Chiding herself for self-pity instead of rejoicing in Jean-Luc’s success, Ella ate her omelet. Cleaned up the kitchen. And finished her custom couture.
She glanced at the clock again. It was past two thirty. Jean-Luc always came home before eleven on the nights he performed. The show ended at ten. Where could he be?
A key rattled in the lock, followed by heavy footsteps on the stairs.
Ella rushed to open the double French doors as Jean-Luc staggered in. The pervasive odor of alcohol wafted throughout the room. “Where were you?” She hated sounding like a shrew.
“AtLoca Luna,” he exhaled, the fumes nearly choking Ella. “Colette came to thetablao…with Olivier and Guillaume. I told everyone about the exhibition.” His speech was slightly slurred, and he wobbled on unsteady feet. “They took me out to celebrate after the show.” He grinned sheepishly. “I’m plastered.”
Ella helped him to the edge of the bed, sat him down, and removed his boots, jeans, and shirt.
He mumbled an incoherent thank you as she laid him down, tucked the sheets around his shoulders, and kissed him softly goodnight.
She crawled into bed beside his warm, naked body. Wrapped her arms around his broad, brawny back. And, desperately trying to ignore the venomous voice of doubt hissing through her mind, gazed through the arched windows to the starry night sky.
Chapter 8
Walking a Tightrope
In the morning, Jean-Luc awoke with a wicked hangover and stumbled into the shower while Ella made fresh coffee. When he came into the kitchen, he declined the juice, croissants, andconfitureshe had artfully arranged on the countertop. He settled onto the barstool, clutched his head in his hands, and moaned softly in pain. With a weak smile, he gratefully accepted thebol de café.
“I need to pull myself together,” he joked, as Ella refilled his coffee. “Colette will be here soon.”
A sickening wave of jealousy washed over Ella.Stop it. This is an incredible opportunity for Jean-Luc. Be happy for him. And quit thinking of yourself.
He gulped down his coffee, donned a black T-shirt and faded jeans, and tied back his long, thick hair.
Ella gazed lovingly at the dark tendrils and the curved tips of the scorpion pincers twining up his corded neck.I want to trace his tattoo with my fingers. And my tongue.As heat flooded Ella’s inner core with tantalizing images of a sumptuous afternoon making love, a knock at the door of the atelier interrupted her sensuous reverie.
With a quick kiss and a whispered goodbye, Jean-Luc disappeared down the stairs.
Disappointed and dejected, Ella cleared off the counter, washed the few dishes, and spent the afternoon creating couture. But, despite her best efforts to concentrate, venomous visions of Colette Ducharme seducing Jean-Luc poisoned her thoughts.
I’ll seduce him myself.She leaves at three, and Jean-Luc doesn’t have to work until five. That gives us two glorious hours together…
Ella waited until she heard the door close, then slipped downstairs. Jean-Luc was at the atelier sink, cleaning his brushes and storing supplies. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “How did it go?” she asked brightly, determined not to show the insecurity that gnawed at her gut.
He washed his hands, dried them on a clean towel, and turned to greet her with a huge grin. “Very well,” he beamed. “It’ll be tough to finish by the deadline, but I’ll find a way.” A glint of desire sparked in his eyes as he noticed Ella’s short, silky dress. His gaze lingered on her long, bare legs before settling on the erect nipples which poked through the soft fabric.
Stroking them with curved thumbs, he made Ella moan as the throbbing and wetness between her thighs became unbearable. He lifted her dress up over her shoulders, set it down on top of the sink, and suckled Ella’s swollen nipples until her knees buckled under her weight.
“In here,” he gasped, half carrying her to the black velvet couch. “I need younow.”
He laid her down on the sofa, spreading her legs wide to feast with ravenous eyes as he threw off his shirt and unzipped his fly. His erect cock sprung forth, bobbing in the air, as he kicked off his jeans and knelt between Ella’s trembling thighs.
She watched as he rubbed the thick head between her slick folds, spreading the moisture over her sensitive, aroused bud. The soft, slippery skin sent shivers of delight deep inside her quivering quim. She scooted down further on the sofa, enveloping the tip of his shaft with lush lower lips, desperate for him to enter her.
With a guttural growl, he lifted her hips. Wrapped her legs up over his shoulders. And plunged deep inside.
In this position, his pounding pummeled her, his powerful limbs pinning her in place. The relentless stab of his thrusting shaft pierced her with pleasure that bordered on pain, her twitching muscles tightening with increasing tension until she shattered and convulsed under him. With a deep, feral grunt, he heaved himself into her hilt, erupting in plumes of volcanic release.
Breathless, quavering from exertion, they lay still, limbs entwined.
“I needed that,” Jean-Luc whispered hoarsely into the shell of her ear, kissing her tousled hair. He withdrew from her embrace, her body releasing his with a soft, sucking slurp.
“As much as I hate to leave, I need to set up onla Place du Tertre.”He handed her a clean towel, then wiped himself off when she was done.
While Jean-Luc pulled on his jeans and shirt, Ella slipped back into her dress. “I’ll make stir fry for dinner,” she said with a contented smile. “So you can eat before you go.”
