Part 11 (2/2)

He'd checked with each hotel on the island. No resort confirmed the redhead. He never thought to check his own. Wasn't that always the case?

Last January, Prive Extreme ran the entrance surveillance tapes showing Red arriving with a skinny blonde and leaving with him. The video confirmed he hadn't lost his mind. The members.h.i.+p card Red had used to obtain club access was reported stolen, perhaps resold without her knowing.

Looking on the spa's floor, he saw a gem trail that led to the side cabinet. He opened the cabinet. A colorful tray stared back at him in various blue, purple, green and yellow shades. But it was the red that spoke to him and echoed, ”h.e.l.lo, Big Daddy.”

Brigitte knocked on the door. ”Monsieur Warner, you ready?”

”Entrez.”

”Pret?” Brigitte's face twisted in confusion. He wasn't disrobed facedown under the sheet as expected.

He held his hand out, showing her the rubies. ”What are these?

”Monsieur, those are vajazzling.” She laughed, removing the crystals from his hands, closing the cupboard and shaking her head.

”Vajazz-what?”

”We are the exclusive spa in St. Barth's offering vajazzling.” She explained the service women booked to decorate their private area with luxurious beaded jewels.

Unreal! He didn't know such luxuries existed. ”Could you please pull your client logs for New Year's Eve weekend, say December 30?”

”Oui, is there anything in particular you're looking for?”

”You mean...anyone. A woman who received the red crystal application to her...whatever you call it.” Warner hoped he finally found Red.

”Un moment.” She slipped out from the room.

Excitement charged through him. He sat down to control his breathing and closed his eyes. Relax, Warner, you'll find Red. Inhaling the herbs, he listened to the pixie-like music and waited.

Anytime he'd seen a long-legged woman with red hair, he'd approached, hoping to find her. Wherever his travels took him, Warner's mind wandered to Red.

I can taste you, Red. The tuberose smell in her wavy hair, her velvet tongue kissing his while he cupped those b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her sensitive nipples responsive to his every touch-he looked forward to nibbling on them.

Warner imagined himself carrying Red to his bedroom and unzipping her from the dress. The sheer fabric, a second skin between them, dropped to the floor. He'd kneel, remove each shoe and admire her calves then kiss her inner thighs. She'd twirl her figure in his face.

Red, I can't wait to make your body dance with me inside you. She'd hold her long hair over her bare shoulders. Pose for a minute-naked. Enjoying the view, he'd stroke his c.o.c.k and ask, ”May I?”

”You may.” He'd place her on his bed against the pillows. Her legs would spread for him. His two hands would scissor her folds as his tongue tickled her. She'd scream in ecstasy, holding on to his shoulders while he lapped at her c.u.n.t. Red, you taste sweet as fresh cream. Once she became nice and wet, wetter than before, wetter than she'd ever thought possible, he'd give her his c.o.c.k...

”Monsieur.”

f.u.c.k! At the knock on the door, Warner threw the sheet over his crotch and stayed seated on the table.

Brigitte returned. ”Monsieur, the appointment books show it was I who waited on a young woman who booked the vajazzling.” Her cheeks flushed. ”I'm embarra.s.sed. I don't mean to upset you.”

”What is it?” He sat up but dared not stand.

”I remember now waiting on her.”

”You do?” Warner could hear the herald angels singing.

”The client was tall, model-type, tipped me one hundred dollars. I'm not sure if she stayed in the hotel, but can a.s.sume. She came from the United States, Beverly Hills perhaps.”

”Makes sense.” Red had embodied 90210.

”May I ask why you're inquiring about this client?”

”I met her on this island. I didn't get her name but must find her.”

Her lips curved into a broad smile of approval. ”I understand. I wish I could be of more help. I don't remember anything else except she insisted on being vajazzled in red.”

Naturally. ”What name did she book under?” Warner could see Red's name being Eva, Penelope or Isobelle. He'd even be okay with Prudence, Alfreda or Drucilla.

”Mademoiselle Red.” Brigitte looked at him like, go figure. ”She paid with a credit card, but I don't have her file at this spa. Everything went to corporate at the year's end on the thirty-first.”

”S'il vous plait, call headquarters. Tell accounting I'm with you. Ask them to pull the spa service transaction records.”

”Oui, monsieur, un moment.” She left him alone in the room and closed the door.

His c.o.c.k was still hard. Warner jumped to his feet, locked the door and then laid his head back down on the bed where his thoughts returned to Mademoiselle Red. He reached down under the sheet he'd thrown over himself and tugged at his d.i.c.k, and continued.

Red, I'm going to f.u.c.k you. He visualized Red taking to his d.i.c.k with the same pleasure she'd taken to his touches, kisses and affection for her. She'd lick the head's slit, moving her juicy lips over the mushroom tip until he was rock-hard. Yanking on his b.a.l.l.s, she'd stare at him with those captivating green eyes, hungry. Warner would hold her beautiful face in his hands, guiding her mouth over his shaft, helping her get comfortable. You want to taste me? You like my pre-c.u.m, baby?

Warner jacked harder under the sheet.

He'd roll over, ma.s.saging her c.l.i.t's hood with his fingers. Warner would bring himself down over her, enjoying her moan in his ear, her pleasure, and he'd thrust fast and hard. It would be for her. Having her in his arms would be her experience. He'd drive into her v.a.g.i.n.a, sensing it throb and swell around his d.i.c.k. Her slit swelled in response, she'd tighten her hungry c.u.n.t around him, ready to come.

”f.u.c.k yeah.” He fisted his d.i.c.k, throwing the sheet to the floor.

Biting his neck, she'd scream in bliss for him. Warner would lift her a.s.s and get underneath. She'd climb on top, ride him, her v.a.g.i.n.a hugging his c.o.c.k. He'd bury his face in her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and tug on each rosebud gently with his teeth. His body would thrust, drill and spread her a.s.s apart with his seed. Red would hold on for dear life as she came while he flooded her with his c.u.m. You wanna come. Come on, Red, I have you, let go, come.

Warner came as the o.r.g.a.s.m rain fell on his abdomen. He felt his face bead sweat as he released. Red, please come back to me. I have to have you.

There was a knock at the door. ”Monsieur, the door is locked.”

”One sec.” He washed his hands, tied his robe, grabbed the sheet, unlocked the door and sat back down, covering himself. Hoping Brigitte wouldn't notice.

Eyes rolling, Brigitte's face whitened as she mumbled pervers under her breath. ”New York headquarters started the search. You'll hear from them in about two weeks or a month.” Brigitte stood in the doorway playing with her wedding band, twirling the metal around her ring finger with her thumb. Perhaps afraid he'd f.u.c.k her if she came into the room, she made her commitment obvious. He wouldn't. Truman Enterprises staffed attractive female employees at all of his properties, but none of them compared to Red, not even close.

That was just his luck. He gave a tight smile and sighed. ”Thanks for checking.”

Over the winter, Warner had looked for Red while visiting his properties in Sydney, Australia. He could've sworn he spotted her sailing once on a boat not too far from Perast in the Bay of Kotor in Montenegro. In the spring, he'd walked on Xai-Xai coast in Mozambique catching the sunrise. Certain it was Red on the beach, he'd run close to half a mile along the muddy sh.o.r.e to catch her. It wasn't. Maybe the universe didn't intend for them to meet again. Possibly he'd never have Red. Warner remembered how the night had ended.

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