A Window to Love (Windows) (Volume 1) (22 page)

“Oui, monsieur.” She pushed back toward me, wanting me
deeper inside of her. Reaching over her, I grasped her erect nipples, twisting
and pulling them. “Harder.” She moaned.

“I remember hearing that from the woman I was fucking.” I
pound into her, giving her every inch. Letting go of one nipple, I rubbed her
clit and commanded her, “Come now.” Just as she did in that very dark room
years ago, she contracted around my cock and I released screaming her name.

“I don't remember you saying my name, Mr. French Mystery
Man,” I heard in a breathless whisper.

“I didn’t know your name, bébé.” I said pulling out of her,
and dragging her beautiful body up the cool silky cotton sheets and into my
arms. “I don't hear you begging me for 'more' like you did that night.” I
whispered, biting her neck then licking the same glorious spot.

“Oh,” she moaned giving more access to her neckline, “But I
do want more. Pleeeease. Pleeeease, monsieur.” Turning in my arms, she grabbed
my hair, pulling me close, claiming my mouth, panting against my lips, “Fuck
me. Oh mon dieu. Fuck me now.”

Still hard, I moved back into her, sliding in and out
slowly, wanting to caress her pussy with my hard cock. “Oh bébé... bébé,” I
growled, grinding against her, rotating my hips, wanting to make her purr.

“Mmmm. J'adore. Don't stop,” she met me movement for
movement, moaning and panting.

Needing to taste her sweet lips, I covered her mouth with
mine and our tongues swirled and slid together, imitating our bodies, until we
peaked and released together.

I loved being inside of her. Not wanting to leave her body
yet, I rolled us to the side and we remained entwined, holding on to each other
tightly. “I can't believe that that was you that magical night in Paris, but it
makes sense. From the first time I was with you, I couldn't get enough, I
wanted more and more of you, but you were taken away from me. When I found the
bed empty, I was crushed. I knew you were it for me, and there would never be
anyone like you.” I ran my hands up and down the side of her body memorizing
every inch, looking into her beautiful face.

Staring back at me with such intensity and a bit of sadness
she said, “I didn't want to leave. I loved what you did to me. I wanted more. I
wanted to be wrapped around you forever. Never had I felt the way I felt in
your embrace. I was stretched out, remembering every delicious move, every
yummy caress, when Lily waltzed in the door. She insisted we must leave
immediately. She helped me find my clothes, got dressed; all except for my
panties. I asked her to let me say goodbye, but she said absolutely not
dragging me away while you were in the bathroom. I'm sorry I left you.”

“I still have your panties,” I winked at her and then
continued, “You never showed up at the cafe the next day.”

“Your parents called that next morning. I left Paris. You
know the rest,” she said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

“Was that your first sex masquerade ball?” I stroked one of
her nipples waiting for her answer, hoping it was her first and last time at
the chateau.

“One and only. I suspect Lily still attends them. Actually,
I don't think that was her first encounter. She was pretty comfortable, and I
think people knew her. We've never talked about that night after she apologized
profusely.”

“I don't think I want to know the answer to that same
question, but had you been to one of those sex parties before?” She inquired
with a skeptical brow.

“No, bébé. That's not really my thing. My friends dragged me
along. That was my one and only too. I didn't plan to have sex with you. I got
a dare to kiss a stranger, like you.”

Melissa took a deep breath. “My dare was actually to fuck a
stranger.”

“I'm glad you followed through.” I said with an uninhibited
growl, nibbling her ear and kissing her cheek. “When you came in the room, I
was drying my shirt with a towel. Someone had spilled champagne on me.”

“So you didn't have your shirt off, ready for your mystery
woman?” she asked with a playful smile.

“No, but when you fell into my arms, and started rubbing
your hands on my chest, a simple kiss wouldn't satisfy me,” I said drawing her
bottom lip into my mouth.

“Mmmm,” she moaned as I ran my tongue along her lush lip and
added, “Suddenly, I don't feel like such a slut, knowing it was you.”

“I love that slutty girl. She starred in many of my
fantasies over the years,” I winked at her.

“Me too,” she said with a sexy as hell little giggle, “but I
thought you were French.”

“I thought you were French as well. You understood and
responded to all of my commands,” I said struggling to finish our conversation,
wanting to fuck her desperately.

When “I love your commands, monsieur,” escaped her lip that
was the end of our conversation.

I growled and rolled on my back, taking her with me before
impaling her on my hard cock. As I brought her down hard on me again and again
and my hips moved up to meet her, I whispered, “Now I know why I felt that
electrical charge run through my body. Why your touch was so familiar that day
you touched me at the photo shoot. You had already been mine. I will never lose
you again.”

“I will always be yours. I love you, Evan.” she whispered
back.

“Oui, Melissa, you are mine, and I am yours. I will love you
forever.”

One
Year Later...

I WAS GETTING ready for an evening
out. It was a cold, crisp night, but it would not keep us from venturing out
into the December night. We had reservations at Evan's friend Luc-Julien’s
lovely new restaurant in the city. The holidays were upon us, and in the
distance I could hear the sound of Christmas carols being played on the piano.
I loved to hear Evan play. I closed my eyes and could picture him sitting at
the piano in our living room that had once again been transformed for the
holidays with a beautiful Christmas tree and dozens of poinsettias. This was
the first year in a long while that I actually have the holiday spirit, and I
was looking forward to celebrating. Speaking of celebrating, in a few days Evan
and I will celebrate our wedding anniversary. So much has happened in our first
year together.

After enjoying our honeymoon, and ringing in the New Year in
Paris, it seemed as if our feet were never in one place for very
long. This was to be the year that Evan really made a name for himself around
the world, so around the globe we went.

Although I had resigned my position at McDimel-Sanders, Evan
and I continued to work with them. He was still doing projects with two of the
agency’s clients, so we decided to use them to launch and market a new line of
Evan Duke fashionable men’s products. Jane began working with us at first, but
without me in the art department with her every day she had been looking for
her ticket to Hollywood. I wasn't surprised when she packed her bags six months
later and headed out west. I have enjoyed working closely with Evan sketching
his clothing line ideas. And fortunately, his sister agreed to manufacture and
showcase the Evan Duke line through her Jennifer Crandall Studio. We also
started a foundation and a portion of product sales were given to various charities
that we felt very strongly about.

Nine months after our wedding, our little angel girl, Emma
Camille Crandall, was born. She looked like Evan: dark hair and magnifique blue
eyes. And just like her famous model father, she has graced the pages of a few
magazines with Evan. I have managed to stay out of most of their photo shoots
beside our one-time family cover shot to announce her birth. For as long as I
can remember I have always attempted to stay out of the limelight. I never
wanted anyone to know I was an heiress. And what do I do, I fall in love and
marry a male supermodel whose profession included being captured publicly.
Luckily, Evan knew I had no desire to be splashed across magazine covers, and
he turned down many requests to be photographed with me in our home. He was
very private about our personal life and would not comment about our family
life. We also agreed that Emma would only be photographed in her infant stage
with him. I loved to look at them together, especially when I caught them napping
on the sofa; Evan on his back and Emma curled up on his chest. I had Lily do a
painting from one of those moments I captured on film.

As soon as we found out I was pregnant, Evan persuaded our
neighbors to sell off a portion of their apartment that had once been part of
our apartment. He worked hard with an architect and Isabelle to design a
nursery and art studio for me. I still wasn’t sure about Isabelle, especially
after hearing her mutter “shotgun wedding” as I walked down the aisle, but she
did a beautiful job for us. It was princess perfect, just as Evan envisioned.
My art studio was a dream come true, and my incredible husband kept it stocked
with canvases, paper, pencils, pens and paint. I never had to order supplies.
They were magically replenished as soon as they were used. When I was not
sketching for Evan, I was secretly working on paintings. I say “secretly”
because I have never shown them to anyone; not even Evan. Someday I would share
them. But, for the moment, they were my private treasures.

Three original Lily paintings now adorn the walls in our
home. Oui, we finally received the painting Evan and I posed for, and it hangs
in our bathroom; visible from the tub and shower. Lily selected a photo of us
entwined on an ottoman in front of a window with a view of Paris. It came out
beautifully. I smiled at the painting tonight as I put the finishing touches on
my makeup. I was standing in a sexy, black, lace bra with matching thong and
garters when my handsome man entered our bathroom and met my eyes in the
mirror. My heart raced as I smiled back into his pools of blue.

“What are you staring at, ma cherie?”

“Us,” I smiled, directing my eyes toward the artwork I love
so much. “I was just thinking about when we posed for that painting.” Evan turned
to look and then drew his attention back to me.

“Mmmm. How about we re-enact it. Our reservations aren't for
an hour. Emma just fell asleep, and Jennie will be here in thirty minutes.”
Evan moved up right behind me, wrapping his arms around me, nibbling my neck
and caressing my nipples. I moaned, and he whispered into my ear. “I need you,
bébé.” I could feel him hard and ready, pressing into my backside.

I spun around in his arms and pressed my lips to his mouth.
“Oh, but monsieur, you need to buy moi dinner first.” I grinned into his lips

He gave me a wicked smirk and raised an eyebrow. “You're
going to torture me?”

“Oui. Good things come to those who wait someone once told
moi. Get a shower,” I lightly pushed him away.

I turned back to the mirror and watch as his amazing hard
body came into view as he headed toward the shower. I was tempted to give him
what he wanted, but I knew we would never make it out the front door if I did.
“I better make it a cold one,” he commented looking at me in the mirror before
he stepped in the shower and I giggled.

By the time Evan was showered and dressed, I had slipped
into a knee-length black lace dress with a cream fitted bodice visible beneath
the lace; it gave the illusion that I was naked under the lace. “You look beautiful,
bébé. Very sexy.” He made me melt when he lifted my hand to his mouth and slid
his lips over the inside of my wrist while staring straight into my eyes. I
never got tired of that.

“Merci. You are quite handsome yourself.” I smiled at him in
his three-piece suit black suit with a white shirt, black tie and striped
pocket square. Unconsciously, I licked my lips.

“Are you undressing me with your eyes, bébé?” he asked,
flashing me one of his sexy, pouty model poses.

With a deep intake of breath and naughty grin, I answered,
“Maybe.”

“I may have to spank you later.” I giggled, and he pulled me
into him for a deep, passionate kiss making me moan. Just about everything he
did to me made me hot for him.

Pulling away from me, “We better leave immediately. The
sooner we get this evening over the sooner, the sooner we can come home, and I
can have my wicked ways with you.”

“Monsieur, you do not want a night out with moi?” I said
batting my eyelashes.

He laughed, drawing me in for one last hug and chaste kiss
on the forehead he answered, “Of course I do, bébé, I promise this will be a
night you won't forget.”

After saying our goodbyes to Jennie and thanking her
profusely for watching Emma, Evan gave me a wink, grasped my hand and pulled me
out the door.

As we crossed the lobby, we were greeted by Phillip who
opened the door for us as we dashed towards Charles and our waiting car. “Good
evening, Mr. and Mrs. Duke. Enjoy your night out,” he called out behind us. We
both smiled and laughed as we wish him a Merry Christmas before ducking into
the car and out of the cold.

Stepping into Luc-Julien’s establishment in the Bowery
district, I was completely enchanted as French music instantly filled my ears,
and I sighed breathlessly, “Ooh la la, I feel as if I’ve been transported to
Paris.” The dimly lit, dark wood paneled restaurant was gorgeous and quite
romantic with stunning chandeliers hanging throughout. The walls were painted a
dark grey and filled with alternating large antique mirrors and Parisian style
paintings. The seating was sexy; lush red velvet sofas and masculine black
leather chairs, both adorned with fancy pillows.

We were seated in the back of the bistro in a small private
enclave equipped with a drapery that could be pulled for full privacy. Our
candlelit table was as elegantly dressed as we were. We watched Luc-Julien as
he made his way through his restaurant, stopping to shake hands with many of
his patrons before he joined us to say “allo.” He was extremely charming as he
described two special three-course meals he had put together for us; allowing
us to taste a variety of his restaurant’s delights. My mouth waters in
anticipation as each incroyable course arrived accompanied with a new glass of
wine that complemented each dish.

Sampling our two desserts, I closed my eyes, licked my lips,
and softly moaned as my taste buds danced with delight. Evan inquired softly
against my neck while slipping his hand into my panties and dipping two fingers
inside of me, “Shall I close the drapery? I would be happy to spread you on the
table and finish this meal with you as the dessert. I’m sure you would taste
even better than that treat you are savoring with sexy yummy noises.”

I smiled around the spoon in my mouth and slowly opened my
eyes to a pair of intense blue ones, “Oh monsieur, you are a naughty boy. I
like it! Perhaps you would like to join me in the powder room.”

“I’m thinking you should meet me in Luc-Julien’s office,” he
said pulling his hand from between my legs. Then with a smirk plastered across
his beautiful face, he stuck his finger into his mouth and rose up from the
table. Then quickly, he turned and strutted down a hallway.

I waited a few minutes before I slowly got up and headed in
the same direction. I wasn't sure if I was going the right way, but then a
strong hand grasped my arm and pulled me into a room. “Mmmm. Alone at last,” I
purred as my man twirled me into his muscular chest and captured my mouth with
a deep passionate kiss.

Not knowing how much time we had, Evan bent me over
Luc-Julien’s desk and ripped my panties in half. Stuffing them into his pocket,
I heard his zipper before I felt him slip deep in me. “Oh bébé, j'aime être
enterrés à l'intérieur de ta chatte. I love being buried inside of your pussy.”

“Oh mon dieu. J’adore your cock, monsieur,” I panted softly
as he slid into me over and over. I pushed back into him, wanting more and
gasped, “Harder, pleeeease.” Feeling his grip on my waist tighten as he plunged
deeper with each stroke, he sped up his movement as I cried out, “oui oui oui.”
My pussy started to spasm, tightening around his thick cock and just when I
couldn't take any more, I felt Evan join me, coming inside me as he growled my
name then collapsed over my body. As I began to catch my breath, I thought this
was truly a parfait ending to a delightfully romantic meal.

On our way out the front door of the bistro, Luc-Julien
sporting a Cheshire cat smile on his face, handed us two tall paper cups of
chaud chocolat for our evening stroll. Yes, Evan was taking me to see the
holiday windows. Bundled up in full-length wool coats, gloves, scarves, hats,
we braved the cold. Out on the street, Charles was waiting. He promptly
deposited us on Fifth Avenue, near Rockefeller Center, where we began our
promenade. The streets were filled with people milling about, taking in all the
Christmas decorations. All the familiar sounds and smells of the holiday time
in Manhattan surrounded me and brought a smile to me face.

As we stumbled upon our first window, I drew a breath and
sighed as the display; an adorable children's wonderland. “A window for Emma!”
I exclaimed.

“Next year we will bring Emma, bébé. It's too cold for her
to be out tonight. I look forward to seeing the twinkle in her eyes, like
yours, when she sees her first holiday window.” I smiled up at him and he
pulled me closer, giving me a chaste kiss. “Let's keep going. There are more
windows for you.”

As always, the city was truly magical during the holidays.
Last year I saw only a few windows, but tonight I was ready for more. I would
always miss my parents the most during this time of year, but tonight I felt
like my parents were looking down and smiling. This tradition was so important
to them. I knew they would be thrilled that I had continued it with my own
family. Oui, I had a family. I was so extremely happy, and I had Evan to thank
for that.

“One last window, bébé.”

Evan moved behind me, covered my eyes with his hands then
maneuvered me so that I was standing right in front of the window. As he pulled
his hands away, I saw huge icy blue and midnight blue sparkly ornaments hanging
from the ceiling along with jeweled strands of beads. My eyes were dazzled; I
was mesmerized by the colours. Then my eyes gazed straight into a pair of
intense blue eyes that I was very familiar with, and I gasped. The photo was
new, but suddenly, I felt like the hands of time had reversed. A year ago, I
stood in front of this very window with my heart racing, captivated by a
gorgeous man and tonight once again I found myself whispering, “Oh what I would
love to do with you.”