Authors: Cat Grant
EntangledTrio (3 page)
A few minutes later she realized she hadn’t untied him yet—and he hadn’t uttered a word of complaint. Scooting up to the headboard, she tugged his bonds free then gave him a soft kiss on the lips. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You were wonderful.”
“Sorry about… Well, you know. I did my best.”
Oh good God—as if she had any cause for disappointment! Smiling, she kissed him again. “You did indeed.”
David brought her tea in bed the next morning. Moroccan mint this time, strong and hot, just the way she liked it. It glided down Colette’s throat smooth as honey, curling warmly in her stomach—which, as if on cue, had just started to grumble. Forcing a smile, she propped herself up on her pillows and took another long sip, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
“I would’ve made something to go along with the tea, but your fridge is bare,” he said. God, he looked good enough to eat, standing there in his jeans and rumpled shirt, the ends of his hair still damp from the shower he’d obviously taken while she slept like the dead. That luscious pink triangle of bare skin at his throat tempted her to yank him down beside her and bury her face in his fresh, clean scent. “I could run down to that bakery on the corner if you want.”
“No, that’s fine. I’ll eat once I get to the airport.”
“Suit yourself.” He lowered himself gingerly onto the edge of the bed, biting his lip. “Ow!”
At first she let out a giggle, but his uncomfortable fidgeting swiftly changed her nervousness into genuine concern. “Are you all right?”
“Oh, this is nothing. I’m surprised you didn’t hear me yell when I stepped in the shower. It’s looking a bit purple back there this morning.” He smiled a sweet little crooked smile, accompanied by a shrug. “Let’s just say sitting down’s going to be an interesting experience for the next few days. But that’s fine. It’ll give me something to remember you by.”
So much for no morning-after regrets. Now she wished she’d never let him in last night. She should’ve just slammed the door in his face. Instead, she’d made it twice as hard to say goodbye—for both of them.
“Hard to believe it’s only a week ‘til Christmas,” he went on.
Her eyes widened. “Is it really?”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “What’s the matter, haven’t you looked at a calendar lately?”
“I tend to lose track of time during an engagement. When all I have to think about are rehearsals and performances, everything else fades into the background.”
“Do you have plans for the holidays?”
He’d never asked anything like that before. She’d always made a point of steering their conversations away from personal matters and back to music or travel or some other safe, generic subject. But it seemed silly to hold back now. What was the harm in answering a perfectly innocent question?
“Usually my husband and I have engagements scheduled, but this year we’ve decided to take some time off. We’re going skiing in Switzerland for a few days.”
“That sounds relaxing.”
“I hope so. What about you?”
“Flying home to see my folks. I haven’t seen them since last Christmas.”
“Where’s home?”
“Madison, Wisconsin.”
Midwestern America, down to earth, solid and wholesome—just like David. She couldn’t help smiling. “Your family must be very proud of you.”
“Mom is, but Dad… Well, he’s never understood the whole singing thing. Doesn’t seem like a real profession to him.”
“Have you shown him the very real checks you collect for your performances?”
“I would, but he’d still think I was making it up.” When she finished the last of her tea, he promptly reached over and took the empty cup from her. “What does your father think of your career?”
There was something she hadn’t thought of in a while—and the sudden jab of pain at the memory reminded her why. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen him since my mother and I moved from Paris to Montreal when I was a child.”
“That’s too bad. But now I know where you learned such perfect English. You hardly have any accent at all. Wish I could speak French as well as I sing it.”
“With all the traveling you’re doing, you’ll pick it up quickly.”
“No kidding. I’ve learned three new roles for three different houses in the last six months. Being a professional opera singer’s like spending your life in class.”
Shivering, she tugged the fluffy goose-down comforter to her chin. Discussing their actual lives like this made her feel more naked than the first time she’d disrobed in front of him. “I’m bringing a score along to study while I’m on holiday. My first
Carmen
. I’m singing it in Paris at the end of January.”
“Wow! That’s the crown jewel of the entire mezzo-soprano repertoire. You must be excited.”
“Terrified, more like,” she admitted.
“Why? You’ll be wonderful. You’ve got a great flair for playing seductresses.”
In more ways than one, obviously. “David…”
“I sang my first Don José a few months ago. Now I wish I’d waited to sing it with you.” He took her hand and planted a kiss on her palm, just like last night. It sent a familiar sharp
zing
! of desire snaking through her. She closed her eyes until it faded. “You’re amazing,” he whispered. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Chances are, we’ll see each other again very soon.”
“I hope not. I mean, how am I supposed to handle it? Do you expect me to act as if nothing’s ever happened between us? I’m not sure I can.”
God, he was so sweet, so sincere. He adored with his whole heart. It was what made him such a fine, sensitive singer. But she never should have chosen him. She should’ve done what she usually did, and picked someone who’d have no problem walking away. “We’ll greet one another as old friends, and behave accordingly.”
“Easy for you to say.”
No
, she thought as he leaned over to kiss her goodbye. Her fingers tangled in his thick curls for the last time.
No, it really isn’t.
Colette slept a bit more on the plane, but still awoke feeling as if someone had dropped a piano on her. Groaning, she heaved herself from her first-class seat and ambled downstairs to the baggage claim and customs area, where she waited in line for her handbag and luggage to be inspected. Since she had nothing to declare it went fairly quickly. Soon she was rolling her valise out to the curb, letting out a huge, grateful sigh at the sight of Henri, hers and Aleks’ driver.
He darted over the moment she emerged through the double doors, hands extended to take her bags. Closing in on midnight, and he still had a smile on his face. “Welcome back, Madame. How was your flight?”
“Uneventful, and over. Right now that’s all I care about.” She forced a halfhearted smile. Fresh weariness creeping into her bones, it was all she could do to remain upright until Henri opened the dark blue Mercedes SUV’s door for her.
Neither of them spoke again until the car had cleared the endless traffic snarled around De Gaulle airport and began speeding toward the city. “Maestro had a concert tonight, Madame. He said he will be home quite late.”
Or in other words, he didn’t expect her to wait up for him. She couldn’t even if she tried. There was a time when that would’ve made her sad. A time when returning home to the City of Light—and her husband—would’ve filled her with excitement, regardless of the hour. But not tonight.
Tonight Paris’ glittering streetlamps cut through the damp winter fog with an unpleasant glare that made her head throb. Even the sight of her stately nineteenth-century apartment building coming up on the
Avenue Georges Mandel
did little to lift her spirits. The musty, humid air outside wrinkled her nose as she stepped from the car, and the brief elevator ride up to the fifth floor felt interminable.
But once she entered her own front door, it was as if a five-hundred-pound weight had tumbled from her shoulders. Home at last, with everything exactly where it should be. Same elegant country furniture and petit-point rug. Same comforting view of the neighborhood peeking from behind the half-drawn cream damask drapes. Same stout, middle-aged Simone beaming at her from the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a towel.
Colette couldn’t stop herself from beaming right back. “You two are going to spoil me,” she said as Henri stepped in behind her, quickly setting down her bags so he could help her off with her coat. “I’ve told you before, you needn’t stay so late on my account. It’s no hardship to take a taxi from the airport and put myself to bed. I manage it just fine when I’m out of town.”
“All the more reason for us to pamper you when you’re here,” Simone retorted. “Are you hungry? I have some nice soup ready, or I could whip you up an omelet.”
She’d eaten on the plane, but that was hours ago. Jet lag usually put a damper on her appetite, but if she went to bed on an empty stomach, she’d only wake up in two or three hours completely ravenous. Best to have a little something now.
“A bowl of soup sounds lovely,” Colette replied. “Let me wash my face and change out of these clothes first.”
One look at the oh-so-inviting king-sized bed with its warm, fluffy comforter and plush pillows nearly did her in, but she grabbed a nightgown from the polished oak armoire and plodded on into the bathroom. A cream-colored marble vanity with two sinks, a shower and tub big enough for an orgy, spotless white floor tile heated from below to chase away the post-bath chill—hers, all hers. Colette thoroughly enjoyed her creature comforts. On nights like this she found them doubly comforting, even if she was too tired to take full advantage of them.
Still, it felt so good to splash warm water on her face and rinse off the mask she’d applied that morning, San Francisco time. She dabbed on a light moisturizer then slipped into her nightgown and robe. She found the latter hanging on the back of the bathroom door, right where she’d left it six weeks ago. It was her favorite Chinese blue silk, warm and shimmery-smooth. Aleks had brought it back for her from last year’s Asian tour with the
Orchestre de Paris
. Simone should’ve hung it up in the walk-in closet by now, but Aleks must have told her not to. The thought of him wanting to see it hanging there every morning made Colette smile.
Her bags stood off to one side in the bedroom, waiting for Simone to unpack them. That was one good thing about domestic help—not to mention having a hot, home-cooked meal ready for her after a ten-hour flight. Guided by the heavenly aroma, Colette padded quickly into the kitchen. Simone had already set a place for her at the kitchen table, complete with a small basket of warm, sliced bread and a glass of wine.
Colette sank down gratefully, picked up the glass by its stem, swirled it and took a sip. White burgundy, decadently rich and fruity. Considering her fatigue, she probably shouldn’t indulge, but it was too good to resist. Then the soup arrived, still steaming from the pot. Country vegetable, thick enough to eat with a fork. So she did, using the bread to soak up every last drop of delicious, savory broth.
Afterward, she stared into her bowl, goggle-eyed. “I can’t believe I actually finished it.”
“I can.” Simone snorted, giving her a swift, appraising up-and-down stare. “You’ve lost weight again. Must be that awful American food.”
“More like me sweating off a pound or two every night I was onstage. Those heavy costumes were sheer hell.” Of course, all the bedroom exercise she’d gotten on this trip probably had something to do with it too, but she wasn’t about to confess that to her housekeeper.
Simone put the dishes in the sink to soak, poured herself some wine and sat down at the table. They often dined informally like this, just the two of them and sometimes Henri, when Aleks wasn’t at home. It reminded Colette of her childhood in Canada, when she’d sit at the kitchen table doing her homework and talking with her mother while she cooked dinner. “It’s been a somber time around here while you were gone,” Simone went on. “The maestro’s missed you terribly. Oh, he always does, but this time was different. He seemed…depressed. Withdrawn. He spent hours in his study with the door shut. That’s not like him at all.”
No, it wasn’t. Aleks usually left his office door wide open, filling the apartment with music whenever he sat down to run through an orchestral score at the piano. He also had a tendency of filling the air with choice Russian invective when he talked on the phone with his agent or the orchestra’s manager. Most of the time Colette was grateful she could only understand every fourth or fifth word.
Alarmed, she sat up straight. “That’s strange. He seemed perfectly fine when he came for my opening night. And I’ve spoken to him on the phone at least once a week since I left. Nothing sounded amiss.”
“He’s his old self when he’s in company. It’s when he’s alone that the Russian bear comes out. But now you’re home, I’m sure everything will be back to normal.”
Oh wonderful
, Colette thought, stifling a sigh.
Thank you for upsetting me for no reason.
When she awoke the next morning, Colette vaguely remembered stumbling back to the bedroom, yanking off her robe and falling into bed. Everything after that was a blessed blank. Nevertheless, she was both puzzled and disappointed to discover the sheets beside her rumpled and still warm from Aleks’ body. Even when he got in late, he’d usually wake her for sex, especially when it was her first night home after a trip. Tired as she was, she’d still been looking forward to it. So where was he?
In the dining room, having his morning coffee, reading the newspaper. Wearing his plum-colored silk robe and slippers. Behaving as if it were any other day. As if she hadn’t just returned from a six-week absence.
A huge, toothy grin split his face the moment he saw her standing in the dining room doorway. When he held out his arms she ran to him, raining kisses on his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids, rememorizing his face.
He’d always had a few fine lines around his eyes and mouth, but now—was it her imagination, or had they deepened? His hair had definitely grown longer since she’d last seen him, curling softly around his earlobes. He’d let his beard grow out too, as he normally did in the winter. It was fuller and bushier now, with a few flecks of gray, but no less satanic, thank God. His dark good looks and sparkling, devilish green eyes were what had first attracted her to him well over a decade ago. That, and his huge, gorgeous devil’s prick.
Which reminded her… “Why didn’t you wake me when you got in?”
“I tried, but you were far too exhausted. I thought it best to let you sleep.”
“Too bad. You know how much I love drowsy sex.”
“In this case, it would’ve been tantamount to fucking a corpse. Not something I find erotic, my angel.” He spoke the endearment in Russian, which warmed her heart—and made her nipples stand at attention. Judging from his sly smile, he knew exactly what effect his beloved low, husky voice was having on her.
As if that weren’t enough, she felt his hand slide up through her hair and gently cup her skull. Then his grip tightened, taking a small handful of hair with it, until her head bent back and a soft gasp of ecstasy escaped her lips. God, he was brilliant at this. Every time he did it, she went limp. Instantly submissive.
“Have you forgotten something, angel?” Aleks murmured, letting go of her hair, his hand gliding to her shoulder to give her a tiny nudge.
He didn’t need to drop the hint twice. Falling to her knees, she planted kisses on both his feet, just as David had done for her the other night. That remembered image, coupled with the overwhelming rush of her own submission, made her clit throb and her breath quicken. She slowly lifted her gaze to him, pleading without words.
“I’ve missed having you at my feet.” His fingers toyed with her hair, caressed her now-burning cheek. “You look so beautiful down there.”
Another triggered memory. She’d used almost the same words with David. A fresh wave of heat swept through her, leaving her drenched and shaking. Good God, what was Aleks waiting for? If he didn’t touch her soon, she’d tear her clothes off and do it herself. “P-Please…” she whimpered.
And there was that sardonic twist of his lips, telling her just how much he relished making her wait. “So impatient. Perhaps I should take you right here on the table.”
Oh, and he’d do it too—in fact, he had done it once, months ago. Over the seven years they’d lived here he’d fucked her in every room and on every piece of furniture, even the piano bench in his study. They’d made such a racket, Simone and Henri had come running. Despite her rampant arousal, Colette wasn’t eager to experience that kind of humiliation again.
“The bedroom would be much more comfortable,” she whispered finally. “And we wouldn’t disturb Simone—”
“Simone’s been married three times. I doubt there’s anything we’ve done that she hasn’t.”
“Aleks,
please
. Don’t be cruel. I need you so badly…” He didn’t like for her to beg unless he ordered her to do it, but she couldn’t stop herself. Couldn’t he see she was about to go up in flames? Didn’t he want her as much as she did him?
He cradled her face in both hands, and for a moment she thought he was preparing to slap her. Instead, he stood, offering his hand to help her up, then led her back to the bedroom.
Off came his robe the moment the door swung shut. The smooth silk slithered from his powerful shoulders to pool on the floor. Colette’s hands froze on the belt of her own robe as she stood transfixed, taking in her husband’s well-muscled body. His strong arms had learned well how to master and cherish her over the years. A torso that could’ve been carved from marble, if not for the heavy dusting of crisp, dark hair that her fingers ached to bury themselves in. Solid, sinewy thighs, and the magnificent cock rising between them, already fully erect.
All else forgotten, she sank to her knees again, palm wrapped around his thick shaft, easing back the foreskin to expose the plump, rosy tip. His pre-come’s salty-bitter flavor exploded on her tongue like the finest wine, and she licked at it eagerly, sucking the head into her mouth, then slid down slowly, taking as much of him as she could without choking.
A few minutes of licking and flicking was all either of them could stand. With a frustrated grunt, Aleks pulled out and began slapping her face with his cock, several times on each hot, flushed cheek. It was one of Colette’s true regrets that she’d rarely been able to bring him off this way. He liked to thrust into her mouth during oral sex, but doing so risked injuring her throat. They’d tried to find different ways to make this kind of play pleasurable for both of them—every once in a while he’d masturbate himself to the brink of climax, then let her finish him off—but she loved cock-slapping the best. It was so unutterably delicious and filthy.
“A diva in the concert hall, a lady in the parlor and a dirty whore in bed”—that’s what Aleks told her he wanted before they were married. He’d spent the last ten years teaching her how to be
his
kind of dirty whore. It was a class she’d never grow tired of.
But evidently Aleks didn’t feel the same—at least, not today. “Enough,” he grunted, pulling her abruptly to her feet. “Get those things off and get on the bed.”
She obeyed quickly, a frisson of thrilled apprehension snaking though her as she watched him roll on a condom and slick it generously with some water-based lubricant from the bedside table. His size sometimes made intercourse difficult for her, but she was already so wet from their foreplay, she should’ve told him not to bother.
“Turn over,” he ordered, throwing her a pillow. Oh God. He wanted her on her stomach, which meant he intended to fuck her hard.
They’d done it this way more times than she could remember, so it took her no time to position herself near the edge of the bed, with the pillow supporting her head and chest and her ass in the air. Breathing deep, she tried to relax, until Aleks’ thick fingers glided between her thighs. One, then two, slid inside her just long enough to give the sensation of amazing fullness. She had hardly a moment to miss it before she felt the blunt, wide tip of Aleks’ cock at her opening, and then, with one sharp thrust, he pushed all the way in.
Yes, it hurt—ached, more like, as Colette’s body strained to accommodate him. She drew in one breath after another and held on, fingers twisting in the comforter as she hovered on the knife’s edge between pain and pleasure, and finally spilled onto the other side.
Aleks’ hands skimmed up her back, kneading her shoulders to help her relax. Her soft, relieved sigh must have told him she’d already achieved that state, because he started moving faster, ramming her deeper into the pillow. Propping herself up on her elbows, she thrust back, meeting him stroke for stroke, the force of their fucking pushing her farther and farther up the bed.
All of a sudden she realized he’d climbed up behind her and draped himself over her back. His weight bore her down, pinning her between him and the mattress. Still, he kept thrusting, fucking her like a wild animal—desperate, barely in control.
But Aleks was
never
out of control.
Her climax crashed into her like a runaway train, demolishing her with a heady, ecstatic rush of power. Aleks followed a few seconds later, his ragged cry stifled by sinking his teeth into her shoulder. Marking her. Making her his again.
They lay together for a few silent, sweaty, exhausted moments, until at last they summoned up the collective urge to laugh.
“Looks like you really did miss me,” she said with a smile.
“Did you doubt it?” Scooping up her hand, he finally noticed the small scrape there. It had scabbed over, but still felt a bit tender. “How did you get this?”
For a moment, she went completely, utterly blank. “O-Oh! Well, when Samson pulled down the temple on closing night, I got hit by a piece of it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You usually have such a good memory. I wouldn’t think you’d need to struggle to recall something that occurred a day or so ago.”
She should just tell him about David, and what happened between them her last night in San Francisco. That was hers’ and Aleks’ most immutable rule—no secrets. But the words stuck in her throat and refused to budge. Moreover, she realized she didn’t
want
to tell him. Not now, anyway. Not on her first day back.
“Don’t badger, Aleks,” she murmured. “Can’t you see I’m still tired?”
He nodded, but the glint in his eyes told her he wasn’t the least bit fooled. “Of course. Welcome back, angel.” And then he sealed her homecoming with a kiss.