French Wanker : A Hero Cub Novel

by Victoria Pinder

  Perfect. My goal tonight was to ensure she was enraptured with the attention only I can give her.

  I hugged her closer and unclasped her bra. I lowered to taste her buds, and she hugged my neck and head, encouraging me.

  Then she bucked and moaned when I sucked her already stiff peaks.

  Her soft sighs showed how she enjoyed herself.

  I slowly went up, kissing her everywhere before returning to her neck. She tasted like a decadent dessert, and I’d probably leave a mark.

  I’d never done that to anyone else, but Kara was mine now.

  She tugged for us to go down on the rug, and I ripped myself away from kissing her for a moment to tug off my pants.

  Tonight wasn’t about me; it was about pleasuring her.

  Everywhere.

  I unbuttoned her loose-fitting pants, and they slid down her faster than I’d like, but I slipped my fingers in her underwear to play with her clit as she moaned out incoherent sweet sounds that were like a melody in tune with her vibration.

  She uncurled her panties and stroked my big wanker.

  I stopped her.

  There was no rush.

  She was mine forever, and I intended for her to experience multiple orgasms.

  For loving me, she deserved to be worshipped.

  Chapter 20

  Kara

  I walked into the main house as Quentin had told me to before he’d taken off. I took my time dressing and finally decided to tie a scarf around my neck, so no one asked questions about what I did last night.

  Quentin had left a while ago on his mysterious trip downtown. He said he’d be fast, and I should go see my friend.

  So, I let myself in the open door and immediately saw Sabrina sitting at the kitchen table with a plate of fresh croissants. She jumped up and hugged me. “It’s nice to see you again this morning.” She glanced at my scarf and then at the door. “Where is Quentin?”

  I grabbed a clean coffee mug and poured some of the carafe for myself. “He said he had an errand in town, but he’d be back.”

  This was way better than any brew I’d done in my coffee pot. I swallowed and ignored the tingles on my lips from the many kisses I’d been partaking in.

  Sabrina offered me a croissant. “So you seem happy.”

  I nodded and pulled the still warm bread out. “I am. I understand you’re leaving the farm for a few days to head up to Paris.”

  I then tasted the divine pastry, and it melted in my mouth. This was even better than the delicious ones in Paris or in Monte Carlo. As I finished, Sabrina said, “This place is beautiful. I’ll be back for your wedding, but I want to see Paris for myself.”

  She’d have a vacation and stay in Quentin’s apartment he apparently still owned as Desiree had moved out without taking ownership. I’d see it soon enough, but right now I hugged my coffee and said, “I’m glad you came.”

  She stood and took the empty plate to the sink. “Me too. Looks like your fiancé is back.”

  I craned my neck and saw him walking toward the house in a hurry. I finished my coffee and beamed when he entered.

  However, he motioned for me to join him at the door, and his lips were pressed together. I jumped out of my chair and took his hand. “Quentin, what’s going on?”

  He guided me outside, and we stood in front of the vineyard that smelled so sweet. Then he took both my hands in his. “Kara, I put our names down for a court wedding. We need to wait a few days, but in the meantime, I had the jeweler adjust my family ring for you. And I bought you this.”

  He went down on one knee and a tear glistened from my eye as I took the diamond he’d offered. “This is beautiful.”

  The round diamond shone brighter than any other ring I’d ever seen. He stood up as I placed it on my finger. “I wanted you to have something new, just for you. You only have to wear my family heirloom for special occasions.”

  He then handed me the citrine and diamond ring, and I slipped it on my other finger like I was a princess. “I’ll wear both with pride. Thank you.”

  I threw my hands around his neck and followed that with my entire body pressed to his. I’d not had enough. I kissed him.

  His dimples showed when let me go, and he squeezed my ass for a moment. “Now let’s go inside; my father wanted to talk to you in his study.”

  Goosebumps grew on my arms. “Your father?”

  He placed his hand on my back like he’d protect me. “Yes, but you can tell him no if you don’t like what he has to say. I absolutely understand.”

  I ignored the little trembles in my spine. “Okay… This sounds serious.” Quentin stayed with me like there was trouble ahead, but we walked into his father’s office. It was a large white room with the latest computing systems and an older model laptop on the ivory desk. His father closed his laptop as we took seats on our leather chairs across from him.

  I squirmed and said, “Hello. Mr. I mean, Monsieur La Trimouille.”

  “I’m glad you could join me,” he said and offered us two glasses with water.

  “Thanks.”

  He settled in his chair. “My son told me you worked in a bottling factory in America.”

  I nodded. He didn’t need to think I’d be just lounging around if that’s what today was about. “Yeah, it’s boring to do the financials, but I’m going to find a job about numbers when I can.”

  He folded his hands on his belly. “Why don’t you work for me?”

  My eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  He scooted his chair closer to the desk. “My son is a doctor, but one day he’ll inherit the entire company, and you know the manufacturing part of the business already.”

  Was this on the level? I glanced at Quentin who almost glared at his father like he crossed a line. “So?”

  His father ignored him entirely. “He’s not interested in running a vineyard.”

  I turned and squeezed Quentin’s hand. “Is that true?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  My mind whirled with questions as I moved my chair closer to the desk. “I don’t have a lot of experience with growing grapes.”

  He pointed to Quentin. “My son knows about the vines, and we can teach you that. What he’s not interested in is the numbers or running the corporation.”

  He moved next to me. “Dad, you’re asking for too much.”

  I understood he wanted to protect me, but why? I blinked a few times. “Are you asking me to take over your entire company?”

  He leaned backward in his chair like I’d won the question of the day. “If you’re interested. I’d rather keep this in the family then go public.”

  “And you’ll train me?”

  He nodded. “I can’t pay you legally until the government approves your permanent residency.”

  This was a pay increase. Wow. My skin buzzed; I’d have responsibilities and not just be a stay at home wife who never worked. I loved working.

  Quentin said, “Dad, don’t push this. Let Kara think.”

  Would this be a problem for Quentin if I said yes? I pivoted, and our knees brushed. “Can I talk to Quentin for a minute?”

  His father jumped up. “Certainement.”

  I waited till he walked out. Then I squared my shoulders. “This is an amazing opportunity. Do you want me to stay at home and do nothing? I thought you knew I wanted to work.”

  He patted the back of my hand. “I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

  Pins and needles of excitement ran through me. “That’s it?”

  “Oui.”

  Working with his family ensured ours stayed together, but I wasn’t sure of the entire backlog of their family history. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind for any other reason?”

  He shook his head and also seemed more relaxed now. “I’m more interested in helping people with their medical problems.”

  “Your dad told the truth about you helping with the vines, though? I can handle spreadsheets and people, but agriculture is not something I’m c
onfident with.”

  He smiled. “We can work together, if that’s what you want to do. It’s your choice and yours alone.”

  This hadn’t ever entered my mind as an option.

  “Oui.”

  He laughed, and I knew he’d be okay.

  I held his hand. “Call your father back in.”

  He let me go and opened the door. A moment later, he returned with his father. I waited till everyone was settled and then said, “I’d love to start working with you.”

  He smiled at me.

  Quentin added, “After our honeymoon, Dad.”

  He made a motion with his hand like he was screwing in a lightbulb as his way of saying yes. “Then in a month, I’ll start showing you around.”

  “Thank you for trusting me,” I said.

  A huge smile that Quentin inherited graced his father’s face. “I’m glad to get to know you then, my new daughter.”

  “Me too.” I’d always defined myself as a hard worker. Now I’d ensure a dynasty was left to my own children one day.

  It was like I was given a green light to live happily ever after… with Quentin.

  Quentin and I said our goodbyes and headed back to our place to be alone, but I had a bounce to my step when I said, “This is a huge honor.”

  He playfully bumped into me. “I’m glad you think so, but if at any point you don’t want to do this, we can take the company public as planned, and you’ll be free.”

  Cute. I seriously had everything now. I looped my arm in his and said, “I don’t want to be free. I want us to be together, forever.”

  “I want the same thing,” he said.

  I went up on my tiptoes and kissed him.

  Together we made sense. I’d never met a man I loved more, and now we’d be together forever. Life was amazing.

  Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed my Cocky Hero’s Club introduction. I loved digging into the world and writing my own story that included British Bedmate characters.

  Want to keep up with all of the new releases in Vi Keeland and Penelope Ward's Cocky Hero Club world? Make sure you sign up for the official Cocky Hero Club newsletter for all the latest on our upcoming books:

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  While this journey is over you and can order Legendary Rock Star or keep reading for a preview.

  Legendary Phoenix Preview

  Phoenix

  I knew three things with absolute certainty. One, I hit my notes perfectly, which was why all three judges wanted me on their team. Two, TV was more about the showmanship and not about the talent, and I’d been born and bred for this forum. No one had a better edge. And three, I was playing to win now.

  There would be no more chances if I didn’t.

  I was on this show because it was my last chance to be on the stage. I had washed out my first opportunity.

  And I sang that song right out of the park tonight. The judges had known. It’s why they voted for me.

  Of course, in another life I’d have been on the panel. One of the “celebrity” judges was about my age. But no matter; this was how things were.

  And when I won this competition and the recording contract for one new album, I’d get back out there as a single act. No one would dare call me a washout or a loser then.

  On stage I was a god again. This was my comeback. And as a solo act, I answered only to myself.

  No more heartache.

  No more letting friends down.

  I used to have great friends in my old band. They were still rocking platinum songs and albums without me.

  They deserved it. My friends from my childhood TV show had saved my ass from jail and from actually killing someone. That girl’s unconscious face in my car still haunted my dreams, every night. She was why I joined Alcoholics Anonymous. If not for Luca of Indigo 5, and my agent, Mark, she’d be dead, because of me. I had crashed my car and instead of being a good guy who called for help, I called my agent and my bandmates, the closest I had to family, to get me out before the press arrived.

  What I piss head narcissist I’d been. I’d lost control.

  Outside, I saw the blonde soprano with a powerhouse of a voice. She had my attention—despite the long skirt that hid her figure and the huge hat only old hippy women would wear in public—strutting in the hallway like she walked on air itself. And fair enough. She’d just won over millions of viewers, so she had the right to have that huge grin on her face and that glow in her skin. She rushed to the family waiting area and hugged the two praying people I’d spotted.

  So her story about growing up religious wasn’t a lie.

  I held back. That wasn’t my jam. My family had taught me to use each other, until I had enough of them.

  But it had been too late for me by then. I had learned drinking straight from the bottle as a coping mechanism.

  The blonde’s family insisted she come with them, that she needed to get some sleep and be up at 5 a.m.

  No one ever said anything like that to me, even when I was a kid. After a show, it took me hours to unwind.

  So I figured I’d lost my chance to meet her and returned to the lounge, grabbed myself a water. The place was empty. Even Finnigan was gone.

  My phone rang. It was Mark, my agent. He must have seen the show. The second I answered, he said, “Phoenix, you’re on a comeback.”

  “I hope so.”

  Unlike everyone else in this competition, having an agent meant I’d be protected in any contracts. Mark Powers, agent to the stars, said quickly, “Just keep in the competition for as long as possible.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  I couldn’t say more than that.

  “I can launch you as a solo act, and no one will remember you were kicked out of Indigo 5 years ago. But getting your face on TV will ensure we get bigger contracts.”

  “You’re why I’m here,” I said, though the face of that blonde floated to my mind for some reason.

  I blinked and we said goodbye.

  I hung up and tucked the phone in my pocket. It was time to head home, alone. That was my usual state anyhow. Once the high from performing wore off, I’d be on my couch, asleep in front of the TV or laptop.

  As I opened the bottle of water, the door to the lounge flew open.

  I stood as the pretty blonde came toward me, until she pivoted toward the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water.

  Of course. I should have known.

  She gulped down a whole bottle and tossed the empty into the recycle bin. I followed her lead and tossed my own in after it. I moved closer to her and my hair stood on its ends as I said, “Congrats.”

  “You’re Phoenix Steel?” she said, as she grabbed my hand and shook it, sending a shockwave through me.

  In the next show she’d wear jeans that fit, I thought, and the show after that, a form-fitting dress. She’d slowly come out of her shell like she was growing for the cameras.

  And the audience would love her.

  My own body was hard, like I wanted her, which was strange. Virginal types weren’t my norm. But no woman gave me trembling skin like this. It was probably still just the adrenaline, I thought, as I simply answered, “Yes.”

  I’d heard the announcer say her name, but it wasn’t on the tip of my tongue. I coughed, about to ask, but she just beamed a lightness that came from her soul and I lost the ability to speak for a second, until she said, “Good to meet the competition. You were good tonight.”

  Score one for her. Clearly. I took my hand back, but instantly missed the fire that I’d just touched. I shoved my hand in my pocket so I wouldn’t seem like a twelve-year-old boy meeting a girl he liked and hoping he’d get a kiss. I said, “You were better.”

  She gulped a second water like she’d been parched. Once she finished, she took a deep breath and I noticed that, underneath the all-black-to-her-toes outfit, h
er figure might just be curvy.

  And I loved curves. The more a girl had, the better I liked her. And a nice backside.

  If she had that, I was a complete sucker. But I wasn’t twelve anymore and she wasn’t the first girl I’d ever noticed, so I widened my stance.

  She again commanded the room when she said, “Now that’s good to hear. And true.”

  “Confident.” I straightened my shoulders, half wondering what she’d do or say next. She was like some sort of goddess right now.

  And then she placed her hand on her hip and stuck it out a little as she adjusted her pose.

  “Unlike you, I’m not here for a second chance,” she said. “I’m here for my first one, and I’m not going to lose that.”

  Direct wasn’t something I was used to anymore. So the challenge was on the table. But I had always found that I had the ability to charm people and make them laugh as a means to get what I wanted. And I might just want this woman.

  My skin still had goosebumps from that contact, and I reveled in sensations I’d not had in years. I said, “I get it. I screwed up my life and lost everything once, but I don’t intend to do that again. And I’m not the one looking to break the chains of parental oppression.”

  “Your choice of words is extreme.”

  “It’s better to live dangerously than to die without ever following your own desires.”

  She pivoted on her shoes and her long, dowdy dress swooshed with her as she said, “Well, it was nice talking to you.”

  I’d been rude. She clearly had different parents than my own. I probably should apologize. Then, like the sun coming out of the sky on a cloudy day, I remembered and called out, “Carrigan?”

  “Yes?” she asked, and moved a little closer. I could smell her perfume that reminded me of early morning dew on roses.

  And that smile of hers was brilliant. Seriously. She could melt hearts over her cereal, including mine at the moment. Though mine was broken and still on ice.

  I just wanted a few more minutes with her as this was probably our only chance to talk as friends.