SMITTEN (Paris Après Minuit)

by Juliet Braddock

  Lenny. Now, all roads seemed to lead her back to why she stayed an extra week: she trusted Nigel.

  “I’m not going to cry this time,” Clarissa said, certain that January would hold to her promise to return. “We will see you again, and your first dinner when you return will be at my new little bistro.”

  January took a step back from her embrace with Clarissa, her eyes widening. “You’re really going to do it?”

  “I want those two handsome fellows to start on my project first.” Admittedly, Clarissa had spent so much time playing societal wife and mother that she neglected her own aspirations. Now, it was her turn. “I’d love to have it up and running before summer’s end.”

  January just threw her arms around Clarissa again and hugged her even tighter. “I can’t wait to join you there.”

  “Have a safe trip to Los Angeles, January, and please let Nigel know as soon as you arrive.”

  “Yes, please do,” Nigel added. For once, he was in no hurry to rush her away from his parents. He knew that saying goodbye to them was important to her. “We’ll all be thinking of you.”

  “Some of us a little more often than others,” Lawrence nudged his son and winked at January. Even Clarissa had to laugh.

  Eventually, they got into Nigel’s car, and she rolled down the window to blow a few more kisses and call out her farewell as they pulled away. Sadness tugged at her heart, but she refused to cry. Filming would go fast, and she was just one step closer to seeing them again, she told herself.

  When they reached the long, graveled road to Nigel’s cottage, memories of that beautiful rainy night when she first visited him here flooded her mind. She had no idea how close they would grow in a matter of just two weeks, and now she felt like she’d known him forever. As he parked, he patted his hand over hers. “After Mum’s restaurant renovation, I’m going to talk Dad into finishing up my place.”

  Nigel spoke as if he were planning for their future. Perhaps, he was.

  “I’m sure you’ll figure everything out.”

  “He seems to want to finish the cottages—build things up while business is booming,” Nigel explained. “Maybe that’s where I failed in the world of high finance.”

  As always, he got out of the car and opened her door, taking her hand until she stood up, and then he wrapped his arm around her waist. “Tired yet? We don’t’ have to get started too early tomorrow.”

  “I have some energy left in me,” she said. “And I can’t wait to see what you have in store for us.”

  “Well…actually…” Nigel’s voice trailed off as he unlocked the door and swiped his hand over the light switch in the foyer. “I have a little something for you that I wanted to give you tonight.”

  With a shy smile, January turned away. “And I have a little something for you, too.” She waved her hand toward the bedroom. “Let me go grab it, and I’ll meet you back on the couch.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  When she turned on the light, she found Lenny curled up between their two pillows, fast asleep. She couldn’t resist flopping down beside her beloved bunny for a few pets.

  “Now, you know I’m leaving you with Nigel,” she said, stroking her fingers through Lenny’s thick white fur. “But you like him, don’t you? Almost as much as I do, I think. And you’ll be in good hands. And I promise you, I’ll see you as soon as I can. Mommy just has to go make one of those movies again. But soon…maybe my schedule will be a little lighter.”

  She sat for quite a few minutes with Lenny—so long that it worried Nigel enough to check on her. However, he didn’t have the heart to tell her to leave that sweet rabbit. As he lingered in the doorway in silence, he wondered if she’d replaced her desire to have children with Lenny. However, he dismissed his thoughts and retreated to the living room to wait for her.

  At last, when January came to him, she snuggled Lenny in one arm and clutched a small gift bag with the other.

  “Ah, my two favorite girls,” Nigel slung his arm around her when she settled on the couch. “And I’m proud of you. No tears.”

  “I promised you tonight, but I never guaranteed that I won’t cry at the airport.” In reconfiguring her travel to Los Angeles, she decided to begin her journey from a local airport rather than traveling by train all the way back to Paris. She’d save time in the end, and she could spend a couple more hours with Nigel.

  “Point taken,” he said as he poked around in his pocket. “Listen, January, I just…these two weeks have been so beautiful. And you’ve left your imprint here—with my parents…and with me.” Struggling a bit, he managed to pull out a small velvet jewelry box. “It’s just a little something to remember your time here.”

  For a moment, January wondered if there was a ring beneath that soft lid, but she knew Nigel wouldn’t do anything so spontaneous. Still, her fingers trembled. “Oh, Nigel, this is exquisite! And it’s perfect!”

  Inside the box, a layer of silk nestled a circular pendant that framed bits of dried lavender and baby’s breath inside. This was the perfect memento of her time with him in Provence, and she cherished both its beauty and significance. “Will you put it on me?” Lifting her hair as she turned, she willed herself not to cry. However, a few tears managed to seep through.

  Naturally, Nigel wiped them away. “Do you like it?”

  “I’m going to wear it every single day, and every time I look at it, I’ll think of you.”

  Her lips met his in a hungry kiss, but she still had his gift to give to him. Slowly, she pulled away and caressed her fingers over his mouth. “Likewise, I got you something to remember me by…”

  “Until next time,” he prompted her.

  “Until next time…” Carefully, she passed the bag over to him. “Remember when I just had to go to the cheese shop with your mother?”

  “You were getting this?” He gestured to the bag. “What a little sneak you are…”

  Placing her hands over his before he opened the bag, she gave them a pat. “I just want to tell you—the sentiment behind this gift is the same as yours. I just want you to remember the good times we had these two weeks.” She fumbled for a moment before finishing. “I don’t want to replace anything.”

  As he pulled the small box from the bag, he smiled at January. “A photo album?”

  She fought to control her emotions, so she resorted to rambling. “Thanks to your dad, I printed them all this morning to include every last moment.”

  He gave her knee a squeeze and lifted the lid. As he leafed through the pages slowly, a smile broadened on his face. “January, this is marvelous—absolutely delightful. And I shall treasure this…” Long after you board that flight to Los Angeles, he added in his thoughts. “I’m…I’m touched.”

  “And like I said, I don’t want to replace any other pictures. I just want you to maybe have a look at these—and just know that this time has meant so much to me.”

  “When did you catch my father snuggling with Lenny?” Nigel laughed and held up the album. “Look at him. Proud as a peacock, like that’s his granddaughter or something.”

  For a moment, January allowed herself to wonder about the future with Nigel, but she quickly shook the thought from her mind. She was about to leave him for at least three months, and she had to focus on the moment at hand.

  “You like it?” She wove her fingers into his hair.

  “I love it.” As he flipped through the colorful images a second time, stopping every now and then to reminisce. Both January and Nigel needed this time to reflect and remind each other of just how intense things were between them.

  Rather than spending the night between the sheets, they stayed up and talked until nearly four in the morning. At one point, Nigel even made a pot of tea to go with the scones his mother had baked. And January was just as happy conversing with Nigel as she would have been fucking him.

  When at last they could no longer hold their eyes open, Nigel took the album in his hands again and placed it on top of the antique
gardening book where he’d kept Charlotte’s photo.

  So stunned by his move, January sat back with her quivering lips gaping.

  “No, it’s okay,” he assured her. “I want to be reminded of the happiness that exists in my life right now—not of what could or should have been.”

  “Nigel, I…I know how much that photo means to you. And I’m touched to no end right now…”

  “Please…” He brushed his thumbs beneath her eyes. “Don’t cry.”

  They had to remain strong—for the sake of their budding relationship and for the sake of each other.

  “Just know that these days with you mean more than just pictures.” Now, she was desperate, and she had to believe in herself and in her own words. “Nigel, I care about you. And I’m hoping for—”

  “And I’m hoping, too,” he said and pressed a finger to her lips. “Let’s just leave it there.”

  For her Master, she always obeyed. Now, she had to listen to a different voice—a voice that grounded her and made her feel at home. Where he led her, she now followed without reservation—by his side, rather than three steps behind.

  Ever so slowly, they made their way to the bedroom. And in Nigel’s arms, January and Lenny both fell fast asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  For someone who had only a couple of hours of sleep, Nigel was quite lively the next morning. They’d packed up Januarys’ trunks and suitcases, dropped Lenny in Clarissa’s capable hands and then headed off into what January assumed was the great unknown. Little did she realize he’d been planning this little getaway since they abandoned Marseille.

  One hand on the wheel and one hand on the volume, Nigel sped away and cranked the stereo.

  “So, where are you taking me, Dommy?” She leaned as close as she could without interfering with his driving.

  “So impatient are we,” Nigel griped, his face full of mock discontent. “From my understanding, that’s not appropriate behavior for a submissive.”

  “Oh, well…see, I have a tendency to be a very…” Dropping her hand down on the thickness of his thigh, she scratched her fingers along the inside of his leg. “…very…bad…girl…”

  Nigel shrugged her away. “We’re going to have to work on that. And you shall start calling me by my proper name, which is Maestro.” Tapping his hands rather loudly on the steering wheel, he emphasized his point. “For someone who’s been practicing BDSM for so long, you’re quite disrespectful.”

  Molding her lips in the perfect pout, January returned her hand to his leg. “I don’t mean to be, Dommy…”

  As he stopped at a red light, he jerked the car accidentally with the force of his foot to the brake. “You’re going to cause an accident. And then you’ll find out what punishment is all about…”

  There was one little spot just at his inner-thigh that, when stroked, drove him absolutely insane, and January loved to manipulate his weaknesses. “I’m trying…really hard…” Deliberately, her fingers brushed his cock through his shorts. “But it’s so tough to behave sometimes…”

  It seemed that they were caught in a bit of mid-morning traffic in the center of Avignon. While Nigel just groaned in frustration, January thrilled in the tease.

  In his mind, Nigel calculated what a Dom would do. Slapping her hands would be considered an act of violence. Scrambling, he knew he had to get creative. Certainly, threatening her with a timeout in the Naughty Chair did nothing but excite her.

  He tried to think if he had anything in the glove compartment to incorporate into some spontaneous car play, but he only kept the papers to the Jag and a tire gauge in there. The seatbelt might be useful, but he needed something quick—in case traffic suddenly broke.

  He inched onward, only to stop again. There must have been an accident ahead. When he looked at January with a suspicious glare, he suddenly had an idea.

  “January…” Slowly, he moved closer, like a cat stalking a mouse. “What…is…that?”

  Just as she lifted her hands to follow his gesture, Nigel pulled the long scarf she always wore and caught her fingers in his. Before she had the chance to react, he’d tied her hands and then secured them to the seat rest just slightly above her head.

  “That’s my Dommy…” Now, he was turning her on like crazy. Nigel, however, ignored her and went for her handbag. “What the hell are you doing in my purse?”

  He kept one eye on the road, and one eye on her bag as he tore through its contents, searching for he knew not what. He needed to find something—anything.

  “I thought we had moved past that…”

  Really, she didn’t care. January just loved to struggle. “Stop it!” she squealed in mock agitation. “Get your paws outta there. Give me that bag right—”

  And into her mouth, he shoved a long thin leather tote in which she kept her collection of eyeliners and mascaras. It was the perfect fit for her lips, and it could potentially keep her quiet.

  Quickly, though, he discovered that nothing could silence her. Behind the makeshift gag, her muffled cries reverberated against the pouch.

  And then Nigel turned up the volume and continued to watch her through the rearview mirror.

  “Not listening, January.” His whisper transcended into a scream. “I am not paying attention to you. Whine and kick all you want. I’m leaving you tethered for the duration.”

  Hands pulling, she felt the shake of her breasts with every wriggle. Those tiny ripe nipples couldn’t withstand the pull of her itchy lace bra. The swell of her clit pulsed against her panties.

  One song played into the next, but traffic barely nudged down the main thoroughfare. A slight pain twitched in her jaw, but she didn’t dare drop the make-up bag. Just as Nigel had his dominance to prove to her, January had to display her endurance as a submissive.

  “Ah, now we’re moving…” Nigel said at last and turned the music down. “How are we doing? Blink once if you’re okay…”

  As she opened and closed her eyes, she found solace in the fact that Nigel had already taught himself so much about her kinky world. He truly wanted this relationship to work, and his earnest efforts to delve into her dark desires assured her for what would undoubtedly be a long road ahead.

  That, however, didn’t solve the immediate problem of her pending orgasm.

  “Oh, while we’re at it here, I am taking away your permission to come.” January had mentioned that she could indeed “hold it” when her orgasms threatened to explode. Now, he wanted to see her put that skill into practice.

  Normally, she would have paid attention to the splendor of their surroundings, but January’s mind and body were consumed with the threat of her very own pleasure. The wide, open fields brought the direct sunlight into the car, prompting her curiosity over where he planned to take her. Now, though, she could only hope that he’d relent soon.

  There was also something about Nigel’s command that demanded immediacy. That morning, he played his cards very seriously, and she had to attune her behavior accordingly. They’d just arrived at the next level of this salacious game.

  Of course, Nigel had to exude an air of nonchalance, and he directed her attention to Mont Ventoux—which was often part of the route for the Tour de France and a popular destination for cycling enthusiasts from around the world. The highest peak in Provence, the mountain shadowed above them. In fact, January thought that Ventoux bore the look of an angry old man with its highest point of pure limestone, bald from the flora and fauna found in its lower regions.

  She didn’t think they’d be biking there anytime soon.

  There was a dark element to the day, and now she found herself ever more curious about Nigel’s plans. She only wished he’d pulled over for a quickie up against an old tree before they actually got to wherever they were heading. Rubbing her thighs together, she felt the pull of her arousal, and she just wanted him. Now.

  When he veered off the road to a winding path, she hoped she might find her release soon. Anywhere would please her. She didn
’t care if she got dirty. That’s just how she wanted him—quick and filthy and right in these woods.

  Hope, however, dwindled. Clearly, this road led somewhere. There were even signs that marked the curves along the way up the hill. She’d have to get out of the car, with her flushed cheeks and wobbly legs, and face people. Of course, Nigel just punished her as any Dom worth his riding crop would have done, but she thought he’d at least give her a warning.

  At first glance, the overgrown grounds gave January pause. In their approach, she noted the weathered white façade. Fragile wooden shutters dangled from every window. She wondered if he’d brought her to an abandoned old chateau for a game of hide-and-seek.

  On closer inspection, the trees did seem to be pruned to shape, but the hot southern sun must have fostered a fertile growing season. Focusing then, she noted the bushes had been clipped and cropped into a cast of animals that seemed to come alive in the tall grass. Behind the windows, though, her eyes caught the sparkle of fine crystal chandeliers.

  And then Nigel turned to her. “Welcome to Chateau de Mazan, my bratty little sub,” he said with a smirk. “I wonder how the Marquis de Sade would have handled you today?”

  Now, she knew exactly where they were. Xavier had told her about this old oddity of Provence. The infamous de Sade family owned the chateau for years, but now the property had been converted into a luxury hotel.

  With a quick move, he tugged the make-up case from her mouth, and then his fingers moved to untie her. Confusion clouded January’s eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” he hissed. “I’m untying you.”

  “WHY?” Nigel was sure the staff inside the old chateau heard her whine.

  “Because…” Nigel dropped her scarf into her lap. “You can’t go in there like this!”

  “Why can’t we?” she challenged him.

  “Because it’s—”

  “It’s the former home of the Marquis de Sade. My gear is de rigueur.”