SMITTEN (Paris Après Minuit)

by Juliet Braddock

  “So…” he began, looking down into his ice cream cup. “Shall we spend the night at that hotel room I haven’t stayed in? I can collect my things, and maybe…”

  “Maybe what?”

  “Maybe I can just stay with you the rest of the time while I am in Paris…”

  “Oh?” she raised her two perfectly threaded and penciled eyebrows. She loved him, but she didn’t harbor any guilt in giving him a taste of his own medicine. “Ohhh…”

  “Perhaps we shall discuss it in the morning—over breakfast in bed,” he suggested. “Oh, but you don’t eat!”

  “Come here.” January beckoned him with the spoon in her hand.

  Leaning in, he smiled. “Yes, Janny?”

  Without warning, she slathered his nose with a dollop of strawberry daiquiri sorbet.

  “January…”

  “Whatcha gonna do?” She threw her arms in the air and giggled while he quickly moved to wipe away the sticky red mess from his face. “Punish me?”

  It took all of two seconds for Etienne to revert to Dom mode. His eyes narrowing, he dropped his napkin on the table. He still had a speck of red sorbet on his face.

  “Yes, I do intend to punish you.”

  “You’ve gotta catch me first…”

  In a whirlwind, she got up and nearly skipped out of the tiny shop with Etienne following at her heels. As she bumped into another customer, she apologized quickly and made a straight line for the door. January just hoped she remembered where the fuck he’d parked.

  Navigating her way through the evening pedestrian traffic, she looked behind her just to make sure he followed her lead. They’d played this game of chase before. He always allowed her to gain a lead on him, but he watched from a close distance.

  At the bridge, she hesitated for a moment, and Etienne grabbed her from behind and reached for her hand. “There’s no affection in this,” he told her. “I’m holding your hand like one does a small child—so that you don’t run away from me again.”

  “Why don’t you just put me in the corner?” she spat. “Or spank me?”

  “Oh, I wasn’t planning on being that kind this evening.” He took her arm and guided her in the direction of his parking space. Like a lazy schoolgirl, she shuffled her feet with every step. “Stop behaving like a brat, January. Straighten the fuck up. Or you’re really going to face some trouble.”

  Picking up her pace, she marched beside him, determined to keep up with his brisk steps. He’d take her back to his hotel, discipline her and then fuck her. The routine was fine for that night, but she just needed more.

  Slowly, the notion emerged that they were merely fucking now. She thought she loved him, but doubts crept into her mind. She just wasn’t sure if she should accept the blame or shift to it Etienne.

  Sometimes, January wondered if she was too demanding. Perhaps, she should have lingered in the comfort zone of habit. They adored each other, and before this storm cloud formed over her head, things were fine between them. Maybe letting all of this drama in her mind go would bring them back to normalcy. However, she couldn’t ignore her heart. And January couldn’t just settle for fine. She needed more…

  Once they were both settled in the car, disappointment shrouded his eyes. “You cannot buckle your own seatbelt?” he barked and then did it for her. “Now what do you say?”

  She folded her arms over the straps and just looked at him.

  “I swear, you are worse than my daughters. Do I have to repeat myself?”

  Those red lips plumped with her glower. “Thank you, Master…”

  As he cruised down Rue de Rivoli, they passed the Louvre, which stretched along the street like a long, lazy cat. The halls were dark now, hosting the ghosts and secrets of the world’s greatest artists—which prompted January to wonder what would become of her image after she died. Would she just be remembered for her movies, if at all? Would she ever have a family to carry on that memory? Her chances seemed to decrease by the day. If she stayed with Etienne, she’d have to convince him to have a reversal of his vasectomy. But if she left him…

  If she left Etienne, she might never find a love like his again.

  Zooming down the street, they passed the entrance to Place Vendôme, the most luxurious square in all of Paris. The House of Chanel and the Paris Ritz lined the cobblestone corridor.

  January remembered staying there with him not long after they met. She remembered kissing him in the middle of a rainstorm on that plaza. Every corner of the city seemed to hold a memory of Etienne.

  Dammit, there she was again…crawling on her hands and knees, awaiting her salvation with Etienne. January began to hate herself for her weakness. However, her panties were already wet, and she fought the seatbelt strap.

  “Fuck!” she shouted. “Motherfucker!”

  Etienne’s eyes cascaded from the road to January, then returned to the traffic once more. “Janny? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she insisted and stuck her thumb in her mouth, chipping at the polish while he turned into the Plaza Athènée parking garage. “I’m just…fine…”

  And that was it. She wasn’t happy or sad. She was simply waiting for answers that she would never force. Or so Etienne thought…

  This time, she planned to make the decisions herself, as she did with everything outside her relationship with Etienne. If Stella could get her groove back, so the hell could January Gallimore. And she’d do it with just as much pride and self-esteem as her literary counterpart.

  All the while, the soundtrack of his life continued to play from his iPhone. John Lennon nearly burst the windows on that damn car with “Just Like Starting Over,” and as Etienne pulled the car into his regular parking slot, he released the wheel, turned to January and slammed his lips to hers.

  Under his not-so-gentle manipulation, she reveled in the feeling of the life that lived within her soul. Intrinsically, she’d always lived on the edge of peril. She thrived upon danger, awakening with the wonder of what the fuck might happen next, regardless of the consequences.

  Caution met the wind in that kiss. Bristly and burning against her delicate skin, his chin scratched her, and the tip of his nose bumped against hers. Etienne swallowed her breath. As his hand reached for her breasts, her heart filled with unfulfilled need…

  “Walk it,” he said and reached his arm wide to pull on the door handle on January’s side. “Back to the lobby and up to my room—like a lady.”

  In the heat of the moment, January tried to consider what was right with her life…but everything seemed so damn wrong.

  “You are in some trouble tonight,” he taunted as she continued along. Hell, she knew the stroll from the garage to the lobby with her eyes closed, and it pissed her off that he spent so much time there.

  Yet she couldn’t fight the party ensuing in her panties. She craved him. When they weren’t together, she masturbated incessantly in wait for their reunion. During those long weeks away, he obliged her needs on the phone and on Facetime. Desire for him never ran dry—even when she was pissed off at him.

  Through the lobby, they rushed toward the elevator. Neither one of them were in the mood to deal with fans. Of course, the car filled up before she could hit the close button, and they stopped on every other floor.

  Once they’d arrived at his suite, Etienne took her by the arm and whispered, “You are going to pack my things for me while I get ready for your punishment. Do it quickly. And be neat. Or I’ll add to your woes this evening.”

  Just as she was told, January headed for the bedroom and opened the closet. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the scent of him. He always wore that rugged but clean fragrance of Clive Christian’s 1872. French men and their cologne. She could always smell it on his hands when he caressed her face. She just had to bury her nose in his shirts for a moment, reliving all the sweet and sultry memories that flooded her mind.

  However, she realized the significance of this act. Etienne wanted her to pack his clothes to show her t
hat he was giving her what she wanted—at least temporarily. Still, her heart remained conflicted.

  From the main salon, his voice echoed softly. He was on the phone with someone, arranging something. Engrossed in her own work, she took each article and folded the clothes into piles on the bed. Etienne still kept so many of his personal possessions at the home he once shared with Alice. Initially, January thought that he might have had thoughts of moving back in with ex-wife. Now, though, January knew he was only using the space for storage. Whether he and January survived as a couple or not, Etienne had no love in his heart for Alice.

  Just as she’d zipped his last Vuitton suitcase, she turned to find him standing in the doorway. “Finished?”

  “Timing me?”

  “A yes or no would suffice.”

  Turning around, she stood aside while Etienne inspected her work. He’d even double-checked the closets and drawers to make sure that she hadn’t forgotten anything. “Yes, Master.”

  “I can see,” he began with the crack of his knuckles, “that you might need some extra help tonight in your submission.”

  As he circled around her, he reached for the zipper at the back of her dress and gave it a swift drag all the way down her back. One more pull from the front released her arms. Her breasts distended from the lace cups of her bra. She felt so overdressed. She needed the freedom that nudity brought her. She needed to be bare for him.

  Dammit, she loathed this battle between her wits and her vagina.

  “Out of everything,” he commanded. “And then close your eyes. You’re going to have a lesson in feeling tonight.”

  Hurrying out of her clothes, she rushed to accommodate his order, but then she waited. Around and around, he walked, and his hands dared to give her ass a pinch or her nipples a pluck. As the band of silk covered her eyes, she knew she might be in some real trouble.

  With his arm around her waist, he pulled her close. “I’ve got you…”

  She knew that they’d left the bedroom as they moved from carpet to hardwood. So skilled in her submission, she knew how to compensate when he eliminated one of her senses. Just to add a layer of confusion, he walked her around the suite—in and out of the bedroom and bathroom and all over the main living area. He’d left the windows open, and she felt the breeze against her naked skin. However, she had no idea if he’d bothered to close the curtains.

  When the doorbell rang suddenly, January tripped on her own two feet as her heart began to thud wildly. Etienne caught her to break her fall.

  He didn’t seem in any kind of hurry as he walked her to what she thought was either the small kitchen area or the bathroom. The tiles all brought the same chill to her feet. “Stay right there,” he whispered. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

  Temptation filled her, but January didn’t twitch a muscle. She could have easily lifted his makeshift blindfold, but she remained in place for her own safety. Just as she placed her faith in his skills as her sexual Master, January had to reciprocate and convince him that he could also trust her.

  From the living room, she heard a second male voice, and her breath accelerated into panic mode. Multiple partners were in her past. Now, she only wanted one man. Etienne knew her thoughts on monogamy, and she hoped he didn’t betray her.

  Although she tried hard to listen, she couldn’t understand their muffled voices, rattling quickly in French. She heard him laugh gutturally as if someone had just told a vulgar joke. She just hoped that joke wasn’t on her.

  When the doorbell rang a second time, her mind exploded with suspicions. Certainly, he hadn’t arranged an orgy in five minutes—unless he’d planned this all along.

  A second male voice befuddled her. Etienne knew better. He wouldn’t just plot some crazy sexual rampage without talking to her first.

  At least she hadn’t thought so in the past…

  She wanted to pace, but she was afraid to move. The fact that she doubted his trust weighed upon her. This was the first time she’d ever questioned his motives, and the notion terrified her.

  She wanted to rip off that blindfold and stomp out there to find out what was going on. However, since she already stripped, January stopped herself. She always had her safewords. She’d call Rouge, and his plan would be foiled.

  It sounded as if they were already having a party out there with the bawdy chuckles and comments under their collective breaths. She wondered who else might be on the way to that suite.

  Now, she’d upset herself so much that she couldn’t even think. She just wanted to know what the fuck was going on and make her escape. Dammit, though, she wasn’t about to parade through all those men in the nude, so she was stuck until he revealed his cards. Damn, Etienne. He always loved a good game of Poker.

  What January hated most, however, was this sudden turn of doubt. Mistrust was the first misstep of any Master. She’d played with some dangerous men in her younger years, and she managed to sneak away with her life. After five fucking years, she never thought he’d leave her in a position like this one.

  She’d also noticed the frigidity in the room as if he’d adjusted the thermostat and blasted the air conditioning. Now, she was left on her own, shaking and scared, and there was just no way out. She’d never felt so cold and so alone in her life.

  The seconds passed while the low conversation continued. She wished her French was better, or that her hearing was more accurate. However, when Etienne’s voice bade goodnight to his mystery guests and thanked the men for something unknown, she finally forced herself to calm down.

  Yet when he returned to her, as his steps echoed over the cold tiles, the words fell from January’s lips. “Are those men gone?”

  “You didn’t want them to stay?” he laughed as if that was the most outlandish thing he’d ever heard. Then his hands tickled over her face. “Janny, if there’s one thing that you never have to fear is what we do behind closed doors. I would never compromise your safety—or your limitations.”

  At that moment, his explanation just didn’t suffice. “Then what the fuck were they doing here?”

  “Making a delivery,” he explained and pulled her close to his side but not against him. As angry as she was, she still wanted to feel the hardness of his cock—the true evidence of his desire for her—but he refused her. “Now, when I lift you, raise your legs, and I’ll help you into position.” He took another few seconds to pause. “If you still trust me…”

  Her voice was a mere whisper. “Of course, I trust you, Etienne…”

  Again, she relinquished control, allowing him to maneuver her around. What excited her was the fact that he’d only blindfolded her, yet by the strict rules of his game, she felt as if he’d restrained her. She permitted his predatory personality to take over.

  Into his arms, he hoisted her up, and January made sure to raise her legs in the air. All the while, he talked her through his every move while he eased her down to the next spot. Again, her feet met the chill of porcelain, but that time, it felt just slightly different, if not slippery. Holding on to her waist, Etienne ordered her to sit, and she knew immediately where he’d placed her.

  “The bathtub?”

  “Can you see through that blindfold?” he asked. “Since you’ve guessed, I will tell you that you’re right.”

  Again, his feet marched over the tiles, and when he came back to her side, he said, “I have something for you, Janny, but let’s go over this night first.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “What did you do with your ice cream?”

  “I smudged it all over you, Sir.”

  “And that wasn’t nice.” His footsteps grew louder as he approached her in the tub. “Was it?”

  “No, Sir. It was silly. And mean.”

  “Do you have any idea what it felt like?”

  “No, I don’t,” January admitted.

  “Well, Janny, it sort of feels like this…”

  With a crash, a bucket full of ice hit the tub, covering her legs. Shrie
king over the sudden shock, January fought to compose herself. She wasn’t about to lose a battle.

  Behind her, a second bucket crashed, scuttling the small cubes straight to the crack of her ass. And then he turned the faucet to a slow trickle of chilly water.

  “How does that feel, chérie?”

  Her teeth chattered, but the frigidity against her two most sensitive holes left her feeling alive. The chill burrowed into her bones. Quivering, she stammered as she attempted to answer him. “L-like ice cream…”

  “It’s cold, but it’s not sticky, is it?”

  “Oh! Uh…no…Sir…”

  “How about a little facial? You love those, Janny…”

  The warm chocolate aroma filled her nose, diverting her senses yet again as he spread the heated confection all over her nose and chin. The head chef himself delivered the request, along with the bell cap who brought the ice.

  “How does that feel?” he asked as she stretched her tongue for a lick.

  “Mmm…delicious…”

  And he turned the pressure up on the faucet. “Janny…!”

  Jolting upright, she shook again from the nip of the cold water. “Delicious and gooey, Sir.”

  With her response, he turned the water off. “You sit there and think about it, Janny. Don’t touch yourself—and don’t lick the chocolate.”

  Silence pervaded as he walked that floor once again toward the door.

  It was so cold now in that bathroom that the ice was slow to melt. January sat and fidgeted while she froze. The chocolate mask against her face tickled and itched. While she found both sensations uncomfortable, nothing bothered her more than the nagging arousal that escalated between her legs.

  Rubbing her thighs together, she whimpered, wishing for release. She hated him for walking out on her, and she loved him for the mess in which he’d left her. Most of all, though, she wished she could just make up her damn mind about their fucking relationship without the temptation of sex getting in the way.

  What she didn’t realize was that he stood in the doorway watching her—first, to keep an eye on her because she often lost too much control, and second…because she just looked so fucking beautiful when in peril.