says. “Anyway, she came in while Giselle was on the phone, and she was asking about you.”

  “What?” I say, my heart starting to beat just a touch faster. “What did she say?”

  “She asked if that was your real hair color,” Kate says, then laughs, “and if it’s your real hair.”

  I put my hands to my chest and then run it through my hair. “Why would she ask that?” I look at Alex, who shakes his head.

  “I have no idea. If you want, we can call her, and I can introduce her to you or,” he says, pulling me to his side, “you come back home with me, and we can meet her.”

  “I can’t,” I tell him. “I have three proposals to do, and you’ve distracted me this whole week.”

  “You guys are nauseating,” Kate says, and Diana nods her head. “Yup, from hot to barf in the matter of five minutes. Jesus, it really is a relationship.”

  I put my arms around his waist and laugh into his chest. We’ve spent the week just the two of us. He gets up at around four a.m. and checks in with everything at home, and then he comes back to bed and wakes me either with his mouth, his fingers, or his cock. Then we have breakfast together, and I start my day till he gets bored, which is usually an hour or so, and then he comes into my office and asks me what I’m doing. Which ends with him buried inside me. “Okay, fine,” he says, “but you know what we agreed on.”

  “I know,” I tell him, and the girls look at me.

  “Um, what exactly is this agreement?” Kate asks.

  “We won’t go more than two weeks without seeing each other,” I tell them, and they look at each other and then look at me.

  “So every fourteen days, you get on a plane and go and see him?” they ask me, and we both shake our head.

  “It all depends what is going on. If I can’t make it, he comes here, and if he can’t make it, I go there,” I tell them.

  “The main thing is we are number one in whatever is going on,” Alex says, and I swallow down the lump in my throat.

  “But what if shit happens and your schedules get mixed up or you have emergencies?” Kate asks the questions I was too scared to ask him.

  “We’ll see when we get there,” he says, his hand squeezing my hip.

  “I think if you guys want it, you have to put in the work,” Diana says. “You both have busy lives, and you both live halfway around the world from each other,”
she says, and she must see the worry on my face or the turmoil. I’ve never done this whole long-distance relationship.

  “We should get going,” Kate says, looking at Diana. “When do you leave again?” She looks at Alex.

  “Tomorrow late afternoon,” he tells her, and I walk to the door with them and hug them both goodbye. I close the door, turning and walking back into the kitchen.

  “What’s the matter?” I look up at Alex, who is standing in the middle of the kitchen, leaning back on the counter with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Nothing,” I say, shaking my head and not making eye contact.

  “Meghan,” he says, and I look up at him. “What’s the matter?”

  I place my hands on the counter across from him and look at him. “Are we being stupid to think that this long-distance relationship is going to work?”

  “I don’t think we are,” he says. “I have never had a long-distance relationship, but I know one thing.” He walks around the counter and sits on one of the stools next to me, grabbing me and bringing me to him. I put my hands on his shoulders, looking down, “Je t’adore. La première fois que je t’ai vu... j’ai ressenti quelque chose et ce n’était pas à cause des insultes, mais parce que tu m’avais coupé le souffle.” I adore you, from the moment I first saw you there was something there and not just because you insulted me, but because you took my breath away. I smile when he corrects himself. “Okay, maybe the second time more.”

  “I’m going to miss you,” I say the truth. “It’s been two weeks in a row now.”