April (Calendar Girl #4) (10 page)

The good news was that Rachel had been coming over more often. They were so unbelievably cute together. She was still shy and he made a point of bending over backward to please her. Made me wonder how this was all going to work out when I left. I mean the fans and the public had seen me for the last three weeks as the doting girlfriend, committed Red Sox fan, and the woman who helped her guy put on a huge charity event.

“Hey Mace, do you think we need to plan some type of public breakup?” I asked while pushing eggs around the frying pan. It was my turn to make breakfast and Mason ate a ridiculous amount of protein so I was cooking a dozen eggs for just the two of us, ten of which he’d gobble up, bacon, and I’d cut up some fruit.

Mason stole a piece of bacon from the plate I had sitting next to the stove and munched on it thoughtfully. “I don’t know. We should ask Rach. My guess would be that Rachel and I would keep our relationship under wraps for a few weeks so the public doesn’t see me hopping from one girl to another you know?”

I nodded, grabbed the shredded cheese and sprinkled some over the scrambled eggs then added some salt and pepper. “Makes sense. How is it going between the two of you anyway?” Not that I couldn’t hear the sexcapades from another state away. They could work to keep it down. I’d been in a permanent state of arousal all week just from hearing them through the walls.

He stole another slice of bacon and leaned next to the stove while I plated the food. Two eggs and two slices of bacon for me, ten eggs and four slices of bacon for Mason. I set the plates onto the bar top where we preferred to eat. The dining room seemed too formal for either of us.

“It’s going good.” He grinned. “Never knew such a wildcat was under all those suits, but damn if I’m not the happiest fucker around.”

I snorted and choked on my eggs. He slapped my back until it passed. “Wildcat? Seriously?”

He nodded, smiling so wide I could see every tooth. “Best lay I ever had.”

That earned him a punch to the arm. He rubbed it. “True though. She’s sweet and proper in her suits but the second I get her out of them, man Mia, that little blonde rocks my fuckin’ world.”

This time I grinned. “I’m so glad, Mace. Do you think it will turn into something?” I asked, keeping my own hope in check, trying not to show how excited I was for them.

He tipped his chin and nudged me with his arm. “It’s serious. I can’t imagine any other man putting his hands on her.” He shivered and groaned. “Makes me crazy just thinking about it. I figure, if thinking about her with another man makes me want to punch my fist through a wall, it’s gotta mean something. Right?”

“Right,” I agreed instantly.

“So, I gather I’ll talk to her about it tomorrow night when we’re in Seattle.”

Seattle.
We were headed to Seattle. Someone I cared a great deal about lived in that very city. “Seattle really?”

“Yep, plane leaves first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll be there for a couple days. Quick three gamer. Get your shit together, sweetness.” He cleared his plate so fast it was as if the eggs and bacon had been vacuumed up instead of eaten.

I licked my lips and the possibility of burning off some of the loneliness I’d felt this past week sparked in my mind like flicking on a light switch. “Hey, I uh have a friend in Seattle. While you and Rachel are you know, doing your thing, would it be okay if I had a friend over?”

Mason’s eyes widened and he grinned. “You’ve got a friend?”

I narrowed my gaze at him. “Yeah, doesn’t everyone have friends?”

“What kind of friend,” he hedged with a hint of mirth to his tone. “A male friend.”

“Does it matter?” I shot back throwing some serious attitude. It wasn’t really any of his business and I didn’t plan on sharing.

He shook his head. “Nope, just teasing. I don’t care who you fuck; as long as the press don’t catch wind that my fake girlfriend is cheating on me, we’re good.”

That’s when I smiled and waggled my eyebrows. “I can be discreet.”

Mason licked his lips and smirked. “I’ll bet you can.”

***

Rain delay. Nothing but buckets were coming down when we landed and got to the field. The umps were holding the game and had been for the last hour. The fans however did not care one bit. The Mariners were diehards for their team and probably used to rain. Gave me time to text a certain sexy Frenchman I’d been missing.

To: Alec Dubois

From: Mia Saunders

Hey Frenchie…I’m in town for a couple days. You free to meet up tonight?

I could not believe I was doing this. I hadn’t spoken to Alec since I’d left almost two months ago. An hour later, I finally got a reply.

To: Mia Saunders

From: Alec Dubois

Ma Jolie, I will meet you anywhere, any place. Am I to assume this is what you American’s say a booty call.

Uncontrollable giggles left me at imagining Alec saying “booty call” with his French accent. I hugged the phone, already feeling lighter and no longer alone.

To: Alec Dubois

From: Mia Saunders

Are you interested?

To: Mia Saunders

From: Alec Dubois

Need you even ask? Wear very little. I want to see ta peau parfaite the moment you open the door.

Perfect skin. He wants to see my perfect skin. He always had a way of showing me how much he adored my body. I thought back to his fingertips caressing my naked hip up my waist and between my breasts. He would whisper beautiful French words into my ear as he touched me. Alec made me believe I was beautiful. In every way.

Immediately, I became heated, desire swirling thick in my veins as the anticipation of seeing Alec spiraled through every pore, tickled along each hair, caressing me with the essence of need.

Tonight, I would see my Frenchman. I could not wait!

***

I opened the door and there he was. Alec Dubois, my Frenchie. Before I could say hello, he grabbed me around the waist, pulled me into his chest, and lifted me off my feet. His lips were on mine and my legs wrapped around his trim waist. He turned, slammed the door shut then pressed me into it, deepening the kiss. The hardest part of him rubbed against the very space I wanted him most. I moaned, opening my mouth further. He took the invitation and swept his tongue inside to swirl against my own.

Until that moment, I’d forgotten how much I missed kissing Alec. When he kissed, he did it with everything he had to give…passion, desire, and grace. So much grace and beauty I could hardly breathe. He ripped his mouth away and set his forehead against mine.

“
Ma Jolie
, I have missed your love,” he whispered against my lips. Tears prickled against my eyes, and I caught his gaze. His eyes were golden yellow set with brown flecks that seemed to glow in this light.

I nipped his lips and nuzzled into his neck. “I’ve missed you, too, Alec. I had no idea how much until you were standing in front of me.” He curled his fingers into the nape of my neck and his thumbs swept across my chin and lips.

His eyes seemed to catalogue every facet of my face the way only an artist who’s extremely focused on details could. “You have been sad,
chérie
. Why?”

I shook my head, not wanting to get into it. “Later. For now, are you hungry, can I get you anything?”

Alec pressed his length firmly into my center. Beads of excitement roared from the middle out and through my limbs. I tightened my legs, bringing him closer. His eyes flashed with an intensity I’d missed. It was the look of a man who is desperate, Desperate to have his woman. “I have only the hunger to taste your sweet sex,
ma jolie
.” And there was my filthy Frenchman.

Without further ado, he led me to my suite and kicked the door shut. He placed a knee to the bed and then folded over, letting me down as if I was as precious as one of his paintings.

“Undress for me,” Alec said then stood. “I want to watch you expose your light.”

The way he spoke, the fire in his gaze, sent me spinning with lust. With absolutely no finesse, I lifted up to my knees and pulled the tiny dress I wore over my head. I wore nothing underneath, remembering his preference for little clothing and the lack of barriers.

“Vous êtes devenue plus belle.”
Alec spoke in French and the words slid along the surface of my skin as if he’d touched me, light as a feather but just as tantalizing. Even with my French rusty and lacking experience, I knew what he said. He told me I’d gotten more beautiful.

I shook my head. “Only through your eyes.”

He cupped my cheek. “You do not see yourself the same way the world sees you.”

I laughed. “
You
are not the world, Frenchie.”

Alec tapped my lip and I sucked his thumb into my mouth and swirled my tongue around the digit. His eyes darkened, the light no longer showing the golden tone of his amber gaze.

“Oh
chérie
, have you forgotten what you learned during our time?” he whispered, stripping off his t-shirt, exposing the square pecs I loved to sink my teeth into and the washboard abs that my fingers itched to trace.

“I haven’t forgotten how much I love your body.” I retorted, fisting my hands at my sides, my breasts heaving, becoming heavy and needy. Both his hands came out and lifted the twin globes, squeezing and molding them as if he was reacquainting himself with my body. A cry spilled from my lips when he swiped both thumbs across the turgid peaks. He inhaled deeply when close to my neck as if breathing in my scent.

Closing my eyes, I moaned and tipped my head back in offering. I could feel the edges of my hair trailing along the exposed skin of my bum. “I love your touch.”

A wet sensation covered my right breast and then I felt the nip of his teeth pinching the skin. A fresh bout of desire leapt from where he plucked and sucked straight down the length of my torso to settle hotly between my thighs. My clit throbbed and ached, primed for the moment he’d touch me
there
. And I knew he would. If I knew anything about Alec Dubois, I knew he loved the taste of me on his tongue.

For long minutes, Alec feasted on my breasts, sucking, plucking, massaging, and biting down on the tips until they were ripe, red, little strawberries ready to be eaten. My hips rotated in the air, searching for something, anything to relieve the ache.

“Alec,” I pleaded, and he grinned against my nipple, sucked hard, and then pulled away. When I opened my eyes, I knew what he must have seen. A woman who was ready to be fucked. Only Alec didn’t fuck, he made love and told me so repeatedly.

His hands went to his jeans where he unbuttoned and pushed them down his toned thighs. The thick knob of his cock was weeping at the tip when it sprang free of its denim confinement. I leaned forward and licked the pearly drop, groaning at the remembered taste.

“
Oui, mon amour
, take the edge off so I can gorge on you.”

I was on my hands and knees when he tunneled his fingers into my hair and thrust into my mouth. I took him deep, so deep he slipped down my throat the way he liked. “
Si bon
.” So good, he said. And he wasn’t wrong. It was unbelievably good to be servicing Alec. His taste, his scent, reminded me of amazing times, of great sex, and a lot of laughter, love, and friendship. All of the things I needed in my life now. With Alec, I wasn’t alone.

I doubled my effort taking long laps of his length, and worshiping the tip, sucking every drop of precum like a kitty with tiny little flicks to a saucer of cream. He watched me take his length over and over. When I looked up from my position, his nostrils were flared, his eyes intense half-lidded slits, his mouth a firm slash, twisting into ecstasy as he powered into my mouth. I took what he gave and loved every second of it. Then, with no warning, he never did warn before, he pressed deep and filled my mouth to the brim with his essence. Hot bursts of his seed rushed down my throat. I swallowed reverently, milking him for every drop until his hand turned into a fist at the roots of my hair and pulled me off his cock.

“Oh,
ma jolie
, I’m going to show you again how to love yourself, and others, by loving you this night. That, my beautiful Mia, was a prefect start.”

***

We’d just exited the shower after two rounds of serious fucking. “Thank you for coming tonight,” I cuddled into his bare chest. His fingertips traced along my arm and the ball of my shoulder in patterns I couldn’t place. Didn’t try to.

Alec rubbed his jaw along the crown of my head. “Why are you so alone when you are paid to be with someone?” he asked. The tone was inquisitive not accusatory.

Snuggling in, I licked his nipple then kissed it sweetly. “I don’t sleep with all my clients, Alec.”

His arms tightened around me. “
Vraiment
?” Really? He asked.

That brought out a chuckle. “Really,” I answered.

“I do not understand this. Why, if they are paying you to be with them, are you not
with them
in the most beautiful way possible?”

Again I giggled into his warm skin. Of course, he would lack understanding. “You know I didn’t have to have sex with you.”

His eyes narrowed, and I could tell he was trying to work something out. “
Chérie,
you and I were meant to love one another. It was never a question,
oui
?”

“
Oui
, but that isn’t the case with everyone, Alec. I’m not paid to fuck.”

“I do not fuck.” He reiterated strongly, his voice a growl and something I knew very well.

I lifted my head up, placed my hands on his chest and set my chin on top of them. “I know. And I adore that about you.” His hands trailed up and down my back as if he were painting something. For all I knew, he could have been. He was an artist. “You taught me to love the one you’re with, but that doesn’t always mean you have sex with them.”