«Torn Epilogue Until the End of Time Connections #2 by Kim Karr © 2014 by Kim Karr Dahlia Wilde The sleek metal bars crisscross in front of me with ...»
Until the End of Time
Connections #2 by Kim Karr
© 2014 by Kim Karr
The sleek metal bars crisscross in front of me with openings large enough to slide my
wrists through. The fabric of my nightgown ruffles as the cool air cascades under it and
wraps around my naked body. The sight before me is magnificent—tall, sleek, and
glorious. I hold my thumb and forefinger up and pinch the image. River is standing
beside me and I catch his gaze just as he looks over at me. I smile. He lifts his hand to mimic mine. The Eiffel Tower looms impressively before us and we both pretend to grab it.
Without missing a beat, I lift my camera. “Smile.” “I am,” he says through gritted teeth.
I can’t help but laugh. I may have asked my new husband to pose a few too many times during our honeymoon—but I can’t help myself. His sexy sweet grin combined with the Parisian surroundings is just so picturesque—almost hypnotic. The view from this spot must have been built in anticipation of the beautiful pictures one could capture while standing here.
“I think I’ve had enough of the posing for one morning,” he mutters.
He takes my camera and sets it on the chair behind him before prowling toward me.
There is a chill in the air but when his warm hard body presses up against mine, I no longer feel it. I toss my head back as his mouth drops to my throat and his lips glide down my neck.
“We have to get ready to go,” I manage to say. My voice cracking as arousal overtakes me.
His mouth makes its way down to the silk garment that covers my breasts at the same time his hand slides underneath the hem.
“We can be a few minutes late,” he growls.
1 The thin spaghetti strap over my shoulder falls to the side, allowing him to easily suck on one of my nipples. I lean against the railing of the balcony as his mouth and his touch all make me forget we have someplace to be.
My heart flutters at the sight of River standing in the hotel suite door waiting for me to join him. With his emerald green eyes boring into me, and his mop of shaggy light brown hair, he is utterly breathtaking. Add to the picture low riding jeans, black boots, and the new leather jacket that his aunt gave him, and he is nothing if not perfection.
Looking at him now makes me wish today was one of those days we could just lock ourselves away in this room.
“You look edible,” I purr as I put on my boots.
He winks and smiles a devilish grin at me. “I like the sound of that.” I circle my lips with my tongue and stand to zip my jacket.
He groans at my gesture before casually swinging my camera bag over his shoulder and extending his hand. “Come on, beautiful, let’s go before I change my mind.” Walking hand in hand he turns around to face me as we stand in our own private foyer. He reaches to grasp my left hand with his left hand and our rings collide. He loves doing this. He does it all the time.
“Mine,” he whispers as he lifts our interlaced fingers to his mouth and kisses my pearl encrusted wedding band.
I bow my head to kiss his plain platinum ring and then our mouths meet. The ring looks so sexy on him. I never realized how turned on I could be by a simple piece of jewelry. But knowing it means he belongs to me does crazy things to me. After a few minutes of gazing at each other he hits the down button for the elevator.
Both of us seem lost in our own thoughts as we descend the fifty floors. My mind replays the fun we’ve had while in Paris. Last night we went to the famous George’s and enjoyed its sweeping views of the city over a bottle of champagne. We even ventured outside our comfort zones and tried their world famous duck foie gras. I wasn’t a fan and River disliked it even more than I did, but at least we sampled it. Afterward we stopped 2 in Andy Warhol’s cocktail bar for a drink and to see the magnificent art. Two nights ago, we dined at the Ritz Side Car. And the night before that, we hit Club Queen because I was dying to see the world famed disco ball. Everyone dancing there was uninhibited and it was beyond wild. Everything we’ve done here has been electric, exciting, and dare I say: erotic.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask as the elevator reaches the bottom floor.
A wicked smile crosses his face. “I’ll never tell.” I laugh. “Okay we’ll see.” We exit the elevator and bundle up for the cool weather before hitting the streets of Paris. This city is both beautiful and intimidating. Even the well-dressed woman sitting on a bench outside our hotel exudes sophistication. She holds a cigarette so seductively she almost makes me consider asking for a little puff. And all the people bustling about on this small narrow road look like they just stepped off the runway.
River and I have spent the last ten days not only exploring the city, but each other.
Our sex life has always been fulfilling, but being here, being together, somehow it’s heightened our passion and encouraged us to push our limits. Maybe it’s because we know we belong to each other now, maybe it’s because we have no barriers left between us—whatever the reason, I never want this feeling to end. It’s a trip I won’t ever forget.
I’ve loved every minute of it—the people we’ve met, the places we’ve gone, the food we’ve eaten, and of course the man beside me.
Hands clasped together, we walk at lightning speed. When we reach the corner, the Arc de Triomphe stands in front of us and we stop to wait for the light to turn. I feel a slight chill and shiver. He moves behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, rubbing his legs against mine.
“You should have dressed warmer,” he murmurs in my ear. His warm breath tickles my neck.
“I wanted to wear the outfit your aunt gave me.” I turn to rub my cheek against his.
“It looks incredibly sexy on you,” he whispers.
“I wondered if you’d noticed.” “Oh I noticed. I noticed the minute you slipped it on and I can’t wait for you to show me what you are wearing underneath it.” 3 I twist around to face him. “Tell me what you were thinking back there and you just might get a chance sooner rather than later.” His eyes assess me and he leans in to kiss me. His lips find mine for just the briefest of moments but he pulls back when people start rushing by us.
“Are you suggesting a little game of show and tell?” he asks.
I nip his lip before he can pull away.
“I just might be,” I say over my shoulder as I start to move forward.
I start walking ahead of him thinking about how much he’s going to like what’s underneath. His aunt is a designer for Hermès and she gave me a few pieces of their new line. The black sheer chiffon blouse is sensual and seductive and I love it. The snakeskin leather skirt is short and form fitting—a bit on the wild side. And the silky stockings are absolutely the finest I’ve ever worn. But I know that what River will really want to see is the leather lace-up corset I’m wearing underneath, complete with matching garters. I can’t wait to show him.
I hear him groan as he catches up to me. He slings his arm around me and I do the same as we make our way down the row of neatly trimmed trees to the Rodin Museum.
We enter our first-ever Paris fashion show with minutes to spare and rush to our seats. I sit in awe as I take in my surroundings. When I was a child I went to some shows in L.A.
with my mother, but they were nothing compared to this. Hermès kitted out an enormous tent on the grounds and the stage resembles what I can only imagine to be the boudoir of the once lavish mansion that is now the museum. Celebrities and fashion magazine editors sit all around us, while models sashay through the room. Some stare at River in such an obvious way, I’m embarrassed for them.
Just as the music cues the start of the show, Celeste, River’s aunt, and Jagger, his cousin, take a seat on either side of us.
Celeste’s hand goes to my knee. “Dahlia, you look beautiful darling.” I glance over to her. She looks so much like River’s mother, just a slightly aged version. Celeste is ten years older than her sister and has lived in Paris for the last thirty years.
“Thank you. I love this line. Is the whole collection like these pieces?” I ask.
She nods and twists her fingers over her lips. “Shh…don’t tell,” she winks.
4 I inwardly smile thinking my wardrobe is definitely going to get much sexier after today. Then I turn to say hi to Jagger who is already talking with River.
Jagger’s hands are moving up his body in a mimicking way as he says, “Picture Steve Carell in pleated khakis.” “You’re shitting me,” River laughs.
“I’m serious as fuck,” Jagger answers with a sexy, smoldering grin on his face that must send women into a frenzy.
He’s a model and it’s easy to see why—he’s very attractive. He’s slightly taller than River, maybe a little leaner as well. He has gray eyes and dark hair that’s cut to frame his face. I’ve learned that he grew up in New York City with his father and is staying in Paris after a recent breakup with his girlfriend. River and I both met Jagger for the first time seven days ago and it’s hard to believe that he and River haven’t known each other their whole lives. They hit it off from the minute they met, and River can’t wait for Xander and Bell to meet their cousin as well. The two of them get so caught up in conversations and easily lost in time that on occasion I have had to remind River that I’m sitting next to him.
I bump River’s shoulder and both men look over at me.
“Hi Jagger.” He smiles. “Hey Dahlia. Are you ready for this?” he asks.
Jagger knows how excited I am to be here. I laugh. “You know I am.” River squeezes my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing it. Every time he touches me it sends my libido into overdrive. Today is our last day in Paris. We were actually supposed to go home yesterday but River knew how much I wanted to see a fashion show and when his aunt told us she was able to get us seats, he extended our trip two extra days.
The music changes to a slow, seductive tempo and two women grace the runway looking like reverse mirror images of each other in a mixed palette of black, white, and nude. One wears black over-the-knee boots and a completely sheer white blouse with a checkered skirt. The other wears white knee boots, a black lace top, and beige shorts. I don’t think either is wearing anything under their top. They whip their heavily sprayed blowouts back and forth and strike a pose on the catwalk with well-honed attitudes.
5 River’s hand is clutching mine, resting on my leg. When he moves his fingers in small circles over the silk of my hose, it not only serves to heighten my awareness as to how close he is but also just how very far away he is. I sit up straight and breathe in before focusing my attention back to the show.
The looks coming down the runway are light, airy, and uncomplicated. Dresses in satin and silk are loose and cinched with skinny belts or ribbons. Most of them fall to mid-calf or slightly higher. Slim skirts have leather panels at the waist and are worn with elegant blouses. One wrap skirt is shown in a variety of textures and a touch of lace serves to remind us of the boudoir theme.
Celeste leans over. “These are clothes that go from boardroom to the bedroom.” “I love them all,” I tell her.
“Whatever you want, it’s yours. Just tell me and I’ll have it sent.” “I will. Thank you so much.” I would argue with her but we already went that route when she gave River and me the things we are wearing today, so I know better.
River’s hand inches up my thigh, drawing my attention back to him. I clutch his creeping fingers with my other hand stopping him just before he reaches his surprise— my garter belt. After a few moments he leans toward me and whispers, “Is this almost over? Because I can’t wait for my own private show.” I smile at him and squeeze his hand then once again refocus my attention to the fashions being shown to us. The music changes and model after model, look after look, the show moves faster and faster. I get lost in the blur of clothing, as each ensemble seems more incredible than the last. The show comes to an end with all the models prancing out together. The music gets louder as each girl turns and twists along the catwalk one final time. I glance over at River and see that he and Jagger aren’t even paying attention. They are once again deep in conversation. I kiss his cheek and he slides his mouth to catch the corner of my lips.
“Thank you for coming with me,” I whisper to him. “It was really something I’ll never forget.” His breathing picks up speed and he kisses me again. “I’d do anything for you.” And I know he would. His words only serve to bring that butterfly sensation in my stomach back. God I love him.
6 The music ends and Celeste moves to take the microphone. “Thank you for coming, everyone. Here at Hermès, timelessness is valued and this collection is one of my very favorites. It is a reminder that a woman can have a sense of grace, elegance, and ease, whether it be day or night. Enjoy! And again thank you all.” Applause fills the room as we stand and Jagger’s orange shoelaces capture my attention. I wonder if his mother bestowed those upon him—classic Hermès all the way.
River grabs my hand and the three of us make our way outside. We stand near one of the statues in the garden to wait for Celeste.
“I love your boots,” I say to Jagger.
“Thanks. I’ve had these for years.” He looks at River’s boots, black with black laces.
“I didn’t want to be a conformist,” he says kicking River’s toe.
River dips his chin toward Jagger’s boots. “So you decided to be a pansy ass instead?” he jokes.
Jagger tries to pull River’s head into a vice grip and I shake mine at their antics.
They’ve been doing this for days, but as soon as the sound of Celeste clearing her throat fills the air they both straighten. Her eyes shift in amusement from Jagger and River to me. “I really hope you enjoyed the show.” “Very much. I loved it in fact,” I answer and River agrees. I stifle a giggle because I’m not sure he even paid attention.