~ Nikki ~My knees are knocking together as we leave the limo and make our way toward the suite. I’m drowning in delirium and gazing up at Jameson with fluttering lashes. He chuckles.I have an arm twined around one of his and I’m swaying a bit from the wine and the orgasms… And the exciting thoughts of things to come.I snicker at that notion. Somewhat ecstatically.Jameson gives me a knowing look and I try to contain all the impulses clawing at me. No easy feat, but at least I’m not terribly dizzy and giggling like a schoolgirl.I’m damn close, yes. There’s plenty to be said for aphrodisiacs and decadence. The primary aphrodisiac being Jameson, of course. I’ll give the food and beverages all kinds of kudos, but it’s the man who has my blood humming and my body thrumming.There’s an electric palpitation to my heartbeats and I might actually be floating on air.Jameson seems to know it.That only sets me more on fire.When we’re in the suite, he suggests, “Why don’t you go into my bat
~ Jameson ~I’m well aware of the hole I’m digging for myself. And Nikki is shoveling right alongside me.I want to say this is a simple matter we can both contain, that we are intelligent, consenting adults and therefore perfectly in control of our actions. Capable of surviving the repercussions.But as I help her into the tub and slip in behind her—settling with my back to the high ledge, my head propped against a stack of towels—and she positions herself between my legs and leans into me, her shoulder blades conforming to my pecs, I know I’m blatantly lying to myself.What I’m not doing is lying to Nikki.Yes, I’m still omitting a key fact. Yet every response I have to her is real and honest. And I’ve come to understand that there’s a reverse axiom to my mother’s saying, because pleasing Nikki pleases me.I will allow that I’m currently being handed golden opportunities to explore a more intimate relationship with her. Let’s face it, Paris is its very own treasure trove of opportun
~ Nikki ~There are rose petals everywhere. Dozens and dozens of them. Red, cream and yellow, all scattered about as though they were loaded into a cannon and discharged. I envision, for a second, how this scene would look as they rained down on the suite, with me standing beneath the delicate barrage.I’m not one to fantasize about roses and candlelight and sensuous music. But I’ll willing admit… I’m totally into this visual.I lie a little to myself and simply consider that it’s only because we’re in Paris that I’m so captivated and euphoric. I won’t feel this way in Italy or Zurich or anywhere else. Not even if there actually was business to tend to in Hawaii or the Maldives.Unfortunately, I’m not the least bit convinced of my tiny fabrication. We could be in a roadside motel in the middle of nowhere—no ambience whatsoever—with coyotes howling in the distance, and I’d still luxuriate in the ripples of delight through my body. I’d still feel my skin tingle. I’d still experience the
~ Nikki ~“I should not be so ravenous,” I say as I collapse into a chair at the formal dining table. I first eye Jameson, looking dashing, as always, in a sharp black suit, black shirt and matching silk tie. Then my gaze drifts to the spread on the table that looks fantastic.Prompting him to joke, “Are you talking about sex or food?”“Both,” I murmur as I reach for my latte and sip, while debating where to start with breakfast.Pierre joins us and ceremoniously lifts the domes off the dishes that needed to be kept warm.He announces, “In addition to the pastries and croissants, we have eggs Benedict and crepes sucrées, which are sweet crepes prepared in the beurre Suzette style, or with bananas foster, or with cream cheese filling and berries. We also have crepes galettes—more specifically known as galettes bretonnes, traditional Brittany crepes that are less sweet and topped with a fried quail egg, spinach, heirloom tomatoes and goat cheese.”“So… Crepes are a thing in France,” I m
~ Nikki ~We are sitting at the railing, overlooking the stage, with no obstruction of our view, whatsoever.Overhead, the red-and-white-striped, billowy awnings—with their accompanying small-bulbed, string lighting—create a Big Top effect that’s enchanting.Everything is red. Strikingly red. Almost a deep crimson that is sexy and seductive, rather than that cheesy, middle-of-the-road red that just screams Valentine’s barfed all over, and it’s not a pretty sight. Know what I mean? Maybe not. I have a thing about red, I guess. It can look dated, like… 1980s taffeta bridesmaids dresses with those tremendously puffy sleeves and ginormous bows on the butt, and the sickly sweet color that seems flimsy, in a weird way. My aunt’s wedding photos, from her super-short-lived marriage, makes me think of this.Here, however—and despite the old-fashioned feel and the “antique red” accents—the crimson is warm and perfectly paired with all the golden lighting and gas lamps.Below us, there are tiers
~ Nikki ~“The French are huge jazz fans,” Jameson murmurs in my ear as we’re escorted to a table for deux in a cozy corner.As we settle in, I note there are mostly couples drinking and dining, with a few bro-groups at the bar, who are likely part of a conference taking place here, or at a nearby hotel. Laughter occasionally erupts from them, though they quickly simmer down, given they’ve also ascertained this is more of an intimate venue than a rowdy one.I can’t deny it’s incredibly romantic, but that’s really the nature of the beast in Paris, I’ve come to learn. Especially in a place like this, with low lighting and a live jazz band that features haunting muted trumpets and sexy saxophones. There’s some dancing on the designated floor, and I’m a little envious that’s not going to be us tonight. We have to draw the line somewhere, and I’m guessing that’s probably it.Jameson orders light fare for us and sparkling water. But when the charcuterie board arrives, it’s definitely meant
~ Nikki ~The man possesses many gifts. Many, many gifts. He’s talented in all manner of fields and arenas. And he also excels in the bedroom.I’m pretty damn sure Jameson could write his own tantric or Kamasutra manuals and they’d fly off the shelves.For that very reason, I carefully inch backward, place a foot on the bench, cautiously balance, and then ease onto the edge of the mattress, sitting comfortably. I flatten my palms at my sides to steady myself.And spread my legs.Jameson’s expression darkens to that of a lustful lover who knows precisely what his partner wants.Well, okay, I’ve made it abundantly clear what I want. But he’s wholly attuned and rests a bent knee on the bench. His hands skim over my thighs and shove the hem of my nightie up to my waist as I raise my hips. Then I settle in again. He wedges his large frame between my legs and leans in to kiss me.I find myself twining my calves around his waist, locking the embrace with my ankles. He groans and then deepens
~ Jameson ~I’ve always been a master of timing. It’s in my blood.At present, however… I’m caught in crosshairs and not fully certain if I should weave to the right or bob to the left or… Fall down. Figuratively speaking, of course.Perhaps literally, too, in a sense.I start out easy…so I think. I say, “I didn’t jump to the conclusion that you were proposing to me.”“Ha-ha.” She gives a half-snort that’s comical.“And you do pose a valid question.” A seriously dangerous one, for the landmine it drops us into. But, again, it’s a valid one.She doesn’t press for an answer, just lightly traces her fingernails over my skin, making my pecs flex beneath her touch.I inhale her hair and generally luxuriate in the feel of her naked body against mine.I neither want to shatter our serene state with a bombshell, nor spoil our last night in Paris over any sort of intense diatribe.Not to mention… I don’t want to run her off. We have two more weeks of critical meetings. I don’t want her to sudd
~ Nikki ~I’d question anybody else’s ability to divert our attention when I’ve dropped a colossal bombshell, such as agreeing to carry someone’s baby, but this is Jameson Richards I’m dealing with.I’m well aware he’s going to take a deep dive into this surrogacy concept I’ve just agreed to, yet he isn’t derailing our private moments in lieu of immediately jumping into his personal agenda. I know he’s more than capable of abandoning an intimate rendezvous to pursue a business transaction; however, as he engages me in the type of tongueless kisses that are meant to languidly reignite our passion without jarring us from the seriousness of what I’ve just shared with him and which eases us back into that seductive lane, I’m convinced he’s not inclined to desert a coveted interlude with me.“You’re smiling,” he muses as his mouth glides over mine.“Just thinking our roller coaster is of the corkscrew variety. Plenty of twists and turns.”“And a few cliffhangers.”“Everyday with you is une
~ Jameson ~I’m taken aback.This shouldn’t be the moment we hit upon a life-altering decision regarding this specific subject. It’s always percolating in the back in my brain, clearly. Constantly. However, I’m not expecting it to be on hers. At least… not right now.Hell, even I’m a little fuzzy in the head as my cock is throbbing and I’m gazing at her, naked and snuggled close. She’s just come with a ferocity that rocks me to the core, and now she’s staring at me with absolute amazement in her eyes over the orgasm—and her current epiphany. As a result, I’m also completely mind blown.I crook a brow, prompting her to continue.After all, one does not simply announce they’ll have your baby and then move onto another topic, like you’re merely discussing the weather. Even if it’s to pivot so that we’re back on track with the sexy times. Much as my body is strained to the point of snapping, what’s more important is what she’s deliberating over.Given that she doesn’t appear to have the w
~ Jameson ~I free her from her restraints. Rub her wrists. Then I remove her blindfold.She bats her lashes at me. She smiles, beguilingly, looking quite satisfied and dreamy. Her eyelids are only at half-mast, the partial irises shimmering.Her chest is rising and falling a bit quicker than normal, but not erratically. Her skin has a light rosy tint to it and the hint of goosebumps.I see a shiver run through her and she sighs contentedly.“That was…” Her lids flutter closed. She laughs softly. Then they open and she says just one word: “Fantastic.”I chuckle. “I do aim to please.”“Oh, God…” Now, her eyes all but roll into the back of her head. “Do you ever.”I like how she doesn’t temper her responses when she’s this entranced, this euphoric.I peel back the covers on my side and maneuver her under them. Then I crawl in next to her and she immediately snuggles close to me, her body curling into mine. Her flesh is warm and her curves are enticing.She twines her arms around my neck
~ Nikki ~I successfully manage to not destroy this gorgeous piece of furniture, but that doesn’t mean I won’t spontaneously combust, burst into flames and otherwise incinerate this luxurious bedding.Breathing is simply not an option at present. The fiery sensations consuming me are all I can focus on. They blaze through my veins, leaving a sizzling trail in their wake. My inner muscles clutch Jameson’s fingers, not relinquishing their hold on him as I draw out every single ounce of pleasure he’s just given me.I’d never discount his ability to get me off with ease—he’s that skilled and I’m that hot for him. But tonight, in addition to the blindfold adding an element of mystique… His technique is also magical. Extremely commanding.Plus, he’s paying tribute to all the tiny spots that feel like electrical zings when he touches them, licks them, suckles them. I’d had no idea I had so many sensitive areas on my body until Jameson discovered them. And chances are damn good, he’s nowhere
~ Nikki ~I can read into his intentions.Perhaps, more importantly, I can buy into his intentions.I comprehend there’s a very fine line to walk, between him wanting everything he wants, and understanding that he can’t necessarily have everything he wants.For a powerful man like Jameson Richards, that has to be pure torture.And since he’s articulated a particular want—an extreme one, at that—which was ultimately met with resonant silence from the person he wants it from, he has to right his axis. This is how he plans to do it.Can’t say I mind.There is a wild thrill running through me over all the unknown variables presented. The inherent danger here is that I can only take a stab at what he might be up to, without fully knowing. Because he can tie me up and make me surrender to him… Or he can abandon the kinky items he’s just laid out and go straight for the kill.As I gaze at him and his jaw works rigorously, I see he’s contemplating the two options as well.And the satisfying
~ Nikki ~I duck into the en suite to brush my teeth, then spritz a light fragrance in the air. I walk through the mist, just to pick up the essence of it. I slip out of the robe and into a peek-a-boo nightie with a violet, lacy, angled bra-bodice that dips low between my breasts and is extremely revealing. The skirt is lavender charmeuse, with a short hem in front and a longer one in back, creating a soft, rippled effect. There are matching, lacy slippers, but I don’t bother with them. I do, however, opt for the charmeuse thong. The satiny material is irresistible.I pass Jameson as he’s headed in the direction of the bathroom. His gaze roves my body, his jaw tightens and heat flares in his eyes. He makes to divert his trajectory and, instead, follow me to the bed, but he stops himself. Lets out a low rumble and says, “Just give me a minute.”“Not like I’m going to fall asleep when I know what awaits…” I wag my brows, suggestively.It has become infinitely easier to flirt with this m
~ Nikki ~I have not a single coherent thought in my brain, and it has nothing to do with the lovely buzzing state I’ve returned to as I relax under scented bubbles and sip from an uncouthly filled glass of wine. A serious double-pour if ever there was one. I’m extra careful not to spill as I tip the rim toward me and take a deeper drink.Every fiber of my being is screaming that I am way, way, wayyyy over my head with Jameson Richards. At the same time, I’m appreciative that he’s not breathing down my neck or pacing alongside the tub, expectantly, waiting for me to say something.For the most part, we arrived at this particular juncture in a very straight-forward manner and yet… No. I feel as though we’ve taken one of those scary-AF, sliver-thin roads that are cut into craggy mountain sides that you see posted on Instagram or Facebook. The caption always asks, “Would you?” and I always, vehemently declare, “Oh, hell no!” To no one in particular.And yet… I’ve gone and found one of th
~ Nikki ~I certainly don’t have to voice the query that seeks clarification of his highly unanticipated remark. It’s quite obvious he’s as bewildered as I am.He hadn’t intended to heave the sentiment into the universe—and I have the distinct feeling he’s not even fully sure of its true or full meaning.He pours bottled water into two crystal tumblers and passes one to me. I sip in silence, knowing we still have a lengthy drive and it’s going to be an uncomfortable one.Though… Playing it cool doesn’t really work for me. Pretending I didn’t hear what I heard isn’t going to fly. With every passing second, the demand for an explanation becomes more insistent, so that it’s clawing up my throat and I can’t even swallow down the raging curiosity with the water.Suddenly, I involuntarily blurt, “What was that?”He very casually retorts, “That was us not being able to make it to the villa without tearing each other’s clothes off. Even though we’re only ten more minutes away.”“Ten minutes?”
~ Nikki ~I ignore my own internal query and add, “Much as I’d enjoy dinner with you, I do have a full itinerary.”I pray this is diplomatic and tactfully delivered.Marco tips his glass to me and easily contends, “Next time.”No one is nonplussed. They polish off their cheesecake, wine and espresso. I force myself to do the same. We all share departing pleasantries, and Jameson and I are returned to the main entrance and building, alongside the olive orchard. I excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room.I’m admittedly tipsy as I meet up with him at the car.He, on the other hand, is a tad stoic. And rigid again.I take my own wild gander at what has him on edge. Leaning into him, I murmur, “You didn’t really consider I’d accept Marco’s invitation, did you?”“You enjoyed flirting with him,” he simply counters.“Because I can’t flirt with you,” I whisper. “Not in public.”His jaw sets.There is clearly something on his mind. Something serious.I’ll have to take a stab at drawing it out o