Revealing Destiny

by C. J. Corbin

  “Oh yes, Michael,” I panted heavily, begging. “You’re teasing me. Please touch me.” I never wanted him more than I wanted him at this moment. Every nerve in my body was standing ready to receive the pleasure he was offering.

  His finger slipped inside me and my hips involuntarily moved against his hand. “Oh yes!” I cried.

  Then his tongue began to lap at my most sensitive spot. I could not control myself as his lips and tongue invaded me, bringing me unbelievable pleasure. When I thought I would explode, he slowed his pace by placing kisses on my thighs and belly, only to return greedily to devour me. My hands urged him on, my nails scoring his back, earning my nickname.

  The orgasm that hit me shook my body violently and I bucked wildly on the bed, but Michael never lost contact with me. As my shaking subsided, he lifted his head and put soft kisses on my belly.

  My breathing normalized and I shakily leaned up on my elbows again as he stood up from the bed. He had a hungry look on his face and I grinned, moving my hips suggestively. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants; they dropped down around his ankles and he removed his briefs. His engorged erection sprang up and laid flat against his stomach.

  I scooted to the head of the bed and beckoned to him, “Come here. You’ve got what I want.”

  He grinned and his teasing came back. “Oh, you want this?” he asked as his hand stroked his length.

  Michael switched out the light and crawled up onto the bed. Surprisingly the lights from the city gave the room enough light to see each other. I reached for him and, this time, he allowed me to touch. My fingers stroked his velvet steel and my thumb caressed the smooth head. I bent over and my tongue repeated the actions of my fingers.

  His hands brushed through my hair as I continued to pleasure him with my mouth and hands. “Oh babe, you know how I like it,” he groaned.

  Moving fully on his back, he lifted me up over him. I straddled his hips and lowered myself onto him, throwing my head back, and gasping as he filled me completely. “Oh! Oh, that feels so good.”

  His hands held my breasts captive while I slowly moved on him. I pressed down to meet his thrusts, our movements synchronized, and his thumbs stroked my sensitive nipples. He sat up and I wrapped my legs around him, his lips replacing his thumbs, stoking the fire he created inside of me.

  Our breaths were ragged pants for air. Groans and whispers filled the room as our movements became more urgent. His hands pulled my face toward him and he found my lips, his tongue matching the rhythm of his thrusts.

  My body began to convulse around him as the shattering release started deep within me. I cried out as my body bucked over him, my nails once again scoring his back. He pulled me tightly against him, while his body stiffened in climax, and he shuddered while his moans filled my ears.

  His kisses filled my face as we calmed together, still connected. “Oh baby,” he moaned. “My sweet Hellcat.”

  Slowly we lay down and he pulled the sheet and comforter over us. My head rested on his chest and our legs intertwined.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  “And I love you more. Sleep, my love.”

  We both fell into a deep sleep only lovemaking could induce.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I awoke the next morning and saw Michael walking around in the other room, the fact that he was naked made me grin. He never had a problem with nudity and often wandered around our bedroom without clothes. When we first started sleeping together, he insisted I not wear a nightgown, and I adopted the habit.

  He poked his head into the bedroom. “Good morning, sleepy head. Are you ready to go to New Orleans? I ordered breakfast for us.”

  I stretched and giggled, “I hope you’re going to put something on to answer the door.”

  He laughed with me. “Hmmm… I thought about it. Go take your shower. Breakfast should be here soon. Too bad it's too cold to sit outside on the balcony because the view is great.”

  I tentatively put my feet on the floor. My morning sickness has been gradually lessoning, to the point that some mornings I could get up and not be sick. As I rose, I immediately ran for the bathroom. I frowned; this was not going to be the morning. Michael was behind me quickly, stroking my back and holding my hair away from my face as he did every time I was sick. He turned the shower on for me after the nausea subsided.

  Patting my bottom as I stepped into the marble-walled shower, he said, “I’d join you but I need to wait for room service.”

  “Breakfast is more important. I’m starving!”

  He chuckled as he left the bathroom, “Believe me, I know.”

  Room service breakfast was one of my favorite things when I travelled. Hopefully, it would not be only oatmeal. By the time I finished showering and combing out my hair, our meal was set up on the table in the other room. I inhaled deeply, the aroma making my stomach gurgle with hunger.

  I threw on a big fluffy robe and joined him. The view we had from the room was breathtaking, the city and bay laid out before us. Michael had ordered Eggs Benedict for me and for him a huge omelet with spinach, onions, peppers, tomatoes, and gruyere cheese. Accompanying our entrees was a large bowl of fresh raspberries, strawberries, and blueberries. Warm croissants with butter and honey waited inside a breadbasket.

  I sat down, pouring myself a cup of peppermint tea, and inhaled the wonderful aroma, my mouth watering. “Free range eggs?” I teased.

  He took a big bite out of his omelet. “Not only free range, but also organic and locally sourced - after all, this is San Francisco.”

  I laughed and tucked into my food. “Of course, I should have known.”

  “They also made up box lunches for us for the plane.” He pointed to a bag sitting on the couch table.

  “Are you kidding? I didn’t know such a thing existed. I always pick something up at the gate,” I said while buttering a croissant.

  “When you’re a vegetarian you learn to either pack something at home or go hungry. Nowadays, even in first class, the pickings are slim.” He grinned. “I am not planning on letting you go hungry on this trip.”

  “I don’t know where my appetite is coming from, but I haven’t stopped eating. I'm going to be huge,” I grumbled, sighing.

  Michael leaned over and kissed my forehead. “You’re not gaining weight. All the eating probably has something to do with the fact that you vomit your guts up every morning. I hate that you've been so sick.”

  “You’re taking such good care of me; it’s not such a big deal. I’m so happy to be pregnant. The morning sickness is a little blip on the screen. I’m happy to be going on this trip with you. So far, I like traveling with you - you’re spoiling me just right.” I grinned, patting my belly. "Besides I think our little muffin likes all the food."

  He kissed me and when we came up for air, he commented, “I want to spoil you the rest of your life.”

  “Sounds good to me!”

  He tapped me on my nose. “Now, finish up, I’m going to take my shower. We need to be out of here in less than an hour.”

  I nodded as he left for the bathroom. “You know, Hoffman, you are looking delicious this morning.”

  He shook his butt at me in answer. “Any more talk like that, and we’re going to miss our flight.”

  “Oh god no! Nancy would kill us!” I exclaimed, laughing.

  “And Marcus’ mother would do worse!”

  We managed to make the flight in time. It had been five months since I had seen my friend, we had some serious catching up to do and I was excited. With a stop in Houston, we arrived into New Orleans late in the day.

  Both Nancy and Marcus met us in the baggage claim area. She spotted us first and threw her arms around me, giving me a warm hug while Marcus and Michael shook hands and clapped each other on the back.

  Michael embraced Nancy saying, “I feel like I’ve known you forever. It will be good to spend time with you.”

  Nancy grinned, “Congratulations on finally capturing my girl.”


  “Going to be a dad again? You sly, old dog,” Marcus chimed in, bringing a blush to my cheeks and Michael beamed.

  While the boys waited for our luggage, Nancy and I set off for the car. It was sunny and warm outside the terminal and it felt good to stretch my legs.

  As I started to walk toward the cross walk, Nancy pulled on my sleeve and pointed to a black limousine parked in front. “That’s us.”

  I looked at her in surprise and then back at the limousine. “What? Did you guys hire a limousine? The trip into the city isn’t that far.”

  “No silly,” she shook her head, her short, dark brown hair flying. “That’s Marcus’ regular ride.”

  “He has a chauffeured car?” My eyes grew big. “Really? Because he’s the district attorney?”

  She laughed, “No, definitely not because he’s the DA.” Nancy waited while the chauffeur opened the car door, “Thank you, Russell.” We climbed inside and settled ourselves in. “Marcus and his family are extremely wealthy. His mother insists.”

  “Really?” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “I probably should have dressed nicer.” I indicated to my jeans and sweater.

  “Oh come on, Elizabeth. You're fine,” she paused, “but you will have to dress for dinner. It’s expected.”

  One of my eyebrows rose as I looked at Nancy. “Oh really?” Inwardly I tweaked myself; I needed to break my habit of saying really. “That’s interesting.”

  Nancy sighed, “I’ll fill you in later when we have some time.” She wasn’t smiling as I looked over at her. Suddenly her face brightened.

  “Here are the guys!”

  Marcus and Michael had met during college; they and Marcus’ cousin, Tommy, were inseparable during their four-years at the University of Santa Cruz. Nancy and I met Marcus at the end of summer last year while on my book tour. Marcus spirited her away for the weekend during our stay in New Orleans and, by the time it was over, they announced their engagement.

  I could see what Nancy saw in Marcus. He was definitely handsome, slightly taller than I was with a healthy, muscular build that didn’t hint at too many hours in the gym. His dark, wavy hair, complimented by a quick genuine smile and soft brown eyes, could melt a woman if she spent too long gazing at him. He had a soft drawl that was not quite the stereotypical southern drawl, but a distinct New Orleans dialect that drew you in and captured you before you had a chance to run. Yes, I could see how he snagged Nancy. He simply swept her off her feet.

  “Now, Miss Elizabeth, I do have to apologize to you,” Marcus drawled slowly once the boys joined us inside the car, looking at me with a twinkle in his brown eyes.

  “Oh you do? And why is that?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

  Marcus slipped his arm around Nancy and drew her next to him. “I was terribly rude to you on your last visit to the Big Easy, stealing your friend the way I did.” He kissed Nancy on the ear, pulling her lobe with his teeth. “It was unconscionable to leave you alone, but, I couldn’t resist Ma Petite.”

  It was Nancy’s turn to blush, something I had rarely seen. “Stop it,” she giggled.

  Marcus turned back to me, “But, I do promise to make it up to you and show you New Orleans during carnival. It’s an experience everyone needs to live at least once in a lifetime. Michael, I’m sure, has told you some of our stories.”

  Michael snorted. “No, Marcus, I haven’t, and I’m not planning on telling Elizabeth those stories.”

  My head whipped around to look at him. “Oh? Stories? I definitely want to hear the stories!”

  Michael laughed. “Okay, Marcus, you’re doing a good job if you’re trying to get me in trouble.”

  “Yeah, that’s me, always causing trouble.” Marcus' grin was infectious, as was his soft southern style. If the conversation inside the car was any indication of what the week would be like, I knew we were in for quite a time.

  The limousine pulled onto St. Charles Avenue and the beginning of the Garden District. The beautiful homes and oak trees lining street had me looking out the window with awe. We turned onto Jackson Avenue and the car stopped at the end of the second block, in front of a huge, white, Greek revival mansion. The three-story home was double galleried with black shutters framing each of the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  “Here we are - home, sweet home,” Marcus announced as he reached for the door handle.

  I was enthralled. I had seen several homes in New Orleans, but none quite so grand as this one. Even though the size was foreboding and the white color could seem harsh, it managed to look graceful, serene, and welcoming. Surrounding the property was a honeysuckle-designed cast iron fence, a bright green well-manicured lawn, and several huge oak trees. Viewing the house from the gate, I felt like I stepped back into the 1850s.

  “Wow Marcus, your home is beautiful!”

  He smiled, his pride evident. “Thank you, we like it. We have eight bedrooms so we do our fair share of entertaining.”

  While we walked up the path leading to the steps, the black double-doors magically opened, an older man appearing in the entryway. “Mr. Marcus,” he announced formally. “Mrs. DuBois is awaiting your arrival in the library.”

  “Thank you, Frederick. Could you have someone help Russell with the luggage?”

  The entrance hall was as grand as the exterior. To the right, a curved, white, marble staircase with a black, wrought-iron banister matched the white and black marble floor. Above us hung an intricate crystal chandelier.

  Marcus turned to the first door on the left. “Shall we? It appears Ma Mére is waiting for us. Michael, gird yourself.”

  He and Michael shared a wink and a smile between the two of them; Nancy squeezed my hand and took a deep breath. I felt a bit left out of the secret. Nancy had told me that Marcus’ mother was a bit imposing, but I thought Nancy was exaggerating. Now I wasn’t so sure.

  Marcus led us into the library. Even though done in cherry wood and dark forest-green walls, the lace covered windows on both sides let in plenty of light into the room. Bookshelves full of books filled an entire wall and thick, oriental-style carpets covered much of the highly polished hardwood floor. It was delightful.

  A woman I could only presume was Marcus’ mother sat behind a desk in the corner of the room. She was petite, with shoulder length, wavy black hair. Dressed simply in a red Chanel suit, she wore a choker of large round pearls, matching the pearl earrings in her ears.

  She stood and opened her arms as she walked from behind the desk. “Michael! Mon grand! It is wonderful to see you again!” Her voice was smooth and soft, yet demanding. Her accent matched her son’s but with an almost imperceptible French flair added.

  Michael bent down, pressing a kiss on both of her cheeks. “It has been too long, Ma Mére. May I present my fiancée, Elizabeth Sommars. Elizabeth, this is Marcus’ mother, Mrs. DuBois.”

  I almost curtseyed; I felt I should, everything was so formal. Her hand pressed into mine, and her handshake belied her small stature. “Mrs. DuBois, it is certainly a pleasure.”

  “Oh no!” she exclaimed. “Elizabeth, you must call me Simone. You will be part of the family soon.”

  She didn’t release my hand but instead led me to one of the brocaded couches in the middle of the room. As she sat, she patted the spot next to her and then looked at Nancy. “Nancy, please call for some tea and cakes, I am sure Michael and Elizabeth are famished from their flight.” She turned her attention back to me. “You know, it is not like the old days when you could receive a proper meal on a plane. Now they merely serve cardboard and plastic, even in first class.” She pointed to the chair next to her. “Sit down, Michael. It is too hard for me to look up at you.”

  Before Nancy could attend to the refreshments, there was a knock on the door. Frederick and a maid entered with tea trays, one of which was full of small, delicious looking cakes. As Simone focused on serving everyone tea with the help of Frederick, Nancy caught my eye and rolled her eyes.

  Simone divided her attention between Micha
el and me. She first quizzed me on my books and listened intently when I told her about the movie. “Your mama and papa must be very proud of your accomplishments.”

  I nodded. “They are, I mean,” I faltered a bit, “my dad is, my mother passed away.”

  Simone squeezed my hand. “Oh, ma Chérie, I am so sorry to hear this, but I am sure she is looking down on you with a smile.” She reached for Marcus and patted his knee. “I know I am so very proud of my Marcus.” The grandfather clock chimed six o’clock. “Pardon moi, I must prepare for the ball Marcus and I are attending tonight.”

  Marcus must have seen the confused look on my face because he immediately added, “Ma Mére and I are attending a special Mardi Gras function tonight. It’s tradition we go.”

  Simone rose off the couch and both the men stood with her. “Cook has the day off because her Krewe is having their parade today,” she explained. “Nancy, why don’t you take Michael and Elizabeth to Antoine’s tonight for dinner? Their Oyster Rockefeller is divine.”

  “I don’t think we’ll be able to get reservations at Antoine’s this late in the day,” Nancy warned hesitantly.

  Simone waved her hand, dismissing Nancy's comment. “Oh nonsense. Marcus, call Mr. Paul. Tell him to put Nancy in the main dining room so they can soak up the atmosphere. Enjoy! Make sure you order the Escargots a la Bordelaise, as well. It is a treat.” She exited the room and I could swear there was an audible sigh of relief in the room.

  Marcus pulled his cell phone from his pocket and quickly pressed a few numbers. “Paul? Yes, Marcus DuBois. Good. How are you? Excellent. There will be three. Yes, Nancy and close friends from California. Thanks Paul, the main dining room is perfect. Yes, they’ll have the baked Alaska too. Do you still have the 1999 Chateau Haut-Brion? Good, a couple of bottles should do. No, they’ll take our car. Thank you, Paul. Yes, we’ll stop by for lunch next week.” He blew out a deep breath as he disconnected the call. “Okay, all set. After Russell drops us off, he’ll come back for you three.”