The Right Fit

by Daphne Dubois

  She looked up and smiled. “I'll take that as a compliment. Thank you.”

  “De rien,” he replied. They held each other’s stare.

  “I need to ask you something,” she said, reaching into her small clutch purse. “Would you be able to translate this for me?” She held up one of his flashcards.

  His heart pounded like a racehorse. “Je t’aime,” he read. “It means, I love you.”

  “And is that true?” Her voice faltered a moment. “Because I’ve already been with a man who lied and the sex was horrible.”

  Antony visualized two paths in front of him, he could hear Luca telling him to trust the universe, he pictured Marc getting more depressed, he heard Jax’s lecture about not losing his passion. He couldn’t tell Maxine the whole truth, at least not yet, but this—this thing they were about to do together, jumping into love so committed and reckless—this answer he could give her truthfully. “Oui,” he said. “Very much.”

  A new kind of rose bloomed on her cheeks replacing the bitter embarrassment from earlier. She tucked the card away and leaned forward, making her cleavage impossibly more robust. “I meant to tell you,” she purred. “Your bottom lip is very much beautiful.”

  The hammering of his heart had moved down to his pants. “Vitamin E,” he replied.

  “Is it fully healed?” She picked up an olive and held it against her mouth, letting the oil glisten her lips before sliding it in. “I really missed kissing you,” she said.

  He stared at her freshly polished fingernails. “Nice color. Special for tonight?”

  “It’s called, Come With Me.”

  “Mon Dieu.” He groaned. Antony felt her foot nudge his knee then slide up his leg, finally resting against his crotch.

  The waiter arrived with an appetizer plate of Mediterranean dips, glazed shrimp, and Portobello mushrooms.

  “Anything else I can get you?” the waiter asked.

  “The bill please.” Antony coughed.

  The entire drive back to his apartment was silent. The car was full of the delicious smells from the takeout containers. Maxine sat with her hands on her lap. Neither one of them had spoken. It was like a building dam of quiet craving, fragile enough to burst at the slightest inclination.

  The quiet lingered the ride up in the elevator, even when he took off her coat, and hung it up in the front closet. She stood looking at the large living room while he put the food in the fridge.

  After Marc had left, Antony shoved all his hockey items in the storage closet.

  He led her down the hallway to his bedroom. The lights from the city illuminated the dark room through the window. He watched as Maxine walked in, her eyes settling on the neatly made king size bed, then to the patio door and its view of the downtown. She stood in front of the glass with her back to him.

  The ache of his erection was throbbing and insistent. Still, he forced himself to walk slowly up to her. He put both his hands on her hips and brushed his mouth against her ear, pressing his pelvis into her buttocks.

  Her breathing sped up, creating foggy bursts of clouds on the glass.

  Antony lifted the back of her dress by handfuls, gathering the silky material to the side. He reached around and slipped his hand down the front of her lacy underwear.

  Maxine moaned and moved her hips with his touch. The pattern of her breath on the frosty glass appearing and disappearing reminded him of fireworks made of crystal.

  In the darkness, he worked the silkiness of her skin while their bodies rocked in time. Her breath hitched, she was close to coming—and so was he.

  Antony spoke, concentrating on the words he’d been practicing in his mind since they’d left the restaurant. His mouth pushed against her ear. “The first time I take you will be fast and hard to obliterate miserable prick from your memory. Then I spend rest of night making love to you nice and slow, tasting every inch of you, the way you deserve.” He took a breath. “Oui?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Maxine felt precious, like she was the last ripe peach on the last tree in the world. She had visions of pushing him back on that gorgeous king-size bed and straddling him. The unquenchable desire to feel him inside her had become essential as breathing. If he waited any longer, Maxine was certain she’d drown from yearning.

  Her reflection in the glass blinked back at her, the glass was clear—she’d been holding her breath. And then she replied, “Oui. Very much.”

  At once Antony hooked his fingers into the sides of her underwear and quickly, somewhat roughly, dragged them down past her knees. Jarred off balance, Maxine pressed her palms against the cold glass of the window. Far below, red and white lights of six lanes of traffic started and stopped.

  He stayed behind her, going through the motions, the silence was almost dignified as if this grand moment required a hushed commitment from both of them to go forward. There was a soft grunt coupled with the sound of his zipper. A condom wrapper dropped to the carpet. Cool air breezed across her bare buttocks as Antony gathered up the back of her dress once more.

  Then his knees were behind her knees, his hands gripping her hips, and then the unmistakable tip of his erection, poised at her entrance.

  Despite his earlier warning, Antony pushed into her slowly, only halfway the first few strokes. Maxine’s muscles clenched around his length. She tilted up her chin taking in deep breaths through her nose. The pulsating ache between her legs started to grow stronger, more concentrated.

  He let out a constrained grunt and thrust into her all the way. Gasping, Maxine’s palms slid on the glass as she rolled up on her tiptoes. Antony kept her there, at the hilt of his erection, then slowly pulled back, bringing her down again. There was a suspension in movement lasting a few heartbeats. She felt his fingers dig into her hips, securing her, then he plunged all the way inside her again.

  Her hands slid over the glass searching for something to hold on to. She felt unhinged, like she was about to slip through the glass with nothing between her and the night sky.

  Antony caught her wandering hand and lifted it up, bringing it around to the back of his neck. “Don’t let go,” he panted, heavy and laborious in her ear. These were the only words he’d spoken.

  Curling her fingers around his hair, Maxine held on as he pulled her back, taking her weight into his lap, sliding deeper into her. He started thrusting again, and this time the rhythm took hold, his pace measured.

  Maxine took the fullness of him, her body stretching as he moved in and out of her. The sliding wetness of the friction drummed through her like an unending pulse. She moaned and gripped his hair tighter.

  He swore in French, rocking his hips faster.

  Uttering sighs with every exhale, she didn’t want him to stop. More.

  Antony’s grip on her hips intensified, she felt his whole body stiffen, then he shuddered letting out a long ragged breath.

  It wasn’t until he’d slipped out and stepped away that Maxine realized all the muscles in her legs had gone flaccid. Her knees almost buckled as she took her own weight again.

  As her pulse returned to its normal rate she heard him move about the room behind her. A moment later, there was a click and a vertical blind moved in front of the window automatically. Maxine made a sound of surprise and stepped back, practically stumbling since her underwear were still halfway down her legs.

  The room glowed as track lighting around the molding of the ceiling came on. She took notice of the mirrored closet doors, the long dresser mostly tidy except the pile of paper receipts, a dish of loose change, and a few framed photographs.

  Antony stood at the doorway of the bedroom, staring at her, his expression unfathomably penetrating. He touched the switch and the room brightened another level. His shirt was untucked and hanging over the front of his pants, now pulled back up to his waist. It seemed almost ridiculous that he was still in his suit jacket.

  Maxine was frozen to the spot, wondering if she’d imagined the sex. He made his way across the room, th
en he knelt before her and gently pulled her underwear back in place.

  “And now,” he said, looking up at her, his voice dripping with French sexiness. “The real love making.”

  “But you just put my panties back on?” Maxine said.

  Antony smiled and rose up, kissing Maxine through her dress all the way from her abdomen, between her breasts, then the end of her nose. “I love every inch of you tonight,” he said. “More than one place I want to taste.”

  She stared at his mouth, he still hadn’t kissed her yet. The near orgasm had left her dangling on the edge, almost impatient with desire. Maxine wondered if he’d planned it that way.

  “I love this dress.” His finger traced the neckline of her dress all the way down to where her breasts met. “Déshabille-toi,” he said. “Take it off.”

  “Now?” An unexpected jolt of terror made her voice quiver. She was used to the dark. She was comfortable with Antony because so far he hadn’t seen her completely naked. Going without her spandex girdle was one thing, but striping in front of him without the cover of shadows was almost cripplingly horrifying.

  He leaned back, studying her face. “Tu es belle. Laisse moi te voir.”

  Maxine could only stare back. Was that dirty talk? Everything Antony said in French sounded erotic to her.

  His expression relaxed. “You are beautiful,” he repeated. “Let me see you.”

  Maxine put her hand on the tie of the wrap around dress, but her hands were shaking too badly.

  Antony covered her hands with his. “Peut-être moi d’abord…maybe me first?” He slipped off his suit jacket then tossed it on the chair in the corner. Next, he unknotted his tie, and began to unbutton his shirt.

  When he was standing in front of Maxine, bare chested, she couldn’t help but notice the warm pooling in her lower abdomen. Her eyes took in his broad shoulders, tight six-pack, and the thin line of hair starting at his naval and disappearing below his waistband.

  Her muscles started to clench on their own, creating the pulse between her legs. The desire to have her skin pressed up against his chipped away enough fear that she allowed him to untie the bow at the side of her dress.

  She watched as he unwound the fabric of her dress, letting it fall from her shoulders exposing her black lace bra and matching panties. He neatly added her dress to the collection of clothes on the chair.

  He knelt in front of her again and peeled her black stay-up stockings down one at a time. Then he started kissing her legs, moving up both thighs, then the front of her panties, and then up her abdomen. “Tu es belle,” he kept repeating.

  Maxine’s face burnt with excited embarrassment as he touched and kissed every part she always thought was ugly, but through the doubt, another sensation was taking over. A mad rush of anticipation coursed through her veins. She wanted to be naked with Antony, to feel her skin against his. All along, she’d been unwilling to let go of her inhibitions, fighting her desire to be with him this way.

  Ready to brush aside the last lingering hesitation, Maxine unclasped her bra, letting it drop to the floor. A stream of French whispers escaped from Antony as if he was in awe. He cupped both her ample breasts, his tongue tracing one nipple while his hand massaged the other. She thought the shivers trembling down her body would never end.

  “Antony,” she whispered. “How do you say, kiss me, in French?”

  He raised himself to his full height. “Embrasse moi.”

  Maxine stood on tiptoe, pressing her breasts against his muscled chest. “Embrasse moi,” she repeated.

  The moment was smooth and delicious, neither one of them wanting to waste their kiss with the rushed vehemence of earlier. Her tongue slid around his, feeling the scar on his lower lip, making him moan. She reached down and felt his erection waking up again.

  He took Maxine in his arms like she was made of feathers, then put her down on the bed, resting her head on the pillow. She sank into the duvet, the crisp sheets, soft and cool on her bare skin. Antony slipped the white silk orchid out of her hair and placed it on the bedside table. Then he took off his watch as well.

  “I don’t want to scratch you,” he said.

  Maxine looked at the watch remembering the first night they met. He’d taken it off then too.

  His mouth started to move down her stomach. Maxine grinned as he took the waistband of her panties in his teeth and pulled them off. She flicked them from her toe, sending them across the room.

  Kneeling on the foot of the bed, still wearing his suit pants, Antony pulled down his zipper half way. It was the sexiest thing Maxine had ever seen, if she had money with her, she would have stuffed the bills in his underwear.

  He grabbed her ankles and pulled her down the bed, making her squeal with surprise. In the full light, Antony kissed his way back up her thighs to between her legs.

  She arched her back as he slowly savored her. Maxine ran her fingers through his hair, feeling his head move up and down under her touch. She began to rock her pelvis against his mouth, needing the pressure of his full length. “Please, Antony,” she begged. “Make love to me.”

  He raised up on his knees as she reached for his waist, pulling off his slacks and underwear. He pulled out a condom from his pocket.

  Easing back down, the duvet enveloped around her as he fit himself between her legs. Antony nestled there, putting his full weight on his elbows. His finger traced her eyebrow, then down the curve of her cheek to her lips. The way he looked at her with complete commitment, no wavering in his desire, was something completely foreign to her. Maxine didn’t think anyone was ever loved like this before.

  “Je t’aime,” he said.

  The first penetration eased in deeply as he buried himself all the way inside her. Their bodies fit in a warm tangle of arms and legs. Maxine ran her fingers up and down his back, feeling his muscles clench with every thrust.

  She started kissing him again. Feeling his weight hovering over her and pushing inside of her gave their kissing a whole new level of sensation. A vibration started inside, growing stronger, quickening with Antony’s strokes. “Faster.” She breathed.

  “Faster?” He panted. “Es tu sur?”

  “Oui! I’m sure! I’m sure!” Maxine lifted one leg, resting it on his shoulder.

  “You be death of me.” Then he smiled and started rocking into her harder.

  Maxine could feel his entire length sliding in and out of her, the rapture almost took her breath away. The swell that had been building deep inside began to crest, an unstoppable wave urged on by the pounding of Antony’s body into hers.

  “Oh God, Antony!”

  His eyes targeted hers, determined with craving. “Please, baby. I want to see you come.”

  The sound of him begging her to release sent a massive pulse of pleasure through Maxine, undulating and overwhelming. “Yes!” she cried out.

  Her body shuddered as Antony kept himself buried deep inside. “C’est perfect,” he said, leaving kisses along her neck and chest. “You are beauty full, Maxine.”

  She let out a long sigh, completely spent.

  He licked her bottom lip, taking it into his mouth sucking it gently. Then his hips started to grind into hers again. “I’m close,” he said on a breath, then repositioned himself between her legs, thrusting again.

  Maxine pressed the back of her head into the pillow, enjoying the expressions his face pulled as he moved above her. The knowledge that she could make this man come twice in one night was glorifying bliss.

  Antony arched his back, crying out her name. She tightened her legs and arms around him as his body quaked, trembling inside hers.

  Afterward, when they were under the duvet, and she was tucked into Antony’s side with her ear on his chest, listening to his soft snoring, Maxine knew Carmine was right all along—the right fit makes all the difference. There’s no point in taking the dress that’s too small, instead wear the dress that fits today.

  She smiled in the darkness, her body still buzzing f
rom its orgasm. Johnny could never compare. All this time she thought she was too big, but in reality, it was Johnny that was too small.

  But not Antony. He was a perfect fit—literally. And he loved her. And he loved her body the way it was. She was deliriously content knowing he would never hurt her the way Johnny had.

  Then she closed her eyes, letting exhaustion help her slip into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Antony woke after midnight, his phone on the bedside table was buzzing with a text from Marc. Careful not to wake Maxine, he’d slipped out of bed grabbing a t-shirt and long pajama pants and went to the living room. He watched as the messages came one after the other; mostly questions about the home gym, and how much he hated the rehab center. The rest were point blank issues he would go over with Antony when they reviewed his ‘abysmal’ performance in Chicago.

  Antony’s thumb hovered over the screen considering turning off the phone for the rest of the night. He imagined returning to bed, slipping under the duvet next to Maxine’s warm, naked body…there was a pleasant stirring in his pajama pants. Antony couldn’t remember when he’d ever had three erections in one night.

  Then the phone buzzed with another message. Antony texted back, keeping the answers short, mostly agreeing with whatever Marc said about hockey. Tu es raison, he kept typing.

  You are right.

  A half hour later, Marc had signed off, finally too sleepy. Antony leaned his head back on the cushy sectional and stared up at the ceiling with a mixture of guilt and gratitude. Having the apartment to himself would have been vacation enough, but with Maxine here, sleeping in his bed and staying overnight even! It opened his eyes to a whole life he never thought allowable.

  He had a handful of past lovers, but only when the timing was right. Marc would never give him that much space and time for a personal life at home. There was hardly anything beyond that first encounter in hotel rooms on the road.

  He’d never questioned it before, his life had always been about hockey, either watching it on TV as a kid dreaming of hitting the pros someday, but more often than not, he was following Marc—the Laurent brother who was supposed to make it big. Any existence outside of the rink was something Antony never considered…until now.