The McCabe Girls Complete Collection: Cat, Fen, Pip, Home Truths. Freya North

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СКАЧАТЬ knock at the door. Fabian padded across the room and let Francine in. He was a sight to behold; naked and with an erection so arrogantly defiant that it needed neither introduction nor justification. She was pretty with a lovely figure but Fabian hardly clocked the facts. All he knew was that she had previously offered her services which, he deduced, meant warm, welcoming pussy. That was enough. That was what he wanted. That was all he wanted. And if he knew women, or at least those who made overtures to him midway through a Stage Race, she would be pleased to be fucked by Fabian. So, everyone was going to be happy. Let’s get on with it, tout de suite.

      He backed her up against the closed door, unbuttoned her blouse and feasted his eyes on her impressive cleavage. He wasn’t going to waste time unhooking and unfastening, he just yanked the bra cups down so that her breasts were squeezed out and on display. He reached up her short skirt and ripped down her panties. She wasn’t very tall so it was good that she was wearing high heels; they could stay on. The skirt would have to go, though, as it prevented her spreading her legs wide enough. But the clasp and the zip – too complicated. With a desirous growl, Fabian ruched the skirt up until it was bunched around her waist like a deflated life ring. He took a step back and regarded what was on offer. Great tits. High heels. Shaved pussy. Best of all, utterly silent. Yeah!

      Fabian placed the palms of his hands on each of her inner thighs and spread her legs easily. He took his hands to her breasts and moulded and fingered and grabbed at them, fixating on her nipples between his finger and thumb. Then he grasped her buttocks, bent his knees and bucked up hard, entering her with what he assumed was pleasurable force. Certainly, her gasp would have him believe that. He fucked her hard and came in about ten thrusts. No doubt she came too, oui? He grinned triumphant, proud at the glazed response he’d caused in her. He righted her skirt, buttoned her blouse albeit wrongly, handed her the panties and kissed her on both cheeks. It was the first and only time his lips had touched any part of her.

      ‘Merci,’ he murmured, ‘merci bien.’

      ‘Bonne chance,’ she said, leaving his room.

      He did not watch her walk down the corridor trying to restore order to her blouse and her mind despite the trickle of semen dribbling down her leg. The power Fabian experienced fucking the clerk had flooded him with strength he could utilize on his ride that day. But the desired result which he had attained fucking her was nothing compared to the power that saturated him when he put the maillot jaune on his back.

      ‘How do you feel, Didier?’ Luca asked, sensing that LeDucq was awake and staring at the ceiling.

      ‘Better,’ Didier answered.

      ‘Completely?’ Luca probed.

      ‘No,’ Didier confided, ‘but I haven’t been sick for two days and my arse is – how do you say?’

      ‘Bricks instead of mortar?’ Luca ventured.

      ‘I like that,’ Didier laughed.

      ‘Zucca make bricks and mortar,’ Luca mused.

      ‘And I shit on all of them,’ Didier bantered.

      ‘I need to have a wank,’ Luca said, rising from the bed and disappearing courteously into the bathroom.

      As Ben walked through the streets to Cat, he placed a hand against his stomach. He felt a little queer but diagnosis of the symptoms eluded him. He decided that hunger and lack of sleep were to blame, that breakfast with Cat and then perhaps a spell in her bed, or in her bed under her spell, might be curative measures to take. It was only when his stomach turned over, shot down to the soles of his feet and then rocketed up to the base of his throat when the auberge came into sight, that Ben deduced from what it was that he was suffering.

       Butterflies. Fucking butterflies. When did I last have these? I’ve gone soft.

      He was so disconcerted by the affliction that he very nearly bypassed the auberge. But not quite. Soon enough, he was knocking at Cat’s door with tiger moths rampaging around his abdomen. Then Josh appeared down the hallway.

      ‘Morning, Ben,’ he said affably.

      ‘Hey, Josh,’ said Ben.

      ‘Are you looking for Cat?’ Josh asked.

      ‘Yes, I am,’ said Ben, ‘actually, yes.’

      ‘I think Rachel said something about she and Cat having breakfast together on account of today’s afternoon départ,’ Josh informed Ben. ‘We had a great night last night – how come you didn’t show?’

      ‘Oh,’ Ben said breezily, ‘I had medical matters to attend to – bodies, rest and motion – you know the kind of thing.’

      ‘All in a day’s work,’ said Josh, nodding ingenuously. He regarded Ben. ‘Why do you want Cat?’

       Because she’s gorgeous and sexy and I haven’t wanted anyone so much for bloody years.

      ‘She left her dictaphone in my room,’ Ben said.

      ‘What was it doing in your room?’ Josh asked, now just a little intrigued.

      ‘It was picking up the glinting gems which trickled like a golden waterfall from the ruby lips of one Luca Love Me Jones,’ Ben said wryly.

      Josh laughed and then held out his hand. ‘Do you want me to give it to her?’

       No. That’s my privilege – I’ll be giving it to her. And I’ll be returning the dictaphone too.

      ‘You’re all right, Josh,’ Ben said. ‘I feel I should deliver it to her myself – it’s safe in my hands, you might steal her scoops!’

      Josh shrugged. ‘Ben?’ he called after the doctor who was about to descend the stairs. Ben turned and regarded him. Josh wavered and then waved the air dismissively. ‘Nothing,’ he said, returning to his room. Josh was going to say something, and he knew what it was he was going to say but the fact that he was unsure quite why he wanted to say it ultimately prevented its disclosure.

      Josh always thinks before he speaks. Alex, however, does not. When Ben passed him on the stairs on his way out, Alex also asked his purpose in the auberge.

      ‘I’m after Cat,’ Ben explained.

      ‘Who isn’t!’ Alex exclaimed with an excited growl.

      Cat McCabe had awoken early and sat up in bed gazing at her surroundings, already missing the room she’d have to check out of later. She committed the wallpaper design to memory, soaking up the beauty of the light filtering through from the bathroom like a waft of fine muslin. She felt so at home here and suddenly she thought of her family. She called Fen but there was no reply. She tried Pip but finding only her sister’s voice on the answering machine, albeit claiming to be Martha the Clown, she decided not to leave a message. Finally, she dialled Django.

      ‘Who’s there good God?’

      Django only ever answered the phone like that when he was elbow-deep in some culinary venture. Forlornly, Cat cancelled the call. Less than a minute later, her phone rang.

      ‘No recipe,’ Django boomed, ‘no matter how intricate the instruction – regardless of milk curdling, sauce СКАЧАТЬ