by Roxy Harte
“They took the news remarkably well.” I lean forward to press a kiss to his cheek and have the worst thought. “Oh shit. My parents. They wouldn’t tell my parents, right?”
Frankie shrugs.
“That isn’t helpful,” I tell him tersely as I race after my girls to tell them the information I shared was completely confidential. His laughter follows me and I shout back to him, ”I’m glad I’m entertaining someone.”
“Entertaining? Is that what you call it?”
Mortified, I stand and face my mother. One look at her face and I know the girls have already told her everything.
“I don’t believe this. What did Ells and Bree do, race straight up to your room with their discovery?”
Mother shrugs. “Ellie texted both me and your father.”
“A text?” I repeat, appalled, not believing she would reveal my darkest secrets in a text. “And probably a hundred of her closest friends,” I say sarcastically, noting the two men in my life have simultaneously disappeared while my back was turned. Cowards.
“She’s your daughter.” She walks over to the edge of the pool and sits, dangling her feet.
“Yes, she is.” I grin a little. The little girl most like me. Geesh. I slip off my shoes and join my mother. The water seems as warm as bath water. It would almost be relaxing…if.
She speaks in hushed tones, as if we’re sharing secrets. “I can’t believe you told them. A ménage. Really. What are you thinking? At your age?”
“Age didn’t stop you from buying a French maid costume, or sharing the fact you did with my daughters.”
“Touché. Still, sweetheart, are you sure about this?”
“Can anyone ever be sure in matters of the heart?”
“Yes,” she states matter-of-factly. “I knew the instant I laid eyes on your father I would marry him. It was love at first sight.”
I bump my shoulder against hers. “I guess I’m like you in that aspect then. I knew the moment I saw Frankie my heart would be his forever. Though I think with Pierre-Louis lust came before love.”
“With Pierre-Louis lust would be the first reaction for any woman,” my mother titters.
I can’t hold back my own chortle. “He is gorgeous.”
My mother sighs. “That’s an understatement…but do you love him?”
“I do. It’s a young love, in its infancy, but love still the same.”
“I pity you, loving two men. Your father drives me insane enough thank you very much.”
“I must say, Mom, you’re taking this better than I expected.”
“What? You think I’ve gotten to this age without seeing a few things? All that matters to me is that your eyes are twinkling again…and you seem genuinely happy.”
“I am.”
“Well then, you’ll understand that we’re getting back on the road in the morning.”
“So soon? You just got here,” I exclaim, alarmed that Dad isn’t taking this news as well as my mother and daughters.
“We forced your father from his itinerary. Now that he knows you are not only alive and well, but happy, he’s ready to get back to the previously scheduled vacation.”
“So, he’s okay with my being here.”
“You mean, with both of them?”
I shrug. She never did pull her punches.
“It’ll take some getting used to, but honestly he just wants you happy. All we’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.” She admits, “I’ve always hated John. He had twitchy eyes and a dishonest mouth.”
Now she tells me this. “You could have mentioned it before the wedding.”
“We assumed you were already pregnant with the Frenchman’s brat, and when he wouldn’t marry you, you took the first sucker you could rope in.”
“Mother.”
She shrugs. “What else could we think? You sat around crying for months and then you’re suddenly getting married?”
I sigh. In hindsight, the circumstances were suspect. “That couldn’t have been further from the truth. And the girls are John’s.”
“That’s obvious now. They look just like him.”
I grimace, preferring to believe they look absolutely nothing like John.
“You do know the new problems this presents?”
“New problems?” I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“Well, we can’t keep the girls on vacation forever. Sooner or later they will have to return home. Will they return to an empty house or will you be there waiting for them?”
I start counting weeks until fall semester. I know they are planning on attending.
Chapter Thirteen
“Alone at last.”
Smiling, I turn and face Frankie. I go to him, happy when he sweeps me into his arms and holds me tight. “I was afraid you weren’t going to survive that.”
“Master?”
“Your parents? Your daughters? I thought you might come to your senses and leave with them.”
“I came to my senses when I answered your summons.”
He smiles down into my face. “You mean that, don’t you?”
“Yes. I’ve missed you terribly over the years. I can’t tell you how often I’ve driven by the manse, hoping for a glimpse of you.”
“I didn’t know.”
I sigh, feeling sad. “We’ve lost so much time together.”
He hugs me tighter. “We’re together now.”
I smile, but it is tight. I’m still feeling shaky with my new reality of being loved by two men. Especially having been faced with the youth and vitality of my daughters. I can’t help but fear that our future may not be as happy as the present. What happens when Pierre-Louis grows tired of both of us because of our age? I don’t dare voice my fears. I rest my head against Frankie’s shoulder.
“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind?”
I shake my head.
“Am I going to have to beat it out of you?”
I gasp, knowing there is no idleness in the threat. I meet his gaze, admitting, “New day, same worries.”
“Ahh.” He kisses my forehead. “You don’t think I’ve had the same insecurities? I love him and I believe him when he says he loves me. All we can do is have faith our love is strong enough to withstand the difficulties.”
“And old age?” I ask.
“Oui. And old age.”
He kisses me gently. “No matter what we’ll have each other from now on.”
“Yes,” I agree without reservation.
He smacks my bottom suddenly and it stings deep. “You are still wearing clothes. You don’t remember what happened last time you broke the house rule?”
I smile into his chest before stepping back a little to meet his gaze. I could argue my parents and daughters only just pulled out of the driveway, but I don’t. Without comment, I pull my top over my head and drop it to the ground at his feet. I remove my bra, pants, and panties with quick motions, dropping each garment similarly. “Burn them all. I like being naked with you.”
“Don’t tempt me.” He takes a long appreciative look at me.
I smile, feeling voluptuous and sexy. I’m not a child anymore, and I’ve learned a little over the years about using my feminine wiles. I lick my lips and, backing away, hold out my hand to him.
He catches my hand and lets me pull him toward the stairs. “What’s this?”
“Want me a little?” I tease, backing up the stairs.
“A little? A lot.” Frankie follows.
I smile a little wider before catching my bottom lip between my teeth. “That’s good. Very good. Because I’m still making up for two decades of neglect.”
“Neglect, was it? I seem to remember some procreating in the midst of all that neglect.”
“John was not an adept lover.”
“Non?”
“No.”
“So while we were apart what did you crave most? The pleasure? The pain?”
“I have to choose?” I pout, stumbling on a
step.
Frankie catches me and lifts me into his arms. “Call me curious. Did you fantasize about me?”
“Every night.” I wrap my arms around his neck as he strides purposely toward our room. He keeps walking, going to the next room, the one originally designated as mine. Whether intentional or unintentional, Frankie makes me think about Pierre-Louis and I wonder where he is, what he is doing. I haven’t seen him since before I said goodbye to my parents and the girls.
“And? Did you think about my kisses? My cane?” He pushes open the door with his foot.
“Both. I never separated one from the other.”
He drops me on the bed, steps out of his shoes and starts to disrobe. “What about now?”
“Now?” I’m confused.
He drops his shirt on to a side chair’s cushioned seat. He follows suit with his slacks and underwear. He stands before me. Naked. Strong. Charismatic. How did I ever leave him? It boggles my mind that my desire for children was that strong.
I hold out my hand to him, wanting to pull him into the bed.
He shakes his head.
“I like having you as a lover,” I admit. “I like that this time around our relationship is more playful and less…” I try to think of the right word. Militant comes to mind but that is too strong. Strict seems both right and wrong. “Structured.”
He seems to mull that over for a moment then takes my hand. “I like being your lover, Cassiopeia. But there’s still room for play, for discipline.”
I shiver, feeling the edge of a threat. I haven’t done anything I deserve to be punished for. He covers my body with his.
“I like feeling you tremble. It excites me knowing that you fear me.”
He pushes up on to his hands and meets my gaze.
I accuse, “Sadist.”
“Guilty,” he admits, smiling broadly. “I never claimed otherwise.”
I love his smile. He does that a lot more now than then. I wonder if it is because he has mellowed with age, or if Pierre-Louis wrought this miraculous change in his personality. I can’t imagine being in Pierre-Louis’ company for very long without smiling and laughing. He seems to bring out that part in most people. I wonder again where he is, and again push the thought away.
I am happy and content when Frankie pushes his hard length inside me. “God, Frankie. I missed your cock.”
He chuckles. I know that he’s very aware of how well-endowed he is.
“I’m not as long or as thick as Pierre-Louis.”
I think about that for a moment. I’d have never considered either. “I disagree, Master.”
“I am not as vain as I once was. I can look at the truth in things and not feel threatened.”
If that is true then he certainly has matured beyond any hope I’d ever held to. “I’m not trying to flatter you. It is the truth as I see it. You are both very nicely endowed. Equally so. And you have more experience to know exactly what to do with your length and girth.”
He bellows.
“I’m telling you the truth. I don’t have to tell you to ‘fuck me like you mean it’ because you always do.”
He looks serious when he asks, “Is this true?”
I nod.
“Then my young Pierre-Louis has definitely been holding back.”
He kisses me before I can say anything else, thrusting deeper as he does so. I grunt with the force, stretching to take the rest of him deeper. I know the instant he sinks completely in. I am filled as deeply as I can ever be filled. The sensation pulls at emotion deep in my chest and, as he sets up a deep rhythm, tears fill my eyes.
“This I’ve missed most, Frankie. This. No one has ever loved me, cherished me as you do.”
He kisses away my tears. “Vous êtes mon coeur et âme, mon amour. Vous êtes la moitié qui me rend tout entier.”
You are my heart and soul, my love. You are the half that makes me whole. “Yes. You always said that perfectly. I always believed you meant every word because I feel the same way.”
“Don’t leave me again, Charlotte.”
“Not a chance, Frankie. We’ve been given a second time around. I won’t blow it again.”
“You did not, as you say, blow it. You did what you needed to do. You do not regret your daughters and I do not ever want you to. It is as I needed to do when I sent you the bustier. I could not live with myself another minute if I did not pursue you again.” He kisses me and I cling to him, cling to his words as he whispers again and again, “Je t’aime, Je t’aime.”
* * * * *
The sun is sinking when I roll over to face him, finally brave enough to ask, “Where is Pierre-Louis?” without fear of ruining the moment.
I lay in his arms and he squeezes me closer. “I sent him on an errand that will take him a few days to complete.”
“Oh really?”
He smiles suspiciously. “For the winery. Either I had to go or he had to go, and I decided he has had more than enough alone time with you. It is my turn to have you all to myself. He was much put out.”
I snicker.
His eyes twinkle and I suddenly understand just what my mother was saying. Happiness. Mischievousness. Passion for life. I see it all and more in his eyes. I settle against him, feeling content. “I’m glad you chose to stay here with me.”
“There was no more choice than to take my next breath. I must be here with you. We have been too long apart.”
Ah, Frenchmen. They do have a way of making a girl feel special.
About the Author
Multi-published author Roxy Harte has loved erotic romance novels since she stumbled across her first at the tender age of thirteen. Since she especially loves books that offer strong insight into the characters’ psyches, as a writer she wants to provide readers with characters who are not only charismatic and engaging, but also intellectually, spiritually and sexually complex. When she started writing in earnest twelve years ago, it provided an evening respite from the full-time care of her invalid mother and Alzheimer-diagnosed father, and although both of her parents died a decade ago, she now writes so that her readers may find a small escape of their own at the end of a tedious day.
Roxy lives in southwestern Ohio in a small town bordered by fields and railroad tracks, with her husband and collegiate daughter, two boisterous dogs, Petey and Jazzi, and five cats, Miss Kitty, Sadie, Dharma, Karma and Tilak.
Roxy welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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