Heavy Love(26)

Then I'm staring at him and licking my lips so as not to drool.  Simple – those jeans were made for his ass. Strong biceps, with veins,  glistening in the afternoon sunlight, and his back muscles are stacked  just right in the simple white t-shirt. During our walk around the  festival that night, Franco would stand behind me, almost claiming me  closely as his. Now, with his back to me, I wonder what it would feel  like to lay my head on his trapezoids and wrap my arms around his  slender, taut waist.

Just as I'm reminding myself to breath, the imaginary magnetic pull  compelling me to craving Franco falls flat. A sting prickles my skin as  his hand caresses the small of her back. Her …  I sift through my mind for  a name of all the flirty females who've taken this course with me.         

     



 

Laura, the Texan, who came with her significant other, Brandi – who let it  be known on multiple occasions that it's Brandi with an I and not a Y.  Just the mere act makes me wonder at her facial expression. Is she  smiling? Flirting? Yes. No, she can't be. Her girlfriend is standing at  the grill on the opposite side. YES. She's flirting. Laura's blond hair  falls in cascades down her thin body as she leans back in a hearty  laugh.

I'm green-eyed and envious as hell. Heart rate spiked. Cayenne pepper  courses through my blood vessels, I'm just that upset. Lips taut. What  the hell is wrong at me, I consider while my eyelid begins to twitch.  The last time my eyelid twitched, Carlton was making me go dutch for a  lobster I didn't even taste.

It's as if imaginary daggers are somersaulted toward them because Laura  and Franco turn around. Maybe I'm being irrationally jealous because his  eyes brighten when he sees me. Franco never takes his eyes off of me as  he tells her something, both girls smile. And the women are wrapped in  each other's arms as he heads toward us with a genuine smile.

"Angelique, glad you could make it." Beatriz says reaching us first. She  extends a hand to Melody, "And let's see. You emailed about the classes  earlier this week. You're …  Mal …  Melody, tell me I'm not getting old,  no?"

"Correct," Melody nods, barely giving the sous chef's hand a shake as  Franco has her star struck. It's as if those little brown orbs of hers  are magnetizing as he heads our direction. Even though his hands are  shoved in his pockets, he walks with the confidence of a king.

"Our last student has finally arrived," Franco says taking Melody's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

She nods; face sculpted by angels is spellbound. Melody didn't even fall  over her husband, and Kiel is a celebrity in his own right. When he  smiles, while attempting to gather his hand, she does this god-awful  giggle snort that men far and wide find attractive. Now why do I believe  this to be the first time Melody has intentionally used that annoying  ass snort as arsenal.

Stop it, I tell myself, knowing that Melody is unaware of this hold  Franco has on me. Yet jealousy is a frozen blanket and swaddling me to  the point of suffocation. And then …  Franco has successfully extracted  his hand. And instead of the customary handshake, his burly body  envelops me. The ice instantly melts around my heart.

"Angelique, we missed you yesterday," he grins as usual, yet that white  row of teeth has never been brighter, not even for millions of  television viewers. "We need to talk," his whisper is commanding in my  ear.

I smile as he pulls away, but say nothing. What am I going to do about  him? I want to see Franco before the girls and I leave in two days.  Technically, we're hitting the road for a long drive to Madrid in the  morning, so not even two full days. Time is sifting through my fingers.

"All right, lovely ladies, and the few men who could stomach my  presence," he jokes, voice amplifying for the crowd as he steps toward  the front of the bluff.

The salty sea breeze infuses into my nostrils.

"Jelly, did you close your eyes?"

"What?" My eyebrows crinkle as I show her to my station.

"When he hugged you, did your eyes close?" She asks, almost ecstatic  about any juicy information I can provide. But I won't' be telling  Melody about being in Franco's company nor his arms. At least, not any  time soon …

~~~

I grit my teeth as my toes touch the cold wood floor. Melody is softly  snoring besides me. It's past midnight and sleeping is the last thing on  my mind. Tomorrow morning, we pick up the girls, and with the itinerary  that Melody has, there will be no time for me to chat with Franco. All  evening during dinner, a recording played in my brain starring the usual  human phenomena of "what if."

What if I took Franco up on his request from class earlier? We really  did need to talk. I just didn't want to come off as some sleazy "number  one fan" and pursue him during the course.

In my favorite pair of fuzzy pajama pants and a red camisole, I second  guess my attire. Don't want to look sloppy, but I don't want to try too  hard where appearances are concerned. I slip into a pair of Capri's and  keep on the shirt, since those are always my go-to.

It's so quiet in the room, that when a cell phone buzzes on the nightstand I damn near break my neck to stop it from clattering.

It's Mel's.

Part of a text message pops up. KIEL: ‘Stop ignoring me Mel...'

I shake my head and since I can't take the phone off vibrate, I place it  onto the pillow beside her. Maybe she'll get the hint and call her damn  husband back.         

     



 

I slip on a pair of flip flops, and take the silk scarf from my hair. My  tresses begin to unravel from the wrap on top of my head. With a bit of  lip gloss, I step outside and slip the keycard into my pocket.

It's surprisingly active. Lights from the main inn are bright and a  Spanish crooner makes me wrap my arms around myself in need. Yet, this  self-comfort does nothing past making me crave Franco's strong arms even  more.

When I make it up the cobble stairway to the veranda of the inn, there  are people dancing. Some are just holding each other and whispering  sweet nothings into their lover's ear, while others are really feeling  the music. The patrons are dressed up in suits and little black dresses,  to jeans and the occasional flare skirts.

There's one Latina in particular who has caught the eye of every man  outside. A bright red flare dress is pasted to her hourglass shape, and  Jennifer Lopez hips. The bottom portion begins to blaze outwards as she  spins around at the speed of light. And the man twirling her …  His hair  is dark and curly. A suit made just for him is tailored at strong  muscles. I can't breathe. I walk along the perimeter where buffet style  tables are set, and a bar. My lungs almost concave until I notice that  her mate, though handsome in his own right, is not Franco.





CHAPTER 20


Franco

The next night





STANDING AT ATTENTION, straining against my jeans. I shift in the wicker  chair, wide legged and leaning back as the sweltering glow from the  clay oven illuminates off the girls naked bodies twirling on the fur rug  that they got from my living room and brought out back. My dick is  ready to dive into Brandi's mouth as she moans or better yet, Laura's  ass while she lies on her tummy. Laura's butt is tooted in the air for  my incentive while she eats out her girlfriend. A sea breeze gusts  across the garden of my villa. The moan is high. Unable to tear my gaze  away from them, I reach over to grab the bottle of beer. Regardless, I'm  not really in this moment. Its as if I'm the creepy kid, when it comes  to oversexed middle schoolers and some imaginary jocks are forcing me to  watch porn. Brandi and Laura are here to get my mind off one thing. The  very thing my mind refuses to erase.

Brandi moans in ecstasy. While twerking her hips, and letting her pussy  roll all over Laura's face, she catches my eye. "Franco... Join us."

There's only one problem with her request. And it's not the fact that  they are my students, because they no longer are. It's a Saturday night,  and the course has completed this evening. The problem? Angelique  didn't attend this last class.

Yesterday right after class, I took a trip to meet with my parents for  dinner, since my father finally had time in his busy schedule. So I  didn't have time to seek her out yesterday. And I just knew Angelique  would be here this evening.

Now I'm pissed. I don't want to fuck two very gorgeous, willing women,  who by the way sound amazing as they continually cum for each other. I  just want to hear one sound.

Angelique's.

And I don't have to bone her. I'm a grown ass man that would rather  talk, or do whatever the fuck Jelly wants to do until she's ready. But  she's leaving tomorrow morning as mentioned by Beatriz who wanted to  give her a completion certificate/souvenir. Even though I already knew  Angelique had to leave, hence my mentioning that we had to talk the day  before. However, Beatriz voicing that tidbit of truth had me knocking on  the door about an hour ago. To no avail. I don't have her number. I'll.  Never. See her again. At that thought, I jump up from my seat.