Lost In France (Firebird Trilogy)

by Kay, Jani

  She was hiding something.

  Two fingers slipped into her, pushing as deep as they would go, feeling for traces of Grant’s cum. I pulled my fingers out, tasting them.

  It only made me crazier. Grinding my mouth into her soft flesh, I flicked my tongue into her tight pussy again and again. I sucked at her, but all I could taste was her familiar sweet taste. Satisfied that there was nothing else, my cock throbbed wildly at the thought of Grant inside her cunt.

  I had to possess her. Now. I unzipped my jeans with a practiced quickness and took my engorged cock into my hand. It was hot and thick with lust, beads of pre-cum already on my crown. I slipped inside her, gyrating my hips so I could rub against every part of her. I wanted her to feel every inch of my hard dick possess her: the only cock I ever wanted inside her.

  Thrusting into her repeatedly, I cried out, “Mine. Your cunt is mine. You are mine.” With a shudder I felt my orgasm build to the point of release. I withdrew from her tight pussy, squirting my juices all over her skin. With one hand holding her legs open, I rubbed my cum into her body, into the lips of her pussy, marking every inch of her sex with my seed, erasing every man that had ever been before me.

  Chapter 59

  The first night back at the chateau, there was an unspoken tension between us. Alain held me all night, waking if I moved even slightly, making sure I was OK. He didn’t attempt at lovemaking and I was relieved, I was sore from the last encounter; his stubble had scraped aggressively over my flesh, leaving it raw.

  My cheeks burned every time I thought back to what happened in the limo, but I pushed the thoughts into the far corners of my mind. Could I blame Alain for going crazy? I knew how close I came to giving in to Maxwell; his magnetism had drawn me in. Had Alain sensed it?

  It was fucked up. The only way I could convince Alain that nothing had happened was to allow him to ravage my body in the most primal way. I let him taste me, feel me, fuck me. I wanted him to erase the thoughts I’d had when I was with Maxwell. I wanted him to erase the liquid desire that pooled between my legs when my boss had kissed me.

  My married boss.

  I had wanted Alain to fuck me hard. And he did. He marked me as his. And, I was.

  Afraid that Alain would assault Maxwell, I’d held my breath until he got to the hotel room. Knowing how passionate he was and how he’d threatened to kill Maxwell before, I had to hope we would get out of there without either man ripping the other apart. Maxwell was seething.

  Another rejection.

  How many would he take before losing it? Did he finally understand that I was never going to be available to him?

  Alain was hurting, finding me in my boss’s hotel room—in his bed wearing nothing but panty and Maxwell’s T-shirt—had shattered his trust in me. But, he had to believe me as much as I had to believe him about Adrienne.

  Could we survive this? All the odds were stacked against us.

  Back in my bedroom at the chateau, lying in bed with my leg raised, the serene surroundings were just what I needed. Alain had lost it in the limo, but since we were back at his home, he had calmed down completely, being extremely attentive, catering to my every need. And when he had to go out on business, the servants hovered around my room anticipating my every want.

  The duke had gone to see his sister for a few days, so luckily I didn’t have to meet him until I was on my feet again. I was very happy about that.

  Alain hated leaving me for even a few hours. But this morning, he had to attend to some business before his father returned. To be honest, his over attentiveness was smothering me. I’d never had a man try to control everything in my life. I wasn’t sure I could handle it. Sure it felt good to be pampered and taken care of in every way possible. Yet, I’d always been an independent woman. I needed some space. Alone time.

  “It’s not like I can go anywhere,” I reminded him, nodding my head toward my raised leg. “Anyway, you have all the servants on standby, too.”

  He chuckled. “Just taking good care of you. Like I promised.” He leaned in to kiss me tenderly and my heart softened at how much he cared.

  Out of boredom, I tried to make small talk in broken French with the female servant who brought my lunch. Her English was broken, but with a few gestures we managed to have a conversation. She told me that all the staff had been worried about Alain, that he had barely eaten since I’d left the chateau, relentless in his search for me. His mood was black, unlike the man they had always known. She and the rest of the household staff were glad I was back. She held her hand over her heart, gesturing that Alain loved me. I smiled at her, showing her I loved him, too.

  As Alain was going to be away most of the day and I promised him I’d stay in bed, I was reading a historical romance novel set in France. The heroine reminded me of myself. I daydreamed about finally getting married. ‘To love and to hold, to cherish forever’.

  Was Alain the man for me? Was this my new home? I had to pass the test with his father first. Beads of perspiration formed on my lip as I thought of DukePhilippedu Bois.

  The swelling in my ankle had gone down considerably over the last twenty-four hours and the pain lessened. Alain brought my dinner on a silver tray, sitting on the edge of the huge bed, telling me about the new project he was involved in. I listened, smiling at his enthusiasm. My man was so sexy when he was happy and laughing.

  “I’ll run a bath for you,” he offered, as he disappeared into the bathroom.

  He returned with a wicked glint in his eyes. He sauntered over to the bed and unraveled the bandage around my ankle. He moved closer to untie my dressing gown. I lay back, knowing what was coming; my heart beat wildly in my chest.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured, and slipped his hand under my satin nightdress, resting his hand very lightly on my mound. I hadn’t worn panty since he ripped mine off in the limo, giving my soreness down there breathing space.

  He lifted the hem of my nightdress, exposing my flesh as his eyes drank me in. His pace was torturous—as if he wanted to slowly imprint every second into his memory. Panting already, a pool of liquid settled between my legs even though he wasn’t touching me, only his eyes were burning me alive.

  Writhing on the bed, I wanted him to touch me, to run his hands over me, but he kept going, exposing first my naked mound, then, exposing my breasts till he finally lifted the nightdress over my head. Gripping the sheets, I moaned softly. I couldn’t wait for him to make love to me. My nipples were hard and he hadn’t even touched me.

  I reached out for him, but he quickly sidestepped.

  “No touching,” he growled. He grabbed both my wrists and tied them to the bedpost with the bandage he had removed from my ankle.

  I watched in awe as he slowly removed his clothing from his body. I licked my lips as his glorious erection sprang free. I hadn’t had him in my mouth for the longest time.

  He crawled back onto the bed and lay beside me, not touching me, his cock throbbing, letting his gaze linger on my body till I could scream for him to touch me. A slow smile spread over his face before he leaned over and kissed me on the mouth, his breath controlled, still not touching my body.

  “Alain. Please.”

  “I’ve dreamt of this moment, of having you here again,” he said, as his finger traced my body, from my throat to my navel. “I want to kiss every inch of your skin.” I couldn’t take this slow pace, I wanted him inside me.

  Now.

  He sensed my urgency as I moaned, wriggling to free myself from the constraints of the bandages. Every nerve ending in my body was on high alert.

  “So hot for me, ma Cherie,” he said in his familiar way, a boyish grin on his face. Only caressing me with his tongue, he slowly licked his way down my body, covering every inch of it, exploring it as if it was our first time together. I was in agony, pleasure and pain spilling over me simultaneously as the throbbing between my legs grew more needy.

  “This is what you make me feel, Cherie,” he said, his accent heavy so that I ha
d to strain my ears to understand him. “You torture me when you’re away. I want you to feel the longing in your body. It is the same longing I feel for you—every time you leave me.”

  “Alain…”

  “Hush.” He covered my mouth with his. I tried desperately to rub myself against him, wanting him to break as I knew he finally would, filling me with every inch of him. I arched my back and raised my mound to him, offering myself up to him. He pulled away.

  “Touch me. Please.” I pleaded. He parted my legs and blew on my mound. I writhed under the heat of his breath. It wasn’t enough.

  “So ready for me,” he teased with a wicked grin.

  God I want him, he is driving me crazy.

  I was ready to beg. “Take me. Please. Just take me.”

  “You. Drive. Me. Crazy.” He echoed my thoughts. “Going with another man, sleeping in his bed…I want to go mad at the thought of him touching you… ”

  So this was his game. Revenge.

  His head disappeared between my legs.

  Thank God. At last.

  I thrust my hips forward, eager for his mouth on me.

  “So fucking wet, Cherie,” he rumbled.

  My nipples were hard as stone. I wanted his hands on my breasts, his fingers inside me. I nearly shuddered when just the tip of his tongue touched my clit, licking it slowly, torturing me with his slow, slow pace.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, this was absolute hell. Pleasure from his tongue drove me crazy, yet just as I got to the edge, just as I wanted to climax, he stopped. I never knew I could be tortured this way. I moaned, hoping to entice him into me. It worked before. This time it had the opposite effect on him.

  “God, please, I can’t bear this any longer,” I whimpered.

  My eyes flew open, staring directly into his. His eyes were dark, glistening with unshed tears. In them I could see his pain and longing.

  “I’m sorry, Alain,” I whispered, “I’m sorry I hurt you.” Tears welled up beneath my lids, clouding my vision. I hadn’t understood the intensity of his pain until this moment.

  His tip of his cock was inches away from my opening. Teasing. Torturing. Yet I knew he was at the point of cracking, too. I also knew the words that would finally drive him over the edge. I was finally ready to say them out loud.

  “Fuck me, Alain. Now,” I moaned. “Fuck. Me. Hard.”

  A shudder ripped through me as he plunged into me. I cried out from the sheer force of it. He slammed into me again and again—balls deep every time—sinking into me as hard and far as he could go. As much as I wanted him inside me earlier, he was still torturing me.

  This was for my pain and his pleasure.

  “He wants to fuck you,” he cried out, “but you are mine.”

  He slammed into me again, fucking me harder than I ever imagined possible. It was exactly what I needed. My skin tingled as my core tightened, and an almighty orgasm rippled through me, milking his cock. Biting his bottom lip, till I tasted blood.

  “Yes. I am yours. And you are mine.” I pushed him deeper with my heels.

  He groaned, a feral sound from deep within as he pumped into me, panting for breath.

  “Je t’aime. I love you.”

  Tears slid down my face. I’d waited so long for those words.

  “Cherie, forgive me. I’d gone mad. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he pleaded, still buried inside me.

  Love and sorrow were in his eyes. I didn’t know I could do this to him.

  “Je t’aime à la folie - I love you so,” he choked, “don’t ever leave me again!”

  “I won’t. I won’t leave you again,” I whispered.

  “Marry me?” he said. I gasped. “Say yes. Say you will marry me.”

  “Alain…”

  He buried his head between my breasts. My hands were still tied, so all I could do was to kiss the crown of his head. He kissed me again, the taste of salt from our mingled tears on both our lips.

  “Yes,” I said, “yes, I will marry you, mon cherie.”

  Chapter 60

  After lying in one another’s arms for the longest time, he lifted me up and carried me to the bath. He was so gentle, as if I were made of porcelain. He gently set me down in the bath before getting in behind me. I liked sitting so close to his heart. I leaned back and rested against him, still exhausted from earlier.

  He soaped his hands and rubbed over my body. I was still hungry from him. One orgasm wasn’t nearly enough with the way he had worked me to a frenzy. I allowed him to stroke my breasts, over my stomach and I opened my legs wide so he could have full access to me. Two fingers slipped inside, stroking gently, careful not to hurt me. But I wanted more, I want him inside me, his fingers were not going to satisfy my hunger.

  I loved belonging to my Frenchman.

  “Are you OK?” he asked, his lips on my shoulders.

  “More than OK,” I grinned. “I may not be able to walk, though.”

  I loved the burn.

  He sucked in a sharp breath. “Cherie…”

  I threw back my head and laughed at the worried look on his face. “I loved it. There’s no way I can forget I belong to you when I feel this burn.”

  “No. I’ll never let you forget either. Burn baby, burn.” His eyes were glowing, his cock throbbing in my back.

  I turned slowly and raised myself up, and guiding his thick cock into me, groaning as I felt the delicious burn of being thoroughly fucked. I slid down on him with a loud moan that echoed though the tiled bathroom.

  “Je t’adore.” I gazed into his artic-blue eyes, seeing his love reflected back at me.

  “You said yes. You will be…my wife,” he said, as his hands caressed my breasts. He pulled a nipple into his mouth and kissed and tugged to increase my pleasure. “I want to be with you, forever.””

  I wanted to burst with happiness.

  “Fuck me, Cherie,” he breathed, his chest heaving. “Fuck me. Hard.”

  His hands were on my hips and he guided me up and down his shaft. His erotic words drove me to the edge. I rode him faster, increasing the pace as I my orgasm built.

  “I’m fucking you. You are mine.” With those words tumbling from my mouth, I found my release. I came violently, stars bursting around my head, my insides throbbing and clutching him, milking him till he could hold no longer, and exploding inside me, pumping forcefully into me.

  At this rate, I doubted I walk again anytime soon.

  I cupped his face in my hands. “I want to spend the rest of my life loving you.” I kissed him, my heart swelling with love.

  Chapter 61

  The morning dawned when I would finally meet Alain’s father. If all went well, my future father-in-law. I chose my outfit with care. I slipped on a demure summer dress.

  What will the old man think of me?

  I brushed my hair and tied it up into a chic French chignon. All I wanted was for him to approve of my relationship with his son. Nothing could make me happier.

  Alain stood at the door, whistling. He was casually dressed in black jeans and a crisp white button-down shirt. “Ready?” Smiling into my eyes, he held his hand out to me.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” He twirled me on his finger and nodded approvingly. “The old man will be a fool not to love you like I do.” His eyes were glistening with pride. It warmed my heart that my sexy husband-to-be thought so highly of me.

  As we entered the dining room, my stomach was churning, I was feeling quite sick. Even my hands were clammy as I held on to Alain for dear life. A distinguished middle-aged man was staring out of the window, his back to us. But I wasn’t interested in meeting anyone else. I wanted to meet the Duke and get it over with. Where was Alain’s father? I glanced around, searching beyond the room into the hallway.

  Alain coughed. The man turned. Gray-blue eyes met mine, the exact duplicate of Alain’s. Surely not? He was too young to be the Duke.

  Hadn’t Alain said his father was an old man?

  “Mademoiselle.” The Duke co
cked his head exactly the same way Alain did. He took my hand in his, pressing his lips to my fingertips. The same sensual lips.

  The men patted one another on the back. I smiled, not sure what to say. I wasn’t one for pomp and ceremony and I didn’t know how this aristocracy thing really worked.

  Alain rescued me by steering me to the table. Duke Philippe du Bois took his place at the head of the table and Alain pulled out a chair for me next to his father. I sat as gracefully as I could, my core still aching. Naked under the dress, I still couldn’t bare to cover the tender skin with fabric.

  What would Alain’s father think if he knew? On the surface I was acting like a sophisticated lady, but underneath the façade I was closer to a wanton lady of the night, one who had been thoroughly fucked by his son.

  “So mademoiselle, tell me about yourself,” the duke said in a deep baritone voice, his eyes slowly traveling over my face and body, sizing me up. I was staring at him, I couldn’t help myself. Alain was a younger replica of this man. Philippe was still dangerously handsome, his distinguished features only improved by age. Well, at least I had an idea of what Alain would look like in a few decades if we spent the rest of our lifetimes together.