by Zoe Adams
He finished and carefully set the razor to the side. He looked into Susanna’s face and asked, “Are you hot?”
She nodded, and he slid her out of the water. She was placed on one of the large cushions along the floor. She began cooling off rapidly. Her foot was adjusted on a pillow, and her other was still in the water.
“You are hot,” Royce agreed, his tongue on her lips. “You taste so good.”
Susanna let her body relax on the thick pillows. She watched as he flicked and played, but soon lost her battle of awareness.
“All right, you win,” she ordered.
Susanna joined the mile high club in a first class bathroom at a breakneck speed. She wasn’t sure if it was the motion of the jet, or the thorough pounding from Royce, but her orgasms just kept getting stronger.
Royce looked as if he were contemplating keeping that dizzying sensation forever, but her stomach growled.
“Are you hungry? What do you want to eat? I have a chef on board.” Royce rushed through the conversation in an effort to please.
They shared a private meal in his bedroom, which was filled with teasing innuendo. Afterward, Royce took her again, and it did nothing to put out the fire that sparked between them. They slept together comfortably, as if they had been together for years.
***
“When are we going to land?” Susanna asked the next time she woke up.
“We are almost to Paris,” Royce said.
“Straight to Paris? You must spend a lot of time on this plane.”
Susanna didn’t want to broach the subject of the last woman in this bed. The thought was in her mind, and then it was on her face, accusing him without saying a word.
“Clearly, I am on this airplane all of the time. Susanna, there has never been a woman like you in my bed,” he clarified, “our bed. You helped me without asking anything in return. Everyone wants something, and you just wanted me to be okay.”
Susanna remembered the night of the motorcycle wreck. She had only wanted him out of the road. Royce was used to being cared for, man or not. He was used to being cared for by drivers, pilots, and bodyguards. There was an air of arrogance when he bestowed his judgments of her character. He seemed quite pleased that he had found someone so complimentary to humanity, but it was more than that. He acted as though he already owned her, and it gave him immense pride to possess someone who knew so much about care.
Susanna’s eyebrows lifted at the weight of things. She didn’t have time to wonder what else he would need help with, because he kept talking.
He continued unheeded, “Damn, if you don’t have pride, and you fought me, even though you knew it was right between us. I had to beg you to come to Paris.” He looked at her smugly. “First things first. Breakfast at Claude’s, and then shopping for you.”
“I don’t like to shop, but I guess I do need clothes.” Susanna hadn’t even shoes.
She slipped into the one piece of clothing she had, the flesh-colored nightgown. The fabric gathered and fell to her ankles as she leaned forward.
Royce tried to wrap his big black coat over her shoulders, and she flat out refused. “I can’t wear that coat. It is all too obvious I was with you all night, and didn’t go home. It also shows we’re a new couple and haven’t settled into living together.” Looking around, she said, “I need scissors.”
A portion of their sheet was carefully selected and cut. Susanna folded her new shawl in half, and draped gold around her shoulders.
“Resourceful is the new sexy. I may have to shut my bedroom door again,” Royce teased her, but the joke never reached his eyes. “I can’t wait to show you off.”
He dressed in a classic dark suit, and a brushed velvet bowtie that seemed to change from blue to black.
Susanna was caught in a whirlwind of activity. Royce was the picture of attentive as he verified her happiness constantly. At the airport, they taxied to a private hangar before rolling to a halt.
A Mercedes awaited them, and soon the driver was jostling them through the early morning streets of Paris.
They came to a practiced, smooth stop in front of an ancient brick building boasting Claude’s Bakery. Royce stepped from the Mercedes and walked around to Susanna’s door, picked her up as if she were expensive cargo, and kicked the car door shut. The tall broad-shouldered man carrying the woman with classical good looks caused a mild stir at the patron’s podium.
They were seated outside at a semi private terrace full of flowers. Ancient brick walls, a partially concealed sidewalk, and the smell of sweet breads were Susanna’s first experience of the lovely city. A plate of assorted croissants and strong Turkish coffee between them did much to heighten the mood.
“To truly appreciate Claude’s, you have to be here by six when the pastries are still warm.” Royce’s tongue flashed across white teeth, and he rolled his eyes in a look that tried to share his measure of living.
Susanna greedily took a bite of each pastry, before settling back, content. The ornate bench was drowning in cushions, and the relaxed atmosphere began to pick up the day’s excitement.
Royce wolfed down his cinnamon tart, and finished a few more. He eyed his companion appreciatively.
“That was exactly the kind of breakfast I had in mind for us,” Royce said, his voice filled with satisfaction.
“Yes, it was delicious,” Susanna agreed.
He threw some euros on the table and stood up. “Are you ready to leave?”
Susanna nodded and reached up to him, and he picked her up carefully.
“I really like my transportation device,” she teased, and he threw back his head, roaring with laughter.
Susanna smiled at his profile, and he was looking straight ahead like a grinning conqueror. Somewhere a camera flashed, and the couple was oblivious to the world that bent at their feet.
The Mercedes waited at the curb. They were driven over old streets of Paris. Dark patches of city, with newness painted on, easily romanticized their surroundings. Royce was holding Susanna’s hand protectively.
“I can’t wait for our next stop,” he said. “Do you want to guess where it is?”
Susanna teased, “We are going to your house, so you can finish tearing off my dress.”
Royce raised his eyebrows at the suggestion. “Yes and no. I will definitely tear that dress off, but first I have to buy you a new one. Renault is from a long line of accomplished seamstresses and tailors; he will love you.”
“Are you allowed in the changing room with me?” Susanna was baiting him, and her finger traced a heavy outline on his chest.
“Just wait.” He licked her trail of fingertips, and eased her free of the thin dress. A healthy rosebud was plucked until it bloomed. Royce was just starting on her other side when the car rolled to a stop.
They had arrived at the dressmakers, crumpled and sweaty. Susanna’s thin silk dress was clinging to her. They stood in the doorway like guilty teenagers. It was obvious they had already had a busy morning.
Royce relaxed his hold on her calves. She had already found the sexiest way to be set down, and her feet slid smoothly to the ground.
Susanna was nursing her injured foot slightly off the ground, and her body was tangled to the man beside her. Perfectly tapered arms were comfortably surrounding his ribs. Royce protectively brought his arm down her back and cupped her cheek with his palm.
The sparkling light of the shop’s chandelier eased across smooth figures that were a refreshing display of natural beauty and harmony at its best.
Susanna held her head regally, and didn’t blink at the various glances. The flowing language and the ooo lalas were strangely comforting.
If anyone knew how to make an entrance, it was Royce. They did not have to wait long for the old seam master to excuse himself from a shocked client, and greet one of his favorite customers.
“Ah, Royce, you have brought me a marvelous woman to dress,” Renault said in aristocratic French-English.
Royce greeted
his old friend, and Renault rubbed his hands, before squeezing Susanna’s limp hand. He quickly ushered them into a private room, and with a rush of activity, the boutique doubled its previous bustle.
Royce allowed a minimum of measuring on Susanna. With every loop of the numbered tape completed, the ancient man nodded his approval and barked numbers to his scribe. Royce took her back into his lap before she showed signs of discomfort.
“You are a bad girl for standing,” he whispered into her ear. “Now, you have to sit in my lap until I say.”
Susanna nodded her agreement. “This is bad. You want me to wear sheets in public. It looks like I will be wearing my sheet out of here as well.”
Royce let his hand drop, and his lips slid silently off her shoulder. “Pick out whatever you want, and get doubles, or whatever. I have empty closets at a couple of different houses.” He winked and ran his finger along the flesh of her low cut bodice. “Besides, some things will only be worn once.”
Their attention was diverted by clothes and shoes, until the day was near gone. The things Susanna kept choosing were feminine and sexy in a restrained sort of way. She had insisted on feeling and scrutinizing every fabric for softness before saying yes.
Royce insisted she get much more than they saw. He left her side a few times and paced behind the couch, while speaking quietly into his phone. His attention was obviously shared with the models, and when he would see something he liked, everyone knew it.
“That is enough for today. I am so selfish. You must be getting tired.” He shook his head as he dialed numbers into his phone. He hung up without talking to anyone, and Susanna eyed him speculatively. He humored her. “Our driver will be here in two minutes. Do you want to change before we leave?”
Susanna waved the offer away and said, “The damage is done. My two favorite places in Paris have already seen me at my worst.”
The room that had blanked their stares at the tall American all day had stiffened at the compliment. They had understood her English, and realized that if this was her worst, then she was going to take the city of love’s most prized bachelor in a completely new direction.
Susanna stifled a yawn into his chest, and Royce seemed to arrive at a decision. He gave directions to the driver and sat back.
Susanna was used to being Royce’s appendage, and she dozed lightly in his arms. The helicopter landed, and she expected to get into another car, for another journey.
Instead, Royce carried her through an open field. She was pleasantly surprised by the grass and dirt that carried on the open breeze.
Surprised, she whispered, “France smells beautiful.”
“I am glad you like it. I hope you like everything, though,” Royce looked at her earnestly.
The country manor in front of them was a time capsule of Renaissance proportions. The intensely cultivated shrubbery around them was lush and old. A somewhat foggy evening needed every one of the brilliant lights that lined the paths of the garden and house. Everything about Royce’s country manor was an amazing focal point that dominated the landscape.
Royce took the blackened, stone stairs two at a time. They rounded a corner, and went up more wide stairs. Once inside the building, he hustled down large corridors of gleaming circumstance. The entire place carried the theme of old money quite well, and not one modern article was there to ruin the scene. A few people were along the halls, but they had not been shocked at all to see the tall man rushing through the corridors with a woman in his arms.
At last, they reached the privacy of Royce’s quarters. He kicked in the double doors, and the culmination was obvious. He had conquered the world, and returned home with his prize.
Breathing heavily, he eyed her. Susanna was feeling brave and tilted her head back in an innocent question. Royce jerked his head back in agreement before he ravaged her mouth.
She raised her injured foot behind her knee, and kissed him like an innocent lady rewarding her knight. The healthy kiss of recognition did not last long before Royce finally tore the flimsy peach dress off. It was discarded on the floor, and hastily joined by a black suit, and a shimmering bowtie.
Chapter 9
Shot of Love
The country estate was quiet. Susanna enjoyed the stillness of the morning. The only sounds that came through the windows were of nature and birds. It almost felt like she was back at the ranch.
The bedroom had a good, crisp morning feel on the air. It smelled like fresh flowers and lemon oil had been in the room for centuries.
Susanna opened her eyes; Royce’s room still struggled to stay dark.
Tall windows had been cracked open to receive the breeze off the gardens. They sweetly teased the drapes into fluttering open. Little streaks of yellow light crept across antique tapestries on the walls and floor. Wood paneling gave a little peek at its intricate molds, before receding to shadows again.
Violent breath was expelled from Royce’s wide chest. She knew he was asleep, and wanted that to last a little bit longer. Whenever she was with him, she was caught in a whirlwind of activity.
This was her first quiet time in a while. She let her early morning mind wander over Royce. She recalled a very dark night, and a speeding motorcycle passing her. She remembered his arrogant nod, before accelerating past her on the highway. It always conjured the same original feelings of his recklessness. When she thought of him beside her, it didn’t seem like the same man.
Royce speeding recklessly down a dark interstate didn’t seem to fit his character. The way that he liked to make plans and control things had her wondering if he had arranged it. Susanna tried to answer her questions. Her heart stopped when her overactive mind skipped forward to the venomous snake hanging from her foot.
The bed and Royce were forgotten when she sat up quickly.
Royce rolled over and pulled her back into bed. “Where are you going?”
“I can’t sleep anymore.” She was ready to begin the familiar progression of greeting and starting the day.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, concerned.
“Yes, I have to get up and move around.” At this time, she turned her head to face him and gave him a silent, pointed look.
“I probably have two ulcers from expecting your reactions, but I did not expect to get up early today.” Royce yawned.
Susanna had one more reason to keep the accusatory gaze.
Royce held up his hands defensively. “Susanna, I am just a man. If something is bothering you, then you need to tell me.”
“I feel like you have planned everything from day one.” Susanna leveled her gaze on two muddy pools of confusion. “You wanted me out of my comfort zone, and it worked. You got me where you want me.”
“Believe me when I say that I did not plan on you being defenseless on the prairie. I am just so happy I was there.” Royce gathered her hands in his massive palms. “Before you came into my life, I was in a hazy suspension, waiting for the next chapter of my life to begin. Then we met, and in the most obscure way, I felt complete. You’re silly to think I would let any harm befall you.” He trailed her softening chin with his finger. “Do you trust anyone?”
Susanna turned her head and said, “Not usually. I always expect to work harder than anyone else, and pick up their slack.”
Royce leaned his head back with a nod, then sat up and ordered coffee. Susanna waited for him to hang up the phone.
“So, was there planning involved in our meeting?” Susanna watched closely as he carefully denied her.
“Of course not. Can anything wrought on the prairie be controlled? How could I call up a trio of deer, or a rattlesnake?”
Susanna’s brain agreed. She saw the look of domination that fell over his face like an iron curtain. He held her gaze and compelled her to lower that guard.
“Don’t worry so much, Susanna. Nothing is going to change, unless you want it to. I want you right here.” Royce motioned to the world beside him where he began to plant kisses and strokes on her.
Later, he announced he wanted to stay home for the day. Susanna silently wondered what a day in a large country estate would be like.
Thirty minutes later she looked around an armory in awe. The room was huge and shaped like a nipple. There were no doors or windows around the circumference of the room. The walls were covered with weapons of destruction and neon stripes of lighting to accent them.
The timeline of sword and spear continued through the ages. Some of them were quite inconceivable. Ancient and modern, the armory was devoted to every type of mechanized or blunt weapon.
Susanna covered the curving wall and tried to absorb the depth of the situation.
“Wow, this room is newsworthy!” she exclaimed and then changed her voice to a correspondent’s voice. “This is my boyfriend’s armory. He likes to collect things. Obviously, he is not a moderate man.”
She mocked him lightly and held her fake microphone over to Royce.
“Well, thank you,” Royce said with a very sexy Elvis voice. “Thank you very much. Calling me moderate would be quite an understatement; I believe that everyone should have excessive amounts of weapons.”
He dropped his suave act and flared his eyes. “I like to keep what is mine.”
She decided to focus on other destructive weapons. The timeline of sharp pointy things gave way to muskets and launchers. War machines glowed invitingly, and the museum of confrontations was devoured.
“See anything you would like to play with?” Royce invited.
Susanna picked out a rifle with a scope, then a shotgun. The heavy metal was cold to her. She wanted to warm up the long barrels and couldn’t wait to get started.
Royce nodded his approval and grabbed two boxes of shells.
He led them outside. A quick pass through two halls, and they were exiting the estate from behind a large bush.
The mist had burned off with the morning. The lush green grass was still soggy. It wasn’t exactly a manicured lawn, but it carried a balanced theme of un-kept and tamed convenience.