Notorious in Nice (11 page)

Her eyelids drifted shut, and her knees buckled, but he kept her standing, both palms and fingers covering her back to front, sliding, slipping through honeyed cream. She gave a shout and crumpled. Terry scooped one hand under her knees and cradled her tight against his chest. He ate up the distance to his bed. They both tumbled onto the soft mattress in a tangle of caressing hands and mouths, the soft sheets absorbing shower moistness from their skin.

She sighed and a whisper of air tickled his collarbone. “I’m boneless, I feel all sugary and warm, and all these little aftershocks are making me so wet. Terrence, why are you waiting?”

Pretending to ignore her meaning, he attempted to deflect the issue. “You know I’m not a patient man. It’s my turn next.”

“Why won’t you make love to me?”

Terry had to meet her gaze; the waver in her voice did him in. “You’re so young, Su-Lin. There are a lot of ways we can enjoy each other without me taking your virginity.”

“You don’t want to anymore?”

Her lower lip quivered, and he couldn’t stand the hurt evident in her slumped shoulders. Crushing her to him, he feathered kisses all over her face and whispered, “There’s nothing more I want in the world. But, darlin’, I don’t want to hurt you, and no matter what we do I won’t be able to avoid that.”

“I have it on good authority that it only hurts the first time,” she said, lifting her head to look him in the eyes. “I’ve dreamed about having you inside of me, of you making us one.”

“Are you sure, darlin’?” He thumbed the dimple in her chin.

“I’m sure, Terrence. I’m very sure.” She met his gaze head-on, unflinching, wearing a tentative smile.

“Then let me make your first time special, Su-Lin Taylor.”

“Not today?” she asked, angling her chin to the right.

The disappointment evident in her mournful question had his lips twitching.

“Not today. Shh,” he said, cupping her cheeks. “Don’t look like that. There are things I can do, that I need, to make it as easy as possible, and I don’t have them now. Will you trust me on this?”

“I trust you,” she answered, heaving a long sigh.

He chuckled. “But that doesn’t mean we’re finished today. Not by a long shot. Open your eyes, Su-Lin. We begin today with sixty-nine. Head against the pillows, woman.” He chose lurid words, cold instructions, and his lips firmed when her eyes jerked away from his. A flood of color stained her cheeks, and one plump lower lip quivered. The slight tremor stabbed his soul. Terry brushed a forefinger along soft, rosy flesh. “Sweet Su-Lin, I’m a randy ass to be so vulgar. You make me want to be a better man.”

Concern lit her flashing eyes; she touched two fingers to his lips. “You are a wonderful man, Terrence O’Connor.”

“I’m no hero, darlin’.”

“You’re my hero,” she whispered.

For one suspended moment, he searched for a way to make those words true, but Carol-Ann’s face rose between them, blurring his vision.

Seeking refuge in lust, Terry buried his face between her thighs and inhaled, absorbing the musky smell of her arousal, tongue lapping and licking, fingers itching for penetration. Inserting both thumbs, he kneaded, pressed, gnawed lightly at the dewy knob, now twice its resting size, flushed deep red, a vision of heady beauty. “I love the way you smell, the way your body opens to me. Come again, darlin’, one more time.”

He ate at her folds, slurping up every drop of moisture, swirling the cream toward her center, edging both thumbs higher and higher until he met her hymen. Working a furious rhythm, a staccato burst of pumping digits, he nipped her clit, sawing his teeth back and forth, and she screamed and locked her thighs around his head.

In a split second, he reversed their positions. “Cup your breasts. Mound them together, that’s it, darlin’.” He dipped his hand between her legs, coating his fingers, and then spread the cream over her breasts. “Hold, hold there, keep them squeezed together.” Wrapping his hands around hers, he pumped, using her large nipples as purchase.

“Terry, pinch, pinch harder,” she squealed and clamped his fingers together over her nipples, hips arching, knees bent. “Oh please, please bite them. I need, I need…Terry.”

Her long, drawn-out scream slammed his balls tight. The intensity of his climax spurted semen onto her chest, and she lapped at his cum, licking and crooning, suckling the whole head into her mouth. Small hands flitted and fluttered around his ass, his groin, threading through his pubic hair.

“What are you saying?” he asked, and the effort to lift his head almost proved too much. Rolling over, he pulled her on top of him and used the slick moisture to work his semihard prick between soft, wet folds.

She mumbled something into his chest. “Su-Lin, darlin’, what did you say?”

“I said,” she said, rising on her forearms, “that ‘wondrous weapon’ doesn’t do it justice.” She traced a finger over the crown of his cock. “Do you think one day I can swallow every drop? You can teach me how to do it right. In high school, one of the cheerleaders was the blowjob queen, I heard them talking about it. I want to be the
Glory’s
blowjob queen.”

“No way, darlin’. I am the only recipient of your blowjobs. In case I didn’t make it clear the other night. If Harrison so much as touches you again, he’s dead meat. For the duration, you belong to me. Got that?”

She cocked her head to one side. “Then you must belong to me. That’s only fair.”

“Trust me. You landed that catch in the steam room the first day we met. I’ve been dreaming of your pussy ever since.”

“Terrence?” She traced a figure eight on his chest, and the slight, absentminded caress had him rushing in another direction.

“What, darlin’?” He captured one hand and nibbled on her fingertips.

“How will it work? I’m not on the Pill or anything.”

“That’s one issue we have to resolve. I have to admit taking your virginity excites me more than I thought possible. As an aphrodisiac, it’s mind-blowing. But I don’t want to hurt you. Christ almighty, the wait’s near killing me.” He cradled her head between his large, callused palms. “I’m not sure I can be gentle, but I’ll try.”

“It only hurts once, right? It does seem like it’s too big for where it’s supposed to go.” She curled one hand around his thickening cock. “I keep trying to imagine you inside of me, and the notion makes me dizzy. My dreams are all filled with you, with this.” She suckled the tip, working her tongue into his slit.

He groaned and guided her mouth to his aching balls.

“No matter how many fricking times we do this, it’s not enough. I screw your breasts, come all over them, and I want you again, instantly.”

“Is it normal? This aching, this yearning? This constant throbbing, here.” Two fingers separated her folds, and she showed him the little pulsing point, and a wave of musk coated his brain. High on pussy scent mingled with semen and some flowery perfume, Terry’s mind shut down. His balls contracted, the sac slamming into his pelvis, and his hips lifted off the mattress.

“Suck my balls, darlin’. Roll them around in your mouth. Yes, yes, like that.” He squished a pillow in one hand and gave over to her tentative licking, the sweet purring of her lips against his cock, the way she nibbled a path around the crown, mouth and teeth firing an inferno.

“I’ll get better,” she murmured, and he moaned aloud.

“Any better and I’ll die. Come here, darlin’. You’re so fricking wet already. Damn, you turn me on. Handjobs, Su-Lin, handjobs for now until I’m inside you. For the whole fricking night, for the day, until I can’t move anymore. This is mine.”

He angled his head and captured her lips. Using both hands, he nudged her thighs farther apart, pinching her clit, inserting two fingers, then three; then she clamped him hard, hands pumping his cock, and she shook and shook and screamed into his mouth. His fingers dug into her backside, and he ground her mound and ejaculated.

Commands from brain to muscles resulted in absolute lethargy. The effort to half-raise eyelids almost exhausted him. He spoke his thoughts without realizing it.

“I’m a bloody teenager around you. I come at the drop of a hat, just smelling your musk gets me to the point of no return. Offer me those big-ass nipples, darlin’. Let me suckle for a bit.”

“Terrence.” She tunneled her hands into his hair and tugged him away from her breasts. “They ache so much, it’s like they’re on fire. Bite them again and again and again.”

Before he could respond, the intercom crackled. “Aunt and uncle are on the way. Better get decent pronto.”

Terry fisted both hands and clenched his jaw.

“I wish we could stay here all day long,” she mumbled. “Life’s not fair.”

“Do you realize that I came here horny as all hell, we’ve screwed around twice, and I’m leaving hornier than I was before? My libido’s on raging overdrive.”

“Jennifer.” Aunt Emma’s voice preceded a rapid knocking on her cabin door. “Uncle James has organized a boat to take us into Nice.”

“Are you coming too?” she asked and ran her tongue around the crown of his prick.

“’Nuff, darlin’,” he whispered, imprisoning her wandering hands. “I’ve duties to attend to. You go and have lunch with your aunt and uncle. Tonight, you dine with me. Got that?”

“Aye-aye,” she said, wearing a broad grin and tipping him a salute. “Dinner with you, here?”

“No, a cozy little restaurant in the heart of Nice.”

By the time he’d showered and dressed, the Boston Whaler had already docked at the Nice harbor. In the far distance, Terry made out James, Emma, Su-Lin, and Thomas strolling along the Promenade du Anglais. A serious wind gust churned around the wide cove sending Su-Lin’s long, inky hair swirling around her elbows.

He had to do something. The woman had him burning up with need and his craving for her had grown desperate, a hunger too intense to be sated over the coming three weeks. He found Harry in the engine room.

“What’s up with you? You look like you lost your best friend.”

“It’s been a couple of hellish days. Thom has a brain tumor.”

“So I heard. He tells me the prognosis is good.”

“It’s risky surgery. I’m planning on going to New York with him. I’ll probably be gone three weeks at the least. Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah. Aside from getting married, I’ve no other plans. FYI, your father went into Nice earlier. Didn’t look too pleased either. Had a phone call from his lawyer.”

“Something about Carol-Ann or the divorce probably.” Terry scratched his chin.

“Austen took a message from the new chef. She’s due in this morning. I’m picking her up from the airport.”

“Two days early? I’m not complaining, but nothing’s going according to plan. I still have no clue as to why my father’s here. The old man has to have some sort of hidden agenda.”

“Does he know about the tumor?”

“Not according to Thom. Something’s bugging me about the aunt and uncle. But I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Do you hear that noise? Like gears grating?”

“No, can’t say I do.”

“That light in the cooling system’s coming on intermittently. Might be a good idea to let the
Glory
do a dry dock when you’re in New York, get a complete overhaul.”

“It’d be perfect timing. Plan on it.” Terry checked his watch. “When are you heading to the airport?”

“Now, if I want to be on time. You know what this new chef looks like?”

“No, Sarita hired her. They went to culinary school together. Take a sign with her name. I’ll ride into Nice with you.”

Less than half an hour later, the men separated, Harry heading to the airport while Terry made for the red-light district. It didn’t take long to find the particular toy he wanted, but a couple of other items caught his eye and he added them to his shopping basket. The sex kitten behind the counter offered to giftwrap his purchases and batted lashes clumped by a heavy application of sooty mascara at him.

For long seconds, Terry debated taking the pretty girl up on her obvious invitation, renting a hotel room, and spending the afternoon pounding into her. His cock didn’t even twitch. He glared in the general direction of his groin and pursed his mouth. Wayward organ.

Meandering back to the docks, brown parcel tucked under one arm, Terry scoured the crowded promenade for any sign of Su-Lin or her relatives. About to flip open his cell phone, he caught a glimpse of a tall, stunning redhead, elegance personified, strolling in his direction, a smile pasted on her face. His stomach careened, doing a double dive.

Carol-Ann.

His bloody lucky leprechaun day.

Thomas proved to be an entertaining companion, knowledgeable about Nice and its environs. He regaled her with anecdotes about some of the buildings, the central plaza, and the exotic cultural makeup of the population. Somewhere around midday, they wandered away from her uncle and aunt and stopped in the historic section of the town.

He nipped into an otherworldly bookstore that smelled of leather and stale cigar smoke, and Su-Lin followed, her curiosity piqued. The proprietor, a wizened sixtyish man with a shock of white hair and large horn-rimmed glasses, greeted Thomas by name and the two men conversed in rapid-fire French.

After a barrage of questions and answers, the gentleman unfurled a detailed antique map of Nice dated in the early eighteenth century. Someone skilled in calligraphy had penned in towns along the coastline, and she recognized Nice, Villefranche-su-Mer, and a few others. Su-Lin choked when she heard the price of the article, but Thomas didn’t bat an eyelid. He paid for the scroll and ordered the map delivered to a town named Grasse, to the north of Nice.

“Do you collect maps?”

Almost noon, and the Mediterranean sun blinded them when they left the dark bookstore. Su-Lin shaded her eyes and blinked while studying the throngs wandering through the narrow, cobblestoned streets leading to the Cours Saleya, home to Nice’s amazing open-air market. She glanced at the man strolling with her, an exact replica of Terrence, and marveled anew at the extraordinary stroke of fate that had brought her to this point, this place, these two men.

“I don’t, but I have a friend who does. And this map will be of particular interest to him. His family runs one of the largest perfumeries in France. Somewhere in the fourteenth century, one of his ancestors married one of mine, so we’re very distant cousins.”

The smell of trays filled with dried blossoms reached her nose before she could identify them by sight, purple lavender spears, tiny lilac clovers, and bright pink peony petals. Elaborate floral arrangements, some bonsailike in simplicity, others reminiscent of the complex lady of the manor tradition decorated a flower stall to the left of them.

Distracted, sniffing a pale lemon tea rose tipped with cherry edges, Su-Lin remarked, “I always wanted to have cousins. The lady who lived across the street from us had a zillion relatives. There were always people coming and going, and children playing.”

“You are an only child, I take it?” Thomas offered her his elbow, and she smiled at him and linked their arms together.

No tingling, no electrical connection, so like Terrence and so different. Simply being in Terry’s vicinity made her skin prickle with anticipation, scattered her thoughts in feverish directions, painted kaleidoscopic images on her pupils.

“Yes. I didn’t even know I had relatives until my mother died. My mother’s lawyer was the one to actually find out about them when he went through her will.”

“How did you meet my brother?”

Su-Lin’s cheeks flamed. “We met in Antibes. We were staying in the same hotel, and I went into the men’s steam room by mistake. He was there.” Rushing on, she switched subjects. “What happened between Terrence and your father? And you? He didn’t look pleased to see you the other day.”

“The last time I talked to Terry, around ten years ago, I came out to him. I’m gay, Su-Lin. I worked up the courage to tell Terry on our sixteenth birthday. He didn’t take the news well.”

“I don’t understand,” she said and scrunched her nose. “It’s not as if it’s contagious.”

“There were extenuating circumstances, and it was a bad time for the Gore family. After my mother’s death, my father retreated into work. He started traveling the globe, and we rarely saw him. Then he remarried, a woman twenty years his junior, more our age than his.”

His tone changed on the last sentence, becoming gruffer. He clipped out each word, and the muscles in Thomas’s forearms stiffened under her fingers.

“You didn’t like your new stepmother?”

“She was never any sort of mother figure. I hated Carol-Ann on the spot. She’s one of those big-hair, Texan, beauty-queen types, a selfish vamp who’d found her sugar daddy.”

“How did Terrence react?”

She could have bounced a bowling ball off his arm he was so rigid. Thomas spoke in a calculated, deliberate manner, as if each word had a special, unspoken meaning.

“Carol-Ann wrapped him around her little finger. She could do no wrong in his eyes. It drove a wedge between us. Terry started acting up at school, drinking, and fighting. We were barely speaking by the end of the fall term. Terry and Father had a fight, and he left home and joined the navy before he qualified for the Royal Marines.”

Secrets, deceit, something sinister lurked in the background, and Thomas’s tension seeped into her veins, chilling her soul. She inhaled and took a lighter tack.

“Didn’t you even try to contact him? You’re twins after all.”

“Terry went into the Royal Marines. Because he has a knack for languages, they kept him in Iraq and Afghanistan for over seven years. Undercover operations, that sort of stuff. I read law at Oxford and stayed as far away from home as I could.”

“And when you became sick, you wanted to reconnect with Terrence?”

“Something like that. Carol-Ann’s suing Father for divorce. There’s no prenup, so the bitch is going after half of our assets. And she’ll get it too with the ammo she’s got.”

“She has a hold over your father?”

Su-Lin hadn’t even met the woman, but she already actively disliked the twins’ stepmother.

“Unfortunately, yes.” He patted the back of her hand and shook his head. “We’re getting into some uncharted waters with this conversation, and I risk breaking a few confidences. If you want to know more, ask Terry. He should be the one to tell you the whole sordid tale, not me. How about a bite to eat, and then we’ll wind our way back to the
Glory
?”

She glanced down at her churning stomach, surprised Thomas hadn’t noticed the wave of nausea causing her to swallow rapidly. Her eyes fixed on each uneven brick they traversed, Su-Lin took a four-count inhale.

“Okay, I guess you really don’t want to talk about it. I’ll accept the change of subject, but only if you tell me more about yourself. What do you do?”

“Corporate law. I bought into a partnership about four years ago. I live in London, near Hampstead Heath. It’s a dull life actually.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. Do you see your father often?”

“More in the last year or so. Father is a member of Parliament and spends most of his time holed up with bills and politics.”

“I take it your stepmother doesn’t live with him?”

Every mention of his stepmother flattened his mouth.

“Carol-Ann spends his money and has worked her way into aristocratic circles. She runs with society, winters in Cannes, shops in the Far East. Loves to drop titles. We are the epitome of a dysfunctional family.”

“How long have your father and Carol-Ann been married?”

“Fourteen or fifteen years. Why?”

“Why is she suing for a divorce after all this time?”

“Rumor has it there’s a man involved. She’s not getting any younger. Maybe she’s feeling the press of time. Who knows? Who cares?”

“You really hate her, don’t you?”

“Every single bone in her body. Simply being in the same proximity makes me nauseous. And this conversation’s killing my appetite. Let’s talk about you, you and my little brother. You’re good for him, Su-Lin.”

Not something she wanted to discuss. Uncertain if they even had a relationship, if Terrence wanted more than sex. Never agile with conversation, having had little experience at parrying uncomfortable topics, she grabbed the first item that came to mind.

“He told me about your brain tumor and the operation. I’m glad Terrence is going to be with you. Maybe I’ll get to see you when you’re in New York. Aunt Emma and Uncle James want me to go to Hong Kong with them after our cruise is finished, but I think I want to be on my own for a bit.”

“Forgive me, but haven’t you been on your own your whole life?” His tone gentled the harsh question.

“I guess that’s true, but I’ve never been free.” Su-Lin hesitated, as even speaking about Annika seemed some sort of betrayal. “Caring for my mother took up most of my time. Between school and my two jobs, it seemed as if I was always fighting to catch up. We never had enough money. Every cent went into food and keeping the house running.”

“Are you saying that you paid the bills, you supported your mother?”

He stopped in midstride and stared at her, those gray eyes flashing…what? Disapproval? Incredulity? Both, she decided.

“Mom stopped doing things after Dad died. Then she stopped speaking. We’d go for weeks without her saying a word. Someone had to keep up appearances.”

“And no one, no neighbor, no teacher ever suspected what was happening?”

Thomas looked about to shake her and she edged sideways.

“I couldn’t let anyone suspect. If anyone found out, I knew they’d put Mom in a home and me into foster care. So, I didn’t break any rules. I did my schoolwork, got good grades, and went to gymnastics practice. I read. I learned Mandarin and Swedish.”

“It sounds like a stark life.” Thomas’s lips turned down. “No one should have to live like that.”

“It wasn’t that bad, and now I have my aunt and uncle.” She hugged her arms.

“What about Terry?”

“What about him?” Su-Lin’s nails imprinted half U’s on her skin.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him, Su-Lin. You’re falling in love with Terry, aren’t you?”

Each word felt like an icicle dagger digging into her chest, and she fired right back.

“Isn’t the pot calling the kettle black? That guy you sent the map to, you’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Shock couldn’t begin to describe the expression on his face. Mouth open, jaws slack, eyebrows almost touching his hairline, Thomas sucked in his cheeks. One hand tunneling through his blond locks, he muttered, “How on earth could you have known?”

“You wrote his address, and when you were speaking with the proprietor, your finger traced a figure eight over his name, again and again.”

“You’re scary.”

“No, I just notice the small things no one else does.”

Ahead of them, a group of five teenagers dressed in Gypsy costumes lounged against an ancient soot-crusted wall. Each fiddled with different time-battered musical instruments.

The youngest, a rail-thin prepubescent girl with matted blue-black hair shook a tambourine to a steady, insistent rhythm. Su-Lin halted, arrested by the rage and hunger flashing from eyes so dark, so guarded, light would never be able to penetrate.

“Hungarian Gypsies,” Thomas murmured.

“They’re so young and they look half-starved.” She dug into her purse and found some euros, but before she could drop them into the hat lying on the sidewalk in front of the musicians, Thomas stilled her hand.

“There’s a better way. Wait for me, here. Buy them a meal each. Get something from that deli over there.” He angled his chin to a canopied stall. “I’ll arrange for shoes and new clothes from the shop we just passed. Most of these kids work for adults and never see any of the money they earn. This way, they have a meal in their stomachs and something to keep them warm at night.”

“I didn’t know Gypsies still existed.”

“There are Gypsies in almost every country, and their culture and ways haven’t changed much over the centuries. I’ll be back.”

Unsure of what to buy, Su-Lin ordered hearty-looking sandwiches, pasta salads, some fresh fruit, and juices in cans. When she took the packages of food over to the teenagers, they glared at her with open hostility. The oldest boy, who looked to be about sixteen, growled something and shot a wad of spittle to the ground at her feet.

Thomas arrived at that moment, and he rattled out a barrage in a language that sounded half French, half German. He pointed to a shadowed alley between two buildings, and the boy, shoulders squared, stomped in that direction. Thomas followed.

The young girl who’d caught Su-Lin’s attention snatched hungry looks at the food, so she set the parcels down and retreated into the entrance of a clothing shop pretending to browse. Time ticked by and Su-Lin’s curiosity warred with the need to wait and let the girl eat without losing her dignity. She fingered a fake-fur collar and sneaked a glance to where the teenagers had been. Nothing, no hint they had even been there.

Seconds later, Thomas rounded the corner of the alleyway.

“What happened? Where’d they go?”

“Someplace where they can eat and hide the clothes and shoes. The leader, Casmir, is from Hungary via Marseille. They travel with the weather and support themselves playing music, supplemented, I’m certain, by petty thieving and picking tourists’ pockets. The little girl you liked, Adria, managed to relieve me of my watch.” Thomas rubbed his bare wrist. “Pretty smooth operator for an undernourished, illiterate scamp. I didn’t even notice until after they disappeared.”

Afternoon traffic picked up. Renaults and Passats crawled through the narrow streets, while scooters wove precarious paths around the cars, narrowly avoiding pedestrians and making Su-Lin flinch when they backfired.

“There’s a sunny spot over there, in front of that crepe restaurant. Lunch?”

“Okay.”

One hand under her elbow, Thomas guided her to a round table shaded by a white umbrella emblazoned with the red words LA FÉE ABSINTHE over and over, ad infinitum. Su-Lin sat on a warm metal chair and tipped her sunglasses to the top of her head.

“Are there many Gypsies in France?”

“There aren’t any official statistics, but you’ll find warnings about them in every major French port, and some Spanish ones. Marseille’s a base for the Roma.” Thomas signaled to a waiter, an aristocratic summons of a flicked wrist.

“Roma, that’s what they’re called?”

When he nodded, she asked, “What language did you speak to them?”

The waiter interrupted their conversation, and after a hasty glance at the menu, they ordered drinks and entrées.

“Most Gypsies speak Romany, although it’s a misnomer to term it a language. It’s a dialect with more variations than similarities.”