by Chloe Liese
“I love you, Loulou.”
He smiled against my mouth as he kissed me again. “There she is. Happy in my arms.”
I sighed as one of his hands drifted down my back. Lower. Lower. He teased my arse, soft, pressing swirls that made my breath hitch. I pressed against him, and he slipped a finger inside.
“I have plans for this one day,” he muttered against my cheek.
I nodded. He was gentle, and it brought a beautiful new layer of pleasure to my body. His finger pumped in rhythm with his cock, and my eyes rolled back in my head. “Lucas,” I whispered. I was going to tell him what was about to happen, but my orgasm knocked the air right out of my lungs.
He kissed me through it, coaxing my body with his loving touch, until I came down. Stilling inside me, he kissed my neck and licked my collarbone, sucking the base of my throat.
“Touch yourself,” he whispered.
Shakily, I reached between us, swirling my clit as Lucas rocked into me. The man was a master of multiples, and lived for stringing them right together. My core clenched around him, and he swore. I clenched voluntarily this time, and a growl left him.
Suddenly, I was spun over, Lucas’s body never leaving mine. Hands pinned over my head, he looked down, then drove into me.
Fast, deep thrusts. He bent and kissed me long and hard.
“My Elodie. To love and worship like this, forever.”
“Yes, Lucas,” I cried, soaring with the bliss of his body in mine. “Yes!”
I wrapped my legs around his waist and squeezed. He threw his head back as he pistoned into me. “So beautiful, Elodie. So perfect. Oh fuck—”
I screamed through my orgasm, so sharp and powerful it was nearly painful. Lucas claimed it with his mouth, bathing my whimpers with his tongue and lips as he soon filled me, calling my name while he gasped for air.
Long, silent moments passed as I slipped my hand up and down his back, kneading the skin of his hard buttocks and lean hips. I wanted him again already. I wanted him forever. His body, his chivalry, his demanding, proprietary ways. His adoration of my intellect as much as my turned-around idioms. His love of making me tea and biscuits and drawing me a bath. His wisdom and curiosity for the world. The love he had for his family and friends.
“I could not be more in love with you, Lucas. Just so you know.”
He nuzzled my dimple, then kissed me tenderly. “I do know, Elodie. Because it’s just how I love you.”
Finally, he pulled out gently and dropped onto his back, a hand resting over his chest as his breath ran fast and ragged. Lucas turned my way and smiled, but his eyes seemed to struggle to find me. Our room was dark except for the nightlights and moonbeams illuminating the white of our bedsheets and the angles of our faces. So, I hopped out of bed, and flipped on the light in the bathroom, too. Then I ran back into bed, squealing from the chill in the air.
“How’s that?” I asked, burrowing under the sheets and wrapping myself around him as I shivered.
Lucas looked down at me seriously, then bequeathed my forehead one soft kiss. “Perfect, Elodie. It’s absolutely perfect.”
Twenty-Three
Lucas
“Dearest,” I called. “Can you come take a look at this line of code? Something’s off, and I can’t find it for the life of me.”
Elodie swiveled in her chair and stared at me carefully. There was an edge to my voice that she’d caught.
Anxiety. Frustration.
Come January first, just over six weeks from now, I would officially be CEO. The pressure was mounting, and my eyesight had decided it was the perfect time to take a nosedive. A few years, my arse. If I didn’t love Jo, I’d sue her for the medical malpractice of giving me false hope.
I leaned back in my chair and rubbed my eyes viciously.
“I’m happy to help, Loulou.”
When Elodie stood, it wiped away my misery. She did that so easily, just obliterated my melancholy with one good look in her sapphire eyes. A perusal of her fantastic curves didn’t hurt either. Bloody hell, that dress. It looked like it had been poured over her, it fit so expertly. Damn those French tailors she used.
She grinned at me like she’d read my thoughts.
“Well, if you’re wearing that, the code can go hang. You know that’s one of my favorite dresses, and because of that, it’s not allowed in the office.”
Elodie glanced down at herself. “It’s a gray dress, Lucas. I own”—she counted mentally—“four of these, in various colors. I can’t not wear any of them because you can’t keep your cock in your trousers when you so much as catch a glimpse of my arse in a dress.”
I swayed in my chair and crooked a finger. “Come here, you minx.” Sighing, I felt my body hum to life, the sad fury that had tightened my chest dissipating. “It’s gray all right, but tinged with the faintest blue. It makes your eyes look pale as ice, whenever you wear it.”
She stood just outside of my reach on purpose. I lunged forward, quickly trapping her hand and hauling her onto my lap. She wasn’t even surprised at my stiffy pressing against her from inside my trousers.
I held her tight, nuzzling her neck. “It does things to me, all right? Can’t you buy some of those horrid palazzo pants the birds are wearing these days? Some billowy blouses? I’m dying, Elodie.”
She held my face and kissed me sweetly. “I hate to tell you, Lucas, but I think I could wrap myself in an Arsenal anorak and you’d still want to jump my bones.”
“That’s a vile image, Bertrand. You take it back right now.” I tickled her hips and made her yelp.
“Lucas, stop,” she hissed. “I don’t want them to think we’re being unprofessional.”
I laughed and tickled her again. “I think we’re far past censure, darling. They don’t care. They get nice fat paychecks and a long holiday over Christmas.”
Just as she managed to squirm out of my lap, there was a sharp knock on the door. That set into motion our now-standard protocol.
“One moment,” Elodie called in her professional voice.
She slid her hands through my hair, fixing how she’d mussed it, then ran a hand down my cheek. I smiled up at her as she straightened my tie and stood back. My turn. I wiped her lips of smudged lipstick, then smoothed her dress, taking extra care around her arse.
Elodie strode away and opened the door, stepping behind it so Harry could enter. I buttoned my suit jacket with one hand while I swept up my laptop with the other. Elodie seemed lost in the moment, watching my hands. Perhaps remembering the fantastic things they’d done to her last night. God, last night was good.
I smirked at her, and she blushed.
“Elodie? Hullo?” Harry called, snapping his fingers near her face.
I stepped toward him and cracked him upside the head. “Be professional, you git. You mumble worse than a drunk Scouser after a Liverpool loss, so open your trap or be done with it.”
“Oi,” Harry grumbled. “No need to bring Liverpool into this and drag ’em through the mud. They’ll come back. Bellamy’s going to work magic this year, just you wait.”
“Right, mate, whatever helps you sleep at night.” I shoved him out the door, and winked at Elodie as I began to leave myself. When she didn’t follow, I spun around. “Why aren’t you coming?”
She was already back to rummaging through the papers on her desk. Organized chaos, that.
“Not my meeting,” she said over her shoulder.
My body tensed. I was starting to depend on her in meetings. My peripheral vision was increasingly worse, meaning I missed gestures, people entirely sometimes. Elodie would nod her chin their way or thread her arm through mine and gently turn me until I saw them. I didn’t love it, but it unquestionably helped.
If I isolated each incident, her assistance relieved me immensely. But when I stepped back and examined those points plotted together, I didn’t like where we were trending—Elodie, not I, responsible for compensating for my weakening sight. Vision loss was my burden, my reality t
o adapt to. Not another task for her to shoulder.
So I stood tall and shirked my worry. “Right. I’ll catch you after. And later on, let’s lunch somewhere? I need out of this bloody place.”
She nodded absentmindedly, still sorting through her papers. “Okay, Loulou. Good luck.”
I shut the door and muttered to myself, “I’ll take all the luck I can get.”
Well, that answered that. I’d botched a handful of numbers, tripped on a chair, and completely missed the fact that Pierce snuck in and sat to my left. The first time he piped up in the meeting, my heart nearly jumped out of my throat.
I needed Elodie with me at all meetings, or a new set of eyes, and neither of those things were going to happen. First, because I refused to use Elodie as my visual crutch when she had her own position and work to do. Two, I was going fucking blind. No cure. No fix. New eyes weren’t happening.
As I strolled out of the conference room, I didn’t need Elodie to read me a handout or tell me someone was at my seven o’clock. I only needed her body, immediately. I needed her hot, silky skin. The floral perfume that never left her hair. I needed those thighs crushing my ribs as I pounded into her. I needed a life-affirming fuck, the reminder that my entire existence wasn’t telescoping to oblivion just because my eyesight was.
Yes, she’d instated a no-sex-at-work rule. But it was about to go out the bloody window. How I’d observed that infernal demand for four months was a testament to how completely wrapped around her finger I was.
Bewitching, infuriating goddess.
As if thinking of the woman in question conjured her, I passed the copy room and then backtracked. By Christ did I know that arse. She was bent over the copier, muttering horribly foul things in French as she peered into the machine’s output tray. I leaned against the doorjamb, enjoying the view too much to say anything.
Her arse was fantastically round, sheathed in that tight, dove gray dress. Her black leather heels were sky high, as usual, the soles red, making her long, tan legs look like they went on forever. A few gold bangles jingled quietly along her wrists as she slammed her fingers against a row of buttons.
Suddenly she stood, setting hands on her waist, which just served to emphasize the luxurious swell of her hips. God, I was the luckiest man. Elodie’s curves, her hips and thighs and tits—that silhouette put the hourglass to shame. She smoothed her hair with both hands, as if trying to calm herself.
“If I weren’t wearing my Louboutins,” she said to the printer, “I’d kick you to smithereens. Putain fait chier!”
I bit my hand not to laugh. That was a nasty one.
Abruptly, Elodie banged her fist once across the top and cocked her head expectantly. “Why? Why do you do this to me? Every time I have somewhere to be, a meeting’s worth of papers to deliver, you refuse to print for me.” She bent over once more, and it sent me over the edge. I couldn’t leave that delectable derrière untouched a moment longer.
I cleared my throat meaningfully, and she yelped, spinning around and falling against the machine.
“Do you need some help, dearest?”
She just scowled at me.
“Come to gloat, have you?” She crossed her arms and adopted my voice. “Poor pet, I don’t know why you have such poor luck. It never gives me any problems.” Rolling her eyes, she turned away from me.
“Don’t be sour, darling. Some of us just have better luck with it.” Quietly, I set down my folders and laptop, then shut the door behind me, locking it with a quiet click.
Elodie turned back and glanced around me curiously to the door. “What are you doing?”
It took two quick strides for me to be gently pressed into her, making her lean on the machine. I dipped my head, ran my nose along her cheek, then her hair, and breathed softly against her ear. “I’m helping you,” I muttered, pressing warm kisses along her neck. I wrapped my hands around her waist and slid them down to the curve of her hips. “Your body drives me mad, woman,” I whispered.
“Lucas, we can’t,” she said hoarsely. Her hands pressed against my chest halfheartedly, but slowly they began to drift down until they were stroking me through my trousers. I heard how faint her breaths were, watched her nipples harden against her dress.
“Oh, darling, we really can.” I hiked up the fabric, groaning when I saw she was wearing thigh highs, garters, and a garter belt. But were there knickers to be seen? Of bloody course not. “Christ, Elodie, why won’t you wear your knickers?”
“Because I don’t want to.” Her breath hitched as my hand whispered along the tender skin of her thigh.
My hand found her, swollen and wet, then cupped her forcefully. Her knees buckled as I slid three fingers inside but made no movement with them. “And do my wishes not matter to you at all?” I stilled her hips with my other hand as she tried to ride my fingers and buy herself relief. “Do my pleas that you cover what’s mine when we’re here fall on deaf ears? Why do you defy me in this?”
She shook her head furiously. “I…I don’t know, Loulou. I think I like making you a little angry about it,” she muttered, her eyes shut. Her head fell back as I rewarded her with a few quick strokes.
“Is that so?” I seethed, both aroused by her games but also fucking irritated that she could be so damned obstinate. “Your cunt is mine, Elodie. Mine to taste and worship and fuck, for my eyes only. Do you understand?”
She nodded her head again while unabashedly riding my hand, her breaths coming short and fast. “Yes,” she panted. Her eyes scrunched shut in concentration as she chased her climax.
I bit her neck, then kissed the sting it caused. “How would you like it if all the ladies of Farthington could easily have a look in my trousers?”
Her eyes flew open. “I’d tear them to shreds,” she growled. “You’re mine. No one sees or touches you.”
“Ah, so no one sees what’s yours, do they? And yet I’m supposed to happily accept this state of your attire.”
She whimpered when I paused my fingers’ work. “That’s a good point.”
“So will you wear your knickers from now on, when we’re in the office?” I breathed against her skin, nipped her collarbone, dragged my tongue over her pulse, where it tripped at the base of her throat.
“Mhmm,” she hummed.
A sweep of my thumb on her throbbing clit made her eyes fly open. She started to flutter around my fingers, signaling me she was close.
“Perhaps you will,” I muttered, swiftly withdrawing my hand, leaving her gasping in wide-eyed indignation. I licked my fingers clean one by one and watched her grow furious. “But I’m not sure whether I’ve actually convinced you or you’re just appeasing me.”
Elodie scissored her thighs, her face a mix of arousal and fury. “Get over here,” she snapped. Reaching for my hand, she tugged it back toward her, but I withdrew it quickly and tugged down her dress.
I kissed her hard as she pressed against my chest, hands fisted in rage. “You take me for a fool?” I muttered over her lips, kissing her again. The words were layered in meaning. Somehow, it felt like my reliance on her had tipped the balance of our partnership. Irrationally, toxically male, I needed her to know I wasn’t broken, wasn’t hers to push or placate.
“You might just be desperate,” I said. “You’d say anything right now to get off. Wear them tomorrow and you’ll be rewarded handsomely, I promise.” Smiling, I winked, slapped her arse lightly, and turned to leave.
She stomped her foot. “You’re a bastard, you know that?”
I spun around abruptly, leaning myself flush against her so she could feel my throbbing cock. “No,” I growled, hoisting her up and slamming her arse down on the copier. It began to whir and spool out sheets of paper. I crashed my mouth over hers, plunged my tongue in mercilessly, and released a small portion of my pent-up emotion.
“You torment me. This,” I growled, pulling her hand down to my strained trousers, “is because of you and your obstinate refusal to wear knickers in the office. I h
ave to walk around thinking about frigid lakes and the various revolting maladies of my extended family so I don’t make an arse of myself, strutting about at full salute all day. Forgive me if I get a little irritated.” I slammed my mouth down on hers once more before I pulled back, chest heaving as I panted for air.
Her hand fumbled with my zipper, yanked it down. “Now. Now, Loulou.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I wanted her. I needed to manhandle her and cherish her. Remind her who I was. Who we were.
I shoved her hands away, held her thighs wide open, and thrust into her.
“Ohhh,” she moaned.
I swallowed her cries with my kisses as I took her, punishingly fast. She was already right on the edge, since I’d brought her there with my hands. We both needed a hard, fast fuck, and we were both going to get it.
I felt her clench around me, soft rhythmic waves that made my body wild, my stomach tightening with need.
“I’m coming,” she said against my lips. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
“Never.” I kissed her hard and bit her lip. She hissed, then bit mine back.
That sent me over. I gasped into her mouth, grunting with each relieving drive into her.
The last paper dropped onto the tray, and the machine quieted to a gentle whir. Our bodies finally sated, I pulled out slowly, tasted the base of her throat once more. After I’d cleaned her with a hankie and pressed one last kiss to my favorite of places, I straightened, then looked her over.
Elodie sat on the copier still, wide-eyed and disheveled. She was a wreck—lips swollen from my kisses, dress wrinkled and hair askew. I knew by how she was looking at me that I didn’t look much better.
A knock on the door startled us both. I glanced over my shoulder, then lifted her off the machine. We both straightened each other best as possible, but there really was no fixing yourself after a fuck like that.
“Well,” she said, “I think I needed that.” Leaning past me, she retrieved the printouts.