Going to France was often Sandrine’s escape from the world, but this time it was not.
She had gone to Paris to stay with her family to escape the things she had set into motion in New York. Her children liked going to Paris anyway, and it had been a long time. Plus she loved to see her mother, who knew right away that she was running from something. Sandrine watched her mother give her children warm hugs, and almost sunk into her own hug when she was in her mother’s arms and her mother caressed her back softly like she had when she was a little girl. Nothing was said, and she was not sure she would tell her mother anything. Among her sacred lists like commandments, was not to do things that she thought would make her mother feel ashamed of her.
She had done something she was not sure her mother would not be ashamed of…
Sitting alone in a favorite cafe with her coffee, she fiddled with the piece of chocolate that was placed on her plate. She wore her dark shades that reminded her of the iconic kind that Jackie O wore.
She was no Jackie O.
Her phone vibrated on the table nonstop. She knew she could set it to silence, but she liked knowing exactly when he texted her. Knowing it was as urgent to him as it was to her, that at least it was not something disposable. How could it have been disposable, everything between them always stained her indelibly.
From the time she walked out on him in the bar, when she came to chastise him about possibly pushing Eliza into an open relationship Sandrine had messed up. It was not on her list per say, but it was among the things she never wanted to do. She had promised herself that she would not see Rafe alone again, because she was not sure that she would have control. It had always been so easy for him to seduce her. Sitting across from him that day, she believed in her accusations but she filled with emotion for him. Not love or lust, but caring. He looked lost and deeply affected by what she had said to him. When he came to her house days later, while she was alone and she opened the door to let him in. At the same time she opened the door to let him into her heart and her body, which she had sworn she would never do again.
She and Marcus did not have a contract or anything like that, but the one thing in the lists of things they would not do to each other was to be involved with someone without telling the other person. Marcus wanted to to maybe become involved with Eliza, and he called her on set to let her know that he was thinking about it. Just because they could sleep with someone else did not mean it was random.
He called her to let her know what he was thinking about with Eliza.
Her cell phone had fallen to the floor when Rafe captured her wrists with his hand, the memory stung her. Not that she had been planning to make a call, she just happened to have her phone in her hand. Rafe rubbed his thumb over the thick vein on the inside of her wrist, and Sandrine closed her eyes as she came undone. He knew all her hot spots from a long time ago. He kissed her along her jaw, and she panted.
“I wish I could do this to you just to show you that I can make you feel something still, and I am not the trash you think I am…” he had said to her, and when she opened her eyes and tears fell.
“I never meant to hurt you cheri,” she caressed his cheek, and whispered soft words to him in French like psalms to calm him.
He looked at her, his eyes dark with desire now and not rage. They kissed as the storm of their lust flashed across her eyes like lightning. Sandrine kissed his jaw, licked the length of his crisp shirt sleeve and sucked on his cufflink. Her tongue meandered slowly along the thick vein inside of his wrist.
She knew all of his hot spots, so when he pressed her to the wall, his mouth returning to her jaw and had his way with her she knew she had pushed him to it. Even with the wide open windows of her house and open drawn curtains, but could not resist fucking him. She had missed fucking him.
For a second, she tasted him on her lips, before she remembered she was in Paris. Sandrine picked up her phone. His first initial ‘R’ was like a brand on her phone, in her e-mail and text messages.
She closed her mouth, and she could taste the metallic taste of his cufflink on her tongue sweetened with his essence. Paris was not the refuge she sought, as she imagined him where he was not…
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cufflink via wikipedia