Hooked Up: Book 3 (34 page)

“I love watching you, so wet, so hot, so beautiful. When I fuck you, your pussy’s so tight around my cock, your tits so sexy . . . ” He pressed another button and the rhythm changed to a pulse. I watched him grow even bigger, the crown swollen and full as his hand raced up and down his thick length.

I pushed my hips forward and felt a spasm rip through the core of me. My legs quivered like an out of control sewing machine. “I’m coming, Alexandre.”

“Me too,” he shouted out. “Me too, chérie.” Hot cum spurted out all over my stomach. Alexandre was still holding the Zini against me—it was too much, I wanted him to stop . . . but then . . . “Oh my God . . . ” Another wave rolled over me and I realized I was climaxing again. My body jerked as if I’d been electrocuted; my clit felt numb from the buzzing, and he turned off the contraption. I slowly came down from my man-made orgasm and wondered if this little gadget could get addictive.

As if reading my thoughts, Alexandre said, “I can see I might have competition. We’ll have to keep this little minx of a machine under control.” He knelt down below me and sealed his mouth around my clit, pressing his tongue against me, hard and flat. I still felt the buzzing between my legs even though it was no longer there, like when you get off a boat and still feel yourself swaying. He flickered his tongue around my sensitive clit without touching it, and started sucking hard. I could hardly believe it. Yet another spasm tingled through me and I climaxed again. This was insane.

“Alexandre, oh my . . . oh my God.” He growled into me like an animal eating its prey, with his strong hands clinching my thighs apart, spreading my legs wide open. I was shuddering as he lashed his tongue at my opening, and more contractions rolled through my core. All my energy had been stolen from my center as I slowly come down, moaning and whimpering like a dying person. There was nothing left of me. I was totally spent.

A wry smile spread across my lips and I thought about what I’d said to Daisy about multiple orgasms.

Sometimes God plays ironic tricks on you, and you have to laugh.

O
UR LONG AWAITED wedding was a fairy tale. It took place in Lapland—yes, Lapland really does exist—on St. Valentine’s Day itself.

Pearl had done everything to make it extraordinary, including reindeer with white velvet ribbons tied around their antlers, to pull us with sleds. She had told little Amy that they were on loan from Santa Claus and even I believed her. It really was a dream winter wedding. Pearl was the Ice Queen and I her King. She looked resplendent in a floor-length, ivory-colored gown. It was silk velvet, and caught the light as she glided through the wedding ceremony, the long train trailing behind her. Beads of “ice crystal” blossoms cascaded off one shoulder. Elodie and Amy were her bridesmaids, both dressed in pink. Elodie looked like a movie star, the derriere of her gown low and scooped, caught at the back with pink silk roses, and Amy, taking her role very seriously, was dressed in a pink, baby-doll, organza number with a wreath in her hair.

The chapel was made of real ice, sculpted from the frozen land. Dozens of artists had arrived from across the globe to carve the ice interiors. Each year, they told us, the designs were completely different and would melt in springtime. Nothing but our memories and photographs would be testament to our magical day.

I stood there in my tails, nervously waiting for Pearl as she walked quietly down the aisle. Everybody was entranced. Sophie misty-eyed; both her husband and Alessandra by her side—he still had no idea, and thought Alessandra was just an old friend from Sophie’s “acting” days. My mother stood tall and proud, my stepfather holding her hand. Anthony and Daisy were blatantly blubbering into handkerchiefs. And Pearl’s father winked at me as if to say,
She’s yours now, don’t fuck up the way I did.

No, I wasn’t going to fuck-up. I had fought hard for this prize.

I locked my eyes with Pearl’s and let out a sigh of relief. She was about to be mine. All mine. I thought back to how she’d bolted from me at Van Nuys Airport and wondered, just for a split second, if she would run from me now. But her gaze remained steadily on my face, a faint smile on her lips. Concentrated. Determined. She wanted me. All of me. The bad me, the okay me, the me that knew that we would be together as long as we both lived.

A dysfunctional match made in Heaven.

No, she wasn’t any more perfect than I was—in fact, she really was a pretty wayward character, but she was perfect for
me
.

She broke out in a huge smile and I beamed at her in return. We giggled nervously like schoolchildren at the excitement of it all. Then I mouthed silently, “Pearl Chevalier,” as she walked slowly towards me, her eyes glistening, twinkling with emotion.

And then she was by my side as we did our wedding vows. At the end, after we’d exchanged rings, the pastor asked everyone to affirm our matrimony.

“If you believe that Pearl and Alexandre are made for one another, say yes!” he cried out, and everyone shouted back in unison, “Yes!”

“Say it louder!” he demanded, and they did. It was an unorthodox touch on his part, no doubt planned ahead, but it took us both by surprise, and something about that big “Yes” made us snap out of the surreal dream of our fairy tale wedding, and into a shocking moment. Shocking because this was it. Forever—the YES giving us strength for our future. They all believed in us, just as much as
we
believed in us. Words are powerful when spoken by many at one time. Especially with conviction.

It was comforting to know that our twins (yes, that was a surprise) were also part of the ceremony, even if only in Pearl’s stomach. The family I had always dreamed of was almost complete.

Our wedding bands were made of 22 carat gold and each had the other’s name inscribed inside. So not only was
P E A R L
engraved on my heart, but on my finger too.

The celebration continued all night, everybody doing their own thing—sled rides, vodka drinking, feasting, and general jovialities all round. I just wanted to be alone with Pearl.

I helped her down from the sled onto the powdery, glittery snow, as snowflakes fluttered onto our faces. Reindeer and sled dropped us off at our remote log cabin where a glowing fire awaited us inside. I glanced skyward, soaking up the spectacle. The Aurora Borealis—the Northern Lights—swooped above us. Five fingers of sweeping green light, like a giant’s hand, raised itself towards the Heavens. God’s hand? Pearl thought so. If ever there was a moment when I felt that there was a Higher Power, this was it. I had it all. The woman I loved by my side, pregnant with twins, and a sense of freedom and relief as I had never known before in my life. The old world was behind me and I was starting afresh. We were a mountain together, Pearl and I.

E
VEN I HAD TO ADMIT I looked beautiful that day. It was Valentine’s Day, the day of my wedding to Monsieur Alexandre Chevalier, also known as the knight in shining armor to Ms. Pearl Robinson, now Pearl Chevalier.

Pearl Chevalier. Those two words rolled off my tongue and took flight like tiny sparkles of snow-dust into the cool, Lapland atmosphere.

Pearl Chevalier.

All my wishes had come true and, as I looked up at the sky above me and at the face of the man who was now my husband, I saw that my wishes were
still
coming true, every second.

Every millisecond was a moment to celebrate and cherish.

We were both transfixed by the swirls of color in the sky. I leaned back in the open-air sled, drawn by reindeer, and nuzzled against Alexandre’s shoulders. My feet were entwined with his as we gazed at the northern lights; nature’s firework display. The sky looked like a pastel drawing that a giant had come along and smudged with his thumb. Blues and greens danced through the heavens in great twirls and whirls; ribbons of paler light rippled through the colors, creating surreal shapes and forms.

“Tell me why the colors are the way they are again, baby?” I asked my husband (how I loved that word, HUSBAND).

“Well as you know, the real name is Aurora Borealis. The northern lights are basically particles that are hurled into space, after storms on the sun’s surface. They’re attracted by the magnetic North Pole, and the South Pole, and enter the atmosphere in a ring-like zone around the poles. We’re incredibly lucky to see this spectacle; it’s never guaranteed, you know.”

“It’s breathtakingly beautiful.”

“
You
are breathtakingly beautiful,” he told me, his green eyes not so different in color from the northern lights. “You looked ravishing in your wedding gown earlier. Simply stunning. I have never seen a more beautiful bride.”

A grin spread across my happy face, proud that the day had pattered along so flawlessly. We didn’t need confetti because light snowflakes fluttered from the sky as everybody cheered. My white gown sparkled and shimmered.
I
sparkled and shimmered. Pearl, shimmering like my namesake.

Little Amy clutched her basket of baby ivy and pink roses, and Elodie held my train, dressed in her Zang Toi gown, draped low at the back, also pink.

The ceremony was in a chapel made of ice and just our close friends and family were there to celebrate. They were still here, enjoying the three-day party.

Alexandre’s mother was not the dragon I’d imagined, at all. She was charming. Tall and elegant, and very quiet and unassuming. Alexandre’s new video partner came; he couldn’t tear his gaze away from beautiful Elodie as she walked slowly behind me, making sure my gown was perfect. Amy’s eyes were shining like an eager puppy, and Daisy looked on, mopping her tears. Even Sophie cried. Alexandre was right—she was not as tough as she pretended to be. She and I were not so unalike, after all.

My father looked so proud of me, and Zang Toi was also pleased with his creation, making sure that not a hair was out of place and that my gown was fit for a princess. I
was
a princess. An ice princess. And Alexandre my prince. He was dressed in tails—he looked so chic, so elegant.

Alexandre’s deep voice stirred me from my reverie. “How are those babies doing? Do you think they feel the colors of the northern lights?”

“I think they’re swirling about in their own magical colors in there,” I said, patting my stomach.

“Well, I’m betting that our little boy and girl are feeling the vibe of happiness, no matter what.”

“Monsieur Chevalier, the doctor said they couldn’t be a
hundred
percent sure of their sex at this stage; that we needed to wait an extra week or so.”

“She said ninety percent, that’s good enough for me. Plus, remember when they told you there was one heartbeat? And three weeks later we found out there were two? Doctors aren’t infallible. Anyway, my instinct tells me it’s one of each. I’m never wrong. We have a girl and a boy cooking in that little oven of yours, I just know it.”

“Is Louis still your number one boy’s name?”

“I think Louis Chevalier sounds perfect, as long as Americans don’t pronounce the S.”

“Yes, I like Louis. It sounds quite regal, actually. Louis Chevalier . . . I love it. I can’t decide between Angelique and Madeleine. I think Madeleine because it works in both countries.”

“In America and France, you mean?”

“Yes, of course; they
will
both grow up bilingual, I’ll make sure of that. Madeleine. One of my favorite books as a child was
Madeline’s Rescue
about the little girl and the dog Genevieve, and their adventures in Paris. My mother used to read it to me over and over again,” I told him.

“That was written by the artist Ludwig Bemelmans—there’s a painted mural of his at the Carlyle Hotel.”

“How funny. The Carlyle. I won’t forget that in a hurry, when you stormed out on me during breakfast.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “We’ve had our fair share of dramas, haven’t we?”

“That’s for sure. We’ve really put each other through the wringer.”

He rested his hand on my thigh. “But here we are. Together. Married, till death do us part.”

“And two little ones on the way.” I breathed in the cool, crisp air. “Madeleine it is, then. I’ll never forget how my heart broke in two that day. When you left me there, weeping into my linen napkin—everyone staring at me. That’s when I realized how insanely in love with you I was. My whole world fell apart that day.”

He grinned. “Little did you know there was worse to come.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And then I met Rex and I couldn’t choose between you both. I have to say, you had real competition there.”

“Yes, Rex became quite the traitor.”

“Because I had him on my side, in my heart of hearts, I knew I’d win you back.”

“You never lost me, chérie. I was yours from word Go. All yours. I always have been and always will be.” His words were sweet as music to my ears.

“It was like a fairy tale today, wasn’t it?” I said.

“It still
is
a fairy tale. Look at that sky.”

“Which reindeer is your favorite?”

“The pale one. The one with the soulful eyes,” he said.

“I like the frisky one that tried to nip my bottom earlier. They look so cute with their white ribbons on their massive antlers. Wow, that was some ride sailing through the snow. We went so fast.”

“And now we’re doing it again.” Alexandre tilted his head up to the sky. “What do you think they’re all doing now?”

“The stars? The space people? The
Starman
waiting in the sky who’d like to come and meet us but he thinks he’d blow our minds?” I said, quoting the David Bowie song.

He laughed. “No, our guests.”

“Well, Daisy and Anthony were weeping. And drinking. I last saw them standing by the ice sculptures. Earlier, though, I did catch Daisy out of the corner of my eye flirting outrageously with my dad, so who knows what’s going on. Or, they’re probably telling embarrassing stories about us. Sophie and Alessandra had a midnight walk planned. Natalie and Miles will probably still be dancing.” I laughed, conjuring up a picture of Anthony in his outlandish outfit. “How adorable did Ant look, squeezed into his pink suit? Oh my God, Alexandre! I forgot to tell you. Bruce proposed to him. While we were having the cake.”