Nicola: A Dirty Bad Boys Romance (Steamy Thrillers Series Book 3)

by Sophia Keller

  Candy left the sex act behind. She moved her hands away from her breasts and her skirt. She covered herself up a little.

  ‘Katie,’ she said. ‘Hugo has spoken about you. In fact, he told me how much he liked you. But I haven't seen him or heard from him for a few weeks. Something must have happened to him. And sorry, even if I had heard from him, I couldn’t tell you. I never talk about my clients.’

  Okay, I typed back. Thanks for being honest. I appreciate it. I know that it is odd, but he spoke about you often and I felt, I still feel, a connection to you. Even though I don't know you.

  I was about to sign off when Candy looked into the camera again.

  ‘Katie, do you want to do something with me. Here, online. I dance, I strip, I play with myself, I fondle. We can talk dirty, as dirty as you want. You can pay by credit card…’

  That would be funny, I thought, if I paid to watch Candy do sexy stuff, with Hugo’s credit card.

  But I did not want Candy performing for me. No way. It would remind me too much of Hugo.

  Instead I slammed my computer shut. But no. I was not going to get into a jealous rage and I was also not going to get into porn. My job was to help other people with porn addiction.

  I did not need the real Candy in my life.

  I went out into the sunshine. It was a perfect Parisian evening. I could easily satisfy my lust; there was no shortage of men here.

  And I could do it as Katie. I was attractive, sexy, young and unattached. Young men were all over Paris. And so were the bars. I chose the bar just around the corner from my apartment. I’d been in a few times, had a glass of wine, read my book and left. But this time I was going in to have a glass of wine. And to find a fabulous lover.

  I took a seat at the bar.

  ‘A glass of chardonnay please, Pierre.’

  I fluttered my eyelashes at him although I had never done that before, to him!

  Pierre the barman knew me pretty well by now.

  ‘You look different this evening, Katie. You look sexy. Hungry! Don’t look so shocked, darling. Everyone in Paris thinks about sex. It’s the French way, I think you are becoming French…’

  I laughed.

  ‘I haven’t found a lover yet, Pierre. But I’ve decided I would like to. I’m on the lookout for someone who wants to have fun, have sex, explore with me, a kind of no attachments lover…’

  ‘Katie, Katie, we’re French, we’re all no attachment lovers…’

  He was right. All around me were people drinking, laughing, chatting and flirting. Paris is very flirtatious. Everywhere around the city you would see men and women kissing, men holding women on the ass, men looking directly at a women’s breasts. Frenchmen did not play games. And neither did the women.

  So when a man came and stood at the bar next to me, gave me a smile and offered to buy me a glass of wine, I said: ‘Yes, I would like that very much, thank you.’

  And as I said yes, I looked this man in the eye. My eyes twinkled. My eyes were offering something. My eyes were sexy.

  And so we drank together and got a little bit tipsy and he touched my leg and I knew I wanted him to touch me everywhere. We had a few drinks and then he bought me dinner and I tried so hard not to think about Hugo while we were eating. Hugo, who would have ordered for me. Hugo who would know which wine to drink with oysters. Hugo, who would have held my thigh tightly under the tablecloth, gently stroking my legs. And then up my legs, a little higher, higher, towards my panties. Hugo had always played with me under the table, using his legs, his hands. There were a few times I had come while eating lobster. I’d had to do it quietly, of course…

  I had to stop thinking about Hugo. And think about Jean. Or was his name Luc? I had already forgotten.

  ‘We can go back to my apartment’ I told Luc, as we were leaving the bar. Pierre the barman gave me a wink on the way out.

  ‘Be careful, my Katie’ he told me.

  ‘Always’ I replied, although I had no thoughts about being careful at all.

  I walked hand in hand with Luc, along the River Seinne. It was what I had dreamed about with Hugo. A romantic Paris night, alongside a very romantic river, cobble stoned streets, stars twinkling above. And me, wearing a little black dress, with little black panties underneath, no bra. High sexy shoes, red lipstick.…

  But I wasn’t with Hugo, I was with Luc. And Luc couldn’t wait. He took me by the hand and pulled me into an alleyway. It was dark and romantic, an alley just like I had imagined, with just one old fashioned lampshade giving off a little light. He pushed me against the wall, pushed his body against mine and kissed me hard.

  So hard.

  God it was good.

  I kissed him back. He was a great kisser, reaching deep into my mouth, feeling my tongue and my lips. I bit him gently on his lips, kissed him deep and strong, wet and delicious, and I pushed myself against him too.

  My cunt was against his cock and he was hard. And huge.

  I was soaking wet.

  I was ready to fuck him right there.

  ‘Take me,’ I whispered, breathlessly. ‘Fuck me, now, please.’

  Luc lifted my dress and put his hand into my panties. He pulled them down. He lifted my dress.

  ‘Oh my Katie,’ he said in that beautiful French accent. ‘You’re wet, soaking wet. You feel so good. I’m going to fuck you now, right now.’

  I wanted him to fuck me so badly, I was so ready.

  And just then my phone rang.

  And of course I should have ignored it. But it kept ringing and ringing and no-one ever called me.

  So while Luc felt me and fingered me and found my clit and as I was coming, I answered the phone.

  It was Hugo.

  Two weeks of not talking to me, of not making contact, of not being available and now suddenly it was Hugo. He was on the phone while somebody else was feeling me, fucking me.

  And I didn’t want it to be Luc fucking me. I wanted it to be Hugo.

  Chapter Three: Candy in Paris

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ I gasped to Luc. ‘I can’t do this, I thought I could but I can’t…’

  I’d left him there, in the alley, with his jeans down at his ankles. I’d run, as fast as I could, straightening my dress, my underwear, my hair, my messed up lipstick. My shoes were in my hand and I kept running, through the streets of Paris.

  God, I think I’d left my panties on the street.

  And I’d put the phone down on Hugo. I hadn’t meant to actually, but I had got such a shock when I heard his voice, his beautiful deep voice, a huge fright and I didn’t know what to do.

  I thought he would call me back. Immediately. But in typical Hugo style, he didn’t.

  He must have got the key in the mail, I thought. He must have realised that I was gone for good. It had taken him long enough.

  When I got back to my little Parisian apartment I took a shower, poured myself a drink, calmed down and opened my computer.

  I messaged Hugo.

  ‘I haven’t heard from you for three weeks,’ I typed. ‘I tried to get hold of you. I thought you would protect me and stand by me with everything that was going on. I thought we had a future. Instead you just disappeared.’

  I didn’t want to sound so accusatory. But I was still hurt and angry. I deserved an explanation.

  Hugo replied immediately.

  ‘Katie. I will explain when I see you. It was a difficult time, an insane time. But I miss you, so much more than I thought I would. I miss you a lot. I know you’re in Paris. Candy told me.’

  ‘Yes, ‘ I typed. ‘I got hold of Candy. I’m sorry, I mean I may have crossed a line. But I needed to know what was going on. I thought maybe she knew, she could give me an explanation.’

  And then I added…

  ‘She is absolutely gorgeous by the way. I understand your fascination.’

  Hugo sighed. That sigh, that I knew so well.

  ‘She is gorgeous, Katie. And so are you. Now, I am not going to explain a
nything to you here . But I will be in Paris tomorrow. I know where your apartment is. I will arrive in the evening. I’d like you to have a bottle of that lovely champagne you have in your fridge, cold, chilled, with two beautiful crystal glasses. Get some caver too, the good stuff. I’d like you to wear exactly what you’re wearing now. And you can keep your underwear off. But I do not want to see any men anywhere near you. No Alain. No Pierre. No Luc. Got it?’

  Oh my God. Hugo knew everything! How did he know? It wasn’t only from Candy. Oh my, he had been watching me again. How, how had he been doing this? Were there cameras in the apartment? Oh my gosh. Did he watch me masturbate at night? Did he watch me in the bath? Had he watched me kissing Luc, being fingered by Luc, almost fucking Luc…’

  I should have known he had been watching me. That was what Hugo did best, of course. I’d met him after he stalked me. He’d watched me secretly, fantasized about me, pretended to see me as a client, fallen for me because I’d looked so much like his favorite porn star, Candy.

  And now. Now, I was going to be Candy again. Even though I knew I shouldn’t. Even though I knew he was going to break my heart again.

  That night I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned. I took off my pyjamas. I felt my own body with my hands. The softness of my breasts. The soft mound of my vagina. My hands explored and played and delved. I imagined they were his hands. His weathered hands. His old hands. His perfect sugar daddy hands.

  Hugo was of course paying for my trip to Paris. I was still using his credit card and all the money in my account had come from him. I couldn’t exactly say no to him coming to the apartment. Even if I wanted to say no.

  And who was I kidding. I did not want to say no. I really wanted him here.

  The next day I did everything that I had to do, thinking that Hugo must be watching me. But how? Did he have spies? It wasn’t possible. He was in New York. I was in Paris. I cleaned the apartment. I did it while wearing a very pretty and very sexy French maid’s uniform. If Candy had worn that, and Hugo had liked it, I would wear one too.

  I vacuumed while my ass flashed out of my little dress. I played with my own nipples while I put the champagne in the fridge. And I played with my clit while I took a bath.

  I hoped Hugo was super horny.

  I also hoped he’d got over the thing of our relationship having to be private. But I wasn’t going to worry about that now. I was going to get ready for him, prepare dinner, prepare the bed and prepare myself. I wanted to smell good and feel good. I wanted him to see me and take me in his arm and hold me tight, lift me up against the kitchen counter, go down on me, put his head between my legs, right here, right now…

  I wanted him badly. And I couldn't wait to see him again. I couldn’t wait for him to call me Candy. And I couldn't wait to behave like a porn star, just for him. I wanted to have all those orgasms. I wanted to give him a whole lot of pleasure too.

  I had a few vague thoughts about his daughter. She’d threatened me when she had found out about me. She had been furious at her dad, being with someone the same age as she was. She was the one who had insisted I get out of his life. Maybe they’d sorted it out. Maybe she was accepting now. Maybe Hugo and I could become something, have a proper relationship.

  I had to stop thinking about it and get myself ready. He was arriving in half an hour.

  Chapter Four: Hugo in Paris

  The doorbell rang. This was a bit of a flashback to when he’d first run the bell of my apartment in New York. But this was Paris! And I had grown so much since those early days.

  I still felt nervous. My heart was beating pretty fast and I had that very nervous butterfly feeling in my stomach. You all know that feeling!

  I opened the door.

  And there was Hugo Davenport.

  He looked so dashing. I’d forgotten how weathered he was . Here was this beautiful older man standing in front of me. His suit was definitely Armani. He had that shock of silver grey hair, a few wrinkles on his forehead and large hands. And as he always did, he carried a huge bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

  ’This is not a bad apartment Katie. Not bad at all. It doesn't really compare to the other one though, the one that I gave you, the one that you so rudely returned the keys for…’

  I breathed in deeply, trying to still my beating heart.

  ‘Well Hugo. Welcome. And you deserved to have those keys returned to you. And this is Paris and not New York. Things here are smaller and difference. But look at this amazing view. And this fabulous bedroom and huge bathroom. Also, don't worry darling, you’re still paying for it…’

  I learned forward and kissed him on the cheek. He turned my face and kissed me on the lips. I kissed him back, licked his lips with my tongue, made sure he could feel my nipples straining though my dress against his chest.

  And then I turned around. ‘Yes, Hugo, thank you for paying for my apartment here. It’s lovely, isn’t it…’

  I was still cheeky!

  ‘Haha Katie, don’t think I don’t know that I’m paying. I get a copy of your bank statement every week. But you do need to be careful honey, you’re going to run out of money soon. Unless of course someone lovely comes along, someone like me, and tops it up…’

  I had been well aware that my money was only going to last for a few weeks more but not for much longer after that.

  I guess I could go back into the sugar daddy thing with him.

  Could I? Was I ready to be a sugar baby again Of course I was. God, I had missed him so much. Right now I just wanted to fuck him in a pile of money.

  But we had a whole lot to clear up first.

  ‘Hugo, wait. Let’s have fun first. I’ve cooked. Look, I’m trying out all these French recipes. I’m becoming a really good French cook. Not just a sexy cook, a good cook!’

  I showed Huge the food I had been preparing. A delicious Coq Au Vin, a chicken dish cooked in wine. I took the casserole dish out the oven, lifted the lid and said…

  ‘Voila…’

  And he said - ‘I would much rather see and smell you.’

  And then he gently peeled the dress off my shoulders, let it drop to the floor, stood back and admired me. Of course I wasn't wearing anything underneath.

  I knew I looked gorgeous.

  We kissed. It was tender. A lot had happened between us over the last few weeks, a lot of bad, and neither of us were ready to confront it yet. Instead, he led me to the bed, touched every single part of my body and I touched every single part of his. Gentle fingertips on beautiful skin. And then, when we were both aching and desperate, he drew me towards him and entered me. It felt so good, so perfect. We were perfect together, a perfect fit.

  And when we’d finished we lay, naked in one another’s arms, quietly and peacefully. We still didn’t want to talk. Instead we held each other, he played with my hair, I tickled the back of his neck, he traced a pattern over my nipples which stood on edge, he tickled me on my thighs, around my cunt, until I was desperate to have him again and again.

  We slept. Satiated. Exhausted. Content.

  I woke first, got up quietly so as not to disturb him and drew a bath. I lay in the bubbles wandering what came next. Would we be together? Would he wine and dine me? Would we watch porn again? And would we have to be secretive about the whole thing.

  I did not want to be secretive. I had worked out that secretive was not my style.

  Hugo walked in to the bathroom, disturbing my thoughts. He was wearing a beautiful thick white bathrobe which he took off and elegantly before stepping into the bath with me.

  Oh God. I couldn’t fuck him again. Could I?

  I could.

  But then, when we were done and he was soaping my back, I asked him.

  ‘Hugo. You hurt me. I was all over the newspapers, painted as a gold-digger and a money-grabber. You never said a word. You just disappeared. I think I deserve an explanation.’

  ‘Ah, Katie Katie. I am going to insist we let it go. It wa
s a hard time. I had no choice. You will come to understand this with time. But for now, for now darling, we are in Paris together. And Paris is the most romantic city in the world. I’m going to get us tickets for a show tonight. And then we’re going to have the best dinner in the world. After that - The Ritz Hotel for the night. A suite with an enormous bedroom and a bath triple the size of this one. Perhaps a private butler too. Do you agree? One night of indulgent everything. And then, we can talk if we must.’

  How could anyone say no to that.