SMITTEN (Paris Après Minuit)

by Juliet Braddock

  When she tried to wrap her legs around him, Nigel hindered her movement by weighing her ankles with his own muscular legs. He held her captive, only permitting the rock of her hips against him.

  The rush from his restraint brought January to yet another level of discovery and lust. Nigel might have been green to the intricacies of being her Dom, but she couldn’t deny that she enjoyed this blend of Vanilla and kink that he brought to her life.

  While she closed around him, Nigel bit down into her breast as he felt the clamp of her femininity around his cock. The echoes of their loving fluttered out of the open window.

  “I need you…need you...need you…” he whispered as his lips made their rough way over hers. “Oh…January!”

  Leading her with his hips and his cock, he danced her ever closer to the brink of paradise. All the while, the grip of his hands tightened, and the pressure of his legs increased to pinion her. She struggled, but only weakly. So lost in concentric circles of wild abandon, January allowed the pleasure to deplete her energy.

  And Nigel drove so deep. With every thrust, she matched him, accentuating the pleasure with just a shot of pain. The harder he hammered into her wet, open lips, she grunted and panted, exceeding her own tolerance.

  Now, they were just fucking. Gratuitously fucking. And January didn’t give a damn. She adored him—tender and rough, both at the same time.

  “I’m coming…oh, fuck, I am coming…”

  “So am I…” he said through gritted teeth. “Fight me.”

  “Wha-at?”

  “Fight me…” he said again. “Fight me, dammit, January!”

  Finally, Nigel loosened his grip, enabling January to struggle. Kicking and flailing, she babbled in the midst of her orgasm. “Oh, stop! Stop! You’re hurting me…you…are…killing me. You’re killing me…”

  And just as Nigel felt his control give way to his orgasm, the tap came to the window.

  “What the devil is going on in there?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Oh, no! It’s Nigel isn’t it?” the frantic voice panicked. “Is he alright?”

  Lawrence looped his arm around his wife’s waist and led her away from the bedroom window. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, he had to shield Clarissa from their son’s newly adopted philandering ways.

  “There are certain things that sons sometimes do that mothers should not see,” Lawrence told her, mustering as much decorum as he could.

  “Is he with her again?”

  “Oh, Clarissa,” Lawrence winced, “I don’t think she left last night.”

  “At least she’s a woman of the world—or so we’ve read online.”

  Lawrence didn’t exactly share everything he’d discovered about January with his wife. While he was secretly proud of Nigel for wooing such a provocative star, he had to save face in front of Clarissa. The truth might destroy her. He just hoped that his wife was satisfied with just the word of January’s international fame. She didn’t need to know what went on behind closed doors.

  “Mum? Dad?” Nigel’s voice called out from a distance. He’d scurried into a clean pair of boxers and t-shirt. “What in heaven’s name are you doing?”

  “You stay here,” Lawrence whispered to Clarissa. “I’ll deal with the boy.”

  “Tell him to put some shoes on—he’ll catch cold. He always did that as a child, running around in his bare feet. And then a day later, he’d be sick.” Clarissa’s face soured at the thought.

  As his father approached the door, Nigel demanded, “What the bloody hell is going on this morning?”

  “It’s almost noon,” Lawrence informed him. “And what’s going on with you? When you didn’t show up for breakfast, Mum got worried. You didn’t answer your phone. The stables were empty…”

  “Maybe I decided to take some time off for a couple of days,” Nigel said.

  “Well, obviously, you have,” Lawrence said and then stopped. For a moment, he had to turn away. “You know how Mum worries.”

  In truth, there was a time after Charlotte’s death when Nigel’s parents feared leaving him alone. To his credit, Nigel found help, talked to a therapist and even took medication until he made it through the worst of his grief and depression. However, his parents couldn’t let their terrifying thoughts go.

  “What about the horses?” Lawrence questioned.

  “I texted Philippe this morning, and he fed them and groomed them,” Nigel explained. “Marcel will come this afternoon.”

  “Nigel, just tell me,” Lawrence began, “what’s going on here?”

  “I think you figured that out when you were playing Peeping Tom at my bedroom window.” Nigel loved his parents, but he wasn’t about to hide his anger over their grand attempt to snoop.

  “You do know who she is, don’t you?” Lawrence asked in the same manner in which he scolded Nigel as a child.

  “Yes, I know who she is, Dad.”

  “Well, I suppose you’ll never have a chance at something like that again, hanging out in the stables all the time, as you do,” Lawrence said thoughtfully. “Don’t tell Mum, but I say go for it.”

  First, Nigel peered inside the door to make sure January wasn’t in hearing range, and then he turned to his father, eyes widening as his anger began to rise. “DAD!”

  “Hush, son. We don’t want to draw attention here,” Lawrence spat with a look across the lawn to his wife. “Now…I know we never had this talk, but you do know all about using Johnnies, right? I’m guessing you found out along the way—perhaps at Uni. I guess I just have to trust that your information is all correct…but—I don’t think we’re prepared for grandchildren quite yet.”

  “I…” Nigel wondered if his father sometimes enjoyed taunting him. “I am not even going to entertain this discussion.”

  “Just tell me one thing. Are they real? Her…you know…” Lawrence gestured, indicating a woman’s breasts.

  Now, Nigel just couldn’t take another second; however, he never lost his sense of calm. “Please get off my front porch before I say something that no son should ever say to his father.”

  As Nigel took his father’s arm, Lawrence moved to the top step. “You’re alright, though, Nigel?”

  “I am fine.”

  “She’s a screamer, that Gallimore girl…”

  Nigel pointed to his parents’ car in the drive, parked right behind his. “Father…go!”

  As Nigel closed the front door behind him, Clarissa asked Lawrence, “He didn’t really try to kill her, did he?”

  “I certainly hope not, Clarissa,” he said. “I certainly hope not.”

  # # #

  “I cannot believe my parents caught us…”

  January stood in the bathroom door with her wet hair pulled into a braid. Although Nigel was mortified, she couldn’t stop laughing. “Remind me to close the window the next time we have a session like that one.” She reached up and hooked her arms around his neck. “And what a session that was. I think you’re getting into this whole idea of domination.”

  While she kissed him to deter his thoughts from his parents, Nigel rambled on. “My father just put me through the ringer!”

  “Are they going to call me on the proverbial carpet when I return to the manor house later?”

  “January! That’s not even funny,” he said while she slipped her hand into his boxers for a feel. “Will you please stop that and listen to me?”

  “You have my full attention,” she said but didn’t move her hand. “I heard every word you said. In a nutshell, you’re mortified. Now, moving on…”

  “I feel like…goodness, I feel like I just got felt-up by my own father.”

  “Oh, come on,” she teased as she tickled his balls. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

  “He asked me if your breasts are real…”

  Folding her arms over her chest in mocked embarrassment, she opened her mouth wide. She’d heard that same question so many times over the years that Lawrence�
�s curiosity didn’t even make her flinch. “No, he didn’t.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “You told him they’re pure silicone, right?” she asked.

  Shock and sadness clouded his eyes. Nigel’s jaw dropped in the wake of realization. “They’re…they’re not real?”

  “Gotcha!” she shouted and opened her towel to flash him. “Of course, they’re real. I’m just…endowed.”

  Relief masked all of the doubts on his face. “Oh, thank goodness,” he blurted out. “Not that the…other option would be…bad…but…”

  “One-hundred percent, all-natural,” she said and cupped her tits for him, but Nigel ignored her.

  “We need to get ready. We need to get out of here. I have to shower.”

  “Aw, I should have waited for you…”

  “It’s noon,” he reflected his father’s reminder. “We have places to go today!”

  “Wow, we’re up early.” Dropping the towel, she returned her hands to his cock. “Especially after that wild sex we had today. One more round? For the road?”

  Poor Nigel just couldn’t resist her charms—or those tiny little hands that worked over his stiffening cock. “Just once,” he acquiesced as she kissed him again, and then he jerked away to look at her sternly. “For the road.”

  # # #

  “Well, look what the cat has dragged in,” Xavier folded his arms as January rolled down the car window. Nigel insisted that he needed to get something from his mother’s house, and January just couldn’t fight him. First round won, Nigel promised he’d punish her for arguing. At least they were progressing with his training.

  “Hi, Xav…” January pulled her scarf over her head. She was still dressed in the same clothes from the night before, and luckily, they had dried nicely from the rain shower. “How’s Lenny?”

  “She misses her mother, but she loves Uncle Xav.” His voice stung with petulance. “However, Nigel’s kind mother has been dropping carrots by the door, so she’s eating—and Uncle Xav has been cleaning the cage.”

  While Xavier continued to pout, Nigel told her, “Alright, I’m going to make a run for this. I will be as quick as possible, and if my father should turn up, roll up that window.”

  With a salute and an amused smile, January said, “Yes…Sir…” She only hoped that his parents wouldn’t force him to endure another round of questions.

  “Maestro—but not now, in front of Xav!”

  “Oh, Nigel, he swings all ways,” she assured him. “He’s the last person you have to worry about. Now, go do whatever it is that you won’t tell me about, and we’ll be off to wherever you’re taking me.”

  “Very well, then….”

  As Nigel dashed into the house, Xavier leaned down to whisper to January. “You owe me drinks so that we can catch up on your adventures.”

  “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

  “Janvier, anything that will take your mind off Etienne makes me sing with happiness.” Xavier couldn’t hide his smug grin. “Besides, I found a gay bathhouse in town that I am dying to try. I will not be texting this afternoon. Not that it matters—you just ignore my texts.”

  “What texts?” In truth, she hadn’t checked her phone in over twelve hours.

  “My point exactly,” he said. “Like the one this morning—warning you that our lovely hosts were making a visit to their son? And the one afterward, when I eavesdropped on how they caught you two, screaming in Nigel’s bedroom.”

  Now, it was January’s turn to blush. “Oh, fuck.”

  “Oh, fuck, indeed, chérie.” Although Xavier couldn’t stop laughing, he managed to mimic Clarissa. “According to Madame Hereford-Smyth, you were wailing something about Nigel killing you?”

  “I’m…uh…teaching him how to scene.”

  Xavier doubled over and had to hold on to the door to keep his balance. “You’re teaching him how to be a Dom? That meek, clumsy, blue-blooded boy toy? Oh, Janvier…”

  “Alright, stop it now,” January demanded. “You’d be surprised.”

  “Oh, I’m just happy you’re getting some sex on this trip. Now, tell me all about his cock. How many times in a row can he make you come?”

  “Xavier!”

  As she began to roll the window up, he placed his hand on the pane to try to stop her. “How many?”

  “I lost count!” And as the gap closed at the top, protecting her from Xavier’s torture, she stuck her tongue out at him.

  # # #

  Meanwhile, Nigel scrambled in his mother’s kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets in a rush to beat her back from the garden. However, his luck ran very short. He swore it was maternal instinct that led Clarissa through the back door with her arms filled with fresh flowers. Molly and Dickens trotted along behind her.

  “Nigel, what brings you here? And where is your…um…lady friend?”

  When he turned, Nigel spotted the embarrassment in his mother’s eyes. “I just need a picnic basket. Where is it, Mum?”

  Clarissa raised a perfect brow and cocked her head. Desperation resonated in her son’s voice. “For a picnic with Miss Gallimore?”

  “Mum, where is it?”

  “You know, she’s a very nice girl…” Clarissa made her slow way to the giant pantry, but she stopped to pet the dogs along the way. “She seems kind—for a celebrity of her stature. And she does love animals. Not so good in the kitchen, but that can be learned.”

  In the heat of his frustration, Nigel groaned. “Please…just…give me the picnic basket!”

  “Well, I have three,” she explained as she opened the cupboard door. “I keep spares in case our guests decide to take a little lunch with them for the day. And they’re awfully high up on the shelf. Your father usually gets them down for me.”

  Pushing past his mother, he reached up to snag the biggest one with ease. Of course, it was already packed with a large tablecloth, utensils and stemware. He just didn’t have time for small talk, and he certainly didn’t want to discuss January. Onward to the fridge, Nigel made it in three strides, and then he began to raid her selection of fresh fruits and cheeses.

  “Nigel, that’s for our guests!”

  “January’s a guest, isn’t she?” he challenged as he tossed everything into the basket, taking more than they could ever eat in an afternoon.

  When Clarissa returned her attention to the dogs, he pulled the condoms from his pockets and tossed those in, too. No one ever knew when the mood would strike January for a quick one. Next, he took on the wine cooler and grabbed a bottle.

  “Opener?” he asked his mother.

  “It’s already packed in there,” she said. “Well, if you’re taking her on a picnic, you should bring her some flowers, too. Here, take these. Let me fix them up nicely for you, and—”

  “I don’t have time for nice, Mother,” he insisted. “Just give me…”

  However, Clarissa had to fashion the florals into a pretty bouquet, taking the time to find her decorative ribbon to tie them up for her son.

  “There.” She held up the bouquet to admire her work—a mix of lilies and hydrangeas in pink, blue and purple. “I suppose I’ll just pick some more while I send your father to the farmer’s market up the road to replace everything you’ve taken for your lunch, but that’s alright. As long as you’re happy, we’re all happy.”

  “Mum?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “I love you.” Nigel bounced a quick kiss off her cheek. “But I have to go. We don’t have much time…”

  “She’s not leaving, is she? Not so soon? Nigel…? Nigel!”

  However, he barreled out of the house just as quickly as he’d stomped in, and he quickly made his way to the trunk of his car to hide his wares. He wanted the afternoon to be a complete surprise for January, and he commanded perfection. As much as he hated to admit it to his mother, the flowers were a lovely touch.

  Xavier had left for his trip to the spa and sauna in town, which left January alone in the car. Once Nigel hopped
in the driver’s seat, he turned to her with a calculating look in his eyes.

  “All good?” she asked.

  “Not quite…” In one quick move, he removed her scarf, and he didn’t give her the chance to protest. “I’m blindfolding you.”

  “Yes!” January cheered and pumped her fist.

  She only wore a light layer of makeup that day, just for Nigel, and she found herself accepting of the new look. It was bright and fresh, but she was sure that part of the nuance was her happiness shining through. Her smile truly livened her features, and she hadn’t grinned so genuinely in a very long time.

  “I like this,” he said with a tug to her braid. “You look so formal with your hair on top of your head. Wear it down. Put it in a ponytail. You look beautiful.”

  For all of his wealth, Nigel still appreciated the simplicities of life, and January admired that in him. Warmth flooded her heart and seeped into her veins, giving her a sweet but sexual rush like none other. However, January had to lighten the moment. “Oh, I so love a pony tail.”

  “That’s adorable.”

  “No, Nigel,” she said. “Literally, a horse tail—for my ass. I have one.”

  His laughter tickled her neck as he carefully tied the scarf at the back of her head. “You didn’t bring it with you, by chance, did you?”

  “Maybe…”

  “Ah…” He kissed her neck. “So enigmatic, you are…”

  “No, I’m really not sure,” she tried to explain. “Xav tossed my toys into my trunk, and—”

  “Your toys?” he interrupted.

  “You know—vibrators, teasers, those kinds of things—because Xavier thought I might need them.”

  “Maybe we’ll have to arrange a playdate to…ahem…play with some of those toys.” He tightened his knot and turned her to face forward in her seat. “Right now, though, we’re going on a little journey.”

  Although she would have loved to see the sights surrounding them, she figured she could always play tourist on their way home. His unexpected use of her scarf turned her on in ways she hadn’t anticipated. She almost felt free to tell him anything.