Aubrielle's Call

by Bowen, C. Marie

  “John, I can’t.” Her knees trembled.

  His hands and mouth paused. “You want me to stop?”

  “Non, mon amour, but when your lips touch me, my strength fails.”

  John chuckled low in his throat and ran his hands up her waist. He loosened the buttons on her blouse, pushing the material away from her shoulder. He kissed her tender neck. “Then I will hurry.” He tugged her shirt from her arms, then kissed the mounds of her breast as he released her bra.

  When her brassiere followed the blouse into the darkness, his mouth fastened to her nipple, and her knees failed.

  As before, John anticipated her response and lifted her to the bed.

  The heat of his body settled against her chilled skin.

  His lips paid momentary homage to her throat before he rose on one elbow. His free hand caressed each breast, teasing her nipples into hard pebbles.

  Pulse.

  His hand trailed down her body, and his fingers brushed the heat between her legs. “Open for me.”

  She parted her legs as his tongue circled her sensitive nipple.

  He touched the damp hair between her legs, moving his fingers close to her skin. “Wider.”

  Pulse.

  When the muscles of her legs relaxed, he slipped a finger inside her then trailed the wet tip to her sensitive nub and circled gently.

  Pulse. Pulse.

  Aubrielle ran her hand down his chest to his cock, but he grabbed her wrist. “Next time you can touch me. This time, I’m already too close.”

  “Too close?”

  His fingers returned to their circling caress. “Too close to this.”

  Her breath caught on the inhale as the warmth expanded from between her legs into her abdomen and her toes curled.

  Pulse. Pulse Pulse.

  Her body jerked as the sensation exploded beneath his fingers. His touch softened as wave after wave moved from her center outward, pulsing slower until she lay still in the afterglow.

  John moved between her open legs. His torso braced above her. He entered her slightly and withdrew. His arms trembled, and he lowered his forehead to hers. “I’m too close.”

  “Then don’t stop.” She pushed her hips toward him, pulling him inside her. “I want to know, John, Show me.”

  He braced one hand beside her head and wrapped his arm beneath her hips as he eased into her. Deeper that time, far enough to stretch her.

  Pain mixed with pleasure, and she raised her hips up to meet his thrust.

  His body jerked once then he held himself above her. Motionless. “Jesus. I can’t. It’s been too long.”

  “Can’t what?” she whispered.

  He withdrew and slid home again, then shuddered and groaned.

  In his stillness, she could feel him pulse inside her and understood. “Don’t try to hold back,” she breathed.

  He buried his face beside her neck and thrust three times, then pressed hard. “I love you,” he said into her shoulder as he convulsed one last time. “Only you.”

  CHAPTER 30

  John pulled the bedcover across their naked bodies as their perspiration cooled. He held Aubrielle close to his heart in the dark, her head tucked against his shoulder.

  His pulse slowed, although there remained some tightness in his chest. A wellspring of emotion that constricted his throat and seeped from his eye.

  Have I ever loved her this much? I don’t think so. How deep must this well of emotion be, that I can return again and again, yet lower myself deeper each time into its warm embrace?

  Her fingers played idly across the hair on his chest. “What time is it?” Her voice was soft and shy in the dark.

  John glanced out the window. Few stars could complete with the city light, but the moon had already set. Christmas morning would soon dawn. “Early. Two-thirty. Maybe three.”

  She rolled away from his embrace, pushed the cover back and sat up. “Mae will wake early. I need to go.” She rose from his bed and in a moment the light in the bathroom came on. The door closed.

  John sat and ran a hand over his face. The scent of their lovemaking clung to his body and permeated the room. His shy girl wouldn’t like that. He stood and opened the sash on the window an inch. Cold air fluttered the curtain and circled the room with its fresh, clean scent.

  John found his trousers and pulled them on in the dark. He picked his shirt from the floor and shook it out.

  “John?”

  “Yes?” He stepped into the short hallway.

  “Could you hand me my clothes?” She peered around the edge of the bathroom door, her blush dark red.

  “Of course.” Knowing better than to laugh, he gathered her garments with a grin on his face, then sobered as he searched for her second stocking.

  Does she regret our lovemaking already?

  He placed the bedroom chair in the hall with her clothes on the seat. “Your clothes are out here. I’ll be in the front room.”

  He stood at the window and watched the dark sky and city lights through his reflection. The image of her movement reflected in the window and caught his eye.

  She swallowed, glanced at him, then averted her eyes. “I have to go.”

  In a step, he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. “Listen. Do you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” She looked up.

  “The sound of my heart.”

  She rested her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “Do you hear it?”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  “Remember the sound, my love. It beats for you.”

  Her head tipped back, and dark eyes studied him. “I…” Her face darkened with a blush, and she looked down. “I love you, John.”

  “And I love you, my lady—my Viking princess—my sorceress.”

  “All of that?”

  “And more.”

  She pushed away shaking her head and retrieved her coat. “I don’t know what I’ll tell Mae.”

  “You owe explanations to no one.”

  “Hmm.”

  She gave him a look he knew so well, he threw back his head and laughed. “A kiss before you go, then.”

  Although her cheeks blushed, she rose on her toes and guided his mouth to hers with her hands.

  John intended a chaste kiss, but her soft lips offered so readily inflamed his senses. He pulled her to his chest and tasted her lips sweetly, but thoroughly. With a final brush, he released her.

  * * *

  “John’s here,” Mae called from the front room.

  Aubrielle turned her head from side to side and studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Mae had left makeup out for her to use. Mascara for her lashes, a darkening pencil to line her eyes and shape her brows, and lipstick. She put a piece of tissue paper between her lips and pressed like her mother used to when Aubrielle was a little girl. She dropped the tissue in the waste receptacle and stared at the outline of her lips on the soft paper.

  John was outside.

  Although she hadn’t seen him since Christmas morning, he had sent her flowers and had two letters delivered. The notes told of how he looked forward to tonight, of how work and preparations for this evening had kept him away, and of how much he loved her.

  He loves me.

  “Aubrielle!”

  “Coming.” She switched off the light and hurried into the front room. They would exit through the bakery to the rue tonight, per John’s instructions.

  “He sent a limousine.” Mae stared out the front window.

  Aubrielle hurried to the window and pulled the curtain to the side.

  On the street in front of the boulangerie idled a large black car. Steam circled a shiny bumper.

  “No wonder he wanted us to go out the front. That vehicle wouldn’t fit down the ruelle.”

  Mae handed Aubrielle her coat before putting hers over her dark violet tweed skirt and matching jacket.

  Aubrielle wore her rose-col
ored dress with a black belt and black T-strap shoes. She followed Mae down the stairs into the back room of the closed bakery. They walked past the empty racks that would display tomorrow’s fresh baked goods.

  John stood beside the entrance. Visible through the glass windows, his tailored black suit, and black silk tie looked striking.

  Aubrielle’s pace slowed to a stop. His height. The width of his shoulders. His easy smile and expressive brown eyes. His gentle touch. Without a doubt, John was the most magnificent man she’d ever known.

  Mae looked back and paused. “Come along. John’s waiting.”

  John peered through the glass and caught her gaze.

  She stared at him while Mae unlocked the shop door. Her pulse sped up, and her face felt hot. She smiled tentatively at first, then broke into a grin.

  “Here we go.” Mae walked outside and held the door, locking it once Aubrielle stood on the sidewalk.

  “Ladies,” John kissed Aubrielle’s hand, then held his arm toward the black sedan with a uniformed driver behind the wheel. John opened the back door of the limousine. “Henri will meet us at La Fleur.”

  The spacious backseat could comfortably seat four.

  Aubrielle entered and sat in the middle of the bench seat.

  John helped Mae into the limousine, then he rounded the vehicle, taking his place beside Aubrielle.

  As soon as John’s door closed, the driver pulled into the street.

  “Very fancy, I must say.” Mae chuckled. “I had no idea what you lads were up to.”

  “Renting a limousine for the night is only slightly more expensive than taking a cab. My employer gets a good rate and he let me use his name.”

  “I’d like to meet him,” Mae said. She relaxed back against the padded seat and looked out the window.

  “You will meet Monsieur Bonet tonight.” He took Aubrielle’s hand. “Are you cold?”

  “No.” Her heart performed a curious flutter. “Only my hands.”

  When they arrived, John helped both women from the car, then spoke to the driver for a few moments. He tapped the back of the vehicle as he passed behind it and onto the curb.

  Webber stood outside collecting tickets from a group of four. When the ticket holders went inside, he looked at John. “How did you get tonight off?”

  “Friend of the management.”

  Webber laughed and opened the door. He bowed to Mae and Aubrielle. “Ladies. Have a wonderful evening. Happy New Year.”

  “Oh my,” Mae muttered as she gaped at the small club.

  “Let’s check your coats first. Then we can find our table.” John held out his hand toward the young lady behind the half-door.

  Aubrielle nodded but couldn’t tear her sight from the room. She had no idea such a magical place existed.

  On stage, a statuesque black woman dressed in a shimmering gold gown leaned into the microphone. Her voice captured Aubrielle with a song she knew from the radio.

  Candle lamps at each table flickered in the semi-darkness. A smoke haze hung near the ceiling along with netting which held dozens of colorful balloons. Couples swayed on the dance floor, their bodies touching as they moved to the music.

  Aubrielle closed her mouth and swallowed.

  John touched her arm. “Would you like me to take your coat?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m sorry.” She handed him her wool jacket, then looked over her shoulder at the singer. “I know that song.”

  John exchanged her coat for a metal number and slipped the tab into his pocket then showed them to their table near the dance floor. In the middle of the table stood a folded card, embossed with golden print stating RÉSERVÉ.

  He seated Mae and Aubrielle and handed the card to the waitress. “Thank you, Bébé.”

  “Bienvenu, mon cher.” The dark-haired waitress turned her smile to Aubrielle and Mae. “What would the ladies like to drink?”

  “Do you have a house wine?” Mae asked.

  “Did you like the Sauvignon Blanc we had on Christmas Eve?” John asked.

  “Oh yes.” Mae nodded.

  “I did too,” Aubrielle agreed.

  “Bring a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc with four glasses.” John sat beside Aubrielle.

  Henri arrived at the table as Bébé was leaving and they shared a brief intimate smile. When Bébé had gone, Henri grinned at Mae and Aubrielle. “It is so wonderful to see you, Mae. I told Monsieur Bonet you would be here tonight.” He relaxed into the chair beside Mae. “He plans to come by and compliment you on your croissants.”

  “Aubrielle told me you come to the park each morning to buy them.”

  “It’s true. I should have never suggested he try them. Now he insists he can have no other bread with his morning café.”

  It wasn’t long after their wine arrived that Maurice Bonet stopped at their table. “Madame. Mademoiselle. Monsieur Larson” His black tuxedo, olive skin tone and slick black hair made him stand out among the other guests. He tipped his head to both women. “I am Maurice Bonet, and I am delighted to meet you.” He held out his hand to Mae. “Madame, would you do me the honor of a dance?”

  Mae’s eyes opened wide. “Yes, I would. Thank you, Monsieur Bonet.”

  “Call me Maurice, ma chère.” He tucked her hand around his arm and escorted her away from the table.

  John rose and took Aubrielle’s hand. “Shall we?”

  Aubrielle hesitated. “I’m not much of a dancer.” She shook her head and grinned.

  “You’ll do fine.” He led her through the crush of couples to an open spot near the band. He took her in his arms and swayed in time to the music. “Not so bad.”

  “It’s like a fairy tale.”

  The song ended, and John twirled her away from him, then pulled her back into his arms. “I love you,” he whispered next to her ear. He pulled away, still holding her hand and spoke to the songstress on the stage.

  The woman nodded and grinned at Aubrielle as she backed away from the microphone.

  “Wait for me here. This won’t take but a moment.” John mounted the steps to the stage and stopped in front of the mic. “Good evening, everyone. Bonsoir, mesdames et messieurs. Welcome to La Fleur Chantante on this last night of 1939.” John spoke easily to the crowd, nodding to people he knew in the audience.

  The dance floor had cleared except for Aubrielle. Self-conscious, she put her back to the tables and focused on John.

  He gave her a wink before he continued. “Please join me in thanking our host Monsieur Maurice Bonet for this New Year’s celebration. The outstanding house band that plays for us every night. The waitresses and staff who make your evening comfortable, and our beautiful and talented guest singer, Toula Grange.”

  The loud applause startled Aubrielle, and she glanced at their table.

  Maurice Bonet sat beside Mae. A wide grin stretched across his face.

  The waitress, Bébé, whispered to Henri, who nodded and laughed, never taking his attention from Aubrielle and John.

  As the applause faded, John held up his hand. “There’s about an hour left until midnight, and the party will continue until you are ready to depart.” He took a breath and his gaze found Aubrielle beside the stage. “There is only one thing left for me to do before I turn the microphone back over to our beautiful singer.”

  He wouldn’t.

  John hopped down from the stage and lifted her hand as he sank onto one knee.

  In Aubrielle’s daze, the room whirled about her. The only motionless place in the maelstrom was where they stood. His hand held her secure in the storm.

  His dark eyes flecked with strands of gold, asked the question of her before his lips even moved. “Aubrielle Cohen, will you marry me?”

  * * *

  John waited on one knee. His hands held her cold fingers. His gaze never left Aubrielle’s pale face.

  Why does she hesitate?

  Aubrielle’s cheeks had gone from the initial pink blush to an alarming shade of white. Her free hand trembled at her throat
.

  He stood and pulled her into his arms. “You don’t have to answer now,” he whispered into her hair. “I should have waited. I should have asked this question in private.”

  The club erupted into cheers and whistles, mistaking his embrace for confirmation she had said yes.

  She gasped and coughed, shaking her head. “No,” she managed before she coughed again.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Speechless.”

  The songstress took the microphone. “Congratulations John and Aubrielle.” She raised her hands and clapped.

  The crowd responded with renewed enthusiasm.

  “Ask everyone to dance,” John called to Toula over the applause.

  She gave John a nod that she’d heard, then opened her arms to the crowd. “Let’s have all our couples on the dance floor for this next romantic melody.”

  John took Aubrielle in his arms and moved in time with the music. “You look better,” he whispered beside her ear.

  “I’ve caught my breath. I think the cigarette smoke bothers me. I’m not used to it.”

  He put his hand on her waist, and they danced close as the dance floor filled. “I’m so sorry I put you in that position.”

  “You can’t take it back.”

  John furrowed his brow. “Take it back?”

  “Your proposal. I won’t let you.”

  “I pressed you too soon.” He moved to the tempo of the music, but his heart beat triple time. “You’re not ready.”

  She ran her hand from his shoulder to his neck and tugged his head closer. “My answer is yes. Of course, I’ll marry you.” She chuckled. “I would have said so before, but I couldn’t find my breath.”

  John rolled his head back as relief flooded through him. “Yes!”

  Several couples dancing close to them startled and stared.

  John took her shoulders and dropped a swift kiss on her lips. “I love you.” He offered another kiss to the side of her mouth. “You’ve made me happier than I can say.” He wrapped her in his arms, pulled her to his chest, and lowered his mouth to hers.