SMITTEN (Paris Après Minuit)

by Juliet Braddock

  “Oh…yeah!” she cried out as he slipped inside her from behind. “Give it to me, Frenchie.”

  As he propelled himself against her with a fevered intensity, he reached around her to cup her breasts. Between his thumb and forefinger, he twisted her nipples, and he refused to let go—even when she screamed.

  “You love this.”

  “Yes, I do!” she struggled to say each word in between his thrusts. “Love to fuck…”

  “I’ve heard about you farm girls,” he muttered then smacked her ass again, as he gave her another hard poke. “Fucking in barns and fields.”

  “Oh, uh-huh…” She backed up on his cock, giving it back to Etienne just as hard as he gave it to her. All the while, he continued to hold her left breast in his hand, squeezing the nipple. Somehow, in the throes of lust, she managed to keep their filthy conversation moving. “Much to do…on the farm…”

  “Yes, I bet you love those cowboys.” His slide was steady inside her slippery tunnel, and she constricted around him like a snake to its prey. With another slap of his hand to her ass, he picked up his pace again. “Ride ‘em, cowgirl...”

  Now, she whinnied through every rapid thrust of his cock, crying out for more. Etienne almost laughed, but he held himself in check with his burgeoning orgasm on the horizon. Every time he drove into her, he swatted those warm red cheeks, spurring her to pick up her pace.

  When she called out with a rousing, “Yee-hah!” his release shot into her. While the sex might have been rough, the pleasure was so sweet. He always allowed himself to lose control at the very last.

  “Now, or never…horsy,” he muttered smugly as her soft folds tensed to clench him tight. For Etienne, there was just no greater indulgence than feeling the strength of a woman’s orgasm enveloping his cock. Beholding her stamina, he embraced every moment with exultation.

  As the jockeying race passed the finish line, he slowed to a canter and bent down to drop kisses over her spine, starting at the small of her back.

  “Neigh…neigh…” she murmured. He could see her face in the tabletop. Her smile was sleepy but satisfied.

  Carefully, he pulled out of her and then finished undressing. She turned around to watch him. Her red fingernail returned to touch him, to tickle his nipples as he stood before her.

  With a French mother and a father of Algerian descent, Etienne had olive skin, with a wild hairy chest that he had waxed every month. His eyes were kind, and his body lean. There wasn’t a housewife in all of France who didn’t want to fuck him.

  And then he held his hands out to help her from the table. “Come, chérie.” When she stood, he boosted her into his arms. As he carried her into the bedroom, the wind picked up outside, but she didn’t seem to be cold.

  With the pull of his strong arm, he released the layers of white bedlinens and tucked her beneath the blankets. After a quick trip to the marble bathroom to clean himself up, he joined her and pulled her into his arms for a sweet, calming kiss.

  “Now, Janny, tell me,” he began, “what the fuck are you doing here? I thought you were in New York.”

  Chapter Two

  January Louise Gallimore was a nobody destined to be somebody.

  Growing up as the youngest child and only daughter of five, she was a short, chubby child with a headful of mousy brown hair—which her mother insisted was the color of “dishwater blonde.”

  Always the farmer’s daughter, she preferred flannel and denim to rhinestones and sparkles. She was a smart girl who studied hard, and she had a circle of like-minded friends through the 4H program and her scouting groups.

  Until that scorching, Midwestern summer of bonfires in the fields with her brothers and their cool older friends…when January made a red-hot discovery of her own.

  His name was Michael Komenecki. Michael was tall, blond and tanned from ripping his shirt off every day as he worked on his own family’s farm down the road. Michael was sixteen to her fourteen years, and January recognized his appeal. She also realized that Michael seemed to have a preference for girls with very dark hair.

  During that time, she’d also found a new love for the vegetables they grew right on the family’s hundred-acre homestead. She’d dropped some weight and colored her hair jet black with navy blue highlights, and she never looked back.

  By August, Michael had taken notice, and nothing thrilled her more than to have him drive her to her first day of high school. However, as September transcended into October, January found her eyes wandering to Nick Walters in drama club, which she’d joined just to have the chance to see him.

  Nick introduced January to big Broadway musicals, and she found that she could actually carry a tune. Her time spent in children’s choir had paid off.

  In the springtime, they co-starred as Hugo and Kim in the high school’s production of Bye, Bye Birdie. She lost her virginity to him on opening night. Six months later, Nick came out of the closet, but January was fine with that. At that point, she had already moved on to her next conquest, Tommy Mancini.

  The world changed for January once she started dating Tommy. He was a teenage girl’s dream, with his gelled brown hair and crisp blue eyes. He came from a good family that owned the most popular pizzeria within fifty miles. Every girl in her class always hoped he’d make their deliveries. He was never short on tip money.

  Most people, though, didn’t know about Tommy’s fondness for the darker side of romance. By their third date, January slept with him, and as date number four rolled around, Tommy revealed his Alpha side.

  He’d taken January to the hayloft and told her to strip. After tying her up with her brother’s rodeo lasso, Tommy left her there, wrapped in rope and all alone. Rather than fight him, January embraced the thrill of being bound—and the daring possibility of getting caught.

  When Tommy returned an hour later, he untied her and spanked her over his knee. Much to his shock, January couldn’t stop coming. The harder he cracked her, the harder she throbbed. She, too, surprised herself with her body’s reaction.

  Later, she would realize how stupid that whole scenario was. No Dominant man in his right mind would leave a woman alone in a barn the way Tommy did. However, they were young, and she blamed naivete.

  It wasn’t long before they began to experiment with ice cubes, candle wax and any implement that Tommy could find in the barn to strike her ass. She never realized that what they were doing had a name until she decided to give a look online.

  What she discovered alarmed and aroused her.

  A website of free erotic stories taught her so many lessons. Sometimes, she’d send the titillating tales to Tommy so that they could reenact the scenes. Some lazy afternoons, she spent hours, pouring over the sex toy sites and dreaming of her own collection. Along the way, she decided that she was indeed a submissive in the world of Bondage, Discipline and Sadomasochism—and Tommy was more than happy to oblige her.

  While their resources were limited, Tommy and January explored their every fantasy together. However, good things didn’t always last forever. A year ahead of her, Tommy went away to college. January spent the two following weeks, drowning in the depths of depression. She cried not for the loss of love, but for the dirty, filthy sex she craved.

  In Tommy’s absence, she knew she had to focus on the next stage of her life, graduating high school. Based on her two greatest loves—sex and acting—January considered a move to Los Angeles to break into the porn industry. However, she knew that her brothers would probably kill her—especially her closest sibling, Charlie.

  However, she did have some choices to make. January just couldn’t see herself spending the next four years behind a classroom door. Modeling wasn’t an option because she was too short. She did enjoy her time on stage, and she made her decision. Sight unseen, she moved to New York to pursue a career on Broadway. January had never been to the city before, and her parents thought she was crazy.

  Lost in her own fantasies, January truly lived like Thoroughly Modern Millie
for the first few months. She found a room at a women’s boarding house, and she had to admit that she had fun there. The vibe was young, and everyone had huge dreams of making a life in the big city.

  With her job as a waitress in a popular theater district eatery, she got by. Quickly, she realized, that it was all about tits for tips. Working so close to the theater community, she also aspired to meet some producers or casting agents.

  In between work and open casting auditions, she also made time to uncover the underground sex scene. After several blind dates with perverted men seeking young, naïve women, she met her first Dom at a munch. January never called it love, but she held a profound respect for him. He was in his forties and divorced twice, and he taught her how to embrace the pain as a reward in her sexual exploration.

  With him, January discovered the sex clubs of New York. He never forced her to partake in any activity, but he wanted her to broaden her understanding of the lifestyle while he reinforced the importance of safety and discretion.

  During their relationship, she also made her first trip to Paris, and January fell in love immediately. She adored New York, but there was just something so quaint and romantic about the City of Light that left her wanting more than seven days.

  As they stood on the overlook from the Basilica of Sacre Coeur, with the entire panoramic view of the city before them, January promised herself that she’d live in Paris—somehow, some way.

  However, their relationship dwindled, and she moved to New Jersey with two girls she knew at the boarding house in an effort to save some money. While she continued to work in the city, her coveted roles on stage were few and far between. She’d done a couple of off-off-Broadway shows and joined a local theater company. Determination fueled her spirit, but she knew she couldn’t carry on as the starving actress forever.

  January gave herself until her twenty-fifth birthday before calling it a day with her acting career. She had to be a realist. Perhaps, she’d go back to school for fashion. Although January hadn’t given up on her quest to be known the world over, she did understand that she might have to resort to alternative methods.

  Occasionally, she’d supplement her income with a gig at a comedy den. No one could laugh at herself quite like January could, and her observations of New York City seemed to amuse the audience.

  Never did she expect to receive a call from a talent scout for one of the big weekend sketch comedy shows.

  Weeks passed after her first audition. January tried to put the thought of stardom out of her head, but she still clung to her dream. She was twenty-three years old, and she still had time. But dammit, she really wanted that gig.

  Once the call to audition for the show’s executive producer finally came, life as January knew it spiraled into a whirlwind.

  Within two days, she was invited to become a regular on the show. In conjunction with the writers, she created some new characters for the next season. The critics adored her sense of humor—and her look. The old pinup gal had made a comeback through January Gallimore’s freshman season on the show.

  In truth, the skits were packed with new talent, and the show received a renaissance in its popularity. Before May sweeps, when ratings were most critical, she’d already signed her first movie contract for a romantic comedy to be filmed during her summer hiatus from the show.

  At last, she’d finally placed her stamp on the world—and she’d just beaten her twenty-fifth birthday deadline by seconds. In celebration, she took herself to Paris in between her filming schedule. Never one to squander, she’d continued to live on the cheap in New Jersey. Life was unpredictable. She could be the “It Girl” one day and forgotten the next, but she deserved a little treat.

  While in France, she’d been referred to a Parisian munch by some friends in the BDSM community in New York. Although those secret gatherings required an invitation, the members certainly did not discriminate.

  It was also on that trip when she met a certain Xavier Ranard. Rather than hooking up with a French Dom to have on the side for her European adventures—because she’d planned many more—she met her best friend in Xavier.

  A twenty-something gay switch who toiled around the hallowed halls of the House of Chanel by day, Xavier was the perfect complement to January’s own lofty goals. Naturally, in between his daily world of haute couture and his transition between Domination and submission, Xavier worked on his own fashion line.

  In an instant, he’d hand-picked January to be his muse.

  Admittedly, January loved clothes, but she hadn’t really thought about creating an image. Her new best friend opened her eyes to a whole new world, and she discovered a sleek vintage style to debut on her first Red Carpet.

  Once she’d returned home, though, January had little time to think of fashion or sex—or travel. Just as she wrapped filming of her first movie, the second season began with higher ratings and grander expectations than the last.

  At twenty-five, she held the world in the palm of her hand.

  She’d been a guest on the Tonight Show, while Entertainment Tonight and Access Hollywood had profiled her extensively. Cosmo and Glamour wanted to know what shade of red lipstick she wore, and Women’s Wear Daily and Vogue clamored to find out who designed her forties-inspired wardrobe.

  Of course, Xavier created a new outfit for her for every appearance. She even took him as her date to the Emmy Awards. She’d lost, but they partied the night away—and the film and fashion press took note of her classic burgundy A-line dress. Within a month, Xavier gave his notice at Chanel, confident that the funding he’d received for his own line would translate into the success of an international brand.

  Too much had happened so quickly between them, but somehow, they made time for their friendship—whether it was a long weekend of theater in London or a quick jaunt for Xavier across the pond to spend a few days with January in her new studio that she’d bought in Manhattan. Once, he’d even spent a month with her in Los Angeles. While she worked on the set of her next film, he made sales calls to the hottest boutiques on Rodeo Drive with his private trunk show.

  Together, they made a powerhouse duo—the young gay designer and the beloved new star of the romantic comedy. January was adored by men and women alike, and Xavier’s designs dressed her with perfection.

  While January remained frugal, she also knew just how much more she could make with a film career over her regular gig in sketch comedy. After two seasons, she’d decided to call it quits to fulfill the offers that came in from Hollywood. Of course, she told Xavier long before she made noises to the creators of the show.

  In fact, Xavier was also first to know of her clandestine affair with an A-list actor with whom she co-starred in her latest film. Of course, January kept their trysts under wraps because they were only fucking. He was a mere amusement—not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, but he knew how to wield a whip.

  However, January didn’t realize just how stupid he was until his ex-girlfriend hacked into his phone and sold some revealing photos of their sadomasochistic affair to The National Enquirer.

  In a matter of hours, January plummeted from America’s sweetheart to the local slut, tied up and showing off her welted ass to the world.

  While the photos published in the magazine were rough, the slideshow continued online with graphic images straight from the dungeon. Before she had a chance to blink, all the celebrity glossies had copies—and everyone had something to say. Their erotic play exceeded bondage and spankings. Photos emerged of her so-called Master wearing a black hood. Shots of January blindfolded and affixed to the St. Andrew’s Cross with two disguised men made their way to racier outlets.

  Women were crushed that their beloved heroine could stoop to such lows for degrading sexual pleasures. Men secretly harbored perverse fantasies of January. Meanwhile, her former lover found a surge in his popularity, and he signed on to a superhero film within days.

  Outside her small apartment building, the press swarmed, waiting
for the vixen to appear. However, from the online coverage that warned her of the circus on her doorstep—and from the neighbors pounding on her door to curse her for tarnishing the luxury building’s image—January couldn’t leave her own studio.

  To add insult to injury, the producers of her next film called to say that they were canceling her contract. She certainly couldn’t play the ingenue with a reputation such as the one she obviously masqueraded to the world.

  Crushed, she slumped into despair for the first time in her life. She considered phoning a shrink. However, she didn’t trust anyone, and she wasn’t quite sure of what she’d tell a therapist. She just happened to enjoy it when men were rough with her.

  The Gallimore clan held mixed feelings about the scandal. Her parents refused to talk to her, but her brothers attempted to support her from afar. Naturally, they weren’t proud of their sister’s antics, but they still loved her.

  When she stopped answering her phone, Xavier stepped in to save her. He flew straight from Paris and met the crowd outside her apartment in New York. That evening, they hatched a plan to sneak her off to Paris via the back exit of her building. She’d simply stay with him until the fuss died down.

  As hard as she tried to escape the drama brewing back home, especially the angered calls from her mother that spewed utter disappointment, she couldn’t shake the blues. Her career was finished after one stupid mistake.

  The French, however, still embraced her. No one really seemed to care about what she did behind closed doors. Fans even continued to ask for her autograph on the rare occasion that she left Xavier’s apartment in the gay Marais.

  However, Xavier knew he had to give her life some purpose. Otherwise, she’d just sink into depression. January always got back on her feet, and she could do it again. He decided that his only option was to invite her to star in his next runway show during the illustrious Fashion Week in Paris.

  Naturally, she offered him every excuse in the book—from the fact that she was too short to the reality that she could potentially ruin his reputation. However, Xavier persisted and insisted. When rehearsals began, he threatened to tie her up and drag her to the venue. January reminded him that she’d probably enjoy that too much, but she followed him toward the old catwalk begrudgingly.