Одри Карлан - February (Calendar Girl #2)

I turned around and my mouth dropped open. Alec was standing there ready for the evening. He wore a suit. The first time I’d seen him in something so formal. He looked dashing to say the least. My mouth watered at the sight of his beautiful body wrapped in fine silk threads. His suit was black on black. Everything. The jacket, the shirt underneath, to the slim satin tie. Definitely worked for me. My thighs were instantly moist, and tension sizzled in the air as I let the towel I’d been wearing while getting my clothes together drop from my body.

“ Douce mère de toutes les choses saintes, ” he said in hushed French. That wasn’t helping my libido. Instead of bringing me down, he brought me higher. I bit down on my lip and swayed, watching him come to me. In a flash, Alec’s mouth was on mine and my back was against the wall. His hands slid down to my ass and pulled me up. I groaned as the thick wedge behind his trousers pressed me harder into the wall right where I wanted him most.

“We can’t do this now,” I warned, not really believing the words myself. I sucked at his neck and lips, and dug my heels into his lower back. He groaned as his tongue entered my mouth. For long moments, there was nothing but deep, drugging sweeps of his tongue, nips from his teeth and the press of silk against flesh.

“We can. We are.” I could feel his breath along my neck as he spoke. “Nous allons nous dépêchez .”

“What does that mean?” I sucked on the spot he loved behind his ear and clutched the tight man bun at the back of his head pulling his face back.

His eyes were dark, and held nothing but the promise to please within their inky depths.

“It means we hurry,” he flicked at his belt, undid his pants, pulled a condom out of his pocket, and in seconds, he was notched at the entrance to my sex.

“Fuck, don’t stop now, Alec. Please, give me you.” I said. He loved when I said those words and I knew it. He slid the wide crown of his cock against my center, rubbing it in the wetness there, moved his hands wide along my ass, and then impaled me.

“Sweet, Mother…” I called out, his steely shaft filled me deeper than ever before, so deep I lost my breath, then found it again when he breathed life into me with his kiss. “So good, it’s always so good with you.”

He moaned into my neck, slammed me into the wall and held me there, hung up on his cock, then dragged his hands over my sensitive skin to my breasts. Once there, he tweaked each peak hard. My nipples were two blazing hot points of need, and with every touch, twist, and pluck he sent me Nirvana-bound. “I’m gonna come,” I announced, and he grinned against the erect tip then bit down into it.

That was it. Nothing more needed. The orgasm shredded through me like a wood chipper destroys a tree trunk.

“Never forget the way you feel right now, ma jolie. Je t’aime. I love you,” Alec said before taking my mouth. My pussy clamped down around his cock giving him what he needed while he thrust into me like a madman. When he was done, he pulled me off the wall and brought me to the bed where he sat, still imbedded in me. It took several minutes to settle the quaking in my limbs. Through it all, Alec held me and soothed me the way he always did. I often thought it soothed him as much as me.

“We’re gonna be late to your own show,” I giggled.

He smiled. “With good reason.” he winked and indicated the large white box. “This is for you. To wear tonight.”

Excitedly, I jumped off him and stood at the side of the bed. He took care of the condom while I opened my present.

Inside the box, I found a champagne-colored cocktail dress. It had tiny crystals that shimmered and sparkled in the light. The neckline was loose fabric that draped over my breasts enticingly. The slight wisp of fabric that held it at the edge of my shoulder did so in a way that made the drape of the fabric look perfectly natural. The hem was just to the knee and the dress fit like it was painted on. Alec held out another box as I was straightening the dress. The shoes were Gucci originals. They were a shiny gold with a four-inch spiked heel and a touch of a platform. Utter perfection.

“Never met a woman that didn’t love shoes.”

“All women love fuck-me pumps. Especially, sexy, hot as hell ones. It’s written in our genetic code.” I shrugged. “We’re born that way.”

Alec freshened up his suit as I finished getting ready, then he led me down to the party. It was in full swing when we arrived. The second we walked through the entryway camera bulbs flashed and applause filled the room. A blonde in a tight white suit immediately took Alec away. His publicist. I hadn’t seen her since the first few days, but she had a lock on his arm that might have drawn blood if he attempted to escape. He looked over his shoulder at me. His downturned lips and narrowed brow proved he wasn’t happy. I waved and blew him a kiss.

A man with a tray of champagne offered me a drink. I took a glass of the pink bubbly and made my way over to the first painting. It was me. Of course. Yet, Alec had added so much more depth to it than the first time I’d seen it. Now it was as if I could grasp the tear sliding down my image’s cheek and smear the red lips pressed into the painting.

“No Love for Me,” was written underneath the image. I walked over about twenty feet and saw the same image only this one included the silk-screened image and the painting of me touching the heart of the original. “Love Thyself.” Reading the words was like sending a spear right through my heart to touch emotions not hidden far enough beneath the surface.

Incapable of looking at it any longer, I went over to the set of three paintings in a bundle where the most action was happening. The crowd was thick as the light shined down on the three giant canvas’s hanging side by side. Above the trio it said “Broken Love” but under each one I noticed they had their own individual names.

The first of Aiden pleasuring himself with my hand over his erection was labeled. “Forbidden Love.” Then the picture in the middle where Alec had caught a very harsh moment between Aiden and I was called “Love Hurts.” Then the last. There was a much larger crowd around this painting. Alec and I together, entwined in our passion. It was definitely the most stunning of the three. He’d added red sweeping swirls of paint all around the couple on the canvas, highlighting the fiery passion the couple shared. Below it, the name simply said, “Our love.”

And it was our love. Alec’s and mine. Beautiful, passionate, wild, yet still a love that had to be nurtured, and cared for. It’s purity captured perfectly on canvas.

I moved along the wall and watched people discuss the art. Not once did I hear any gasps, or see any scowls. That must have meant people were accepting of his vision.

This painting made me hot. Straight up wet between the thighs, and ready to jump Alec the moment I saw him again. “Selfish Love,” he’d called it. Me, pleasuring myself for the world to see. Something about it was righteous and powerful. At least it made me feel that way.

Alec’s arms wound around me as I stared at the painting.

“You like it?”

“I liked doing it more,” I said low, my words a veritable moan.

“Ah, I see. Later we shall revisit this scene, hmm?” I nodded quickly. “Let me show you the last. It is my best photograph to date.”

That was saying a lot. Alec Dubois was a truly amazing artist and photographer. His pictures could be found on everything from calendars to signed lithographs. He led me over to the one painting that had a giant white drape over it.

I stood still as a crowd of people surrounded us awaiting the reveal. “This portrait will be sold at twice the asking price. Half of that price will go to you, ma jolie .”