“Here, let me fix that.” I lean over to pull the wheel of my dad’s walker out of the crack between the porch boards. He’s only just started using it in the last week, but it’s good to see him mobile again.
He chuckles. “Who’s gonna do that while you’re away?” He must see my face fall as a pang of guilt hits me. “We’ll figure it out. May will be here more than we need, I’m sure.”
I rope my arms around his neck to give him a tight hug. “I’m going to miss you.”
“You’re only gone a week, Abigail. The trip will be over before you know it.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
Grabbing the handle of my suitcase, I carry it down the three steps to the stone walkway. “Okay, well….” I glance to the door. Will Mama even come out to say good-bye? We’ve been on cool terms since the incident, our conversations polite but strained. I don’t want to fly to Europe and leave things like this.
A moment later, the door creaks open and she wanders out, a cup of tea in her hand. Her blue and green smock dress hangs just a little looser on her, I notice. Probably because she’s cut back on the coffee consumption, and my dad’s been requesting fruits and salads for meals, forcing her to eat healthier, too. I don’t know what happened after I left that night I discovered those pill packs in the trash, but I figure the two of them had an enormous fight. Regardless, Mama has been making an effort.
“Thank you, Bernadette,” my dad murmurs, settling into the porch swing. “Abigail is leaving now.”
“Yes, I see that. Have a safe flight.”
The woman can hold a grudge with the best of them. If this is what she needs…. I’m not going to let her make me feel bad for being happy. “I’ll text when I’ve landed in Paris, and send emergency info when I have it.” With that, I turn and head toward the car Miles arranged for me, so I wouldn’t have to deal with parking and traffic.
“Buy me something good,” Jed jokes, standing by my truck, his arms folded.
I toss him the keys.
His eyes light up with recognition. “Seriously?”
“Don’t go putting it up for auction while I’m away,” I warn.
“Heck, no.” He grins. “Thanks.”
“No, thank you. Never thought I’d admit this but you really have been a godsend, Jed.” Since our little truce, I’d actually call us friends again. I drop my voice a little. “May’s gonna check in every day but can you keep an eye on them, too?”
He chuckles. “Relax. You’re only gonna be gone for a week. Not even.”
“I know.” I roll my eyes at myself.
“So… excited?”
I nod. Excited, nervous, worried, terrified. How many words can I find to describe how I feel right now?
It’s been three weeks since I’ve seen Henry. We’ve talked when we could, but the time difference and his extra busy schedule has been a major hindrance. And then there’s the fact that my parents are home, so video calls are out. At least, the ones Henry wants to have.
I’ve felt the separation. I’m trying to believe it’s just the distance but, honestly… I don’t know.
I guess I’ll find out soon enough.
“Thanks, Jed.” I throw my arm around his neck. “See you in a week.”
~ ~ ~
“What do you mean, you lost my luggage?”
“I am very sorry, miss,” the attendant says, her French accent polished and beautiful. Her words are the last ones I want to hear after flying all night and standing at the luggage carousel for a half hour, watching everyone else on my flight collect their baggage while mine, full of new clothes for this trip, never appeared.
“Well… do you have any idea where it is?” And, more importantly, when will I be getting it back?
She clicks a few keys on her machine. “It looks like it’s in Madrid right now.”
I can’t help but laugh. Henry just left Spain to come here. His jet should be landing at a private airstrip just outside the city any minute, where he’ll wait for me to board so we can continue to Corrèze. “We will have it transported on the next possible flight and bring it to your destination. Bon?”
I sigh, looking down at my leggings and t-shirt. I went for comfort over looks. I honestly think the flight attendant wanted to kick me out of first class for it. Either way, I have some toiletries and an outfit to change into for today, but that’s it. “Will that be today?”
“It is hard to say. We will call and notify you.”
“Thank you for your help.” It’s not her fault, I remind myself. She didn’t lose my luggage.
She gives me a sympathetic smile and then quickly moves on to deal with another distressed customer.
“It’s not the end of the world,” I mutter to myself as I rush for the closest restroom to change and freshen up. “They’ll find it and they’ll deliver it and everything will be fine.”
The important thing is that I’ll be in Henry’s arms within the hour.
My stomach stirs with butterflies at the thought.
~ ~ ~
“Well, why don’t I just wait for you at the airstrip then?”
“Because you could be sitting there all day.”
“So?”
“No. Your driver is taking you straight to Margo’s. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
My head falls back against the headrest of the limo. First my luggage, now Henry’s plane has been delayed because they’ve closed the runway he’s taking off from for emergency maintenance, with no ETA for being finished. So far, this trip is not going as planned. Now I get to sit in a car for four hours, wondering what the hell I’m going to say to Margo when I see her.
“That means I’ll have to be alone with her.”
“Come on. You loved her before you found out about our past.”
“Yeah… and there’s that other part.” The part where she and her boyfriend had sex in front of us.
“You’ll have no issues with her. Just make yourself comfortable. Maybe have a nap so you’re not so fucking cranky by the time I get there.”
I scowl at the phone, even though there’s humor in his voice.
“I haven’t seen you in three weeks, Abbi. Keep your mind on what I’m going to do to you.”
My cheeks flush and I glance at the driver, hoping he didn’t hear that.
“And who knows? I might be there by the time you get there.”
I hope so. “See you soon.”
~ ~ ~
“Bonjour. Mademoiselle Abigail Mitchell est ici,” the driver announces into the intercom.
The large iron gate creaks open and the airport limo crawls along the road, banked with a lake on the right and a crop of trees on the left.
“There is a lot of history here,” he says as we round the tall stone wall and I see Margo’s place for the first time.
My mouth drops open.
I’ve seen castles like this shown on TV, but for some reason I didn’t believe that they actually existed. While it’s not quite the same size as Wolf Cove, it’s overwhelming in an entirely different way.
I’m in awe as we approach the massive, sprawling stone building, at its highest points four stories not including the numerous turrets.
“How old is this place?” I hear myself murmur.
“It was built in the 1400s. It is authentic in its design. Even the battlements.” The driver points to something.
“What are those?”
“You know. The… how do I say… crenel and the merlons.”
“The what and the what?” I know I sound like an idiot but I’ve never heard those words before.
He chuckles. “The top of the wall. The way it dips and rises in that pattern.”
“Yes. Okay.” He must be talking about the squared openings.
“Those are the original battlements, where archers hid and shot at invaders trying to steal the castle. Many died here.”
My eyes roam the peaceful acreage. All I see are rolling green hills and trees. “It’s a beautiful place.”
“Oui. You are very lucky to be staying. Are you friends with Mademoiselle Lauren?”
“No, but my… uh… boyfriend is.” That’s the first time I’ve ever dared call Henry by that. Would he care?
“Oh, oui. Monsieur Wolf. I have met him once.” The driver smiles, but says nothing else. I can’t help but wonder what kind of impression Henry made on him.
Margo is already waiting by a set of solid wooden doors. There’s no mistaking her, not even from a hundred feet away. Just the way she stands seems like a signature, her left hip thrust out slightly, her right arm raised as she leans against the frame, her gauzy white dress making her look like an angel. I know she’s anything but. It’s such a striking contrast to her shiny raven bob.
The driver—I was too frazzled about my luggage to remember his name—lets me out and then, with a nod at Margo, ducks back in his car and is gone.
Leaving us alone.
Henry said Margo would have other friends here, but I see no sign of them.
“Bonjour Abigail,” she croons in that beautiful accent, seeming at perfect ease, even though the last time I saw her, she was naked and having sex with her boyfriend in front of Henry and me, all while eye-fucking Henry. Is she at all embarrassed by what happened at the club that night?
“Henry’s plane was delayed,” I blurt out, because I don’t know what to say this woman.
She approaches slowly. “I heard. Henry called and told me.” She leans in to air kiss both of my cheeks, just like she did last time, her light floral perfume catching my nostrils. It’s a delicious scent and I want to tell her that I like it and ask her what it is, so that maybe I can match it with soaps, but I hold back.
She slept with Henry.
I don’t want to like her, or compliment her.
“And they lost your luggage, too?”
I sigh. “Yes. Hopefully they’ll find it soon.” How often does Henry talk to her? Is it simply because we’re on our way here?
“If they do not, I’m sure we can find something for you to wear.” Her gaze drifts down, over the black one-piece jumper outfit thing that the girls in the department store convinced me to buy. “Size four?”
“Yeah.”
She eyes my chest blatantly. “36D?”
I frown. “How can you tell?”
A tiny smile touches her lips. “I’ve been in the industry for more than a decade. You learn bodies well.”
“Of course.” She’s been modeling clothes for ten years, Abbi.
She reaches up to touch a few strands of my hair, rubbing them within her thumb and forefinger. “You colored your hair.”
“Yeah.” Months of sun and washing had leached the vibrant copper and auburn highlights out of my hair, leaving it that dull ginger again. So I took a big risk, going to Pittsburgh to have it done again. I even showed them a picture of what that stylist did in Wolf Cove, praying that this woman could match it. While it’s not exact, it’s pretty close.
“It is beautiful.” Something about the way she says that feels oddly intimate. “Come, let me show you to your room. Henry suggested that you take a nap.”
I roll my eyes, earning her melodic laugh.
I trail her through the main hallway, a wide corridor with arched white plaster ceilings and dark brown paneled walls, and many antique furniture pieces on either side. The air carries an odd scent to it. Impossible to describe, other than to call it “age.”
“I will give you a tour later, when Henry is here. For now, this is the main hallway. It will lead to most rooms. The guest rooms are on the third and fourth floors. There are fifteen of them. A few will be in use this week.”
Wow. “How long have you owned this?”
“My family purchased it one hundred and fifty years ago, and it has been passed down through the generations. I inherited it four years ago, when my grand-père passed away.”
She reaches into a desk drawer for an old-fashioned wrought iron key, then begins climbing a set of steps, collecting the skirt of her gauzy dress as she goes. “Five of my dearest friends and Joel will be joining us this week. I’m sure you will get along. Here, this will be yours.”
She’s panting lightly by the time we reach the landing on the fourth floor. I trail her down another long hall, this one more narrow but just as aged, with the same ceiling details and gold gilded artwork lining the walls. I feel like I’ve been transported back in time.
I wish my parents could see this. Even Mama would have to appreciate it.
Margo uses the key to open the door. “There really is no need for you to lock it while you are here, but should you choose to, it is here.” She hangs it from a hook just inside the door. “What do you think?”
In the far corner is a massive four-poster bed framed by pale blue and white toile curtains. The draperies match the wallpaper that covers the entire room everywhere except the enormous white plaster fireplace. A stylish but not entirely comfortable looking blue settee sits on a rug, centered on that fireplace. Above us, an intricate pattern of beams and moldings decorate the ceiling.
To my left, is a bay of glass.
“You have a small terrace here.” She leads me to a set of French doors where just outside, a wrought iron balcony has been affixed to the stone. It’s just large enough for a bistro table and two chairs, and a planter over the railing.
I step out, my fingers instantly going for the long, silvery leaves. “Lavender.”
“Yes. I love it. You will find sprigs in the dresser drawers and mist on the bedding, to help sleep.” Her right hand ever so gently settles on my shoulder as she points to somewhere in the distance with her left. “There are lavender fields just over there. In the summer, the smell carries in the air.”
Lavender fields. I’ve seen pictures—rows upon rows of bright purple bursts against vibrant green. “I would love to see that.”
Her smile somehow grows wider as she gazes out over the property. “It truly is a different world here.”
I step back inside, taking in the historical luxury of the room again. “Thank you for inviting me.” It’s the polite thing to say, even if I’m still wary of her.
“Of course. I wanted Henry to enjoy himself, and I knew he would with you here. I am so happy that you came.”
I have to acknowledge that Margo could have made this a business trip and had Henry here all to herself. But she didn’t. She’s making it hard for me to stay bitter with her.
The sun streams in, through her gauzy white dress, showing me the curve of her breasts, and her long, taut torso. She’s not wearing a bra, and one dark pink nipple peeks through the sheer material.
I look up to find those cat’s eyes on me, something secretive in that look. Does she know that her dress is see-through?
“Please make yourself comfortable. Do you need anything else from me?”
“I think I’m good. This is—”
A knock sounds on the door, and my heart jumps.
Henry?
My hopes are dashed a second later when a woman in a maid’s uniform carries a tray of fruits and cheeses and other things in, setting it on the small dining table. She ducks out quickly and quietly.
“Some refreshments for you, so you don’t starve. The croissants are freshly baked.”
The way she says croissants makes me never want to try and say that word again. I’ll only sound stupid in comparison.
“Eat, and then sleep.” She gestures to the bed and I catch a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “Henry asked me to make sure you are well rested.”
She knows what kind of man he is.
And thanks to Henry, I have a good idea what kind of woman she is too.
Two men at the same time? One being her boyfriend?
I tamp down my jealousy and my judgment, because the past is the past and I have no right to judge her, given what I myself have done. “I will. Thanks.”
She smiles as she kind of floats toward me in that ethereal way of hers, a genuine heartwarming smile. Seizing my arms with cool, gentle hands, she leans forward and presses her soft lips against mine. It’s a closed-mouth kiss and it only lasts for a second, but I’m caught unexpected in any case.
If she notices my shock, she doesn’t let on.
“We will see you later.”
I watch her sashay out of the room, her hips swinging.
My mouth still tingling.
It wasn’t entirely offensive. Actually, it wasn’t offensive at all.
It was just… weird.
With a sigh, I connect to the place’s Wi-Fi, only to see that Henry hasn’t left Barcelona yet. At least he says he hasn’t. Who knows with him, seeing as he doesn’t like to warn me when he’s coming.
Well… when coming means flying, that is.
Looking around me at the room I’m going to share with Henry for the next six nights, my blood stirs.
I smile.
These walls are going to see a lot.
I’ve been up for thirty hours. I’m hungry and travel weary, and in need of sleep and a shower. The last thing I want to be is tired when he arrives.
Wandering over to the windows, I admire the view again—gardens and a courtyard below, rolling hills of fields and crops of lush trees beyond. Off to the side, I can just make out a newly built pool, surrounded by stone to fit in with the style of the place. It’s late September and still warm during the day, though maybe not warm enough to swim. Still, a couple lie side by side in lounge chairs, sunbathing. I can’t tell their age from here, but the woman’s skimpy royal blue bikini shows off a svelte, tanned body.
I can’t picture Henry lying in a lounge chair all day, doing nothing. Maybe he’ll surprise me though.
With a sigh, I strip off the only outfit I have to wear and carefully lay it over the back of the wing chair. Crawling into the silky sheets, I hit the button to draw the blinds and close my eyes.
~ ~ ~
I wake up to a warm hand slipping over my hip and my heart starts racing.
I know it’s Henry before I even open my eyes.
I try to roll to meet him, but he’s already right there, his chest pressed against my back, lifting my leg up to fit himself between my legs from behind. I feel his smooth, hard cock as it slides against my thigh and heat instantly floods to my core.
And then he’s lining himself up and pushing inside me.
“Good sleep?” he murmurs, settling one of his muscular legs between mine. It changes the angle, giving him deeper access.
I reach back to curl my fingers through his hair, twisting my body just enough that I can see his handsome face. I never tire of it. “Kiss me.”
He smiles and brushes my hair off my face. Leaning down, his tongue catches mine, giving me a taste of Scotch.
“Have you been drinking?”
“Just one on the plane, to take the edge off of waiting all day for this.” He punctuates this with a hard thrust and I cry out against his mouth.
He smirks. And then he plunges again.
And again.
The arm hooked around my leg is like a vice, holding me in a perfect position as he pumps in and out of me relentlessly.
“I don’t have enough hands,” he murmurs, curling his fingers through my hair. “Use yours.”
I reach down to start rubbing my clit, already slick and swollen and needing attention.
Thirty seconds later and without warning, he suddenly groans and shudders. “Fuck,” he forces out between gritted teeth, pulsing inside me. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop it this time. I’ve been thinking about it too much.”
I sigh, my hand slowing. “It’s okay. This time.” Truthfully, he could come ten seconds in and I’d still be okay with it. I’ve never been so happy as I am right now.
“No, it’s not.” He slides out of me and climbs to his knees, leaning back on his haunches. Throwing the covers off, he rolls me onto my back and pushes my knees apart, spreading my legs wide. “Keep going.”
“But you do it so much better,” I tease.
He stretches over me just long enough to hit the button to the retractable curtains. They begin drawing open, filling the room with late sun. I squint into the brightness.
“I’m waiting, Abbi.”
Keeping my eyes closed for the moment, I tentatively reach down, feeling his eyes on me even though I can’t see them. I may have done this a lot on our video calls, but I’ve only done it once with him sitting and watching me like this. I still felt this strange mix of erotic excitement and embarrassment.
I let my fingers slip over my clit and then down, to where I’m slick and sticky with his seed as it leaks out. Back and forth, I draw slow circles, feeling my embarrassment slowly diminish.
“Open your eyes.”
I do, letting them adjust to the daylight until I can easily focus on Henry kneeling in front of me, his naked, muscular body settled in a relaxed pose. His cock is jutting up from between his legs. He looks ready again, but he’s not making a move.
He’s just staring at me with that intense gaze of his—at my fingers between my legs, my breasts, my face.
I look down at his erection again, and my legs instinctively slide farther out, opening my body up more for him. God, I want him on me and inside me again.
His lips curl into a sexy smirk, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. With his right hand, he runs his hand up and down his shaft twice before letting it fall away again.
He’s teasing me now.
I move to sit up.
“No.” He gives my shoulder a gentle push, sending me falling back. “I like watching you fuck yourself. In fact….” He stretches forward, reaching for the nightstand beside the bed.
I use this chance, curling my body and sliding under him.
He lets out a groan as I wrap my fist tight around his shaft and then open wide, letting my teeth scrape across his skin ever so lightly as I take him in. He freezes on his hands and knees, whatever he was going for temporarily forgotten.
I look up to find him watching me. I pull away just long enough to smile at him, earning an eyebrow spike. “You think you’ve won?” Even his voice is husky, though he tries his best to play cool.
I stick my tongue out and lick his tip like an ice-cream cone in answer, pretty sure that I have won. I ignore the rustling at the drawer and, closing my eyes, I fill my mouth with him again, reveling in the fact that I get to do this for six days straight.
He lifts to his knees, his hands on the back of my head, pushing himself farther into me. “Goddammit, Abbi,” he hisses. He’s swelling inside my mouth already, and I can taste beads of his cum on the back of my tongue. It won’t be long before he orgasms again.
Suddenly he’s gripping my hair and pulling himself out. I look up to find his heated eyes glaring at me, and his chest puffing in and out with his fast breaths. He’s seconds away from coming and is deftly shifting me back to my original position, on my back with my legs spread.
He settles on his haunches again and tosses something long and black at me.
I recognize it immediately. It’s just like Autumn’s green dildo, only a little bigger.
“This was in the nightstand?”
He chuckles. “Margo makes sure her guests have everything they might need.” The smile drops off, and a seriously intense gaze takes over. “I want you to fuck it, Abbi. I want to watch you do it until you come.” He starts stroking himself in long, slow movements, waiting. “The sooner you do that, the sooner you’ll get this.”
God, this man….
It’s been a while since I’ve heard him talk to me like that. I tentatively pick it up. It’s almost as thick as Henry and just as smooth, except for the ridges around it. It has a slight curve, to it, too.
Henry takes it from me with a smirk. “I’ll get you started. Sit up a bit so you can see.”
I prop myself up on my elbows as he begins sliding it up and down my folds, twisting and turning it with each pass, until it starts to glisten.
And then he slowly begins to push.
It’s not going in as easily as Henry does. He stops pushing and, with his other hand, starts rubbing my clit, his touch instantly making blood rush down between my legs.
He pushes it in farther. “Come on, Abbi. I know how wet you get for me. Open up.”
I stretch my thighs apart. He pulls it back and then pushes in again, forcing it farther. I stop focusing on the black thing, and instead focus on his hand, gripped around it, strong and rough, and so skilled at delivering orgasms.
The dildo disappears deep inside me.
He pulls it in and out a few more times and then he releases it. Grabbing two pillows to prop my head up, he leans back, his hands at his sides again. “Your turn.”
I reach for it, feeling the warmth of Henry’s hand where he was just gripping it. It feels weird, having something foreign inside me.
I slide it out slowly, and then push it back in as he did.
Henry lets out a sigh, his cock bobbing once in anticipation. He runs his hand along his shaft once. “Keep going. Pretend it’s me.”
I close my eyes and do as he asks, imagining this is Henry inside me.
“You’ll need to go faster if you ever want to come.”
He’s actually going to make me keep going until I come? How is he not coming? He was going to explode. With my other hand, I reach for my clit and start rubbing it.
“Look at it. Look how wet you are.”
I open my eyes and look down. The black rubber only accentuates how much thick, white cream is coating the shaft now. Each push in makes a wet, slurping sound now.
“Fuck, I love seeing you like this, Abbi,” Henry hisses through pants. They’re matching my own, I realize, my breasts heaving up and down with quick breaths.
His words spur me on and I start pumping it in and out even harder, and faster, until the curved end hits against that spot deep inside that Henry loves to rub. An almost uncomfortable pressure begins to build.
The orgasm comes on hard and unexpectedly, bursting inside me. I’m still crying out when Henry yanks the dildo out of me and replaces it with himself, thrusting himself in and out of me at the same unrelenting pace until, only moments later, he’s groaning and pulsing inside me.
I’m boneless as I lie beneath his body.
“Now you know how to get by when we’re not together.” His breaths are heavy in my ear.
“Somehow I don’t think it’ll be quite the same,” I murmur. “And there’s no way I’m doing that in my bedroom at home, with my parents downstairs.”
“So get your own place.”
I roll my eyes. “We’re not all made of money.”
Henry lifts himself off enough to peer down at my face. “You know that whatever you want, you can have. Right?”
“I’m not taking advantage of you.”
“Why not? I’m taking advantage of you, right?” He lays a lingering kiss against the small of my neck, making me moan. “Preying on your virtue?”
I giggle. “According to Mama.”
With a groan, he climbs off me. “We should get up. Margo said they were all meeting for drinks at seven. Dinner’s at eight.”
I roll over to glance at the clock. It’s just after six. I can’t believe I slept the afternoon away.
The nightstand drawer still sits wide open. Curious, I look inside. There’s a basket filled with condoms and packets of lube, along with a bunch of other toys. “Anal beads?” I hold it up. “What is all this stuff?”
“Things we can try out when we don’t have to be ready in an hour.”
I frown, turning to take Henry in. He’s standing in front of the bay window, unashamed of his nakedness as he peers out over the scene. “How did you know that that”—I gesture at the dildo lying in the sheets—“would be in there?”
“Just a hunch.”
“You had a hunch that she’d put a basket of sex toys in our drawer?”
He smirks. “Have you not figured out that she’s an odd one, yet?”
He’s halfway to the bathroom when I remember and blurt out, “She kissed me. On the lips.”
His feet slow for a moment before he continues on, disappearing behind the door.
I hear him chuckling to himself.
