Lost In France (Firebird Trilogy)

by Kay, Jani

  “Quite a show,” said the elder man scornfully.

  The younger one was pumping Alain’s hand. “Does that mean she is off limits?” he asked Alain, nodding toward me, laughing.

  “If you don’t want to fight me at dawn,” said Alain, cocking a brow to warn the younger man.

  What is it with men talking in code?

  “Please excuse me,” I said, as I took off to the rest room. This was all so intense. My head was splitting with a headache. I ran the tap and splashed water on my face. When I looked up, I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror—Ms. Uptight was standing behind me, her arms folded, tapping one foot.

  “He won’t marry you, you know,” she hissed, “he will be disowned. And, he loves his heritage too much for that to ever happen.”

  In spite of my heart virtually jumping out of my throat, I tried to sound as cool and calm as possible. “That’s for Alain to decide.” There was no way in hell I’d let this aggressive bitch unnerve me.

  “No, you didn’t understand. It’s not possible for you to be with Alain—because it’s Alain’s father who decides.” Pleasure burned in her eyes. “Alain’s father knows I’m the one for him. The old man doesn’t like foreigners. And Papa is signing all these deals to seal our future marriage.”

  Alain told me earlier that we would be meeting a very wealthy father and his two offspring—a son and daughter—over lunch to discuss some future contracts. I guessed they weren’t expecting me to tag along. My head was spinning now the pieces of the puzzle were falling together. Was this woman planning on marrying my French lover? Was Alain aware of this? I narrowed my eyes as I studied her. She was pretty, and although she had faint frown lines on her forehead, her face barely moved. Botox?

  “Mind your own damn business,” I blurted. I only just met the bitch and here she was telling me what to do.

  “You little fool. It is my business. One last fling before he marries me. Papa is very angry with Alain this morning.” She scrutinized her nails for moment. “But, I understand men. He has to get this out of his system,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “If I were you, I’d pack my bags and get the hell out of here.”

  But you aren’t me, sweetheart.

  I didn’t give up that easily. I’d fight for my man as long as I believed we had a future together. Alain wanted to introduce me to his father. That was a big step, enough for me to know he was serious about wanting to be with me.

  Although my hands were trembling, I applied my lipstick as casually as possible before making my way to the door. Still not giving up, she hissed, “Save yourself further embarrassment. Get out now. The old man will never accept you. Alain is mine.”

  There was something in her knowing tone when she spoke of Alain’s father that unsettled me. What if she was right? What if the old man rejected me? What would Alain choose to do? Clearly there was more to meeting Alain’s father than I originally thought. My knees were weak, I felt as if I’d run a marathon, yet I managed to get back to the table without crumbling.

  Alain rose to his feet, his eyes searching mine, concern on his face.

  “The plans have changed,” he said, holding his hand out to me, “we’re having lunch somewhere else.” He nodded at the two men and steered me toward the door.

  Adrienne had followed me out and now she placed herself in our path, her arms folded across her chest, pouting. “No Alain, you can’t leave.” She turned to her father. “Papa, please…” she pleaded. Her father didn’t react, he just pulled up his nose as if dismissing us. But Adrienne wasn’t giving up without causing a fuss. She was not letting Alain get away easily.

  Stunned, I watched as she threw her arms around Alain’s neck and kissed him.

  My God, doesn’t this woman have any shame?

  Alain loosened her arms. “I am sorry, Adrienne, we must leave now.” His voice was cold as he literally lifted her by the arms, and put her aside so we could pass.

  Chapter 32

  Back in the car, he turned to me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect this.” His eyes were hard to read. Was it anger and frustration I saw there?

  “I should’ve warned you,” he rubbed his chin, “but I thought once they saw how good we are together, they would stop chasing me to marry Adrienne. Fuck them. I don’t care about their contract. I only want you.”

  He wants only me? Thank god. I would have died if he had chosen her.

  “I want you too.” My breath hitched. His hand caressed my neck, pulling me closer to him.

  He kissed me, long and hard, in the middle of the street in an open top car in St Tropez, as if in defiance of the world. His hand on my breast left no doubt that this was not a platonic kiss. A whirring noise registered in my brain. We were being photographed by the goddamn paparazzi.

  “Let them all see this,” he hissed at the corner of my mouth, before plunging his tongue into my mouth and kissing me deeply—a true French kiss. A frenzy of flashlights went off around us as I closed my eyes and savored his kiss.

  When he was done, he raked his fingers through his hair, started the car, and pulled away from the curb, tires screeching. He sped along the winding roads, yet I completely trusted his driving skills. I leaned back in my seat and enjoyed the exhilaration that flooded through me.

  Alain placed his hand on my thigh and I let out a long sigh of contentment. But before long, it snaked its way up under my dress until his palm rested on my sex. His finger stroked me through the damp lacy fabric. The friction of the material against my clit was exquisite. I was panting, opening my legs wider, begging wordlessly for more. Sweet Lord. He turned me into a needy puddle with his fingers alone. My heart beat wildly as adrenaline surged through me.

  Should he be doing this while driving on these curvy roads? The imminent danger heightened my senses. He wriggled two fingers into my wet core, stroking inside. I moaned, pushing my pussy up to meet his hand, eager for more.

  “Touch yourself. Rub your nipples,” he instructed, his voice hoarse.

  “Alain?” I was hot and wet, but the car top was down, anyone driving past us would be able to see.

  “Do it,” he growled as he fucked me with is fingers.

  Screw that. At this point I needed release more than what I was concerned about who saw me. Anyway, it would probably make their day. They could tell everybody they knew they saw a red haired chick rubbing her tits in a canary yellow Porsche. Just the thought got me even wetter.

  I threw caution to the wind and pushed my top and bra cups up, rolling my nipples between my fingers. From under my lashes I watched for Alain’s reaction.

  Alain glanced sideways and swallowed hard. Maybe he didn’t think I’d really do it? I was finding that my fantasy of making out in public was much more fun in reality than in my head. Especially with a Frenchman who had the same penchant for public displays of fuckery.

  A match made in heaven?

  My eyes fluttered closed. I whimpered; his fingers dug even deeper as I got slicker. With his thumb he stroked over my clit. That was all I needed to spiral out of control; my orgasm swept through my body as it hit me in waves, my head thrown back against the headrest.

  Alain laughed with abandon as he pulled his fingers out and sucked my juices from them.

  “So fucking sweet. In more ways than one.” He rubbed his cock, his hard length stretching the fabric across his groin. I gasped as he accelerated. Was he losing control?

  “Alain. Should we be doing this?” My eyes widened as he wound around a tight corner without slowing down.

  “Make me cum. Suck me.”

  “Only if you slow down.” My heart was nearly jumping out of my chest. Yet I felt so alive, so present in the moment.

  He lifted his foot off the gas pedal. After a few minutes I nearly begged him to go faster, it wasn’t nearly the same rush going at a respectable speed.

  He took my hand and placed it on his erection.

  “Help me with this, Cherie. But first, put lipstick on. Red.”

 
Sweet Jesus. It was hot as hell. My hand trembled as I reached into my bag for my red lipstick. I applied the scarlet color to my lips, then leaned over and kissed his cheek, leaving a red stain. He grinned and peered into the rearview mirror to inspect the lip marks I’d left on him.

  “Perfect. You are fucking perfect.” He groaned.

  I quickly loosened his belt and zip, setting his magnificent cock free. Pre-cum glistened on his tip, making my mouth water to taste him. I leaned over, unable to stop myself and licked the rim of his cock.

  “Like it, baby?” I teased.

  My answer was a twitch of his cock.

  “Merde. That fucking mouth of yours is so talented.” He gripped a fist full of my hair and pushed his cock into my mouth.

  “Fuck. Show me the lipstick on my cock.”

  I sucked my lips tightly around his cock, leaving red rings all along the shaft, before sitting up to show him just how talented my mouth was.

  “Good enough?” I giggled.

  He glanced down and drew in a long breath, nodding. His cock twitched as more pre-cum glistened on the mushroom tip.

  Yeah, I rock red lipstick.

  “Fuck, that’s so hot. Make me come.”

  We were driving at a snail’s pace, I could have jogged faster. I fisted him with one hand and sucked his cock, my head bobbing on his lap. He thrust forward and hot liquid coated the back of my throat. He grunted like a feral animal.

  Jackpot. How Alain managed to keep his eyes on the road and not cause an accident was a miracle. Yet it was exactly what we both needed after the morning we’d had in St Tropez.

  Not long after, we stopped again. “This time we lunch alone.” Alain winked as he helped me out of the car. We were in Sainte Maxime, equally as beautiful, and not very far from St Tropez.

  We walked into the restaurant located on the beach. “The usual?” The maitre d’ grinned at Alain, and lead us outside to colorful couches on the sand, thin white fabric waving in the breeze from the four-poster daybeds. It was beautiful, straight from a travel magazine, the one’s I’d lusted after all my life. I made myself comfortable, adjusting the cushions for my back.

  Before long, two martinis arrived. I hadn’t realized how dry my mouth was. We sat in comfortable silence for a while, both drinking in the beauty of the scenery, each lost in our own thoughts. Drained and exhausted by everything that just happened, I’d need more than one drink to recover.

  My head hurt from information overload. Questions kept mulling through my mind.

  Alain’s father wants him to marry a French woman? A wealthy childbearing woman who has an aristocratic bloodline. And if he doesn’t, he’ll be disinherited?

  Where the hell did that leave me? Alain said he wanted only me. Did he really mean that?

  My heart ached for Alain; I already knew how much he loved the land—it was in his blood, he’d be miserable without it. What kind of man asked such a sacrifice of his son? It would be cruel to watch him lose all that. Yet, I was falling for my Frenchman. Hard. I wanted to be there with him, always.

  Is that really asking too much?

  I rubbed at the pain in my heart with my fist.

  Our meal arrived—a delicious seafood platter for two, served with a chilled white wine I recognized being from Alain’s estate. Sadness flickered across his face as he stared at the label, his shoulders slumping.

  “My passion and my prison.”

  At first I just picked at the food, my appetite destroyed.. Alain pulled white flesh from the lobster tail and held it to my mouth. I sucked the morsel in, along with his fingertips. I wanted to lighten the mood, to help him forget his woes, so I curled my lips around his fingers, peering at him through my lashes.

  “This time you don’t need to concentrate on the road,” I eluded to our earlier experience.

  Eyes widening, a grin spread over his face, the cloud over his head lifted for a moment. A drop of sauce had spilt on my chin and he slowly leaned over and licked it up, then licked over my lips, tasting me.

  “I want to taste your other lips too,” he moaned against my mouth.

  I stifled a grin as a waiter appeared out of nowhere, clearing the plates and serving dessert. Alain cursed under his breath in French. Even that sounded sexy as hell and my insides twitched.

  “You’ll have to wait a while for those.” I loved teasing Alain. He was so overtly sexual and so easy to please.

  Picking up the spoon, he fed me one delicious mouthful after another of heavenly rich and decadent chocolate mousse, stopping between each mouthful to kiss me sweetly, licking his lips sensuously.

  God, this is my favorite dessert in the world.

  Chapter 33

  I leaned back comfortably into the cushions, my bare feet curled up on the couch and closed my eyes as Alain disappeared to the rest room. Dozing off lazily, satisfaction from a lovely meal and delicious wine spilling over me.

  Brought back to reality by a soft and sensuous kiss on my lips, I kept my eyes closed and enjoyed the simple pleasure.

  Yet something felt wrong. An unfamiliar scent drifted to my nostrils. My eyes flew open. Leaning over me was Ms. Uptight’s brother, smiling at me.

  “Jacques. What are you doing?” I sat up, rubbing my lips.

  “I couldn’t resist,” he said, his mouth twisted into a smirk. “You look good enough to eat. After spoiling my lunch it was only fair I got something back.” His eyes were dark with lust. “And, I had to see for myself what all the fuss is about.”

  As if I was some commodity for trying out in a shop.

  “Alain won’t like it,” I said, as calmly as I could, trying to scare him off. He threw his head back and laughed. “My dear, Alain is busy at the moment. He’s chatting to an acquaintance inside.”

  Has little brother been spying on us?

  “How did you find us?”

  “My old man gave me the job of watching your every move. Best job I’ve had in a while. I followed you’re here. Saw you going down on Alain in the car. You are a hot little slut. You liked that kiss, no? You want more?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I thought it was Alain kissing me at first.” For the second time today I was defending myself.

  “You liked it, you bitch,” he said menacingly. “I will tell your boyfriend you seduced me if you even mention my name. This is our little secret,” he said, stroking up my thigh.

  I recoiled as if a snake bit me, pushing his hand away. “You’re sick. Don’t ever touch me again.”

  “I like a feisty woman. You can fight me as much as you want, bitch. I promise I will fuck you. Harder and so much better than Alain. I’m younger—more virile. You should be with me. Let the old guy marry my sister. I want you to be mine,” he said, reaching out for me, his lips curled into a snarl.

  “Merde. Over my dead fucking body.”

  I watched as Alain pulled him up from the couch by his shirt, and planted a right hook in his stomach that sent him reeling.

  “Fucking asshole. I warned you to stay away from her. Maybe, you didn’t understand?” Alain’s voice boomed, a vein ticking in his neck. His hands curled by his sides into fists, as he stood glaring at Jacques.

  “Cherie, are you OK?” Alain knelt by my side, his gaze scrutinizing my body.

  “You better watch your little whore,” Jacques hissed, as he limped away, holding his stomach.

  Crushing me to his chest, I hid my face in Alain’s neck, trembling. He wrapped a blanket off the couch around me, rubbing up my arms.

  “H…he followed us. Saw us in the car.” I said.

  “I’m so sorry you had to be part of this,” he said after a while, shaking his head. “Come, let me take you home.” He pulled me up and wrapped his arm around me, leading me to the car.

  “Yes, take me home. Please.” A shudder ran through me as I remembered the look in Jaques’ eyes. Lust mixed with contempt.

  “Don’t worry about him.” He whispered in my hair. “I’ll take care of you. Always.”

&
nbsp; Always as in forever? Did he really mean it?

  “Thank you, Alain. When I'm with you I feel so loved and safe. Don’t leave me alone again.”

  Always is a long time “I won’t. I want you with me al ways .”

  Always is a long time .

  Chapter 34

  We got home in record time, driving in silence, Alain holding my hand as if for dear life, occasionally pressing my fingers to his lips.

  He ran a steaming bath and slowly undid the buttons of my dress, holding my hand as I stepped out of it, shyness creeping over me.

  Does he think I am a whore, too?

  Even though our play in the car was highly erotic, in my opinion I wasn’t being slutty. So why did Jacques think I was fair game? Did he believe it was a matter of time before my and Alain’s relationship would end and I would be available to him? I certainly hadn’t given him any indication that I would ever be interested in him. So many questions buzzed through my head, mostly unanswered.

  I didn’t know Alain that well, and already, we’d fucked several times. We didn’t have an agreement or made promises to one another. And it was too early for declarations of love. Lust yes. We certainly lusted one another.