"In the end, she left me. And she was right to."
"But didn't you say that she was—"
I clasped her hand in mine. "Okay, so she did it in the shittiest way possible, by giving me a page of handwritten hate-speech and running off with one of my friends, who she’d already been fucking." I let out a half-laugh that had been trapped deep in my chest, but now seemed to want to be free. "But the past months have given me perspective. That it was for the best. That Cassidy and I, we weren't right for each other. She knew it, and, deep down, I knew it too." I shrugged. "I guess I just figured our relationship was normal. What you did. Found a person you were more or less compatible with and settled down. Built a life that was better together than if you were alone. Whenever I saw those romantic comedy movies, I'd always roll my eyes. I never thought it was possible to feel—"
"That strongly about someone." Instead of sounding cheerful, Giselle's whisper was desolate…like a death sentence. And yet, she snuggled against me, and held me tight. "I'm so happy I met you, Gage."
Her words pricked my heart.
Suddenly, despite being outside in the open air, I felt stifled. I cared deeply about Giselle. And so, the right thing would be to tell her about the type of man I was. Clearly the right thing to do, but it felt agonizing doing it.
"Giselle." I took both her hands in both of mine and pressed them tight. "I need to say something."
My nerves left me as soon as I made the decision. How could I even know Giselle was thinking that far ahead? We'd only been together for one month, after all. Maybe she wouldn't mind what I was going to say. She’d never mentioned exes or marriage or children.
After a few seconds of deliberating over the right words, it occurred to me there weren't any.
"One thing my ex said in her letter was definitely right. I don't think marriage is in the cards for me."
An overpowering silence screamed between us.
Giselle didn't react as I expected she might. No piercing wit or sarcastic teasing. No dismissive little laugh. Only a cool solemnity that came over her features. Her eyes closed for a moment, and then when she opened them again, they were resolute as she spoke into the cool night air.
"I have something to tell you too."
8
“My visa is expiring. I have to go back."
Her words were logical, and yet, they wouldn't compute in the structured confines of my brain no matter how many times I ran through them.
"I have to return to France in two days. I am sorry."
Two days? What the fuck!?
She twisted around, finally with the dejection in her eyes I'd expected. "I could not manage to figure out how to break it to you. I kept meaning to, and then…"
Catlike, she left my lap and made her way to the balcony railing. I went to the opposite side and leaned over as far as I could without falling, half suspended in open air.
A Molotov cocktail of emotions boiled through me, pushing me under in a sea of shock. Fury, despair, fear. But what did I expect? That Giselle would stick around indefinitely when she didn't even fucking live here?
As I accepted her news, I realized I was lucky it had ended like this, instead of the Cassidy-way, with another woman disillusioned.
I had to face facts: there wasn't an exhaustive supply of women who would be content to just pass time with me, knowing any "relationship" we had wouldn't really go anywhere. I knew all too well how young girls were raised, even today in the so-called era of the "modern woman"…on Hallmark Channel movies and Instagram wedding envy. I'd seen it with my friends, Paul and Isa, and I'd seen it with Cassidy. I had no doubt that most women, apart from a very few, would have the same expectations in mind.
Not that that had been the problem here, clearly. I have to return to France in two days. Christ, did she really have to break this to me so last minute? Sure, this whole time it had felt like things with Giselle had been too good to last, but still. I'd thought I would've at least had enough time to reconcile myself to her leaving when the time came. Say a proper goodbye.
"Do you want me to go?"
That she had to ask me at all cut me off at the knees, because there was something deeply wrong with me. I should be able to tell her how I felt about her. I should be able to say, “No, I don't want you to go back to France and leave me,” but I didn't say any of that. Two days. In two days, she'll be gone…
I closed the distance between us and pulled her into my arms. "On your second to last night here? Not a chance."
Before my eyes, her face transformed. The statuesque coolness melted away into a soft smile. "So, what does that mean, Gage?"
"What that means"—I leaned in to give her a quick kiss on the lips—"is that we still have one more day together."
She arched a brow. "What will we do?"
I shook my head. "All you need to know is this"—I tightened my hold around her— "tomorrow belongs to me."
There was something almost tragic in the smile she gave me. Nonetheless, she pressed her sweet lips to mine and kissed me until I took her back to bed.
I stroked, kissed, sucked, licked, fucked—every thing she loved to pull the two words from her that I craved above all others.
"Oh, oui…"
* * *
"Rise and shine, Gi."
Giselle's eyes fluttered open, then closed just as briefly. Settling myself in the bed beside her, I carefully balanced the plate on my bare chest and speared a sausage with my fork.
"I guess I'll just finish this fine breakfast myself if you're not hungry."
Like a switch being flipped, Giselle's eyes snapped open and she let out a huff of annoyance. When I kissed her cheek, a pouty frown crept over her face.
In the early days, Giselle had warned me she was not a morning person. "Gi in the morning," we called it. I took the opportunity to tease her out of it most days, but this morning I found her black temper incredibly cute.
Wriggling herself upright, Giselle accepted the fork I offered her and took a tentative bite, looking like the French sex goddess she was…with the sheet about to slip below her left breast as she ate her breakfast in bed. I'm going to miss this so much.
"One question," she said, in between bites.
"Just one?" I teased.
Giselle's obsession with questions was no secret. She enjoyed nothing more than to hit me with five or so questions at a time, fascinated by the responses.
She jabbed out her fork slightly, as if considering. "Just one—for now."
"Ask away, then." I tugged on the sheet and made it fall.
"Do I get to know what we are doing today?"
Leaning in, I kissed the tip of her nose, and then moved down to give some attention to her perfect and gorgeous breasts, smiling all the while. "This is how it starts."
* * *
It felt like déjà vu all over again flying down the highway in my Jag, Giselle wearing her spaceship of a sun hat looking beautiful and happy.
Although I wasn't taking her to Magnolia Gardens again. Today we were going somewhere she'd told me she very much wanted to visit but had never been able to go. The zoo.
Her excitement when I pulled into the parking area was the reaction I hoped for, but I know we were both feeling the urgency of time winding down for us. There was only a little bit left, and I wanted to make sure she was doing something enjoyable with the few hours that remained.
Still, seeing her as overjoyed at the sight of a doe lying with her fawn, I couldn't regret even a moment of being in a public place with her when I only wanted her all to myself. I had hoped that there was a chance we could figure something out after she returned to France. She could come back to the US again after she fulfilled the requirements of her visa in France. She could…if she wanted to.
"Just look at the bébé." God, I was going to miss how she found joy in simple things. It was how Giselle existed in life—laughing and dancing her way through it.
Leaning in, I whispered, "Hate to say it, but I thi
nk a baby deer is your true spirit animal, rather than the sparrow."
"Maybe yes," she said. She rested her eyes on me and became thoughtful. "And what would your spirit animal be I wonder.? Something proud and solemn I'd say. Like a stag watching over his deer family."
More of our past flashed in my head—the last time she had looked at me so deeply, at the beach, when she had first drawn me and made her less-than-flattering assessment. Hard. Proud. Closed off.
"Sorry if I was a bit blunt that first time I drew you," she said softly.
"How did you know I was thinking about that? Can you read minds too?"
She laughed and shook her head. "No, I am not a mind reader, but I can connect the dots much of the time."
I'd have to agree with her. Even now, as she looked at me, her eyes appeared to have an all-seeing gift. "Do you still see me that way?" I asked with a casualness I didn't feel.
She frowned and bit her lip. Not a good sign—
"In some ways, yes." She slipped her hand around mine and squeezed it. "In a lot of ways, though, no." Her shy gaze found mine. "When we spend a lot of time together, sometimes I feel like you are a different person. So warm and genuine and…" Her face scrunched up, and she slapped a palm to her lips. "There I go again, insinuating that normal you is this cold monster."
I gave her a smile that I knew was only for her. Nobody else had a chance in hell of making me smile after pointing out my faults to my face. "Don't worry about it."
She pulled her hand from mine. "No, I will worry about it. I need to make you understand. How…I cannot pinpoint what it is, but sometimes when you have been with me for a long time or"—she peered up at me and held my face in both of her hands—"Like now. Your eyes look different. Happier." Because you make me fucking happy, and I hate that you’re leaving.
"Because I am happy when I'm with you, but please don't let it go to your head, Frenchy."
She pushed up on her toes and kissed me. "I will not, Surfeur américain."
The rest of our time sped by far too fast. More cute animals to admire. More kisses shared along with some strawberries when we ate lunch. Finally, when she slumped her head on my shoulder wearily, I swept her off her feet and carried her to the car as she squealed in protest.
Inside the car, I begged for forgiveness in the form of kisses.
"Stop, Gage." Her face the textbook definition of absolute glee, told a completely different story. "I mean it."
"Your mouth says stop, but your body says go," I said, flipping up her poufy skirt. She only laughed more uproariously. As I traced my hands up her thighs, I admitted, "I guess you're right. We need to get started on our grand finale before the day is over."
Even though I was laughing as I said it, as was she…the words sliced into my heart with painful precision.
* * *
Hours later, after wining and dining her, and our time was ticking away too fucking fast, I finally had her where I really wanted her. The two of us alone in my house with the cool night air blowing in through the open balcony doors.
"Oh, what is this?" Giselle asked when she spotted the teal-and-gold-wrapped gift on my bed.
My hand on the small of her back urged her forward. "It's just something for you to put to good use, and I know you will." No way was I ever going to admit that I'd actually told Old Bat Art Lady to find gift wrap that matched the color of Giselle's crochet dress and the dark gold of her hair the first time I saw her waving at me on the beach. That secret would have to go with me to my grave.
The image of the very first time you saw her will too.
Giselle began opening it carefully, as if to preserve the pretty paper, then abruptly said, "Oh, what the hell," before the rest of it was ripped away in a haphazard second.
When she saw what it was, she fell silent. Almost in slow motion, she turned to me and did something I'd never seen her do before.
Her eyes filled with tears and she…cried.
Slowly she sat on my bed, holding my gift in her lap like it was the most precious treasure. "Oh, Gage, you didn't…"
I sat down beside her as she focused her teary eyes on the drawing set I'd found at Elysium—a tiered mahogany box containing a selection of the highest quality graphite, charcoals and sepias money could buy.
"But I did."
Giselle traced her fingers over the glossy wooden box lovingly before hugging it to her chest. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She leaned into me and gave me the sweetest thank-you kiss I'd ever received from giving a gift. As we drew apart, her shining eyes still locked on me, she said, "No one has ever been better to me than you have."
Her brutally simplistic words left me speechless, because I didn't feel like I'd done much for her at all. A few dinners and some outings, where if I hadn't watched her carefully, she'd have snuck to pay while I was distracted by something? That was what she meant? She was so far off from my truth if that was what she believed. Giselle was the one who'd given me far more than I could ever give to her. And that was the part that bothered me the most…because I didn't know what to say or how to explain it in words. No one has ever been better… And there was so much finality in her words. She was leaving.
But being the mind reader she was, Giselle caught on. She sensed my discomfort and took me out of that uncomfortable place in my head and replaced it with something much better.
Carefully placing the drawing set on the bedside table, she then climbed to the middle of the bed and spread herself out like a decadent feast ready to be devoured.
"How may I ever thank you?"
The sultry roll of her r 's had me instantly hard. "I can think of some ways."
"I think you can too," she said with eyes half hooded and an arch of her back that let me know her pussy was already wet.
I crawled up on the bed beside her and slid my hands up her short skirt for the second time today, hyper aware that I wouldn't be able to do it again after this. I paused to admire the sight of her in nothing more than the lacy pink panties she had on, but not for long. I was on a mission critical with not a minute to waste. "As much as I love this view, I think—no—I know that these have got to go, baby."
She responded by arching her back and shoving her tits out…but best of all, by moaning for me in French. My favorite. I slipped my fingers underneath the lace and pulled them down her long lovely legs to unveil my stunning prize.
Then I slid my hands to the inside of her knees and spread her wide open. Yep, her pussy was wet…and very much in need of my mouth. As I descended to kiss and lick her to a perfectly pitched crying orgasm, in French of course, one thought looped through my head on repeat: How will I survive never doing this with her again?
The knowledge that this was the last time was felt by both of us. So, while the sex took on a sort of harried urgency, we also relished each and every moment. After I made her come the first time, I stripped away every remaining stitch of clothing from her body until she was naked and perfect just as God had made her. I did the same with my own clothes while she watched until we were a matched set. We set out to savor the touch of our lips and tongues across every inch of skin we could kiss. My lips found a mole on the back of Giselle's left upper thigh I'd never noticed before. It felt cruel that I only discovered it now.
My lips skated down the line of her spine and settled on the dip above her ass, and then lower. The desperate moans escaping her pretty lips were music to my ears.
But it was her Oh, oui! that I lived for. That was when I knew I was really getting somewhere.
So, when I pulled her to her knees and opened her up to lick at her clit from behind, it was those two words I was gunning for. Even as my fingers slipped into her slick pussy, I didn't let up on my stroking until I heard her say them. The sound was as sweet as heaven's doors opening just for me.
Her golden hair had tumbled free of her ponytail, and now wildly shook as she contorted herself in abandon. Giselle was all about expression…in everything she did in her life. Sexua
l pleasure was no different an expression for her than the joy in blowing me in a patch of sunflowers. It was beautiful to witness, and I felt like she'd given me a precious gift to be able to be the one to help her with that expression.
When I finally pressed my cock into her sweet, sweet self, that thought disintegrated. All thought did. Thought was transmuted to sensation, two bodies learning and flowing as one. This is the last time. This feasting and clashing of kisses. This stroking and claiming and owning of bodies. This feeling of hands and fingers engaged in a dance nearing its inevitable end.
And, amidst it all, the omnipresent clash of us coming together, the in, the out. More and more, farther and deeper, her tight heat, my penetrating cock. Together. How we were meant to be for this perfect, last time.
And yet, it was too divinely designed to stop. We both moved with a sort of learned carefulness. To make it good, but not too good. Perfect, but not perfect past the point of control. Because then, it would be over. This is the last time.
So, we flowed from position to position like synchronized dancers who'd gone through this a hundred times, until we could make it look seamless. Fucking her became…life. Because every part of Giselle responded exquisitely to my touch. And yet, when she started clasping and grooving my dick into her, and new heights of pleasure started to grip me, I knew with a pang of regret, there was no putting off where this was headed anymore.
Not anymore. Not this finale of finales. This inevitable ending that was in our beginning. This building and growing and becoming.
Oh, oui became my refrain as we kept on joining into each other, merging into one unending moan. Flowing us onward. Surging me forward. My dick acting of its own accord. In and out and deeper. More and more. Neurons firing and nerve endings blasting. And through it all, us, coming as one. One organism. One urge. One being satisfying itself and then, finally…one release.
Naked Love Page 84