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“Make love to me, Dan. Be my prince charming for just one night before you’re gone.” She hands me one of the condoms from the nightstand.
Already hard again, I slide it on and slip inside her from behind. She moans softly, gripping my arm around her middle. Reaching between her legs, I rock us together slowly with the boat, every leisurely stroke moving the heel of my hand against her clit. It’s a different sort of pleasure as we move in tandem, but no less intense than our usual unruly escapades.
“I’m yours tonight, and you’re mine,” I whisper, when she climaxes. My own release follows but I don’t stop moving inside her, even as my cock softens. When I feel her relax into sleep, I close my eyes too, praying the boat floats off, taking us somewhere far away from reality.
CHAPTER 11
Danon
Leaving Elle was almost as hard as watching my brother go into the ground. Or at least it feels just as final. She wasn’t weepy when I dropped her off at a spa for the ‘emergency pedicure,’ Blanca planned. In fact, she seemed fairly chipper, gushing about the wonderful date we had, but she can’t fool me. I know how she felt, because I feel it too.
I look down at my hand as I ride the elevator up to my suite. Her number and email scribbled on a piece of paper burns in my palm. I said we’d email about the books, but I no longer think it’s a good idea.
“Damn it, Dan, haven’t you hurt her enough?” I slam a hand against the wall of the lift and curse. “And for what? To prove to her I’m better than Clark Kent before I leave her?” Recalling her tears from last night I hit the wall again, this time with a fist. I really am a heartless asshole.
Shaking out my hand, I enter my suite. At first glance it’s how I left it, but then I see the steamer/valet with my crisp tux hanging on it. I also see the barber set up. For fuck sake.
And as if on cue, my mother breezes through the door. “Where have you been? I’ve had Elvis here for over an hour awaiting your arrival.”
I roll my eyes. “How on earth did you get in here?”
“I have a key of course.”
“And if I was with a woman?”
“Oh, stop. You’re purposely trying to embarrass me by being crass.”
“I apologize, Elvis,” I say, looking at the stylish man standing behind my mother. I mean it, too. “It’s not your fault my mother is a control freak.”
“I wouldn’t have to be if you were a proper responsible adult.”
“I’m thirty years old, mother. You expect me to run a country and yet, you’re booking my haircuts like I’m five.”
“Yes, because you couldn’t care less how you look, and that’s a reflection on me.” She huffs. “He’s all yours, Elvis.” She shoots me an annoyed look, waves a hand in the air, and leaves.
“She is something else,” Elvis says, heading to the little table set up with his stylist tools.
“You have no idea.”
Elle
The dress Blanca picked makes me gasp. It’s the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen. Ice blue with clear beading and silvery lace, I run my hand down the intricate bodice. The full skirt is layer upon layer of fluffy crinoline with a shimmery blue-silver silky material keeping all the glorious poofiness in check.
“I love it, Blanca. You truly are my fairy godmother.” I twirl around her condo, like a five-year-old, and she claps her hands.
“It looks fabulous! But there’s more.”
“More?” My eyes widen as she bends to stealthily pick something up.
Straightening with the surprise hidden behind her back, she says,“Of course you need shoes, right?”
I look down and wiggle my bare toes. “Yes, this would be rather inappropriate, although it’s a shame to cover these sparkly ice-blue toes.”
Her smile is sly and her eyes are just as shiny as my nail polish. “Well, that won’t be a problem.”
My mouth agape, my eyes flood with moisture as she presents the thing she’s been hiding behind her back. “My shoes,” I stammer. “Those are my glass shoes!” I rush to Blanca, hugging her and squishing them between us.
“Okay, back up woman, do not deflate the epic puff of your dress.”
