Page 57 of Married to the Beasts
“This is Madame Durand. She’s designing a dress for you.”
A custom-designed dress? The off-the-rack places they’ve taken me to have already been far beyond what I’m used to, but this is another thing entirely. It takes a moment for me to pull myself together enough to respond appropriately.
Madame Durand doesn’t speak English, but communicates very well without it. She takes me into another room and gets my measurements, then sketches a few ideas and presents them to me.
I’ve gotten used to living in the giant villa in Vegas, being able to watch the Black Pythons in the studio, and even flying on private planes, but this experience makes my life feel surreal again.
I select a beguiling dress in a green that matches my eyes and sets off my hair. Madame communicates, through an assistant, that the dress will be ready the next day. I thank her with the little French I know and return to the men, still in a daze.
When we leave the boutique, we meet up with a private tour guide, who takes us to the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and the Arc de Triomphe. I take countless photos, and they’re probably the only thing that will make me believe this dream of a trip is actually real.
Later, we go back to the hotel, change for dinner, and go to a tiny restaurant that we have all toourselves. It turns out that the men’s assistant arranged most of our itinerary, and they did an amazing job. We’re treated to the chef’s favorite dishes, sent out in multiple courses, each paired with a different wine, everything incredibly fresh and delicious.
I’m very relaxed after all the wine, but not so tired that the four of us don’t have some fun in our hotel suite before we fall asleep together.
The next morning, after the best coffee and croissants I’ve ever had, we leave the city to visit the Palace at Versailles, where we spend most of the day. Of course, I capture photos of everything, but I also take time to just be present in the Baroque opulence of it all.
We make it back to the city in time to pick up my stunning dress, and also buy shoes and a tiny silk purse to go with it.
I feel like a princess in a fairytale when I put the dress on, and it’s a rockstar fairy tale, because when my men get dressed up, they’re sinfully sexy and so handsome in black jeans, boots, and silk shirts.
We make quite a stir when we walk into Le Cinq, an elegant Michelin-starred restaurant. Everyone stares at us, and murmurs run through the room. I have the feeling that people would like to pull out theirphones and take pictures, but that would be considered gauche.
We’re seated in a small room apart from the main dining area, and the security guards keep watch. The food is exquisitely beautiful and delicious beyond words. It more than fulfills all my dreams of experiencing authentic French cuisine.
Back in our suite, the dreamlike quality of the evening continues. The mood between us is different, as if all of us are caught up in the romance of the city. When the men work together to remove my dress, when they kiss me, caress me, and slowly bring me to orgasm, their actions are tender and full of care.
When they have sex with me, we’re skin-to-skin, no condoms needed anymore, and it feels like we’re making love. I’m connected to them more intimately than I’ve ever been, physically and emotionally, and there’s nothing else to call it but love.
I’m in love with them—all three of them.
It’s wonderful, and makes me dizzyingly happy, but there’s a small edge of fear that comes along with it. I’ve never been so vulnerable before, but I remind myself that we’re married. I don’t need to worry.
I can let myself go, and feel safe in their arms,because even though they haven’t said it, I’m pretty sure they love me, too.
One by one, they fill me up with their love until I’m overflowing. I’m theirs, and they’re mine, and nothing has ever felt better.
I’m still smiling the next day, even though it’s time for us to leave Paris, because I’m leaving with my men.
“It was a quick trip,” Rafe says during our ride to the airport, “but did you enjoy it?”
“I loved every minute. Thank you.”
Bron’s big hand gives my knee a gentle squeeze. “We’ll be able to do more traveling once the album’s finished.”
Conal turns me toward him and steals a kiss. “This is only the beginning, babe.”
HAZEL
Just before noon the next day, I duck out of the studio and head to the kitchen to start fixing lunch. I’m pulling out salad ingredients and contemplating making deviled eggs when I hear Conal’s voice.
I can’t understand what he’s saying, but he sounds angry. Instinctively, I go toward the sound. Not until much later will it occur to me that I’m eavesdropping; I only know that my husband is upset, and I want to know why so I can help.
I’m still around a corner from him when I hear another man. His voice sounds familiar; I haven’t spoken to him myself, but I remember when he burst in on our lunch. I think it’s Alan.
“Come on, Conal. I know you only married her to piss me off.”
My whole body goes cold. My stomach knots up with dread. What does he mean? Why would Conal getting married have anything to do with Alan?
