Page 37 of Bordeaux Bombshell
I have so many reasons to be grateful for them, but each one makes the skin on the back of my neck itch. The same way my fingertips are itching to pick up the phone and text Sydney. If only my mind didn’t keep going blank when I try to figure out what to say.
I miss you.
One taste of you is never enough.
I gave you space because I knew you needed a few days to panic in private, but if I don’t hear from you or see you again soon, I might lose my mind.
Please, please, please let me fuck you again.
Actually, that last message might go over okay. My hellcat always loved hiding her feelings behind a mask of crassness.
The same way her cat Amelia would hiss and spit until the moment you started petting her, Sydney will sass and snark and fight until the moment you get close enough to touch.
God, I want to touch her again.
Now my hands are aching to wrap around her ponytail, tugging as I slam into her from behind. That beautiful round ass cushioning my hips as they pump against her.
My dick twitches in my pants just thinking about it.
I want to fight with her, then fuck.
Or maybe fuck her while we’re fighting. I’m not sure if I want these to be concurrent activities or not.
My cock is getting harder the more I think about it. Pressing my hand against the swelling in my jeans, I can’t help groaning at the relief. I might be two mental images away from coming in my pants like a fucking teenager, but I can’t bring myself to care.
The image of Sydney straddling me on her couch the other night springs into my mind. The way her body fit against mine, the warmth of her pussy enveloping me.
Pretty sure her kitty is the only part of her body that’s forgiven me.
Except I saw the way she looked at me after that kiss. For a second, she was twenty-three again and still in love with me.
And I couldn’t hide the fact that I’ve never stopped loving her.
The click of the back door closing is the only warning I get before voices announce my dad and Manon’s arrival. Sucking in a deep breath, I desperately do mental seven times tables to force my blood back to my brain and out of my pants.
“There you are,” she calls out, striding toward me, all smiles. “Your father was just showing me the chardonnay. I think the prognosis is not so dire. Maybe not so great, but not atragédie.”
She stops a few feet from me, her eyes dropping to my crotch before coming back to rest on my face. A slow smile spreads across her lips.
For the first time in my life, I’m grateful for my dad interrupting me mid-boner. “You all done being interviewed? Did Theo leave already?”
“Yeah. He and Emma just left.” I jerk a thumb over my shoulder, shifting my feet as my dick finally settles down and frees up the rest of my brain cells.
Manon sways, and a whiff of her perfume floats past me despite the damp patches on the shoulders of her jacket. “Ah, Theodore. He is delightful. So grumpy, he is almost French.” She laughs, looking over at my dad while she lays a hand on my shoulder. My stomach twists at the overly flirtatious tone she’s using.
It’s the same one she’s been using since she got here. I can’t tell if she’s playing up her tone on purpose, or if she’s just forgotten that I know her well enough to see through the act.
I back up a few steps, giving myself some room, right as my dad’s phone dings with an incoming text.
“Nate, your mom is cooking dinner.” He looks up, his voice carrying across the empty room. “She’s expecting us all in a few minutes.”
He doesn’t wait for us to respond, merely turns and walks out, shutting the door behind him, leaving me alone with Manon. It’s the first time I’ve been truly alone with her since she arrived. I’ve been avoiding it, partly because I don’t want to deal with her attention, but mostly because I don’t want Sydney to get the wrong idea.
“Ma choucroute…” Manon’s hips swing as she once again closes the distance between us. “Will you show me all the places I’ve heard so much about?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not your sauerkraut anymore, Manon.”
“You’re still very sour, no?” There’s a tilt to her head as she asks, one hand lifting to rest against my chest. “Maybe I can make you sweet? Just like old times?”
