Gloria's Forever (Gloria Book 3)
Nelle L’Amour
Gloria’s Forever
Copyright © 2015 by Nelle L’Amour
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved worldwide.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is purely coincidental.
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Cover by Streetlight Graphics
Proofreading by Karen Lawson
Formatting by
BB eBooks
In memory of Gareth Andrew and all of heaven’s little angels.
Dear Readers~
This novella takes place six months after the conclusion to Gloria’s Revenge and nine months before the start of my
THAT MAN
series. Blake Burns has a cameo, but he has not yet met his tiger. I hope you enjoy it!
MWAH! ~ Nelle ♥
A Letter from Nelle and Acknowledgments
You and me
Two hearts that melt and flow into infinity;
We leave the world we know to voyage breathlessly.
Our bed, the sea
And in the waves, just you and me.
—Charles Aznavour,
“Toi et Moi”
English Translation by Dee Shipman
Gloria
“T
hey’re so fucking beautiful. You’re so fucking beautiful,” Jaime breathed, staring at my monstrous breasts with a mixture of awe and passion dancing in his denim blue eyes. We were facing each other, butt naked and kneeling on our bed, my large belly putting a distance between the two of us. That and his massive cock. The early morning sunlight streamed in from the floor to ceiling wraparound windows of our spacious bedroom, highlighting the magnificent contours of his bronzed body—perpetually tanned now that he resided in California full-time. We were temporarily living in my swanky Wilshire Corridor penthouse, while our dream house in Malibu, on Jaime’s magnificent beachfront property, was under construction. The contractors had promised us it would be ready by September in time for our first anniversary. While we were unsure whether we would sell my condo, we couldn’t wait to move to the beach and make our new house—a glass castle—our permanent abode.
“Come here, you” he purred in my ear, drawing me closer to him with a tug of my waist-long braid. My heavy breasts skimmed his rock-hard chest as he continued to play with them. I felt my über-sensitive nipples harden beneath his touch, and a soft moan escaped my lips. Heat and wetness gathered between my thighs. It was as if there was a power cord attached to my pussy, charging it with need and desire. I moaned again, this time louder as he began to sensuously knead my tender mounds.
“You like this, angel?” he asked, his voice as sexy and seductive as his movements.
“Baby, you know I love it.”
Lust glinting in his eyes and on his lips, he responded by rotating his palms across my puckered, deep pink nipples, squeezing my globes together as he did and arousing me further. A pulsing sensation spread from my head to my toes. From time to time, he brushed his thumb across the shiny raised, round scar that sat just above my left breast and my heart. It was a reminder of the bullet hole Boris Borofksy had bore into me when I was eighteen. Over fifteen years ago. But now Boris was gone. Buried six feet under. And I was the one who put him there with a bullet hole to his heart. I’d shot him partly in self-defense, but more as a desperate measure to save the two men I loved with all my heart—my best friend and colleague, Kevin Riley, and my then beautiful lover and hero, Jaime Zander.
Though I had no recollection of shooting Boris, Jaime’s love had healed me from my traumatic past. He proposed to me in an ambulance of all places with Kevin looking on, right after I shot the mad Russian. Now blissfully married for almost six months, he’d awoken parts of my being that no one ever had. And he’d taught me that scars can be beautiful because they tell us we have survived. They are the grace point between the darkness of tragedy and the lightness of being. Thanks to Jaime, I now wore my shiny scar on my chest like a sparkling diamond.
“Are you going to fuck my boobs again?” I panted out, the titillating sensation escalating. I was already craving him between my legs.
“Been there, done that,” he replied, gazing up at me with a cocky grin and lustful bedroom eyes.
Yes. Just last night. In a fit of passion, he’d done just that. Plunged his enormous cock into the deep valley between my mountainous breasts, a favorite playground for his playful cock. Before he’d massaged the milk-filled mounds around his monumental shaft, circling and squeezing, I’d licked the crown, arousing myself as much as I aroused him. With a squeeze of my clit, he’d sent me over the edge while he let go with a raw cry of my name, spilling his release all over my flesh.
“Mmm,” I sighed at the delicious memory as he once again latched his lush mouth onto a nipple, sucking and licking. “You know, you’re going to have to share my boobs soon,
mon amour
.”
Cupping them in his large palms, he planted a kiss on each one. The morning stubble dotting his strong jaw line grazed my tender flesh.
“I can’t wait,” he mumbled, flicking and licking.
So aroused, I raked my fingers through his sexy bedhead hair. Chestnut in color, it was longer now and flecked with sun-driven highlights—the result of spending so much time at the beach. Since moving to LA, he’d taken up surfing and like everything he tackled, he was a pro.
“Oh, baby,” he moaned as he gave equal treatment to my other breast—its unmarred twin. A sexy rumble gathered in the base of his throat. I loved his manly sounds, the more feral the better.
In just a month, I was going to give birth to our twins—Paulette and Payton. Paulette named after my beloved French mentor; Payton a tribute to Jaime’s late dad. I’d gotten pregnant three months before our wedding and had broken the news to Jaime a few weeks before we got married. I thought he’d be mad at me because I’d kept it a secret, but he was over-the-top elated. It had been a surprisingly easy pregnancy except for a short bout of morning sickness at the very beginning. And though I felt as fat as a cow, I’d only put on thirty pounds. “You’re all baby weight,” complimented my OB/GYN, the renowned obstetrician to the stars, Dr. Marcy Bernstein, who happened to be the sister of Jaime’s new best friend and client, Blake Burns. “And you look like a model.”
While I was one hundred percent sure I wasn’t cover girl material, I truthfully had to thank my husband for making my pregnancy beautiful, every step of the way, every minute of the day. I couldn’t ask for a better, more supportive, or more loving husband than Jaime Zander. He accompanied me to every checkup, monitored every bite of food I ate and activity I partook in, read
What to Expect When You’re Expecting
from cover to cover, doted on me from hand to foot, and even sang lullabies against my ever growing belly in his sexy raspy voice. He’d read somewhere that instilling music into children at an early age made them smarter…and it wasn’t too early to start at the prenatal stage.
“Our children are going to be smart and beautiful,” he breathed into my breasts.
I ruffled my hand through his silky mussed-up hair and planted a chaste kiss on his head, cradling it between my hands. Yes, they were—well, at least the latter. Everyone said with our combination of genes—my golden Amazonian looks and Jaime’s sexy as sin Greek god looks—our children would be stunners for sure. Personally, all I cared about was that they would be born healthy and live happy, productive lives.
At that moment, I felt a sharp kick inside me; I flinched. “One of the babies is kicking,” I whispered to my husband and lover, who instantly placed his large hand on my tummy. The warmth of his palm against my taut skin was so comforting, and though he’d touched and rubbed my extended tummy umpteen times, I could never get enough.
He kept his hand there, gently caressing the area where I could feel the sharp little kicks. “It’s Payton,” my beloved asserted with confidence.
“How do you know that?”
“I can tell. My little man is already a kick-ass martial artist. I bet he’ll kick Paulette right out of you, and then he’ll just tumble out, smiling in total victory.”
I belted out a laugh. “We’ll see. And besides, Mr. Know-It-All, newborns don’t come out smiling. They usually cry.”
“Not our kids, angel,” he countered and then shut me up with a hot, passionate almost savage kiss, preventing me from arguing.
As he deepened the kiss with his tongue, entwining it with mine in a sensuous dance, my mind wandered. It was hard to believe that Jaime and I had been together for exactly a year. It was last February thirteenth when I’d first met him in New York while hunting for an advertising agency to represent my lingerie empire, Gloria’s Secret, of which I was the founder and CEO. On Valentine’s Day, the following day, he had seduced me in his hotel suite after purchasing Rihanna’s diamond-studded leather underwear at our annual fashion show after-party auction. And so much had happened from that day on…from a fateful trip to Paris to that life-and-death showdown with my lifelong nemesis, Boris, at an awards dinner here in Los Angeles. Taking advantage of the fact I couldn’t remember shooting Boris, my beloved spun a story that he had saved my life by crashing into the Russian gangster as he was about to pull the gun out of my hand. True or not, it didn’t matter. Because Jaime Zander had rescued me from a life of loneliness and fear. He’d awoken every fiber of my being. Mr. Creativity had taught me how to let go, and I’d discovered a sexual power inside me that brought me to the heights of passion and ecstasy. I loved him more than life itself.
Jaime’s hand glided down my abdomen toward the sensitive, soaking wet folds between my thighs. Along the way, he withdrew his tongue from my mouth and trailed kisses from my neck to my oversized belly, pressing his warm lips against it everywhere he could. There was something just so damn sexy about a man kissing your stomach.
“I can’t fucking get enough of you, Mrs. Zander.”
“The same,” I replied, fisting his hair as he continued to shower my big belly with delicious kisses. God, this felt good. So, so good. And the sensuous sound of his luscious lips against my skin was like an erotic love song. I was so turned on, I was humming along.
“Now for my favorite part,” he mumbled against me.
I knew what was coming. On my next heated breath, he dipped the tip of his tongue into the pit of my navel; it had expanded to the size of a quarter. It was the thing I despised most about pregnancy; my belly button used to be such a cute little innie (and I prayed it would go back to that state), but Jaime adored the way it was now. Wide and inviting. For him, it was the base of the two love lines that connected to the ever-growing lifeforms inside me. Our twins. Moaning, he languidly swirled his tongue inside it. The erotic sensation and sound sent me flying. Satisfied, he laved his warm vessel back up to my mouth, lapping the super-sensitive crook of my neck while his deft hand caressed my tender pussy.