Odalisque Read online

  Like her bizarre speechwriting talents. The day Kai had snooped in her room, looking for her conversation with his sister, he’d found notebooks full of speeches written in Constance’s hand. He’d assumed she’d copied them from somewhere for some reason, perhaps the “word study” she did. But on the plane he’d realized she’d written them herself.

  He loved that she wrote speeches. He would have asked her about it sooner but it would have brought that awful day back, when he’d breached her privacy and she’d called him on it in the most condemning terms. And he’d spilled out the crap about his ex-wife, like Constance cared whether he’d had one or one hundred failed relationships. Like that exonerated him.

  He’d deserved every ounce of her scorn, but he’d still been shocked by the way she went for his throat. As much as Kai enjoyed her calm, submissive nature, it had kind of thrilled him to realize she had a hell of a spine when she wanted to.

  He had been proud to lead his odalisque through the luxuriously appointed hotel lobby on his arm, and happy to fuck her twice in a row on their new hotel bed. They’d picked over a room service dinner and then Constance had fallen asleep like a kitten in his arms.

  But Kai dreaded the night ahead, and fought sleep. Kai always dreamed in hotel rooms, and the dreams were always the same. He tried to change things to make the dreams stop. Turn the air on louder or softer, pile the pillows higher. Drink less coffee, or more wine at dinner. It never worked.

  The dreams always started on a beach, a wide expanse of silty sand dotted with broken seashells. The horizon was always blindingly bright, the sun a ball of wonder in the sky. But the water always looked murky. There was always wind, and the oppressive feel of an approaching storm. Then the voices would start, excited, high pitched voices. The children would run toward him, all of them three years old, or maybe four. Two boys and a little girl. He would open his arms to gather them close, to embrace them, but they were too excited. They would run away from him, toward the shoreline, toward the ever-heightening waves.

  “Be careful,” he would yell. “Come back.” But they never listened. He would chase them, trying to corral them, but in trying to catch all of them, he’d manage to catch none. While he watched in helpless horror, all three of them would be overtaken by the surf. They would be pulled under the waves, gasping for air, their black locks turning drab and dark, their eyes wide in surprise.

  They would stare at him, calling “Help, help” in those sweet, childlike voices that made him want to cry. They would bob in the water, struggling, and then they’d be gone while he stood with his feet rooted to the spot. Their little dark heads would disappear, leaving only the water dragging sand and shell pieces out into the deep. He would be left feeling, somehow, like he forgot to save them. Oh God, I have to save them! The realization would hit him like a kick to the chest--

  Kai bolted up in bed, reaching out, running for them now, but the dream was over as always. Too late. There was only Constance beside him, looking alarmed and sleep-dazed. Kai took a deep breath and reached out to stroke her face.

  “Are you okay?” she signed. “You were shaking the whole bed.”

  If she wasn’t deaf, she probably would have heard him howling too, yelling unheeded words at his children. Be careful. Come back! He felt the grief still on him and in him, like the oppressive air and the salty smell of the ocean. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, terrified he might break down and cry in front of her.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”

  But his jaw was so tight he could hardly say the words. Constance slipped out of bed and came back a moment later holding a glass of water. He took it from her and held it, and made the mistake of looking in her eyes. They reflected his own pain and the concern she was feeling, and then a few tears did shake loose. He put the water down on the bedside table and wiped at them angrily. They weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of rage, of anguish. Of helplessness.

  He kicked the sheets away and fell on her, kissing her hard, tasting his tears in her mouth. He knew he was acting abrupt and crazy. She was afraid. He could tell it, but he couldn’t stop. He searched her warm, firm curves and whispered reassurances against her neck that she couldn’t hear. He spread her legs and thrust inside her roughly, but it was okay. She was wet, so wet. She was wet from the last time he’d fucked her and she would be wet, he knew, until the very last time they fucked. That’s what he loved about her. She was there, ready for him, always. He could depend on her.

  Constance held onto his shoulders, pressing close against him, seeking solace from his storm. His grief and rage were subsumed into mindless wild need for her. He was fucking her, but he could just as well have been hugging her, or swimming beside her in the grotto, their hands groping one another under the glittering ripples of water. Ah, Constance. He would hurt her if he wasn’t careful. Hurt her now with his pounding strokes...or hurt her later when they had to part.

  He fucked her until the last bitter tear streaked down his face, until the lump of desolation in his throat allowed him to draw breath again. When he came inside her, it was like a great unwinding, a great exhalation of air. She didn’t come. She hadn’t even tried to, only held him through the torrent of his meltdown. I’m sorry, Constance. None of this is your fault.

  Afterward he pressed her down against the fine hotel linens until his cock softened and slid away from her. He heaved himself off and rolled onto his back, his arm slung over his eyes. She lay still beside him a long time, and then shifted as if to leave. He shot out a hand to grab her.

  “Where you are going?”

  She made the sign for “t” and shook it. Bathroom. Her eyes were wide. He was still scaring her. God, he hated hotels and the dreams they brought him. Tomorrow he’d put her in a separate room. Except he was pretty sure the hotels in this area were all booked. Why the hell hadn’t he bought a place in New York ages ago? Or booked a goddamn suite so she could have her own room?

  Because, for once, you had an excuse to sleep with her in your arms.

  Constance stayed in the bathroom a long time, probably hoping he’d fall back to sleep before she came out, but Kai knew he wouldn’t do any more sleeping tonight. When she finally crept back to the bed, he held out his hand to her. He used the other hand to sign “I’m sorry.” He really was.

  She shrugged and sat across from him on the bed, so serene and accepting. He suddenly wanted to tell her everything, unburden the painful secret he kept in his heart.

  “I had children.” He had to sign it, because he knew she couldn’t read his lips in the dim room. “Three of them. They died.”

  Constance looked shocked. “Oh, God. How?”

  “Well, they were never born. My ex-wife aborted them.” He didn’t know the sign for aborted. He used a word like throw out or throw away, coming from his middle, and she seemed to understand. Her eyes went wide and sad.

  “I’m sorry,” she signed.

  Kai rubbed his forehead. “I never knew until...after. Now I carry them around with me like ghosts. I feel them here,” he said, pressing his hand against his chest. “I see them everywhere. I see some kid walking around... God, little Indian kids are the worst. Like a punch in the gut. I wonder what they would have been like. What they might have done in life. I think of grandchildren I might have had.” He stopped, his throat clenching up tight again. “I know it’s stupid. I don’t know why I can’t just let it go. They were never even born.”

  Constance shook her head. “It’s not stupid,” she signed with emphasis. “It’s normal to grieve for children you lost. Even ones that weren’t born.” She thought a moment, biting her lip. “If you want a family, you could still have one. They wouldn’t be the same as the children you lost, but--”

  “No. No, no, no.” Kai snapped his fingers together in the negative sign.

  “Why not?” Her gaze was intent in the darkness. “I’m sure some woman would be happy to marry you and have your children.”

 
Kai snorted. “You think? Once she realizes how rich I am, maybe. I don’t trust women. I can’t. Three non-children tell me I can’t trust women.”

  “That’s a pretty broad statement, to not trust women just because one did this to you.”

  “One?” Kai was waving his hands around, signing a little loudly. “Constance, when you have money, you can’t trust women. Ever.”

  Constance’s hands fell still a moment. She looked away, past his shoulder and then back again. “I don’t believe that. I think you’re a smart enough man to know if a woman is using you.”

  “Ha. No. I’m not.” He didn’t know why he was being so rude to Constance when she was only trying to help, when he’d felt so close to her just moments before. But she had no idea what the world looked like from his vantage point. Constance, for whom everything was cleanly and contractually spelled out. Constance, who had an overmistress looking out for her best interests.

  “You seem upset,” she signed finally. “May I serve you again?”

  Serve him again? His mouth twisted and the signs came out garbled and frustrated. “‘May I serve you again?’” he repeated. “That’s your answer to everything. You want to serve me? How about you give me a baby? Three of them, in fact. Oh wait, that’s not in the contract. These things need to be in contracts I guess, or someone ends up getting fucked over.” His face started to flame from regret before he even slapped the last words out.

  Constance watched him in awful stillness, a statue in the darkened room. Then she dropped her eyes and her hands came to rest, like a period, in her lap.

  He reached out and took one of her hands. “I’m sorry. Go to bed, Constance,” he said in the darkness. “I don’t need anything. I just had a bad dream.”

  Kai lay back on the pillow, and after another moment of watching him in silent question, Constance did the same. He still held her hand, reluctant to release it. Over time, he felt it relax, then fall open as her breaths lengthened. He listened to the in-and-out of her breathing until dawn lit the slivers at the edges of the heavy hotel curtains.

  Next thing he knew, he was awakening to the sound of rain beating against the window. He shifted and felt Constance beside him. Half-asleep, he thought he’d forgotten to leave her room. Then the haze of confusion cleared and he remembered they were in a hotel. Then he remembered his breakdown the night before. Jesus, he’d cried in front of her. He must have been more stressed out about this trip than he thought.

  He rolled over to look at the clock. It was nearly eleven. He still needed to unpack and go over his speech for that night. Not to mention get Constance to look at his other speeches. In a few minutes time on the plane she’d turned his so-so speech into a standing ovation type thing. Talented girl.

  But Constance was out, fast asleep. She slept until noon most days, no matter how much noise he made. She’d even slept through an earthquake once, which had amused her but startled him. He’d fretted about fires and her inability to hear the house alarm, but she’d just shrugged and pulled him into bed with her.

  “I can take care of myself,” she’d said. Maybe she was right. Last night, anyway, when he’d been beside himself and freaked out, she’d reacted with equivocal calm. Probably one more thing she’d learned at Odalisque School. How to deal with freaked-out lovers. Constance’s solution, as always, had been sex.

  Her lashes moved and then she was staring up at him with sleepy green eyes. He kissed her right cheek and licked her face from chin to temple. She laughed softly and pushed at him. She tasted like flowers. His cock was stone hard, just as it was every morning. Was she angry with him over his outburst yesterday? Still freaked out? He shouldn’t have mocked her for offering to serve him. Her service was precious to him.

  Kai wanted to show her how much he loved her. And he did love her desperately. That was suddenly clear to him in the dim hotel room with the rain beating on the windows and her warm, lithe body pressed against him. Her legs opened without prompting, welcoming him to come inside.

  He pulled away instead. He wanted to see her better. He went to pull back the curtains and paused to look out at the city through the blur of raindrops. They were high up, high enough to look down on buildings and roads, people hurrying along with their tiny dots of umbrellas. He turned back to her.

  She signed, “It’s raining?”

  He nodded. “It sounds nice. Relaxing.”

  She gave him an impish smile. “I know something else relaxing.” Her hands paused as her eyes dropped to his upstanding cock. “I think you could use some relaxing.”

  He chuckled and crossed the room, basking in her admiring gaze. He shouldn’t love her. He usually tried not to love her, but this morning he’d allow himself to fail in that endeavor. He crawled into the bed and ran his hands up her calves and over her thighs. He parted her, staring at her most private place. She let him look his fill, unlike other women who usually squirmed away or clamped their legs shut. He loved the smell of Constance, the taste of her, the sleekness of her pussy with its swollen glistening folds.

  He looked up at her. She was watching him, placid, expectant.

  “You’re so beautiful.”

  Kai said that to her every time he went down on her, and she smiled every time. He slid his thumbs into the valleys of her labia and lapped up the sheen of nectar he found there. Until Constance, he’d never been much into going down on women. He did it for their pleasure, because he believed in giving as good as he got, but he’d never really enjoyed it until he’d tasted Constance. She had a flavor other women didn’t have. A responsiveness that was natural and not contrived.

  He took his time, and she never rushed him. He explored all the parts of her he’d come to know with lips, teeth, and tongue. He nudged her clit with the tip of his nose and then laved it with a flat stroke. Her hips undulated and bucked under him. When she really got close to orgasm, she became very vocal. He didn’t think she even realized it. She was normally very self-conscious about her vocalizations. But when he teased her and drew things out, and tickled that spot on the tip of her clit, she made the most wonderful noises. Noises like any hearing girl might make.

  She was making them now, sighs and whines and moans low in her throat. She wrapped her fingers in his hair. She was a hair puller. Kai reached up and caught her hands in his own, pinning them beside her. She shuddered, strung tight like a bow, as he nipped and sucked and kissed her pussy. He let go of one of her hands to press a finger inside her, then two. She ground her mound against his hand and went right back to pulling his hair at the same time. With a pitched groan, she tensed, and then he felt her sheath contract around his fingers with almost enough power to force them out. The orgasm seemed to go on and on, and he gently licked her clit until she nudged his head away.

  “No,” she signed weakly. “I’m too sensitive now.”

  She said that every time too. Kai smiled and eased up the length of her sated body, cupping her pussy in his hand, giving her time to recuperate. He was near to bursting. He kissed her, and she licked her scent from his lips with an avidity that almost banished his control. A moment of rest, and she was practically climbing him. He rolled under her and pulled her astride him, driving in to the hilt. He shivered, overwhelmed by the sensation of her tight pussy enveloping him so suddenly and completely. He grabbed a handful of her ass cheeks and squeezed.

  She arched her back and ran her hands over his chest. From the noises she was making, she’d never really lost the arousal of her first orgasm. She swiveled her hips, riding him with abandon. He pushed one of her hands behind her and she fondled his balls the way he’d taught her, building pleasure and pressure at the base of his cock. He started groping her breasts, pinching the nipples. They’d gone from his leisurely oral enjoyment of her charms to a frenzy of fucking.

  And then he heard her say his name. Kai. She whispered it, her eyes closed, her head thrown back in passion, but he heard it even over the pelting of the rain. She said it perfectly, a breathy, throaty rend
ition.

  Again, please. He wanted her to say it again, but she was lost to him, in her own erotic world. She twitched her hips and her hands clenched on his shoulders, then she collapsed, her pussy milking his cock with waves of orgasm. He was helpless to hold off any longer. He came along with her, his hips coming off the bed, his cock driving as deep as he could go. The pulses of his climax were divine, gratifying relief. His orgasm was like the rain--drenching. He let it settle over him, holding onto it until the last possible moment.

  Then his whole body relaxed, as did hers. She slid to the side and buried her face against his chest. After the delight of his orgasm, he got this too, her sex-drunk affection. She toyed with the trail of dark hair on his lower abdomen, her fingertips nearly bringing him to arousal again. He finally pushed her hand away.

  “Stop,” he signed in front of her eyes. “I’m too sensitive now.”

  She looked up at him and laughed, and he thought I love you. He almost signed it. His hands made fists to prevent the words. He couldn’t love her. It wasn’t how this was supposed to work. Love had caused all the problems he’d wanted to escape, and he was pretty sure she felt more or less the same way. That was why she’d become an odalisque, and why he’d gone in search of one.

  Still...

  He pulled her up until her head rested on his shoulder, and ran a finger down her cheek. “You okay?”

  She sat up beside him and stretched her arms over her head. “Sure, I’m fine. I’m glad you’re feeling better this morning.”

  “I’m sorry about the way I acted last night. I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you.”

  She thought a moment before she signed again. “I understand. You were just feeling really emotional. I guess that’s why Bastien always warned us not to get emotionally involved.”