Fiona Love (28 page)

For Fiona there were four gifts, and
in one garment bag was a white dress. It was a simple gown, faintly Grecian in design, but short, and in a small white plastic bag hanging from the neck of the hanger there were white and pearl hair bobs. Fiona’s mind raced back to a conversation she and Mechante had weeks before about hair clips and accessories. She must have bought them then.

“Mechante meant for
me to marry you in this dress.”

“I thought Peter was
making the dress.”

“He is, and she knew it, but I know her, Daney. She meant for me to if not marry you, then be on the honeymoon
or in the reception in this dress,” Fiona insisted. “I want to get married here.”

Daney was
startled. “In this apartment?”

“No. In Paris.”

“Today?” Daney asked, shocked.

Fiona laughed. She’d never seen him so rattled. “I don’t think we can do it that fast, but if we can, yes. Today.”

“Are you sure? You’re not just upset by all this,” he waved his hand to encompass the room, the gifts, the situation.

Fiona shook her head. “We could get married here with our friends around us, your mother and step father. We could call Buck and have him fly over to be your best man. We’ll send for Flora and my mom.
It’s too bad Gloria just left.”

“Well, yes. Yes!” H
e snapped open his phone. “I have to call and find out what we need to do and where we need to go.”

She decided to pack the gifts, take them with her, and follow Mechante’s instructions. She would mail each one on its intended delivery date, even though she lived in the same hou
se with most of the recipients.

The girls would love it. The
y would be utterly charmed to get gifts from their friend from beyond the grave. And when the last gift had been sent, Fiona would tell them it was she who had sent them, and she would tell how they had been waiting there, neatly hung evidence of Mechante’s generosity and love for them.

Four world wind days later, Fiona and Daney were married, with Cleo, Netty, Andrea, Sugar, Peter, Fiona’s mother, Flora, Buck, Paul, Daney’s manager, his mother and stepfather and several other
friends and relatives in attendance. It had cost quite a lot of money, but Daney had grinned and pulled Fiona through it. Striding confidently about issuing orders in his soft sexy French, Fiona leaned in to whisper. “You speak fast in English and French, but you gesture more in your native language.”

He grunted and managed to convey, really?
then kissed her hair. “Well, I gotta keep it movin’ as you say. I don’t want you to leave me behind.”

Over a celebratory dinner that night, Peter said, “I wish I didn’t have to go back to Milan.”

Fiona grinned at him. “You didn’t have to, you know.” He’d also come for Mechante’s funeral.

He shook his head quickly. “Yes, I did! One, I had to see the dress so the U.S. gown will be comp
letely different. Two, I couldn’t miss Mechante’s party. I hate my job,” he groused, and no one at the table made the mistake of believing him.

His last show, the show in which she and Mechante had clowned, had generated so much positive press and sales, Peter’s company had promoted him, given him a fat raise, a bi
gger company car, more responsibility, and as he put it, a shit load of additional fuckin’ headaches.

“We’re planning to be married
again in a few months at home,” she laughed. “That’s one more headache for you.”

Peter spat up a mouthful of wine
and coughed hard. “Did you say, a few months?” he whispered, growing pale so suddenly, Daney cursed and pushed back his chair, hovering over the other man in alarm.

“I thought, after the baby! The dress,” Peter gasped out. “A few months? We haven’t had one single fitting!” He looked at Fiona aghast.

“Darling, don’t be silly. I’m sure whatever you come up with will be glorious. Just make sure it’s got an empire waist, ‘cause my belly will be round by then,” she laughed when he looked even more appalled. “You can have Lani and Netty help you.”

“I’ll need more than those bitches,” Peter muttered. “You’ll be next to worthless, Fiona. I know you. Pulled in a billion directions, none of them mine.” He pulled out his cell and hurriedly excused himself, already gesticulating wildly as he barked at someone in Italian.

The table laughed and conversation resumed. Fiona let it wash over her. Beneath the table, her right hand rested in her new husband’s. Every once in a while he would squeeze her or lift her fingers to his lips to kiss.

She lifted her water glass with her left hand, and her new ring caught the light. She set the water down and looked at it.
In her mind she heard Mechante say, “That’s some bauble you got there, girly.”

“I’ve had a lot of jewelry in my life. Diamonds
of all sizes, sapphires of all shades, emeralds, ruby’s, pearls, some of which you’ve given me. This,” she said to Daney, and held up her hand. “Is the most beautiful ring I’ve ever worn.”

“Here, here!” Buck said, laughing. “May you wear it a very long time, Fiona. A toast,” he called out, raising his wine glass high. “To forever.”

“Forever!” they chorused.

“If not longer,” Daney whispered in her ear.

The End

About the author

If you enjoyed this book you may enjoy other books by Sherrod Story available in the Kindle store

Fiona Love

Fiona never intended for Dane to be more than a one night stand, but then morning came, he was still there, and she no longer had any desire to get rid of him. Still, it was nothing serious. She was on vacation. What better way to relax than in the company of someone as beautiful and sexually exciting as this cover boy with his New York accent and flashing green eyes?

Then she started back to work. Daney – he’d acquired a nickname by this time – was still around, and people started to notice. Fiona was famous, so noticing took on a whole different league of evasive, paparazzi dodging trouble, but she couldn’t let him go, and he wouldn’t have let her anyway.

But trouble waited to separate the two lovers in the form of a doppelganger who resembled Daney, sans most of his character, who Fiona was working with on a hit TV show. A misunderstanding parts the two, and a new love enters the picture.

Natty is handsome, sexy, and her music producer, so they have tons in common not to mention they’ve known each other for ever. Falling into bed feels natural as well as amazing, but Daney’s not down for the count yet.

Then tragedy strikes…

…“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said softly, tracing the curves of her face with the back of his hand. “Wondering what I could do to you and still have you remain silent. I never would have guessed you’d be here crying like a mope from an almost accident. Flora’s perfectly all right, and you’re acting like she had a finger chopped off. My uncle Darcy says that’s what having a baby is like. It’s all one big game of, ‘Okay. It’s your turn to try not to kill the kid.’”

Like most sensualists Fiona knew instinctively when her mate wanted to dominate. So she pouted and flirted with him beneath her lashes.

“I thought about you on and off all day today,” he repeated, leaning to nip at that poked out bottom lip. “You haven’t even kissed me hello.”

Why is it most men never think to play these kinds of games? Fiona wondered, pressing herself against his broad chest. She knew he was trying to distract her, and she was more than willing to let him, so she kissed his plump pink mouth in thanks. She forgot being grateful as she licked her slow, catlike way between his lips and sucked until he thrust his tongue into her mouth and moaned.

Daney rolled her under his body, pushing her up by the arms until their dangling legs were on the bed. He nuzzled the cleavage spilling out of a sexy black bra. Web thin and lacey, it did absolutely nothing to conceal her succulent brown flesh. His mouth actually watered.

“Take that off,” he ordered. “If I touch it, it’s done.”

Fiona tried to hide it but a smile stretched slowly across her face as she wiggled out of her underwear.

“Hurry,” he whispered, licking his lips as he watched her flesh tremble as she moved.

“Yes,” she whispered back. “Yes.”

She doubted he was aware of the way he was looking her, the way his hands clenched and unclenched, but it excited her so much she was shaking.

Calm down
, she told herself, tossing her panties over the side of the bed.

“Get inside me, please.”

“What?” he whispered, hungrily kissing his way around her neck and ears.

It wasn’t enough. “Please, pretty. You can tell me what to do as long as I stay in this bed, and I’ll do it, but come here first.” She leaned back and rubbed herself between the legs, watching him with sultry, half-closed eyes. She was so wet her clever fingers slipped, rhythm interrupted and just as quickly picked up.

His scowling mouth suggested he wanted to resist, but the way his dick jumped at her words gave him away even before he moved to put on a condom.

“You’ve got 10 seconds to get on before I take over.”

Fiona yanked his clothes out of the way, clambered on and managed to lower and raise herself like nerve-filled lightning twice before he flipped her onto her back and sank in.

She expected to have to hold on but he tricked her. He worked her slowly, made her tease and cajole, begging for his touch in breathy whispers.

“Make it tight around me, Feef.” He’d heard Cleo say the nickname his first morning over and now liked to use it when he was inside her. He groaned when she complied. “That feels so good.”

Yes, it does
.

She licked the side of his neck. He thrust slowly, groaning like she was killing him. He couldn’t help surging forward a few times, but then he slowed it way down like he was stretching.

Fiona was half gone, back arched, hips rolling. Her hands moved over his flesh, grabbing and squeezing him closer to her soft damp heat. Her body knew what was waiting for it, and selfishly enjoyed every snug stroke and wet glide on the way there.

It was crazy how she reacted to Daney. He had only to get near her and her insides shifted. Her body literally prepared itself to be fucked. Her heart rate accelerated, body grew moist, all over, not just where it counted. Every pore opened up and called out to him. When they got close enough to touch her eyelids got heavy. She couldn’t keep her legs or lips together. Her mouth watered to taste his, to suck and bite anywhere he’d allow.

“Daney,” she said, but it sounded like, how could you do this to me when I love you so?

In reality Fiona was thinking, come on, baby, just a few more hard strokes, fuck it, these slow little undulations would work, and it’ll be over for –

“Aaa-ahhh–”

“Fiona, damn it,” he said, her orgasmic sighs pushing him to convulse and shudder suddenly in her arms as he came. “Shit! You always take over.”

“Sorry,” she rasped. “Can’t help it.” She sighed gustily and turned automatically to snuggle. “You weren’t so good I wouldn’t be so greedy.” Her skin tingled happily when he curled long, protective arms around her. “Every time I see you,” she lifted her face for his kiss, “I get so hot, I can’t wait. My skin starts to itch like it’s been peppered or something. Below my waist,” she whispered, a properly raised young girl confiding in her high school gym teacher. “Below my underwear.”

“You’re a naughty little girl, Fiona Love,” he said, a ghost of laughter in his deep voice. “How could you say such a thing? Where did you learn these filthy ideas? I think I need to spank your bottom. In fact, I think it’s mandatory to get some of that devil out of you. Well?”

She stared at him and blinked innocently. “Sir, I guess you can do anything you want to my bottom.”

Daney grinned and sat up on the edge of the bed. Fiona pressed her naked body against his back and reached around to hug his middle, but he pulled her hands away.

“Get up and walk across the room. I wanna see you move for me. Then walk back and lay yourself over my lap.”

Fiona obeyed. This was a new game. She’d kind of felt like sucking his dick, but she’d play along.

“Bring me that bottle of water on the desk over there by the phone. And a piece of candy from the dish.”

Fiona strolled naked to fetch the items, resisting the urge to spread her knees in his face or turn and twitch her ass in front of his nose. She’d never realized how much she liked to play the submissive. She placed the candy in his hands.

He unwrapped it and put the mint on her tongue. “I’m going to check after your punishment, and it better be there or it will go worse for you. Do you hear me?”

Fiona nodded.

“Have some water.”

She drank deeply, knowing he was watching her chest move while she swallowed. She paused then drank some more before she handed him the water.

“Put it back on the desk then lie face down over my lap.”

Fiona felt twice as naked the second time she walked from the table. Her breasts shivered with her excitement, and by the time she knelt to crawl over Dane’s bare lap she was breathing audibly.

“You’re looking forward to this aren’t you? You’re a bad little girl, Fiona,” and he slapped her really hard three times.

Fiona was shocked at the speed and heat of the blows. The sound of his hand hitting her ass was thick and solid. It stung madly, but somehow it wasn’t painful. She hadn’t really expected him to go through with it. Ouch! Another pop. Now that she was into it, it did hurt, but it was a weird pain, more good than bad.

She’d declined to participate in this sort of play with other men, some light hair-pulling as far as she went on that route, but now she was so wet she had to clamp her legs together. This move proved to be a mistake as the pressure made her clit throb harder. Then he pinched the heat, one of her cheeks, and the throbbing spread.

Daney began to paddle her again, rhythmically, slower and slower, and harder and harder. He built the heat up until she was writhing in his lap, wanting to pull away but somehow squirming into the blows and the pleasure/pain that spread in waves after the sound. She cried out, close to coming, and suddenly Daney lifted her and cradled her close. They clung, their hearts beating wildly together, the warmth from her bottom pulsating with the rhythm. He was the first to move, and then it was only to kiss her deeply, until her bottom began to wriggle restlessly.

“Wait,” he said when she would have squirmed down onto his dick.

He yanked open the bedside table, and she felt him being responsible beneath her. She wanted to inhale him in that moment. In the thick of things, when her brain had nearly short-circuited from lust, he cared enough about her body to protect them. Even if he was only protecting himself, she found it incredibly arousing. He’d barely begun to move when she grew tense as a wire and came violently in his lap. She went limp on his chest, and he laid her down and uncurled her limbs.

He laughed softly as he tucked her under the sheet. “I’m letting you nap for a second, then you’re mine. You ate that candy too.”

Fiona just grinned and closed her eyes…

A Willing Slave

Some things you just count on. Chris counts on her neighbor Charlie. He’s always good for a laugh, occasionally for a meal, and he’s easy on the eyes. She’s successfully hidden her crush on him, and as a result has been able to enjoy his company regularly since she moved into their building.

Then she got laid off from her job, and over breakfast one morning, Charlie decided to make her a little bet that would change the course of their friendship forever…

… How on earth had she gotten into this? Why had she agreed? Her brains had oozed out like gas through a leaky pipe somewhere between being told to strip and feeling Charlie kiss her inner thigh. Good grief. It was one thing to entertain sexy dreams about a man, to quietly stoke a crush in the privacy of your own thoughts. It was quite another to end up jaybird ass naked in the crush’s kitchen holding a sponge and a can of comet.

And what the hell had gotten into Charlie? He’d never looked at her like this before, never. It was one of the things she liked about him, the complete absence of those pork chop looks men have a tendency to give when they were thinking about fucking, and you just happened to be in their line of sight.

He’d always been respectful, a tease, sure, but there had never been anything overtly sexual in it. Now, he was practically sweating pheromones, and she felt sick with nerves as she realized how quickly her hazy, daydream-like attraction to him had morphed into something tangible under his new found attention.

Don’t even start. This is just a bet. Some warped game he’s playing because he’s a man, and I’m a woman, and I walked right into it.

There was a noise in the hall, and guiltily she began to run water for the breakfast dishes. Suddenly she smiled. Man, she was an idiot! This was all a gag. Charlie was just playing with her, kidding around. He’d probably worked this joke up to teach her a lesson. He wasn’t the type to lecture against the perils of gambling and looking for an easy way out. Instead he’d come in any minute now laughing and making fun of her.

She grinned as she realized how readily she’d made a fool of herself. She’d never live this down.

He’ll probably crack all sorts of dominant/submissive jokes and tease me about my romance novels coming to life until I want to pop him upside the head. Bossy ass jokester
. She decided to play along.

There weren’t many dishes. Soon she started on the counters and stove, her large breasts swaying gently as she reached and rinsed and wiped things down.

“Payday is Friday,” he said suddenly.

Christina jumped, and Charlie watched her body jiggle and settle. Silently she thanked God for her mocha skin tone. Without it she’d have looked like an over ripe cherry about the face and neck.

“Yes, sir,” some imp inside her responded, and she dropped him a rather elegant, naked curtsy.

His nostrils flared, and the corner of his mouth lifted as he stalked closer.