French Connection Vol. 1

by M. S. Parker

  His hands moved to my hips, gripping me tight as he fucked me, each thrust hard enough to push me onto my toes. I'd have bruises later and, if the pressure bubbling inside me was any indication, it'd be worth every one. I felt his rhythm falter and knew he was close. I shifted my weight onto one arm and slid my other one beneath me. I half-expected him to stop me from touching myself, remembering one of our first encounters where he'd done just that. He'd told me then that I was his, that he would be the one to bring me pleasure. This time, however, my fingers reached that spot between my legs without interference.

  I felt him pulse inside me as I started to rub my clit. A few passes was all I needed and then I was coming too, my pussy contracting around his cock as it emptied into me. I heard him groan my name and his arms slid around my waist as he slumped over me for a moment.

  Before my pulse had returned to normal, Gavin pulled out, causing another shudder to run through me. Even soft, he was big enough to get a reaction. After a moment, I straightened.

  “Thank you,” I said as I fixed my bra and panties. I'd change back into my other underwear in a moment, but I was suddenly aware that I was in my office and almost naked. My thighs were slick with our cum and I was glad I had my own bathroom. Clean-up would've been a bitch otherwise.

  He grinned at me as he tucked himself back into his pants. “You've been working so hard and I figured since we hadn't done it here, now was as good a time as any.”

  I glanced at the clock and swore. “Zoe will be back–”

  “No, she won't,” Gavin interrupted. “I arranged for her to take a two hour lunch. You still have plenty of time to get cleaned up and presentable before it's back to work.” He took my hands and leaned forward to kiss my forehead.

  I leaned against him. The tension I'd had before was gone, melted away. I'd missed this. I wasn't the only one who'd been working hard. Lately, it seemed like the only time we saw each other was when one of us was sleeping. I'd thought moving in together would bring us closer, and I supposed we would've seen less of each other if we'd been living apart, but it didn't make things easier.

  “So,” he said. “I got a call a couple hours ago and have a dinner meeting with a potential new client tonight. What do you say? Dinner, dancing, some wine, then we spend some quality time together?”

  I wanted so badly to say yes. A night with him was what I needed, but I sighed and straightened. The moment was gone. “I can't tonight. I have to finish my presentation for Congressman White. If I can get his assistant interested, there's a good chance the congressman will use some of my ideas for a bill against sex-trafficking.”

  Gavin smiled, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes. I hated putting it there, but I was doing important work. There were thousands of young women out there being held against their will, forced into sexual slavery, and I had to do everything in my power to free them.

  “I understand,” he said as he released my hands. “But tomorrow night, you and I are having dinner at La Petite.” He gave me a cocky smile. “It took me a month to get those reservations.”

  I smiled back. “It's a date.” I glanced at the clock again. “But now, I really need to get dressed.” I winked at him. “Unless you think I should see clients like this?”

  His eyes narrowed and he grabbed me, pulling me against his chest. His mouth came down hard on mine and I could feel the fire there as his tongue pushed past my lips. He plundered my mouth, all teeth and tongue, until I was gasping for air.

  “No one sees you like this but me,” he all but growled as he finally released my mouth.

  “Never,” I agreed. I let myself have a moment, then sighed. “But you really do need to go.”

  I could feel the reluctance in his arms as he released me, but he knew as well as I did that I had work to do. The door to my office was swinging closed behind him as I disappeared into the bathroom. It was time to return to reality.

  Chapter 2

  Gavin

  My little tryst with Carrie had taken more time out of my day than I'd planned, but it had been worth it. She did great work, and I knew it was important, but I could tell things between us were suffering. Today had been the first day in over a week that we'd had sex. For some people, that would've been about average, but when you considered that nine or ten months ago, we'd had sex almost every night, this was a bit of a dry spell. Our time together had been slowly decreasing over the months. When we'd first gotten together, we hadn't been able to get enough of each other. Now, it was same old, same old.

  I was late as I rushed down to the streets of Manhattan. I groaned in frustration and ran my hand through my hair as my cab pulled up to the curb. The hat I'd worn had given me hat-hair, but again, worth it. I could still feel Carrie's smooth skin under my hands, feel her tight channel squeezing every last drop from my cock.

  Dammit. Just thinking about her was getting me hard again. As I walked into Abruzzi's Italian Dining, I forced myself to think of things of a less appetizing nature. I was already running behind for my dinner with Vincent Paoli. I doubted greeting him with an obvious erection would help make a better impression.

  Paoli had contacted me a few days ago and said he had a business proposition for me. He hadn't given details over the phone, only said that he was interested in investing in a European expansion for Club Privé. I'd spent the last year remodeling my club physically as well as changing its reputation from a sex club into a dance club. I'd even sold my software company, with a hefty profit, so I could focus completely on the club. I'd been getting bored with writing software and designing apps anyway. It was time to branch out, and Paoli seemed like he had the right kind of connections to make something like this fly.

  I scanned the restaurant as I entered and spotted Paoli right away. In his early fifties, he dressed like Don Johnson... from the eighties. White suit jacket with a t-shirt underneath it and he even had his salt-and-pepper hair styled like Crockett in Miami Vice. In the right light, he actually kind of resembled Johnson. If I hadn't done my homework and knew he was an extremely successful businessman, I might've thought twice about going through with the meeting based on looks alone.

  I made my way through the tables, nodding a greeting when Paoli looked up. As I took my seat across from him, I spoke, “Sorry I'm late. Traffic was a bitch.”

  Paoli waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I took the liberty of ordering us some scotch.”

  I didn't try to hide my surprise. “I wasn't aware they served scotch here.”

  “For me, they do.” He grinned at me and drained his glass. “Drink up.” He motioned toward the glass in front of me.

  “Thank you, Mr. Paoli,” I said as I took a sip of the alcohol. My eyebrows went up. This was expensive stuff.

  “You're welcome. And call me Vincent.”

  “Vincent.” I nodded.

  He leaned back in his chair as a waiter came over with another drink. I'd been here often enough to know at least a few things on the menu so we both ordered. Once the waiter was on his way back to the kitchen, the talk turned to business.

  “I don't know if you recall,” Vincent began. “But I visited your club twice last year during the first few weeks it was open. I was here on a business trip and looking to have a bit of fun. I've never forgotten it.”

  “Thank you.” I tried not to shift uncomfortably. If he hadn't been back since then, he probably didn't know the club had gone through some changes.

  “It got me thinking and I couldn't get this idea out of my head. I want to open a club like Privé in the French Riviera. A legit private club for the rich and famous.” He regarded me with a serious expression. “I could hire someone already in Cannes, but I love the way Privé is designed. Creative. Elaborate. And that's what I want for my club. I'd like to make this an extension of your club here, with the two of us as equal partners.”

  I forced a smile and took a drink to avoid having to say anything. Somehow, I doubted Vincent would be quite as enthused when he found
out that Club Privé was just another dance club now. Granted, it was still one of the most elaborately designed clubs in the city, but I'd had a lot of it redone to suit its new purpose.

  “I'd like you to come to Cannes to take a look at the site and go over the building plans with my architect.” Vincent emptied another glass. “Bring a lady friend, if you like.” He grinned. “Or don't. I'm sure a man like you doesn't lack female attention.”

  I was torn. In all honesty, the club wasn't doing nearly as well as a dance club as it had as a sex club. I wasn't quite losing money, but it was close. If I hadn't had the money I'd earned before and what I'd gotten from the sale of my software company, I'd be hurting financially. As it was, if I kept having to spend on remodeling and putting out money to fund Carrie's pro bono law office, I was going to run out eventually, and what little I was bringing in from Club Privé wasn't enough for both Carrie and me to live on, even if I downsized my spending. And it certainly wouldn't be enough to keep Carrie's office afloat.

  If I did this for Vincent and he was an equal partner, I wouldn't exactly be responsible for it being a sex club. I could make sure he was aware of my stance on bringing in escorts, but I wouldn't have to feel like I needed to police things since I'd be here in New York.

  I could go to Cannes with Carrie, give him all of the suggestions and business tips that he'd need to get things started, and spend the rest of my time on vacation with my girlfriend.

  That idea was appealing on so many levels. Financially it made sense and personally, it was the best thing I'd heard in a long time. Carrie and I had both been working so hard, we hadn't been able to get away. In fact, we rarely had more than a single day off at the same time, and most of those had been holidays, so we'd spent them with my daughter. Not that Carrie ever complained about that. Carrie adored Skylar and vice versa. It would just be nice to have some time for just the two of us. As loathe as I was to admit it, the spark between us had been flickering dangerously low as of late.

  “I'd love to expand Club Privé to the French Riviera,” I said, smiling at Vincent. “And I'm sure my girlfriend would love a chance to see Cannes.”

  “Excellent.” Vincent rubbed his hands together. “Now, what do you say after we eat, we make a little stop at your club for some dessert?”

  It didn't take a genius to know that he wasn't talking about some apple pie. I managed a tight smile and felt a wave of relief that I had a good excuse to refuse. “I'm sorry. The timing's awful. The club's closed right now. Renovations.”

  Vincent looked a bit disappointed but didn't force the issue. I was glad for that. I'd eventually make sure he knew that I was concerned about the club in France being used as a thoroughfare for the sex trade, but I really didn't want to explain the whole reasoning behind what I'd done to Club Privé here. Telling a new partner that my former partner had been selling girls and women to the highest bidder, and I hadn't noticed until it was almost too late, didn't exactly make me sound like an intelligent businessman.

  The waiter returned with our meals and Vincent turned the talk to general things. We talked sports and family, where we'd grown up, the basics of conversation. He didn't ask anything too personal or even about how the club was doing now, for which I was grateful. Once we finished, it was handshakes and a promise to be in contact within the next couple days with details about the trip.

  I waited until I was climbing into a cab before calling Carrie.

  “Hey, babe!” I could barely contain my excitement. “I've got some great news, but I want to tell you in person. See you in a few?” I glanced at my watch. It wasn't too late, which meant I could share my news and we'd still have time for some celebratory sex. My cock stirred at the thought of being back inside her for the second time today. It had been more than six months since we'd gone more than once in a day.

  Then she sighed and I knew my fantasy of making slow, lazy love to her was just that.

  “I'm sorry, hon. I'm still at the office, working on my proposal. It has to be perfect, and I'm already exhausted. I'll probably fall asleep at my desk.”

  I could hear her trying to put a bit of humor into her words, but there was more fatigue there than anything else. I tried not to be too disappointed. She was busy and it was for a good reason. It wasn't like I was getting brushed off for something like clothing design or, I smiled wryly, running a club.

  “That's fine,” I said. I hoped the cheerful note in my voice didn't sound as forced to her as it did to me. “Focus on your proposal and after you nail it tomorrow, we'll celebrate at La Petite.”

  “Sounds great.” She sounded distracted and I knew she was already back into her work. If she came home at all, I'd probably already be asleep and I usually left before she did, which meant I mostly likely wouldn't see her until we met at the restaurant.

  I pocketed my phone and stared out the window as I rode back to our place. I'd lived here longer alone than I had with Carrie, but it had never truly felt like home until she'd moved in. When she wasn't here, it seemed like too much space for just one person and I wondered how I'd ever stood it before.

  I rubbed my chin and tried to remember if we still had a bottle of wine. I was suddenly in the mood for a glass or two. Everything good I'd been feeling about today faded behind a maudlin mood that I knew was here for the rest of the night.

  I had to admit, Carrie and I needed this business trip slash vacation more than I'd originally thought.

  Chapter 3

  Carrie

  I was practically bouncing as I walked into La Petite. Things had gone better than I'd ever dreamed and I couldn't wait to share my news with Gavin. We'd both been working so hard lately that it seemed like we hardly ever got to see each other. He'd been sleeping when I'd gotten home and was gone when I'd woken up, but that was about par for the course these days. I'd actually completely forgotten about the reservations he'd made here until he'd reminded me yesterday.

  “I'm here with Gavin Manning,” I told the hostess as she approached me. The jealous glint in her eyes told me that either Gavin was already here or she'd met him before.

  “Right this way, Miss.” She gave me a professionally polite smile that didn't reach her eyes, and walked toward the far side of the restaurant.

  While I'd eaten La Petite's food before, I'd never been inside the restaurant and I tried not to gawk as I followed the hostess. Sparkling chandeliers, expensive carpeting, furnishings that looked like they cost more than I used to make in a year. The place was almost overwhelming. If I hadn't known personally that the food was insanely good, I'd have thought they were trying to make up for the quality of their meals with the ambiance.

  I saw Gavin a moment before he saw me and wondered what had him looking so serious. Then he raised his head and his entire face lit up. My stomach clenched. I wondered if there would ever be a point when my body didn't react to seeing that smile. I certainly hoped not.

  “Hey, babe.” He stood and reached out his hand.

  I caught another flash of jealousy from the hostess as Gavin kissed my cheek in greeting. We took our seats and a waiter immediately came to the table. Gavin ordered another of whatever he'd been drinking before I'd arrived while I skimmed the wine list. I was no connoisseur, but I did know what I liked. I ordered a glass and the young man hurried off to bring us our drinks.

  My news was on the tip of my tongue, but I didn't blurt it out. I wanted to savor it a moment longer, wait until the drinks arrived so I could offer a toast. The waiter returned in record time and then told us to signal as soon as we were ready to order.

  We both raised our glasses at the same time.

  “I have great news,” I said.

  Simultaneously, Gavin said, “I've been waiting to tell you this.” We both smiled and Gavin nodded at me. “You go first.”

  The polite thing probably would've been to say the same to him, but I was too excited. “Congressman White's assistant loved my proposal and called him right there! He's going to meet with me next
Thursday.”

  Gavin tapped his glass against mine and we both took a drink. The alcohol helped take the edge off of my buzzing nerves. I'd want to be careful, though, until the food arrived. I'd forgotten to eat lunch today and alcohol on an empty stomach with this much excitement wouldn't end well.

  “That's so great, babe,” Gavin said sincerely. “So Thursday's your big day? That's really fast. I'm so happy for you.”

  I shook my head. “No sorry, not this Thursday. The following week.

  “Oh.” His face fell and I knew something was wrong.

  “What?” I asked.

  “It's fine,” he said stiffly. “Don't worry.”

  I frowned a little, but decided the best way to get that smile back was to let him share his news. “What was it you wanted to tell me?”

  The smile he gave me was polite, but it didn't touch his eyes. Whatever my news had triggered wasn't going to be easily chased away. He took another sip of his drink and I tried not to press him to share what was bothering him.

  “Last night, I had that business dinner,” he said.

  I remembered him asking if I could go with him.

  “This man, Vincent Paoli, wants a Club Privé in Europe, the French Riviera to be exact. A legit, private club for the rich and famous, particularly the Americans who visit, which is why he came to me. He needs a partner, and he wants me.”

  “That's wonderful!” I interrupted.

  His smile tightened. “He wants to discuss further plans on site. In France.” He sighed. “Since we've never gone anywhere together and we've both been working so hard, I wanted to take you to France, but it's the same week you'll be going to DC.”

  And now I understood the problem. I reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “That's great news. And I'd love to spend a week in France with you.” I released his hand and leaned back in my seat. “Is there any way it can be put off until after my trip? I mean, will a couple days make that much of a difference to the club?”