LaCasse Family Series

by Ju Ephraime

  “Voila, ma petite chérie,” he said, lowering her into the heated water of a huge, jetted tub of dark blue marble with satin-finish gold fixtures. There were at least four different fixtures on the wide ledge of the tub which was surrounded by a built-in shelf holding different kinds of bath oils and gels. Surround sound music was piping into the room which was dwarfed by a large window and a skylight that made the room bright and cheery.

  Daphne sank all the way down, peeling off her shirt as she went, and still her feet could not reach the other side of the tub. Wolfe stood at the foot of the tub watching her.

  “Can I join you?” he asked, and she slid toward the foot of the tub, making room for him behind her.

  He slid in slowly, grabbing a washcloth from one of the built-ins next to the tub and began washing her back. He spent quite a bit of time washing her. It was a bit embarrassing for Daphne, who had never been that intimate with another individual, but he evidently enjoyed doing it; the evidence dug into her butt where she sat between his legs.

  “Are you ready to do this again?” she could not resist asking.

  “You have that effect on me, chérie,” he responded. “I can’t seem to get enough of you. Are you very sore?”

  “Mmm.” Too drained to move, she allowed him to continue rubbing and massaging her. “I need to wash my hair,” she said dreamily.

  With a great splash of water, Wolfe stood up. He stepped out of the tub then bent over to pick her up and carry her across the floor to the shower. Propping her against the wall, he shampooed both her hair and his. While the water poured over them, he sucked on her nipples.

  “Like pebbles,” he said as he supported the weight of her breasts in his hand, “hard and smooth.”

  “That’s not all that’s hard,” she said. He was as hard as if they had not just completed the act twice. “And I don’t know if I have any energy left.”

  She needn’t have worried. He wrapped them both in fluffy bathrobes and carried her back into the bedroom. This time, she had enough brainpower available to appreciate the room. It was decorated in a very pale shade of lavender blue, with white trim, and dark furniture, which created a nice contrast against the white mosquito netting. The windows opened up to a vista of the ocean in the distance, with the backdrop of the mountains.

  He placed her on the bed and began massaging body oil into her skin. She had to admit that the oil felt wonderful, but what he was doing to her with it felt even better. She’d thought all her energy had drained out, but in no time, he had her weeping again, her female core clenching rhythmically.

  “Will you turn over for me, mon amour?” he asked.

  She loved it when he spoke to her in French, especially when he called her mon amour in that sexy accent. She felt treasured. She rolled over onto her stomach, and he began massaging her with long strokes from her neck down to her butt. He paid special attention to her butt as if he loved massaging it. From time to time, his erection poked her as he moved around her body.

  She luxuriated in his attention. No man before had ever made her feel as if he worshipped her body. His hands glided over her body until she was quivering with need again. She lost it when she felt his mouth, first on her neck and then the small of her back.

  He gave her little bites on her back, which were followed by soothing licks with his tongue. He seemed to enjoy giving her love bites. Daphne was getting into that state of mindless ecstasy his touch always caused. The almost reverent touch, followed by a bit of punishment, was mind-blowing. Not an inch of her back did he leave untouched. Daphne thrashed back and forth on the bed, moaning in sweet anguish.

  He flipped her over and began to work on her front. She was delirious with need, arching her back and raising her shoulders off the bed in supplicate invitation. He slid his hands over her breasts, and he began massaging the oil into her breasts, using his fingertip to trace the ring of each puckered areola. He reached down to massage her belly. He touched her everywhere but the place she needed touching the most, the place that wept for him.

  Finally, when she thought she would go insane, he slid his finger inside her, causing her to moan in pleasure.

  “So wet for me, mon amour,” he murmured.

  He came up over her and, using the broad head of his penis, massaged her between her legs. The oil from her body provided a slick lubricant for him, and he slid his penis back and forth over her clit, not penetrating, just playing around it. Daphne thought she would die from the need to have him inside her.

  “You are impatient, mon amour,” he said.“Wait, I’ll give it to you.”

  She was so wet between her thighs she could feel the wetness running down her legs. She was out of her mind with need, tossing and turning her head on the pillow, in desperate need. Her body writhed under his hands. She could barely find enough air to gasp, “Wolfe, Wolfe, I can’t stand it.” She fought his hand that held her down.

  “Do you want me inside you?” His voice was so raspy she had difficulty understanding him.

  She reached her hand up to his head and fisted her fingers in his hair. “Yes, yes,” she hissed. “Now!”

  To her immense satisfaction, he obliged her.

  He remained in the sitting position over her and pushed inside her a tiny bit. Daphne didn’t have the time for the slow entry. She spread her legs as wide as she could, offering herself to him. He gave her one of his searching looks, and then he was in, all the way.

  The invasion caused Daphne to go off again into another powerful orgasm, drawing a scream from her as she was swept on a spiral of infinite ecstasy. He kept up a driving rhythm as he possessed her utterly—ravished her thoroughly—and everything within her sang.

  Wolfe’s voice was hoarse when he whispered in her ear as he came over her fully. “Dieu, mon amour, je t’ adore.”

  Daphne’s cries climbed in volume as his strokes deepened. “Wolfe,” she panted. “Wolfe, this is too much.”

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No! Don’t stop!”

  “Then take me, take all of me, darling,” he said, and he reached with his right hand and grabbed her mons, placing his finger on the sensitive button of her clit and thrust home to the hilt. The rigid rod of his penis buried itself so deeply inside her that she felt as if he was touching her lungs. It was divine ecstasy.

  The ride was exhilarating, marvelously stupendous, and wonderfully exhausting. She felt the climax building and building, and then, as if Wolfe could sense that she was on the edge, he applied more pressure to her clit, and then she shattered. Her sheath clamped tightly around him, hot and fiery, and with every spasm of her sheath, she felt Wolfe growing harder and thicker inside her. He roared with his release, just as she was coming down from her high, and they cried out in unison as he took her along with him.

  It took Daphne a while to recover enough strength to roll over to look at Wolfe. He was lying behind her, up on his left elbow, looking down at her. She leaned her head back to him, and he came forward and bent his head into her neck, inhaling her scent.

  “You smell of sex, and it is setting me off again,” he said. “Would you like to get back into the shower?”

  “Only if it is to shower,” replied Daphne. “I will not be doing anything in the shower, but taking a shower, comprendre?”

  “Je comprends,” he responded, laughing. “I love to hear you speak French.”

  “Don’t be funny. You know I can’t speak French, but a word here and there. Anyway, only a shower, right?”

  “Only a shower,” he promised with a laugh. “But feel free to have your way with me, if you feel the urge.”

  She laughed. “You are incorrigible. I think I’ll go take a shower alone until you know how to control yourself.”

  “You are adorable.” With a growl, Wolfe leaned over and claimed her mouth in a deep, fevered kiss, and against her better judgment, Daphne found herself kissing him back just as feverishly. She felt his manhood growing against her stomach, but with a smile ag
ainst her mouth, he ended the kiss. “Go take your shower while I prepare us some lunch.”

  Daphne had to laugh at herself. She was just as insatiable as Wolfe; when he’d ended the kiss, she’d been on the verge of capitulating. What had this man done to her? She had great difficulty recognizing herself in this new person. The woman who first came to this island had been replaced by a houri.

  Entering the bathroom, Daphne opted instead for a long, leisurely soak in the gorgeous tub that was part of the shower room. She used one of the bath soaks that was on the shelf next to the tub. It had a refreshing smell of jasmine with undertones of violet, her favorite scent.

  It took a while for the tub to fill up because it was huge, but she sat on the shower seat and waited. True to his word, Wolfe allowed her to enjoy a long, leisurely soak in the tub while he took a shower in the other bathroom.

  When she came out, wearing one of his robes, he had a spread on the table. He’d prepared a beautiful salad with the local fruits of the island: mango, orange, pineapple, and guava. It smelled delicious. He had mixed vegetable salad with freshwater crayfish, accompanied by the island’s famous rum punch. He handed her a drink and went to use the telephone.

  She waited for him to return before she tried any of the food. He came out not too long after, and they ate together, talking and laughing and having a wonderful time.

  E ight

  They were debating whether he should take her back to her hotel or whether they should go together to the north side of the island when the telephone rang. It was Foxx, apparently calling about some emergency at one of the restaurants. Wolfe promised to get there in an hour; he would be taking Daphne back to the hotel after all. Wolfe wasted no time changing, and in five minutes, they were on their way to her hotel.

  There was a comfortable silence between them she was loath to interrupt, but she was too curious about his twin brother to keep still.

  “Hey, Wolfe?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Why are you guys named after predatory animals?”

  “You’ll have to ask my godparents.”

  “Why? Why not your parents?”

  “According to the story,” he began, “when we were born, even though we were identical, our personalities were different, exact opposites. As a kid, so I was told, I was the aggressive one, and always took the lead, but Foxx was always trying clever tricks to gain our parents’ attention. So...Wolfe and Foxx. Foxx was thought to be cunning and a loner, and I, because of my tendency to take the lead role and form emotional attachments, was named Wolfe.”

  “I do believe your godparents were on point in their interpretation of your personality,” Daphne said. “All I noticed about your brother is that he likes to talk.”

  “That,” stated Wolfe, “is how he sucks people in. They underestimate him because he carries on this way, but he really is as smart and as quick as a fox.”

  Soon they had arrived at her hotel and pulled into the parking lot. Wolfe gave her a possessive embrace and a long kiss, promising to pick her up as soon as he was through at the restaurant.

  “It’s okay…it’s fine, really,” Daphne said. “Take your time. I have some phone calls to make and a book to read.” And my body needs a rest, she thought.

  After he was gone, she stepped gratefully into the cool of the hotel lobby and settled at one of the computers near the window. She needed to clear her mind of Wolfe, just for a moment; he seemed to have taken over her life. She also wanted to call Gayle, although she did not want to discuss her time on the island. She just wanted to know how things were going at the office.

  She had an excellent opportunity to observe the natives coming and going, and to admire the beautiful foliage of the island. There were hundreds of butterflies flit­ting among the abundant and varied flowers that lined the front of the hotel. The wide variety of the flowers was incredible. She saw a flower that looked sort of like a bright red artichoke and butterflies in all colors of the rainbow. She hoped to look them up when she had time.

  Daphne had spoken to Gayle only once since her arrival on the island. She did email her office to let them know she was all right and having a wonderful time...Okay, to gloat a little.

  Daphne checked her in-box and saw that Gayle had things well covered. There was an email from one of her partners. She glanced at it briefly, and she did not like what she read. She’ll return to it later. She looked over Gayle’s work, just to keep herself in the loop. An important potential client had finally given them the green light. Good. What did you expect? she asked herself. That the business would cease functioning because you weren’t there?

  It seemed no time had gone by when her cell phone rang, and it was Wolfe. He would be picking her up in an hour. My, that only left her forty-five minutes to freshen up. She wanted to look good for him. She began hastily gathering her belongings and raced to catch the elevator to her room.

  It was so hot and sticky on the island; she had to shower again before she met Wolfe. As she blow-dried her hair after her hurried shower, she thought hard about what was happening in her life. Here she was, embroiled in an affair with a man she hardly knew, yet she felt a connection to him as if she’d known him all her life. She hadn’t come to the island looking for an affair nor, for that matter, a relationship, but here she was, racing to get dressed for this man. Lord forgive her, she couldn’t have done anything else if her life depended on it.

  The man had overwhelmed her as if he was a drug and she an addict. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. Even subconsciously, he was still there. Her every thought brought a memory of something she’d said to him or he to her. How had this happened so quickly, ambushing her when she wasn’t looking? She didn’t have an answer. All she did know was that she was hooked, and there was no unhooking her. She wasn’t looking forward to returning home. I won’t think about this, she told herself. I’ll clear my mind of negative thoughts and live in the moment.

  She wore a yellow sundress, telling herself she blended in well with her surroundings; yellow was her second favorite color, next to red. When Wolfe drove up, she was standing outside under a huge bougainvillea tree. He spotted her right away and grinned at her as he got out of the car.

  “How did you spot me so quickly?” Daphne asked.

  “I could not miss you, even if I wanted to,” he replied, smiling even wider.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Your yellow dress against the red of the bougainvillea flowers is impossible to miss.”

  She made a face as if she was hurt.

  “Come on now, stop pouting...Why the long face? You look wonderful. Like a little brioche, all warm and golden, and very, very, tasty. Good enough to eat,” he said, making a snapping sound with his teeth.

  “You are too silly,” Daphne responded, turning away from him.

  He was looking closely at her, and she did not want him to notice that she was a bit out of sorts from reading that email from her partner. She had purposely not addressed it, because she didn’t want anything to interfere with her time on the island, but every so often, her mind would flash back to it, like it had now. She was going to try not to let it ruin her date with Wolfe. But, he was too observant for it to have escaped him because he began questioning her.

  “Qu’est-ce qu’il y a, chérie? What’s the matter, darling?” he asked.

  “Nothing is the matter. Can’t a girl just be quiet sometimes?”

  “I guess so. My apologies.”

  He always reverted to French when he spoke without thinking, but he always repeated what he said in English to make certain she understood him.

  Her French had gotten better though; being on the island was helping her improve it, and she loved him to speak to her in French; everything he said sounded like a caress. She would take all the caresses she could get from Wolfe.

  They walked together, hand in hand, to the vehicle. After helping her into the car, he turned to her. Opening her hand, he pressed an ardent kiss into the center
and closed her fingers over it.

  “This is a gift for you,” he said. “Until I can get to give you a proper one, hold this one for safekeeping.”

  Daphne gave up; it was impossible to remain upset when she was in his company. The cares of the world receded as they focused on each other, to the exclusion of all else.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Would you like it to be a surprise, or do you want me to paint you a picture?”

  “I love surprises,” Daphne said.

  “Would you like to go dancing after dinner?”

  “I’m afraid I’m not a very good dancer, not on your level anyway.”

  “How do you know my level?” he asked, laughing.

  “You live here, right? Everyone here seems to dance so well! I’ve watched how they move together, and I’m warning you, I can’t do that.”

  “How do you know?” he asked. “Have you ever tried?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I think you either have it or you don’t. And I don’t believe I do.”

  “I will prove you wrong. Give me ten minutes with you on the dance floor, and you will be dancing like a native islander.”

  “Very kind of you, sir, and how will you accomplish this feat?” Daphne asked, laughing.

  “You just leave it all to me,” he replied with all the confidence in the world.

  Daphne was intrigued. This I have to see. How can he turn me into a sensual, island-type dancer in ten minutes? She could barely contain her excitement. To dance as she’d seen couples doing at the club—to dance that way with Wolfe—heaven!

  As usual, the drive was completed mostly in silence. Wolfe did not believe in idle chatter. However, the night was cool, and it was enjoyable just to be sitting next to him. She found he did not mind the radio and contented herself by listening to music, trying to understand some of what the French announcer was saying.