Jackson sits up, spreading his legs to give Monica full access, and with the crop in his right hand, Jackson playfully traces it over her ass and then between her cheeks. Monica wiggles her hips, and he lightly taps her with the crop, making her gasp around him. “Harder,” she pants when she pulls off him for a moment. They quickly fall into a playful, joyful game together, his hand flicking the crop to smack against her ass, and the harder he does it, the more eagerly she swallows his big cock. For heavenly minutes, they go back and forth until he cantake no more. Tossing the crop to the side, he grabs a double fistful of her hair and take over, fucking her mouth quickly and almost brutally. She swallows, taking him stroke for stroke and making sexy, wet noises until she moans her orgasm, and as she rides her fingers, Jackson thrusts a final time, exploding in her sweet, sweet mouth.For his final spurt, Jackson pulls out, and a thick blob of his seed lands in the valley between her
In fact, Jackson sent a gorgeous arrangement of peonies, roses, and lavender to her apartment with a note that he hoped seeing them each night would send her to sleep thinking of him. And they have. She have been head-down in the workroom for hours each day, sewing like a madwoman before bringing garments back to her apartment to do even more hours of tedious and time-consuming hand stitching of the delicate lace toeach piece at night before finally collapsing into bed. The flowers have been a silent cheer from Jackson to keep going. “What do you think?” Monica asks Jeanette. She does a half-turn in her Seduction theme finale piece, checking herself out in the mirror. Inspired by her 1930s lingerie set, she have created a bias-cut dress of thefinest peach silk she could find. Well, in today’s time, it can be considered a dress. In 1930, it would have been considered a nightgown, perhaps part of a bridal trousseau. Especially with the shimmery, semi-translucent fabric. She scans the
“We got this, ladies! They want seduction? We will have a full-fledged orgy on our hands by the end of this runway. Fo’ sho’!” Molly bites her lip as she pumps her hips obscenely,Nsmacking the air in front of her like it’s a lover’s ass. “You like that? That’s what I thought, my little slut.” Monica can’t help but laugh at her silliness. She bets Molly would have a ball at the sex club Jackson took her to. Well, a ball, or maybe a ball-gag. “It’ll be a mess of writhing bodies, hands and mouths and dicks all over the place.” She wiggles her body, hands all over her own breasts as she looks left and right as though seeing people surrounding her. “Oh, what’s that? Why, yes, I will . . .” She mimics sucking a cock, and then looks elsewhere. “Oh, and one of these?” She licks the air, her tongue flicking wildly. Beatrice leans over to whisper to Monica, “Is she serious? This is not what ‘seduction’ means in France. Perhaps there was a translation error?” Monica's chest bounces as she tries
She might not understand what she was saying, but she waves at her to do whatever she needs to because Beatrice’s last model is walking out, which means there’s only her four models to go before Jeanette’s walking out there, exposed or not. Thank God she decided on Jeanette’s slow, panther-like walk for all her models. It will give Monica maybe thirty extra seconds. Molly tries to joke. “It’s like a mustache wax . . . only for your tit.” Another time, that might be funny. They all know women have hairs around their nipples and they handle them without making some big announcement about it. But Monica can’t laugh right now. Not when her big finale dress, the one she was already worried about, is in tatters. Monica gets to work, placing long swatches of tape along Jeanette’s chest. “This isn’t fashion tape,” Monica says by way of apology. “It’s pure Gorilla Glue, double- sided, sticky tape. It might just become part of you. Like, you might be able to use it to hold your car keys and pho
“Mademoiselle Tedd!” a woman calls, mispronouncing her name, but she lets it slide, hoping it was merely the accent. Monica loo6k over to see the woman with the dead cat on her head, although as she approaches, she thinks it’s faux fur. Either that, or a badly stuffed mongoose. “What a delightful set!” “Mille merci,” Monica replies, dipping her chin deferentially. After all, suckingup is part of the job. “I am glad you enjoyed it.” She considers asking her name, maybe taking the chance to correct her on her own, but it feels like she was already supposed to know who she was. “That first piece? Tres magnifique,” Dead Cat Lady says dramatically, kissing her fingertips in a ‘chef’s kiss’ move. “Shame about the last, though. The model . . . like one of your American biscuit tubes. Pop!” She puffs her cheeks out, her eyes wide and her hands making an explosion-type movement. Is she serious? Is she talking about canned biscuits? She cannot be implying that Jeanette is fat, right? Monica me
“Excuse me?” "Jackson, do not play dumb with me. I’m aware of who you are looking for, and of who you are seeing. You haven’t exactly been subtle, gallivanting allover Paris.” To any bystanders out of earshot, it would appear to be a polite, congenial conversation between close co-workers. Not family. Though there’s bloodbetween them, they were not the sort to make public displays of affection. Nor private ones either, actually. Jacqueline smiles wanly, sipping her champagneas she looks at him with shrewd eyes. Jackson mirror her move, taking a drink of his own bubbly and meeting her eyes. “Are you taking a sudden interest in my social life?” Jackson responds lightly. She clucks her tongue. “I’m always interested in who you see, what you are doing, how you feel. But this? One of the designers? It’s inappropriate at the least, bordering on harassment.”“No need to worry. It’s neither, I assure you.” “No need to worry?” she repeats, horrified. “All I do is worry. Whether you are on
As they both stares “Are you serious? You told Jacqueline to keep her nose out of your business? The Jacqueline Corbin?” Monica asks. “Well, when you say it like that . . .” Jackson shrugs casually but grin at theamusement in her voice. “I did manage to stay mum about what her previous warning led to.” The reminder is intentional, a distraction from Jacqueline and from theprocessing Monica is still doing about the show. She taps her chin, teasing him. “I forget . . . what happened after that?” Jackson growls, bringing the phone closer so she can only see his handsome face. “We went on an adventure that ended up with your ass pink, your pussy wet, and both of us exhausted and satisfied.” “Riiiight,” she drawls out. “I do recall there was a little something like that.” She was now provoking him on purpose, reveling in it. “Take your shirt off for me.” The command is full of heat and sex, and he can see Monica catches her breath, enthralled. Before her hands can move to her shirt, she
Monica bites her lip, picking up her panties and holding them high. “These? But what would you use them for?” she asks, faking innocence. Jackson drops his voice, lewdly telling her exactly what he intend. “I’m going tosmell them while I jack off, thinking of you. I’m going to wrap that silk around my cock and use it to stroke myself so I can pretend it’s your silken walls gripping me tightly.”Her breath catches, and then Jackson thinks she was doing what he have asked because it looks like her hand is moving off-screen. Either that, or she has started rubbing herself again. “You too,” she tells him. “I want a memento.” Jackson picks up his undershirt from the coffee table where he discarded it and swipes it over his chest. “I think you have got a new nightgown, Princesse.” He holds it up so she can see. “I will come by in the morning, bring you coffee, and we can exchange gifts.” “I would like that,” Monica says almost shyly. She keeps him on his toes, going from soft and complian
As they both share a passionate time.“Princesse, please.” It’s a beg, Monica will admit, but it’s growled with deep hunger. She flips her hair over one shoulder, putting her weight onto one arm to take Jackson in hand. Standing him upright, she aligns herself with him. “I loveyou, husband,” she says sweetly. “I love you, wiiiiife.” Jackson means to return the sweet words, knowing it will get her off as much as it does him, but Monica sinks her bliss down onto him, taking all thought and word formation skills from his brain. Engulfing all of Jackson in her warmth and wetness, she begins to move, sliding up and down his shaft at an unhurried pace. Jackson murmurs to her in French as he pinchens and plucks her nipples, reaching between them to circle her clit with his thumb, and lay a sharp smack to the flesh of her hip. Tobias once told Monica that a man has three women—his wife, his mistress, and his whore. He was the lucky bastard who has found all three in onewoman. Monica was eve
The reception was full of laughter, dancing, and magic. It must be magic because nothing else could bring that big of a smile to his bright bride’s face. Monica was on the dance floor with her bridesmaids. They were swaying andmoving, lifting their hands in the air as they sing along with the music. “She’s beautiful,” Jamaica grunts from beside him. “Congratulations.” Jackson looks over at him, taking a slow sip of his scotch. “Watch it,” Jackson teases. They have made peace, with each other and their pasts, not letting them affect their precious futures. In fact, Jamiaca was doing much better now, working an apprenticeship in home construction with plans to become a project manager one day. He grins back. “What can you tell me about her?” Jackson follows his line of sight and chuckles and he sees Claire from the coffee shop that Monica prefers. Monica insisted that they fly Claire to France for the wedding. “Good luck. Just don’t fuck it up, or that one will eat you alive.” “That s
His expression was like he had too much on his head already. He grew beards and had an manly scent. Not that she was still attracted to him. But his expression told her that he was not happy with the life he was living. The knowledge of breaking the news of getting married with Jackson had filled Julien with false hope and accusations that she can always come back to him if she wanted to. She can still have a half portion of his heart and stay there for his and hers little boy's sake. “How do I look?” Monica asks her Mom, glancing down at her beautiful dress. “Gorgeous,” she says, on the verge of tears again. “Are you sure you are not going to be cold, though?” Hopefully, she holds up the lacy shawl she found online for her. Once upon a time, she would have heard that as a way to say she doesn’t like her dress or as a critique of the timing of the wedding, or even a question about whether she should be getting married in the first place. Now, Monica takes it for what it is. “I’m no
“I already gave some to Simon. You got yourself a good one here.” Monica's mother's gives Jackson a smile of approval as she fans herself playfully. “I think I’m the fortunate one to have captured Monica's heart,” hereplies, looking deeply into her eyes. Monica thinks Mom flat-out swoons at his poetic words, French accent, andgrumbly voice. She was pretty sure she hears her whisper to Jacqueline, “I think we are going to be grandmas soon if he keeps saying things like that.” “Mom!” Monica exclaims aim, flushing brightly in an instant. “Oh, I’m only teasing,” she says. She turns to Jacqueline and Nora. “Has she told you how she struck out from our little town, with nothing but piss and vinegar in her blood and a dream in her heart? I was so worried, but this one . . . you can’t tell her a thing!” Monica's mother goes on to tell Nora and Jacqueline how she had worried about her being in the big city, had waited for her to come home with her tail between her slender legs, and how proud
Most of the models are local to NYC, but she had lamented that her Amour mourning dress was meant for Jeanette and that she was sad she would never get the chance to walk it. So Jackson secretly surprised her by flying Jeanette in to do it. She was not wishing the show away, but she truly can’t wait to see Jeanette strut in that gown. No one can do it justice the way she can. Monica swears, she blinks and the time flies past until she was standing backstage with Jeanette in the voluminous black gown. “Remember, slow. Eyes forward.” Monica demonstrated the defiant gaze she wants on Jeanette to have, tackling the future with strength after the loss of love. “Pose, small smile of hope. Then back like a queen.” “Slow. Strong. Hope. Queen,” she repeats clearly. Her English has gotten much better. Monica's French was improving daily, too, from listening to Jackson. “Tue cette piste, fille,” Monica tells her, snapping her fingers. Jeanette looks at her in surprise. “Oui, I will kill the run
Molly pushes Monica's shoulder. “You would bust ass to get as much done as possible, and then leave to ‘work at home’ or ‘visit the park for inspiration’ and come back the next day with barely anything else done since you left.And you would have a dreamy smile on your face.” Molly makes a vacant-eyed, open-mouthed smiling expression that Jackson thinks is supposed to be what Monica looked like. Jackson did that to her, he thinks cockily. Katarina nods, agreeing. “We thought you had found a French Romeo, and then we saw Jackson wearing the same necklace you had started wearing. It didn’t take much to put one and one together.” Beatrice adds quietly, “We were a bit worried for you, as he has quite the reputation. And it didn’t seem to be helping you in the competition. We weren’t concerned about that until . . .” She trails off, and he knows that his aunt turned that particular screw to get Beatrice to do her bidding. “Okay, so no hard feelings?” Monica asks them all. Molly leans over
“I should have told you,” she whispers back. Monica pushes at him, nearly shoving him out of his chair. “Get up and hug her, or I’m going to have to do it, and I’m not getting snot on her jacket. It’s too fabulous for that.” Jackson gets up to come around the table, and for the first time in he doens't know how long, he enfolds his aunt in a hug. Jackson knows it’s been long enough that he have forgotten how thin she truly is. And he doens't think he have hugged her when he have been taller than she is, even in her power heels. How long ago must it have been since they embraced? It must have beenwhen he was truly a child, before he was a teen growing inches seemingly overnight. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs into his chest. “Me too.” They sit back down, and he looks to Monica, silently asking what she thinks about his aunt’s request for a fashion showplace. They have a conversation consisting solely of raised and lowered eyebrows, pursed lips, and smiles. Finally, Monica turns back to J
She has let that go and is looking toward the future. With Jacqueline, Monica was only concern is him and his little feelings. He squeezes her hand tightly so she knows how much he appreciates her. “Yes, well . . . I guess . . . when I found out that you were gallivanting all over Paris together, I will admit that my first thought was that you’d seduced Jackson to improve your chances in the competition.” Monica points to her own ample chest. “Not a gold digger, just so that’s clear.” Jacqueline nods, accepting that fact now. “At the time, though, it made sense. It wasn’t the first time.” She looks to him for confirmation, and Jackson grunts in agreement. “There was that idea in my mind. But also, if the reverse were true, that Jackson had in fact pursued you” —she flicks her eyes to Monica this time— “I felt like it would be doing you a disservice. I didn’t want you to be distracted by him and miss out on your opportunity, because I know what something like this could mean to a youn
They sit in folding plastic chairs at Jackson's folding plastic table after he closes his laptop. In the awkward silence, Monica can hear the loud buzz of a drill every few seconds as the crew hangs new drywall. “What are you up to, Jacqueline?” Monica was not doing niceties or waiting for her to launch into a practised speech. She wants to throw her off, make sure she knows that they were not under her thumb and have no problem calling out her game play. She has come all the way here to talk about something, after all, so may as well not delay. She presses her lips together in response but gives in. “The reactions to the fashion shows have been quite exciting. Perhaps you have heard?” Monica doesn't look at him, but Jackson stays quiet, and something Jacqueline sees in his expression must give her pause because her nostrils flare. “Or maybe not. But the media buzz has been quite positive. For House Corbin and the designers themselves. Seeing as two of the designers are from America,