Kind of Cursed

by Stephanie Fournet

“Millie…” The warning note is gone, replaced by one of pleading. “I can’t… I can’t say no if you’re saying yes.” His hips roll, and I swear it’s involuntary, but mine echo the movement, grinding into him as though fated for nothing else. “I’m not strong enough to hold back.”

  In this moment, I’m not torn. I have no internal debate. Just this one possible path. “Then let go.”

  His breath leaves him. Luc kisses me, devouring me as though I’ve become air, and blood, and life itself.

  One of his hands slips between us, and I gasp at his expert touch. I close my eyes, but when I feel him lean to the far side of the bed, I open them to find Luc reaching for his jeans. One-handed, he plucks his wallet and flips it open. I know exactly what he’s doing, and a voice inside me, one that’s neither panicked nor unsure, whispers.

  It won’t matter.

  But I say nothing. Because the time for words is over. I run my hands down Luc’s torso, wanting them to speak for me. My fingertips glide over the sensual terrain of ribs and muscles as he caresses me. His fingers leave me. Impatient, I palm the sides of his waist, feeling his taut strength. Now that he is this close, mere inches from me as he rips open the condom and rolls it down over his imposing erection, I can’t believe I’ve been able to resist him as long as I have.

  It feels like we were always destined to be here. Right here. I watch him grip himself at the base, and I know that nothing could be more natural than joining with him. It is as inevitable as the rising and setting of the sun.

  I look up to find him gazing down at me, his pupils inky black pools. The head of his sex brushes the petals of mine.

  “Are you sure, Millie?” His voice trembles with what I know is the effort to hold back. But I don’t want him to hold back. We can’t anymore.

  “God, yes.”

  With my hands on his waist, I feel his breath still as he enters me. My eyes are on his face, and his look of sublime torture leaves me transfixed. Because I must, I wrap my legs around him, my heels landing on the backs of his thighs. He closes his eyes as he sinks slowly into me, and I want to watch, but I can’t keep still. My back arches at his exquisite invasion, my hips impatient to bring him into me. All the way in.

  He moves with such maddening slowness that my fingers become claws. I reach for the rock hard anchor of his buttocks and clutch him to me with a thrust that tears a cry from both of us.

  Like a bolt of lightning, pleasure sears my every nerve.

  Luc draws back, the friction of his retreat rapturous, but at the same time, not enough. Not nearly enough. I haul him back, needing him deep inside me. Needing him as close as he can get.

  “Luc.” It’s almost a wail.

  At my plea, Luc finds our rhythm. Rapid. Pounding. Dizzying.

  Shocks of pleasure rock through me as his hips piston, his glutes firing beneath my palm. Sweat mists our skin, the heat we build igniting blood and breath.

  “Luc,” I call his name, more urgent this time. Trying to claim this moment as the sum of all my hopes. Wishing I could let him know that this is all I want. To be with him. To be joined with him.

  “Eres mía… Eres mía,” he pants. And as the pulsing of my climax converges, gathering like a summer storm, I think I catch his meaning.

  Mine.

  Mine.

  “Eres mía,” I echo in his tongue, clinging to him as I break.

  At my words, Luc’s eyes blaze before his lashes flutter, his whole body going taut as he crashes into me with almost brutal desire. With each thrust, I am thrown back into waves of ecstasy. For a timeless span, it seems it will never end, and I welcome this fate, doing my best to hold on as Luc’s release shakes us both.

  We’re both panting, trembling, when his arms slide beneath me to cinch me tight to him. His pounding heart sends coded messages to mine. I wrap my arms around him, and my nose seeks his neck, loving the scent of his sweat mixed with our ardor.

  I kiss his neck and lap his earlobe, making a shiver run through him. Luc moans, and I smile at the sound.

  He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze. His face is flushed, and he’s smiling, but his eyes search mine.

  “You okay?”

  I nod, my grin irrepressible.

  His hand settles against the side of my face, and he traces his thumb over my left brow so gently. “No regrets?”

  “No regrets.” It’s the truth, and I’m glad of it. I know better than to think too much about the future, but the universe might give us a few months before The Curse—or superpower—as Luc calls it, strikes. Carter and I were lovers for a few months before—

  I shove the thought away. My mind should be nowhere but here. I focus on Luc’s dark eyes.

  “No regrets,” I say again.

  He lowers his mouth and plants a kiss on my forehead. “Good.” Then he flashes a grin, his dimples winking devilishly. “Any chance we could do it again?”

  “W-W-What? Now?”

  Luc laughs. Inside me. Against me. Around me. And all of a sudden, the thought of doing it again now seems downright recommended.

  “Not now, boba.” His smile softens, but he eyes me with no little heat. “Soon. But not now.”

  “Soon would be good,” I say, feeling color rise to my face. After what we just did, I don’t understand why I suddenly feel shy, but I do.

  Luc sees my blush, and he kisses me once on each cheek. He reaches down between and draws himself from me. I blush harder.

  “Don’t move,” he tells me as he rises from the bed, cupping himself. I’m treated to the sight of his sculpted backside, male perfection caste in bronze as he strides to the bathroom.

  The door closes with a soft click, and I stifle a squeal. I can scarcely believe where the day has taken us.

  “¡Maldición!”

  The sharp word echoes from the bathroom, and I prop up on an elbow. “Everything okay?” I call.

  Silence.

  “Luc?”

  “Yeah… Yeah… The floor’s just freezing.”

  I smile, unable to help picturing him naked, standing on the white tile floor, that is, indeed, freezing this time of year.

  “That’s why I wear fuzzy socks,” I call.

  I hear water running.

  “¡Ay ay ay!”

  I try to smother my laugh. “The water’s freezing too.” I get to my knees, tug down the covers, and slip beneath them, hoping Luc will be up for a cuddle. Surely, he will. Right? It’s our first time.

  Honestly, I’m hoping he’ll want to cuddle every time. I try for a moment, but I can’t really picture anything better. And I have a couple of hours before I need to pick up the kids…

  The door opens and Luc steps out in all his glory. All thoughts of kids and carpool are obliterated.

  But Luc’s looking down, his brow knit just a little.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, tensing.

  He looks up at me, his face clearing. “Nothing.”

  I bite my bottom lip. “You sure?” I ask. “Do you have any regrets?”

  He crosses to the bed, lifts the covers and slides in beside me. At once, I’m dragged into his embrace, and he kisses me solidly on the mouth. Luc pulls back and looks me in the eye.

  “Believe me when I tell you that was the single best moment of my life.”

  His eyes are clear, his brow smooth. I melt a little.

  “Mine too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  LUC

  Cesar eyes me over his muffuletta. “That’s a weird-ass story, Luc.”

  “You’re not helping.”

  My best friend puts down his sandwich and wipes his fingers on his paper napkin. We’re sitting at a corner table in Chris’s Poboys, and I’ve just told him everything. About Millie. The Curse—even though it’s not a curse. And what happened yesterday. I’ve tried to keep my voice as low as possible so we don’t snag the attention of any of the other lunch patrons. Like Cesar said, it’s a weird-ass story.

  And I don’t know what to do.r />
  “So, do I tell her?” The thought makes my fried oyster poboy congeal into a greasy ball in my stomach.

  “That it broke?” Cesar gives me his best are-you-crazy-amigo look. “What good would it do? It would just make her worry until she gets her period.”

  I push my plate away and shut my eyes. I already know this. Millie will freak. It’ll send her into a tailspin. She may even throw something at me.

  But keeping it from her feels wrong.

  “Besides...”

  I open my eyes to find Cesar leaning over the table, giving me a shit-eating grin. “Condoms are for fucking pussies.”

  I glare at him. “That joke was old when we were juniors in high school.”

  He just chuckles and picks up his muffuletta. “It’s still funny. And you look like you need a laugh.” He bites into the sandwich.

  “I’m not laughing.”

  Cesar rolls his eyes. “Look,” he says, talking around a mouthful. “I’m not trying to be a dick. Really.” He chews and swallows. “I can tell you care about this girl—”

  “Love her,” I correct. “I fucking love her.”

  His eyes narrow on mine like he’s seeing me for the first time. “Wow.”

  I frown. “Wow what?”

  Cesar shakes his head. “In all the years you were with Ronni, I don’t think you ever came out and told me you loved her.”

  A small shock runs through me. Not at the truth of his words but at the contrast they draw. “What I felt for Ronni doesn’t even come close. Nothing does.”

  He gives me a gentle smile. “I’m happy for you, hermano.”

  “Yeah. Me too,” I say, nodding. “And I don’t want to fuck it up.”

  “Right,” Cesar says, frowning now. I can see I have his full attention, and he’s done joking around. “So, what would telling her do? You think she’d want to take the morning after pill or something?”

  My eyes bug out of my head. “¡Puta madre!” I hadn’t even considered that. I stare at Cesar, and he stares back. “I have no idea.”

  I sit back in the chair, shaken. Would Millie want that? When she told me that she’d lost a baby, I could tell by the pain in her face it was a baby she’d wanted. But that baby belonged to another man. That Carter asshole. She’d wanted Carter’s baby.

  But would she want mine?

  A sudden ache in my middle hollows me out. What if she doesn’t? I shut my eyes. Because on the other side of that hollowed out ache is a longing I can’t even let myself touch.

  I want to give Millie babies.

  I want her to want my babies.

  I grip my forehead and rub it with violence. “Fuck,” I mutter.

  “Talk to me, compañero,” Cesar coaxes, his serious gaze softening with concern.

  I shake my head. “I have to tell her.”

  He rears back, scowling his surprise. “You’d let her do that? Take that pill, I mean?”

  It would fucking gut me to do it, but I can’t admit that out loud. My mouth already feels like it’s full of ashes. “I’d have to give her the choice.”

  “But I thought you said you loved her?” he asks, incredulous.

  “I do.”

  Cesar shrugs. “So why not just wait? If she turns up embarazada, marry her.”

  The temptation to do just that is an anaconda coiling around my chest. I give a brutal shake of my head. “No. She’s had almost no choice since her parents died.” I think about everything she’s already committed to. Everything she’s given up. Ten more years of raising her siblings. I can’t be the one who takes any more free will from her. “Whatever happens has to be her decision.”

  Cesar picks up his phone, and I study him with a frown. After swiping and tapping for a few seconds, he meets my eye and shows me the Google search results for the morning after pill. “Well, you have about three more days to tell her.”

  I don’t sleep Tuesday night. I wanted to talk to Millie—in person—but the Lions had an away game in Barbe. An hour away. Knowing the late night and the demands of getting everyone home, fed, and finished with homework would have meant that we probably couldn’t have talked until nearly ten.

  That isn’t how I want this talk to go.

  The team has a home game tonight, and it starts at four. It’ll be done by five-thirty, so maybe we can talk by eight. I’ve already asked Millie if I can come by, and she invited me to join her at the game as soon as my crews finished up.

  I’m not gonna tell her no. Like ever.

  By the time I get to the field, the sun has set, and the game is underway. Mami, Papi, and Abuela are sitting in the stands next to the Delacroixes. It’s cold, so I’m surprised to see them, but when my mother and grandmother spot me approaching, their knowing smiles tell me all I need to know.

  They aren’t here to watch the game. They want a front row seat to Millie and me.

  I kiss Mami and Abuela on the cheek and give my father a stiff nod. He nods back, but we haven’t spoken since I hung up on him. Mami’s eyes narrow at our chilly greeting, but she says nothing. If she wants an explanation, she’s going to have to ask him. I couldn’t explain his attitude if I tried.

  “You’re not too cold, Abuela?” I ask in Spanish.

  She shakes her shawl covered head. She raises her arms under the blanket wrapped around her. “Inez me compró calentadores de manos de Academy.”

  Mami nods and translates for Millie’s benefit. “I got her some hand warmers from Academy,” Mami says, then reaches for her giant purse. “Would you three like some? I have extra.”

  Millie smiles at my mother. “No thanks. We’re—”

  “I’ll take one!” Emmett says, leaning across Millie with an outstretched hand.

  “Here you go, hombrecito,” Mami says, handing one over before eyeing the Delacroix women. “You sure you don’t want any?”

  Wearing the same exact demure grins, Millie and Mattie shake their heads and thank her.

  Mami looks up at me. “Here. We saved you a spot,” she says, patting the bleacher between her and Millie.

  I nearly snort. Of course, she wants me to sit between her and Millie. All the better for her and Abuela to hear everything we say.

  “Thanks, Mami,” I say, with just a hint of sarcasm. “What would I do without you?”

  She huffs. “Never find the right girl...” she intones in Spanish. “Never get married. Never give me grandchildren…” I’ve got to hand it to my mother. Her sense of timing is uncanny.

  “Who said anything about the right girl?” Papi mutters in Spanish. It’s not loud, but Mami, Abuela, and, me cago en Dios, Mattie all snap their gazes at him.

  “Suficiente, Jorge.” My voice is soft but my meaning is anything but. Papi doesn’t even look at me.

  Seething, I sit next to Millie.

  “Hi,” she says softly.

  “Hi.”

  She lowers her voice. “You okay?”

  At first I don’t say anything, my anger at Papi and the dread I carry for the conversation to come blot out almost everything else. And then I look at her. Her eyes are wide, watchful. She’s hanging on my every word. And I’ve given her—the woman I love—just one.

  Cabrón egoísta.

  “Just a rough couple of days. I’ll tell you about them later,” I promise, giving her a half-hearted smile.

  Millie lifts the edge of her stadium blanket and drapes it over me, enveloping me in her warmth. Most of the anger and even a little of the dread die away. Under the blanket, I reach for her hands and squeeze them tightly in mine.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I don’t mean to be a cascarrabias.”

  A smile breaks over her face. “What’s a cascarrabias?”

  In spite of everything, I smile. She can always make me smile. “A grump.”

  She wrinkles her nose, her smile growing. “I kind of already knew you had a grumpy streak,” she teases. Then she gives me a little shrug. “I kind of already love it.”

  Sweetness pours through
me like warm honey. Nuestro Padre, please let her love me the way I love her. Let her want me. If it is your will, let her want my babies.

  Her face sobers as I watch her. “Luc, why do you look so sad?” She squeezes my hand.

  I shake my head, squeezing back. “Ignore me. Let’s watch the game.”

  Checking the scoreboard, I see the Lions are down by one. “What did I miss?”

  Mattie snorts. “The same thing Harry missed. A kick by one of Jesuit’s strikers.”

  “Ouch,” I say, eyeing her with newfound respect. “Kind of harsh, Matt.”

  “I calls ‘em likes I sees ‘em,” she says, not taking her eyes off the game. Or, more to the point, not taking her eyes off Alex.

  “Exactly, why should she go any easier on him just because he’s family?” Papi chimes in.

  My teeth clench. These words are meant for no one but me. Millie must feel my body stiffen because beneath the cover of the stadium blanket, her thumb gently strokes the back of my hand. I’ve told her a little about what it’s been like to take the reins from Papi when he was so reluctant to give them. He would have kept working for another twenty years if his body would have let him.

  When he went into the hospital, his options were to put me in charge, sell the business—which wouldn’t have amounted to much more than the equipment, especially after settling what we still owe on two small business loans—or close up shop and declare bankruptcy.

  I’ve understood from the start that I’m the least of three evils.

  If he could go back to work, I’d happily step aside. If only to get him to shut the hell up and stop resenting me.

  All the more reason to give Millie this choice. I already know what it feels like to be someone’s backup plan. And for them to hate me for it.

  That’s the last thing I want from Millie.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  MILLIE

  The Lions lost, and everyone seems to be feeling it.

  Harry’s in a foul mood because of the missed kick. Mattie looks wounded, and I think it’s because Alex didn’t talk to her after the game. I tried to tell her he probably wasn’t feeling very sociable after his second penalty flag. And Emmett is just feeding off his brother and sister.