by Blythe Reid
Shoving her bra aside, I pushed her back against the bathroom wall and took her nipple in my mouth. She gasped while I sucked on her, my teeth pulling gently. My other hand slid down her leg to the hem of her skirt. I lifted it up quickly, searching for her panties. When I found them, I yanked them down, and she let them slide to her ankles.
Her movement and moans told me she wanted this just as much as I did. We were strangers who would probably never meet again, and that, more than anything, was my motivation. I turned her around, pressing her breasts and face against the wall. Quickly, I pulled my erection free from my jeans and pulled a condom out of my pocket. In seconds, I was inside of her.
She rocked her hips backward, pressing herself against me. My thrusts were hard and rough, and she fucking loved it.
I groaned. “I love the sound of your pussy sucking at me, pretty girl.”
“I love how good you fuck me,” she murmured sensually. “Harder. Fuck me harder. I’m so close to coming.”
“Fuck yeah,” I growled and slammed into her harder than ever. She moaned and slapped her hands against the wall.
I could feel myself getting close, and I wanted her to finish first. Reaching my hand around her front, I found her clit and massaged her while I continued to thrust inside her. The noises she made were too much. When she screamed out her orgasm, I came right behind her, thrusting one last time and pulsing inside of her.
She was panting when I pulled out and discarded the condom. By the time she turned around, I’d already put myself away and was in the middle of washing my hands. She stared at me greedily while she pulled her panties back up and tried to button her torn blouse as best she could.
“Well,” she said. “I didn’t expect that to happen today.”
“Surprise,” I said, grinning and turning back around to face her.
“You want my number?” she asked. “We can have a few more surprises like that.”
“No,” I said simply and left the bathroom. The sound of her letting out an aggravated gasp wasn’t the first time I’d let someone down… and it wouldn’t be the last for sure.
When I made it back to the bar, Adam was sitting in the same spot, nursing his beer. I slid on the barstool beside him without a word. He glanced at me and snickered, shaking his head.
“What?” I asked.
“So much for ‘changing’ this year,” he said. I grinned and ordered another drink.
2
Scarlet
My feet were curled beneath me as I leaned back against my pillows. I opened my book to the marked page and smiled to myself. With my schoolwork and chores, I couldn’t read as much as I wished. It had been almost two weeks since I last opened Flames of Sorrow.
No one understood my love for romance novels, but I was obsessed. They were my one escape, my way of stepping away from reality. When I read, I believed in soul mates and passionate love. I could experience exciting things through the characters in these books.
Flames of Sorrow was about a couple who were doomed to spend eternity apart. They were both immortal and therefore, destined to live forever. The only negative was that they could never be together. If they so much as looked at each other, they each began to develop a horrible illness.
Still, they managed to spend one day together every five years. If they kept their time together limited, they wouldn’t get sick. One day was never enough, but it was all they had. They were willing to risk everything simply to be together.
I’d read Flames of Sorrow many times before, but I always came back to it. To me, it embodied the definition of true love. They loved each other with a passion I’d never known. Plus, the sex scenes were amazing.
I found myself hiding in my room late at night, reading the scenes to myself, imagining what it would feel like to act them out with a man. I knew it was just a fantasy, something I could only dream about enjoying one day. Still, it was my fantasy, and it got me through my mundane life.
As I read, I lost myself in the pages. I became Annabella, faithfully waiting for Diego to find his way back to me. I was her and she was me. In those moments, I became one with my book, and I loved every single second of it. Until my mother entered my room without knocking and pulled me back to reality with a painful thump.
I jumped, shutting the book quickly and looking at her attentively. My nerves were immediately on edge. My mother didn’t approve of my extracurricular activities, and she made her opinions known every chance she got.
“Scarlet,” Mom said, shaking her head. “Why on Earth are you wasting your time with this nonsense?”
“I like it,” I said with a shrug. Her disapproval bothered me, but I tucked the book under my pillow all the same. If it was out of sight, she would forget about it quickly.
Claire Timms was not your typical mother. She was more protective than anyone else in the world. Having been homeschooled most of my life, I was ecstatic to start college, but my mother made sure I didn’t leave home. Instead, I attended the local college and took classes there.
I tried to persuade my mom to let me move into a dorm room, but she refused. She said it was too dangerous, that I would be exposed to horrible things. I didn’t know enough to argue with her, but deep down, I thought she was wrong. I saw the fun college students had, and I was desperate to partake.
“You’ve read it a thousand times,” Mom said, rolling her eyes.
“Not that many,” I said. “Besides, I’ve been so busy lately, I haven’t had time to read anything. Now that school’s over, I can finally enjoy myself again.”
“You can,” she admitted with a nod. “But, you need to pick better ways to spend your time. Those novels just fill your head with all kinds of fantasies, Scarlet. They aren’t real. Men like that, they just don’t exist.”
“Maybe they do,” I said softly. “Somewhere.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, her phone rang. With a glance at me, she pulled it from her pocket and answered.
“Hello?” she said. There was a pause and then. “Oh, Mom! How are you doing?”
I listened while my mom spoke to my grandmother. Ever since my grandfather passed away, they tried to talk more often. Before, we only called my grandmother on holidays and special occasions. We almost never went to visit, and she rarely every came to see us. Still, she was my mom’s mother, and they loved each other.
“What do you mean?” I heard my mom ask. She frowned, listening closely. “Mmhmm. Yes, I understand. Yeah. Okay.”
While my mom talked, I thought about returning to my book. She would be distracted for another few minutes, giving me time to read at least a page or two. Once she got off the phone, she would berate me again, but it would be worth it. I’d been waiting weeks to delve back into the world of Flames of Sorrow.
Just as I inched my hand under the pillow and closed my fingers around the book, she hung up. I sighed and released the book, leaving it hidden. When I turned back to my mom, she was staring at me with concern etched on her face. I immediately forgot about my book and sat up straighter. It wasn’t often that my mom looked at me that way. Her usual expression was somewhere between fear and disappointment, but she’d never seemed so worried before.
“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong? Is Grandmother okay?”
“Physically, yes,” she said. She sighed and sat down on my bed, placing her hand gently on my knee. “But she isn’t doing well. Emotionally speaking.”
“Because of Grandpa?” I asked.
My heart ached for my grandmother. I couldn’t even imagine what it felt like to be in love, let alone to lose that love. She’d been married for years, my entire life, and I knew they loved each other dearly. Even though I only saw them occasionally, I could tell how connected they were. When he died, we were all sad, but I knew it was worse for my grandmother. It broke her.
“Yes,” Mom nodded. “She’s just struggling right now. I’m not sure how much longer she can be alone, if I’m being honest. She needs help.
”
I placed my hand on top of my mom’s and squeezed gently. She smiled at me gratefully, and we sat together in silence. Mom sheltered me because she loved me. That much, I knew. Despite my desire to run away from home and start my own life, I knew her intentions were good. She wasn’t a bad mother. She was simply a scared mother.
“Will you go stay with her?” I asked softly.
Part of me hoped she would say yes. Then, maybe I’d be able to sneak out for a few nights. She’d be gone, so she would never know. I felt guilty for thinking of myself in that moment, but I couldn’t help it. Any way I could achieve some semblance of freedom was appealing, no matter what I had to do to get it.
“I can’t,” Mom said. “Not with business the way it is. This is peak season for the fashion industry. I can’t just up and leave right now.”
I could tell from her tone that she felt guilty. It was eating her alive that she couldn’t help her mother. I knew she would fly to New York tomorrow if she could. My selfish thoughts flew from my mind, and I wrapped my arm around my mom’s shoulders. She sighed and leaned into me, letting me comfort her for a moment.
As we sat there, my mind began to spin. I didn’t want to continue thinking selfishly, but my brain took over. My thoughts went wild as I realized there was a perfect option, something that would make everyone happy.
“What if I went?” I asked, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.
“What?” Mom asked.
“It could work,” I said simply. “Grandmother needs the company, and you’re too busy, but I’m not. I could finish my final year of college there, in New York. I could take care of her and still get my degree. It’s perfect.”
Before I even finished speaking, my mom was shaking her head. Deep down, I doubted she’d ever go for it, but the idea seemed so perfect to me. Grandmother needed companionship, Mom needed to stay in France, and I needed freedom.
If I could transfer to college in New York, we could all get exactly what we needed. To my mother though, it was the beginning of the end. If she even considered letting me leave the country, she would have to relinquish her control over me, which she was not ready to do.
“No,” she said firmly. “I don’t like it.”
“Mom,” I said calmly. “Just think about it. This could be the perfect solution. For everyone.”
“I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s too dangerous. There are too many things that could happen.”
“Bad things can happen here,” I reminded her.
“Yes, but I’m here,” she said simply.
“And Grandmother is there,” I argued. “She’ll keep an eye on me.”
“I don’t like it,” Mom said. “I just don’t. No.”
I groaned and threw myself back against my pillows. While we talked, I tried to keep myself calm and relaxed. There was no reason for my mom to say no. She knew, even if she wouldn’t admit it, that this was a perfect plan. She just wasn’t ready to let me go.
“I’m twenty-one,” I said softly. I stared up at the ceiling and tried to keep my anger at bay. “I’m an adult.”
“But you’re still my child, and I said no,” she snapped. I didn’t have to look at her to know she was angry. I’d pushed her too far, and now, she was laying down the law.
“What will you do about Grandmother, then?” I asked. My voice was light, but we both knew I meant it as a challenge. If she wasn’t going to let me go, then I wasn’t going to be nice. It was immature of me, but I didn’t care.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I’ll figure something out.”
With that, she stood up and left me alone in my room. I rolled my eyes and continued staring at the ceiling. As much as I wanted to continue the argument, I knew it was no use. When Claire Timms made up her mind that was it. No one, not even God himself, could change it.
As I laid on my bed, I let my mind wander to New York. I imagined what it would be like to live with my grandmother for a time. I didn’t know her well, but what I did know was good. She was nice and real. When we saw her, she was always blunt with her opinions. When I was little, it made me blush, but the older I became, the more I appreciated it. I wished I could be more like her.
I pulled my book out from beneath my pillow and opened it. Resting it on my lap, I tried to focus on the words in front of me, but I couldn’t. My head was still spinning with thoughts of New York. My mom was probably right, men like Diego didn’t exist in real life. Real men were sex crazed and selfish, or so she said. Still, I hoped she was wrong. I hoped that somewhere, there was a man out there who would sweep me off my feet.
As I returned to the world of Annabella and Diego, I pictured myself in New York. I wondered if the man of my dreams was somewhere in the world. Maybe he wasn’t in Paris or even France, but he could still exist. Who knows? Maybe he was waiting for me in New York. I would never have a chance to meet him if I wasn’t allowed to leave France.
Sighing, I sunk down in my bed and disappeared in my book, wishing my mother would find a way to change her mind.
3
Lucien
Adam and I partied our way through France. We mostly stayed in Paris, venturing out only a few miles in each direction. There was so much to do in Paris that we were never bored. Our days were spent sleeping and eating, while our nights were filled with reckless debauchery.
When we planned this trip, we swore we would return to the States with unforgettable memories and insane stories. So far, we’d managed to obtain both. I was satisfied with our vacation, but I wasn’t at all ready for it to end.
We’d been in France for a month, and our last day approached ominously. We left our hotel rooms and walked down to the lobby. The hotel had a restaurant where we ate most of our meals. They served breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and the location couldn’t be more convenient.
We made our way to our usual table and sat down heavily. Adam and I were both hungover from the previous night, and neither of us could wait for a good meal. We ordered a huge breakfast and ate everything in sight, not bothering to speak until the food was gone.
After guzzling coffee, I began to feel human again. My head was still heavy, but I could think clearly again. Without looking, I knew my eyes were bloodshot. They burned slightly from the sunlight, and I wished I’d brought my shades down. Across from me, Adam leaned back in his chair. His eyes were squeezed tightly closed, and his hand rested on his stomach. I could tell he wasn’t feeling well yet, but the food had helped us both.
“God,” Adam moaned. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungover.”
“You said that yesterday,” I reminded him. “And the day before that. And the day before that.”
“Well, I meant it every time,” he said. “I’ve just gotten progressively more hungover throughout this entire trip.”
“You wanna call it?” I asked. “Just stay in tonight?”
“Hell no,” Adam said, sitting up abruptly. His eyes locked on my face, and I could tell I’d pissed him off. I grinned and he rolled his eyes. “You were just fucking with me, weren’t you?”
I shrugged. “Of course. It’s our last night in France. I’m not letting you waste it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “But I will need more sleep before we commence with the festivities.”
I nodded. “Agreed. You go up, and I’ll pay the bill.”
“Meet back here at six?” he asked.
“Seven,” I corrected. “Nothing good opens until eight anyway.”
Adam nodded and stood up. With a wave, he left the restaurant and headed toward the elevators. I watched him go for a few seconds before I pulled out my wallet and threw some money on the table. It was too much, but I didn’t care. When the waitress tried to hand me change, I waved her away and leaned back in my chair.
I knew I should follow Adam’s lead and go upstairs. I desperately needed to rest if we were going out again that night, but I wasn’t ready to move yet. The co
ffee and food revived me slightly, but not entirely.
Sitting there, I watched the other hotel guests wander by. Most of them seemed to be American, and I figured they were also on vacation. I’d heard about this hotel, and I knew it was mostly home to tourists, which was why I chose it. Single women flocked to tourist traps. It was the best way to pick up easy women.
Neither Adam nor I had any trouble picking up women during our trip. France was full of available, gorgeous, exotic beauties. Whether they were locals, students, or tourists, they were all just looking for a good time. A good time was exactly what Adam and I provided. In total, we’d had close to fifty women that month between the two of us.
Part of me knew it was excessive, but I didn’t care. My motto during this vacation was “Fuck it.” Whatever happened, happened, and I was open to anything. My entire life would be drastically changing course soon enough. The least I could do was let myself enjoy a little reckless abandon in the meantime.
When I finally felt strong enough to move, I pushed myself up and left the restaurant. I stumbled toward the elevators and pressed the button for my floor. Adam and I were in adjoining rooms on the fifth floor. We thought about sharing to save money, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth it. After the second night of us both bringing women back to the hotel, we knew we’d made the right decision. No one wants to fight for privacy while on vacation.
I made it to my room and shoved open the door. My eyes were already starting to droop as I collapsed on my bed. The food in my stomach was nice, and I finally felt well enough to get some real sleep. I hugged my pillow tightly to my chest and drifted off, not waking until the sun was beginning to set.
Frantically, I searched for my phone and checked the time. It was after eight, and I had three missed calls from Adam. I groaned and called him back.