The Love Potion

by Sandra Hill

  Then, as his eyes drifted shut in utter depletion, he thought he heard someone say, “I love you.”

  The alarming thing was, he didn’t know if the words were spoken by him, or her, or if he’d imagined them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Hey, Luc, I just got a great idea for promoting JBX. A surefire side effect that will blast this product off the shelves.”

  Luc, who was still plastered heavily atop her body, murmured into her neck, “Uh-oh. Beware of women with great ideas immediately following sex.”

  She pounded him lightly on the back with a closed fist.

  But whoa! Now that she’d “awakened” the sleeping beast, he was nibbling at the smooth skin of her shoulder, and squirming. The squirming was the worst part, or the best part, depending on one’s position, she supposed. For sure, there were some specific erotic zones on her body that were being given a “Howdy” wake-up call.

  “Well, what’s the great idea for promoting JBX?” Luc inquired, then began doing the most astonishing things with his tongue in her ear. It involved a fluttering tongue tip, wetness, and blowing.

  So distracted was she that, at first, his question didn’t penetrate her brain. Oh, that’s right, she’d told him she had a great idea for promoting JBX. He’d just sucked her earlobe into his mouth, so her answer came out with a little squeal. “Super sex.”

  “Well, thanks a bunch, babe. You were pretty spectacular yourself. But you still haven’t told me about this great side effect of JBX.”

  “Super sex,” she repeated.

  A gurgling sound came from his mouth, which she took for strangled laughter. Then he raised his head enough to look at her through those dancing Cajun eyes of his. “Are you saying I give super sex?”

  “Super-duper.”

  His dancing eyes danced some more, this time with mischief. “What makes you think the love potion is responsible? Maybe I give super sex all the time.”

  “Do you?”

  “Mais oui.”

  She thought a moment and was slightly disappointed. She tried to tell herself it was because JBX didn’t play a part in his performance, but she knew it was more than that. She wanted the sex between them to have been special because she’d been special…to him.

  “Just kidding, darlin’,” he said, taking a tiny nip at her chin. “I’ve never been this super in all my life. Honest.”

  Pleasure soared through Sylvie at those words, even though he was probably lying through his teeth.

  With an expertise she was coming to expect from Luc, he rolled over onto his back, taking her with him. In fact, his semi-limp member was still imbedded in her. Anyone else would have landed them smack-dab on the floor with such a maneuver. Now she was splatted all over the top of him.

  She had to admit, splatting had its good points.

  “Hey, Sylv,” he said with sudden, and suspicious, brightness, “you’re not the only one with good ideas tonight.”

  “Oh, my,” she said as he sat up abruptly. She wasn’t sure if she’d said, “Oh, my,” because of what his sitting-up did to her insides, or because he’d had an idea. Probably both.

  “‘Oh, my’ just about says it all,” he choked out. That part of him that was still inside her had sprung to full life with his movement. With Sylvie on her knees now, perched on his lap, he wriggled his behind toward the edge of the table, taking her with him. Then he stood in one fluid move—a testament to his excellent physical condition—causing her to clutch his shoulders tightly and wrap her legs around his waist.

  With a smile of self-satisfaction, Luc looked down at her breasts, which were nestled against his chest. Sylvie felt her face go hot with belated embarrassment, and she tried to press her upper body closer to hide her nakedness.

  “Don’t you dare go shy on me now, Sylv. The things I have in mind for you require more than a little…boldness,” Luc warned.

  “Boldness? Me?”

  “In spades,” Luc emphasized with a swat on her tush as he walked them toward the screen door at the front of the cabin and out onto the porch. Without any forewarning, he sank down onto one of the low rocking chairs and settled her legs, outrageously, over the arms. “Idea number one,” he pronounced.

  Then he began to rock.

  And rock.

  And rock.

  Luther was still belting out his songs, which could be heard on the porch. Right now, he was into “Endless Love.” Again. Yep, endless love just about said it all when it came to Luc LeDeux. He was proving to have an endless amount of stamina in lovemaking. Heck, she was proving to have an endless amount of stamina in lovemaking…much to her surprise.

  The rocking was very slow at first, with Luc setting the pace of her rhythm with guiding hands on her hips and buttocks. Later, when the rocking grew faster and more frenzied, Sylvie didn’t need his help in undulating her hips. And Luc was holding onto the top of the back spindles of the chair with white-knuckled tension.

  Somehow, they ended up in the shower after that, and although their intention had been to wash away the perspiration and effects of their lovemaking, they naturally ended up creating even more. They ran out of hot water before they ever got around to shampooing their hair. Who knew a loofah and pine soap could be deemed sex toys?

  Good thing their next step was to the bed, because they both fell into an exhausted slumber in each other’s arms. Of course, she shouldn’t have been surprised that she was awakened an hour later by a rascal who had another “idea,” this one involving something called “The Perfect Fit.”

  She got back at him later by showing him that men did, indeed, have G-spots, just like women. Luc had been unable to speak for a good while after that. When he recovered, he spent a really long time exploring her G-spot as well, not to mention a few other letters of the alphabet…even the M-spot, which he claimed to have invented. It was pronounced as the “Mmmmmmm” spot.

  Personally, Sylvie thought Luc was trying to live up to that fictitious six he’d given her earlier as the number of times he climaxed during a typical sexual encounter. Frankly, she didn’t give two hoots why he was trying so hard. She was having the time of her life.

  Toward dawn, she came to an important discovery. If she hadn’t realized it before, she did now: Sylvie Fontaine had fallen in love with the “bad boy of the bayou.”

  Instead of being alarmed, as she most certainly should have been, the only thing that Sylvie could think was, Does that make me the “bad girl of the bayou”?

  Sylvie awakened soon after dawn the next morning to the scent of roses.

  She knew it was daylight, not because she’d opened her eyes yet, but because the sun tended to come up quickly on the bayou, like a light switch, and she could feel the bright rays on her face already.

  She also felt the imprint of the hammock on her backside, through a scandalously thin, red nightie. Then, too, she felt the heat of a warm Cajun in Valentine boxers at her side. And, yes, they did glow in the dark, she recalled with a smile.

  How they came to be wearing Tante Lulu’s gifts, and how Luc had seduced her into trying something “really neat” in the hammock, would bring a blush to her face for eternity. Suffice it to say that she would probably have the diamond pattern of the hammock webbing imbedded in her rump for the rest of her life.

  They should probably get up now and prepare for their pirogue trip to Bayou Black, but how did one get out of a hammock gracefully, without breaking a leg? Sylvie cracked open her eyelids, looked to the side, and screamed. “Aaaccckkk!”

  “Wh-what?” Luc jackknifed to a sitting position, which caused the hammock to sway precariously, then flip them both over and onto the ground.

  “Oh, my God!” Sylvie muttered under her breath as she got up on all fours, then struggled to stand and straighten out the nightie, which barely covered her essential body parts. Talk about feeling foolish the day after!

  “Sylvie! Are you all right? Is there a snake?” Luc was scrambling to his feet, as well.

&nb
sp; She shook her head.

  “A gator?”

  She shook her head.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you, then?” Luc asked, brushing off his boxers and giving undue attention to a scrape on his elbow. “I might have bruised some important body parts,” he added, waggling his eyebrows at her.

  Sylvie motioned with a jerk of her head toward the porch. A young boy, about ten years old, stood leaning against a support post, chomping on an apple. A small pirogue was tied up in the stream next to Luc’s larger one.

  “Tee-John! What are you doing here?” Luc stomped barefooted over the hard-packed dirt toward the cabin, then stood at the bottom of the steps, hands on hips, and glared at the kid.

  It must be Luc’s runaway brother, Sylvie realized, the one Remy had mentioned. Even with his rumpled hair and filthy jeans and a New Orleans Saints T-shirt, he resembled a miniature version of Luc.

  “Hey, Luc,” the boy said casually, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary for him to show up in the middle of nowhere, uninvited.

  “How did you get here?” Luc asked through gritted teeth.

  “I flew my jet. Howdja think I got here?” he answered flippantly as he tossed the apple core in a perfect line toward the cypress tree at the edge of the stream. It hit dead center.

  “You’ve got a smart tongue on you,” Luc snarled. “You’d better use it damn quick to explain yourself, or you’re gonna find yourself upside down in the stream gettin’ your mouth washed out with bayou slime.”

  “I came in a pirogue,” he offered quickly. “Camped out yesterday and paddled all by myself. I remembered the way from that time you brought me las’ summer. I got here a couple of hours ago, but you two were makin’ kissy-face in the hammock; so, I jus’ went inside and slept on the bed.”

  Kissy-face? If only the earth would open up and swallow her whole! She could only imagine what else the youngster had witnessed.

  “You…you came here hours ago and didn’t inform me?” Luc sputtered with outrage.

  Not to be put on the defensive, the kid threatened, “Wait till I tell Tante Lulu you were putting your hand in a girl’s naughty place. Whooee!”

  With a gasp at the kid’s nerve, Luc sprinted up the steps and lunged forward. But the little brat was faster. He swerved to the side and ducked under the porch rail. The last thing Sylvie saw was his oversized T-shirt flapping behind him as he dashed into the trees.

  Luc noticed Sylvie cowering with humiliation, and motioned for her to come up to the cabin. She complied because she had no choice, but her entire body—and there was a lot of it exposed—blushed with the indignity of her appearance. And Luc noticed, too. The lout! Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he kissed the top of her head, and commented, “You look great in red, chère. When we get out of here, I’m gonna take you to New Orleans and buy you a whole closetful of sexy, hooker red nothings.”

  “Don’t you dare,” she said, but her heart was warmed at Luc’s breezy reference to a future time when they would be together. Entering the cabin, she grabbed her silk blouse off the floor near the table that had been the scene of her downfall last night and slipped it on over the nightie. “Aren’t you worried about your brother? Shouldn’t you go after him?”

  “Hah! The stinker managed to paddle his way here. He’ll be back.”

  Sure enough, the boy was already back, pounding up the porch steps in his pricey athletic shoes. “Now, Luc, I didn’t mean nothin’. No need for fightin’ with your own flesh and blood.” The whole time the rascal was standing outside the screen door, brandishing an oar as a defensive weapon.

  Luc laughed at the picture of the filthy imp who was no threat at all to his far superior size. “Put that paddle down before I break it over your behind. And apologize to Ms. Fontaine. Now.”

  Tee-John dropped the oar and ducked his head. He shuffled his shoes a few times, as if contemplating whether he really wanted to lose his pride and obey his brother’s orders. Then he mumbled, “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

  “Come in here and tell me what happened,” Luc said then, in a decidedly gruff voice. “Why did you run away? Dad didn’t hit you, did he?”

  “Hell, no. I’d hit ’im back if he did,” the boy boasted, strolling toward the kitchen area.

  “I told you before, Tee-John, to come to me if Dad ever beat up on you. And you came, so…” Luc, who was picking up all their pieces of clothing from the floor and stacking them neatly on a chair, apparently still worried about his father’s mean temper, despite the boy’s words. He spoke to the boy as if only remotely interested, but Sylvie could tell that he was more than interested…he was worried, and simmering with anger.

  “Nah, I’ve learned how to hide when he’s on the booze,” Tee-John boasted, “just like you showed me. Do you have anything to eat for breakfast?”

  Luc gave him a look of exasperation as he opened the cupboard door and pulled out a box of Froot Loops. From the fridge, he took a container of reconstituted dry milk. He put them both, along with a bowl and spoon, on the counter where the kid was already straddling a high stool. When the boy reached for them greedily, Luc held them away and glared meaningfully at him.

  “Oh, okay, I ran away ’cause Mom wants to send me to a boarding school up north.”

  “Why?” Luc asked, releasing the food.

  “She says I’m outta hand, but I think it’s ’cause I interfere with her plans.”

  “What plans?”

  “Mom always has plans. For shoppin’, and decoratin’ the house, and plottin’ to get Dad to marry up with her. You know, plans.”

  Luc, still wearing only boxers, raked the fingers of one hand through his hair and sat down on another stool. “Running away is no answer.”

  The boy raked the fingers of one hand through his hair, just like Luc. “You did it all the time. Tante Lulu says so.”

  Luc muttered something about his aunt having a big mouth. Out loud, he said, “I was in physical danger. You’re not. You could have been hurt, Tee-John, being in the bayou alone.”

  “I was careful, Luc,” the boy said in a shaky voice, “just like you showed me. And I ain’t goin’ to any fancy-pantsy school for rich boys.”

  “What’s wrong with Our Lady of the Bayou School?”

  “Aaaah, Sister Colette is always complainin’ ’bout me…for the least little things.”

  “Sister Colette is still there? She was my fifth-grade teacher.”

  “I know,” Tee-John said ruefully with a mouthful of food. “She’s always savin’ I’m a bad boy, just like my brother Lucien. That’s you.” He gave Luc a hundred-watt “gotcha” smile.

  “I know what my name is, you little brat. That’s still no reason to run away and scare everyone to death. How did you know I was here, anyhow?”

  “I didn’t. I just figured I’d hide out here till Mom and Dad’s crazy idea for a boarding school petered out. Oh, there’s one other reason I came,” Tee-John went on, slurping heaping spoonfuls of cereal as he talked and swiping his wet mouth with the back of a hand. “I have some important papers for you.”

  Luc raised his eyebrows.

  “They’re in my backpack over there. I overheard Dad talkin’ to that slimy Deke Boudreaux from Cypress Oil. They was sayin’ stuff about you and some oil bizness and how if you only knew what was in them papers they was examinin’, the shit would really fly.” He saw Luc’s nostrils flare at his continuing bad language, and added quickly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  Luc went over and picked up a red backpack near the front door. He gingerly removed several candy wrappers, an empty pop can, a styrofoam container of bait worms, a baggie containing fishing hooks, and—of all things!—a pack of Marlboro cigarettes, which caused Luc to narrow his eyes. Tee-John would be hearing more about that last item, Sylvie would bet. Then Luc unfolded some papers. He carefully scanned them, then walked over and handed them to her. “If these are legit, we should have a pretty good case, once we get the water samples today…don’t you
think?”

  Sylvie skimmed over the documents quickly, which did in fact appear damning. “Tee-John, your Dad is going to kill you if he finds out these papers are missing,” she pointed out.

  The boy lifted his chin proudly. “I ain’t stupid. I made copies down at Kinko’s and put the originals back.”

  “You did well,” Luc said then, patting his brother on the back. Then he walked over to Tee-John’s backpack and proceeded to empty the garbage he’d taken from it directly to a trash can. “You shouldn’t be eating so much candy,” Luc chastised him.

  “I’m not the only one eating candy around here. I threw those jelly beans away that fell out of your jeans last night. They were on a hook behind the bathroom door, and the pockets accidentally dumped out when the jeans fell.”

  “Jelly beans?” she and Luc both exclaimed as one.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t get rid of those JBX samples you took from my lab,” she declared.

  Luc’s face flushed guiltily. “Well, I intended to get rid of them.”

  “They were all sticky and had lint on them,” Tee-John went on, waving a hand airily, “or I woulda eaten ’em myself.”

  Sylvie groaned, and Luc just shook his head.

  “Well, no harm done,” Sylvie concluded. “Where are they now?”

  “I threw them outside, and some ducks gobbled them up.”

  “What?” Sylvie was beginning to think this nightmare was never going to end.

  Luc was grinning at her. He murmured in an undertone, low enough that Tee-John couldn’t overhear, “Do you think ducks get hard-ons? If so, you may have a bunch of Daffy Ducks trailing after you.”

  “It’s not funny,” she said huffily.

  “Yes, it is, Sylv.”

  “So, do you two do oral sex?” the kid asked out of the clear blue sky, which caused Luc to practically fall off his stool and Sylvie to put a hand over her face in mortification.

  “John Joseph LeDeux!” Luc choked out. “Where do you get such ideas?”