Stroked by my Dad's Best FriendA Billionaire Secret Baby Romance

by Natasha Spencer

  “S-s-seventeen, seventeen years, Mr. du Lac. I started here when your father was still... still...”

  Arnaud nodded. “Thank you for all your service.” He sounded like he meant it, too. He turned to the other women who nervously gave their names. “I trust you all had a good lunch?”

  “Uh, y-yes, Mr. du Lac,” Mme. Tiberghien stammered. “Very good.”

  “I’m so glad. There’s a lovely Indian vegetarian restaurant called the Raj on Rue Linné, just at the corner of the MNHN? You should try it sometime.”

  “Eh, oui, monsieur. We certainly will since you recommend it so highly.”

  “I do! Well, good day, then,” he said before heading off toward the elevators.

  Tiberghien picked up her cellphone and called Marie. “The bird has gone lulu.”

  “Lulu? Explain!”

  “You wouldn’t believe what just happened, woman. He asked for our names and recommended an Indian restaurant.”

  Marie was about to demand an explanation when the elevator chimed. Arnaud had arrived. He breezed in, still humming out of tune. He smiled at Marie and greeted Olivie by name, sending the mousy blond into a wide-eyed panic. Not that he noticed as he raved about some Indian restaurant just down the corner before stepping into his office.

  Marie sighed and smiled knowingly. “You know, Olivie? I think the bird will be flying north for some time to come.”

  “Madame?”

  Marie shook her head. She’d worked for the man’s father and knew that he still struggled to get out of the senior du Lac’s massive shadow. It’s why he was such a perfectionist. Arnaud had been at the helm of the du Lac Empire for almost ten years, now, and despite being forty-five, he was still being compared to his father.

  “Never mind,” Marie said as she got back to work. If Olivie couldn’t see what she saw, then all the better. But others wouldn’t be as dense, Marie knew. And before long, tongues would wag.

  Chapter 4

  Amanda couldn’t believe her luck. She’d never been in a Porsche before, Boxster or otherwise, and there she was, being driven in one over the Pont de Sully Bridge. She smiled at Arnaud. It had only been a little more than three weeks since he’d nearly run her over on this same stretch of road. Or more specifically, his driver, she was careful to add. And in a limo, at that.

  “I’m driving slowly, as you can see,” he said with a grin. Not that he had a choice as rush hour had begun.

  “Yes, I see. So where are you taking me, this time?”

  He shrugged. “Does it matter?”

  She realized that it didn’t. It was enough to be sitting next to him.

  “How much of this city have you seen, so far?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. I got here in late July, stayed with Sav for almost two weeks while waiting for a friend of hers to vacate his place, then moved in... ooh, a little more than a week before you nearly killed me.”

  “That’s not fair!” He looked genuinely hurt.

  “I was just joking,” she laughed. “I started work on my third day here, so central Paris is pretty much most of what I’ve seen on my jogs.”

  “You jog?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Explains why you have such a good figure, eh?”

  “Not as good as yours. Not that you’ve seen my figure, yet, come to think of it,” she smirked.

  He smiled. “Not bad for my age, eh?”

  “Hah! Forty-five is nothing. And I’m twenty-eight, thank you for not asking.”

  “But I thought it was rude to ask her woman her age.”

  “It is. But I know you’re wondering and why I said, ‘thank you.’”

  “A twenty-eight-year-old beautiful young woman with no boyfriend back in London?”

  Amanda sighed. “Listen. It’s still too early, right? So let’s just enjoy this evening while it lasts.”

  “Meaning no questions asked?”

  “Some questions are fine. It’s just...”

  “Nothing too personal?”

  “Bingo.”

  Arnaud nodded as he digested that information. So she has someone back home. Or did. It was hard to tell. Her carefree smile had vanished, replaced by a reserved calm as she gazed at the city they drove through. He wished he hadn’t brought the subject up. He liked her smile.

  So he changed the subject. “Well, besides Indian vegetarian food, plants, the environment, and jogging, what else do you like?” It was the right thing to say, apparently. She relaxed back into her seat as she began phrasing her thoughts.

  He liked her voice. It wasn’t high-pitched and grating, something that hurt his ears. It was rather a modulated in-the-middle tone that was pleasant to hear. And he liked the sound of her accent. He’d studied at a British university long enough to know that while hers wasn’t an accent the English considered high class, neither was it a lower class one such as Savitri spoke with.

  “There’s really nothing interesting about me, I’m afraid,” Amanda finally managed. “You, on the other hand, must be far more fascinating. You’re the first noble I’ve ever met. I must say, you’re far more pleasant than what I expected an aristocrat to be. Any kings in your background?”

  “No. The du Lacs have been dukes and barons, but never kings or queens.”

  “Well, I for one am grateful your direct ancestors escaped the Terror. Otherwise, I’d never have gotten to ride in a Porsche. Or a limo, at that.” She grinned. “You must live in a castle, or...”

  “A house. Just a house.”

  “Just a house, huh? I’ll bet.”

  “But I do have a chateau not far from Paris.”

  “Ah-hah! See? You’re the interesting one.”

  “But a man is not his property. Besides, I only inherited them. We’re an old family, remember?”

  “How can I forget,” Amanda said as she put a hand on his thigh. “I’m still sore, truth be told. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

  Arnaud suddenly had difficulty focusing on the road.

  *****

  Amanda wasn’t exaggerating when she said her place was tiny. It barely measured twenty square meters, her studio, but it had everything she needed including a well-stocked American style kitchen. Better yet, she had her own bathroom, unlike many other studios in the city. Best of all, however, was the fact that it was a corner one that had windows on two sides.

  Not that they were there for a tour of the place. Arnaud felt positively huge in the compact space, terrified he’d knock over something and break it. Not that Amanda cared. She’d barely slammed the door behind them when she kissed him roughly, eager for a repeat of last night, albeit a slower version of it.

  She was still devouring his mouth as she fumblingly led him to the bed a mere few feet away. They made it as far as the kitchen counter, instead, because it was right next to the door.

  Arnaud pulled out of the kiss, chuckling. “There’s no need to hurry.”

  “There is! I need you inside me. Now!”

  She pushed him toward her bed, adding, “And I want to see what you look like beneath that three-piece suit I always see you in.”

  With that as provocation, Arnaud slowly took off his jacket, doing a strip tease as he grinned at her. She laughed, getting into the game. When he began unbuttoning his dress shirt, she did the same with hers. Her bra came off when his undershirt did, and she couldn’t stop ogling. He was very muscular, indeed, though not as buff as a body builder.

  “You really do work out,” she huffed. “Nice!”

  “Sure you don’t go to the gym, yourself?” He pointed at her abs.

  “My years at ballet school. Outgrew it, eventually, but not the exercises,” she explained as she shucked off her dress.

  When he finally took off his underwear, she had no room for words. She’d felt his size, but seeing the full extent of it was another matter. No wonder she still felt sore. Can’t believe I managed to take that whole thing in, she mused as she licked her lips.

  Arnaud stood before he
r in his entire naked glory, completely unself-conscious as her eyes devoured him. He was hot and he knew it. Plus he enjoyed being admired. Especially by a woman as unrestrained as Amanda obviously was.

  Restraint wasn’t on her mind as she continued to ogle. Arnaud’s muscles remained well-defined despite the thick pelt of black hair covering his chest, arms, stomach, groin, and legs. Muscles jerked and tensed as he maintained his balance, highlighting the almost animal-like magnetism he oozed even when fully clothed.

  She walked up to him then quickly stepped back as he reached for her, but not before his big hands grazed her heavy breasts. “This is my tour, now, understood?”

  He nodded with a slight smile as his eyes continued to graze upon her body. They didn’t rove long. They widened as Amanda kneeled before him slowly. The bright blue of his firmly latched onto her jade green ones as she leaned forward.

  His massive weapon jerked up and down in anticipation as her face came closer to it, already dripping precum at her approach. Amanda breathed in his man smell: sweat mingled with cologne, cotton fabric, and the pungent tang coming off the thick, wet, clear thread oozing out of his manhood. Reaching out, it broke off as she took it in her fingers and met his eager gaze. Arnaud was breathing harder, his muscles standing out even more as a result.

  She tentatively licked her fingers, tasting his salty thread. It wasn’t too bad. Smiling wickedly, she took his rod in one hand, amazed that her fingers wouldn’t meet each other at the other end. Arnaud groaned and leaned back as his length continued to pulse in her small, warm hands.

  Amanda enjoyed having such power over a man. Especially a man like this one. She kneeled below while he towered over her with his powerful legs spread apart. With his hands resting on his waist, his posture was the epitome of manly pride and arrogance. Yet she was in control and she loved it.

  Leaning forward, she stuck her tongue out and licked his soft, sensitive tip, delighting in the sound of his gasp. She probed the gentle opening, parting it, tasting more of his precum which continued to drip like sap from a freshly cut tree trunk.

  He stiffened as she gave his corona a gentle bite, carefully rubbing her teeth up and down it, and feeling him stiffen further. Teeth still gripping his engorged mushroom, she let her lips do the rest of the talking as she slid further down his shaft. It didn’t take long for him to reach the back of her throat – not even a quarter of what was left outside. Gripping the remainder with her fist, she sucked him off slowly as her other hand cupped his thick, hairy, pendulous balls.

  Arnaud’s hands cupped her head and she bit down gently – a warning not to thrust into her. He was too big. His hands backed off – he clearly got the message. With them gone, her teeth let go as she continued sliding back and forth. But she couldn’t keep it up. He was far too thick and her jaw was starting to ache.

  Sliding his shaft out of her mouth but keeping her fist firmly gripped around it, her other hand let go of his balls and patted his left inner thigh. He got that message, as well, as he spread his legs further apart. That gave her complete access to his scrotum, but even those were big. She sucked one of them into her mouth and nearly chuckled when he made loud moaning noises.

  She and Savitri had another theory about sex – that alpha males had overly sensitive balls. It was apparently true of Armand, if the extra amount of thick, viscous fluid he was spilling was anything to go by. Ditto with the fact that he was groaning louder than he had when she was sucking him off. To test that theory, she went back to his shaft, but he started pushing her away.

  “I’m too close,” he gasped. “I don’t want to... not yet!”

  Unable to resist, she sucked him even harder while grabbing his testicles in both hands. It was too much for the hulking figure before her. With a loud yell, he pushed her off just as he exploded. Hot spunk spewed all over her face, neck, breasts, and stomach, while she held on to his balls. Grabbing his meat with her other hand, she jerked him off, amazed at how much more came out of him.

  “Stop!” he pleaded.

  She wouldn’t. When the flood slowed, she dove forward, taking his man meat into her mouth, once more. Arnaud groaned louder as he sank on her bed, mumbling something in French that she couldn’t understand. It didn’t matter.

  Seeing him heaving and sweating on her bed drove her crazy. Wiping as much of his cum off as she could, she got on the bed and straddled his waist.

  “Give me a moment,” he protested weakly.

  She rubbed her pussy back and forth across the thick length of his still-wet sausage. Ignoring his pleas, she pulled it into her, slowly sliding down its length, gritting her teeth at the delicious pain it caused her. Amanda couldn’t get enough of his pelt as she explored the hard planes of his muscles.

  He grabbed her breasts in a weak grip as she rode him, before pulling her down to him for a kiss. She bit his lip then devoured his mouth. It wasn’t love she was after, because she knew better – his kind didn’t settle for the likes of her. As her opening relaxed, she broke off the rough kiss to push harder against him. Arnaud replied by getting harder, surprising her since she didn’t think it was possible.

  Grabbing her waist, he thrust up viciously. “This is what you want, eh?”

  It hurt, but she needed more of it. “Yes!”

  He pounded her as she sat astride him. She clawed his chest, leaving red cuts on his flesh with her nails. She screamed as her orgasm tore through her, ripping her apart like his cock did. Only when she stopped writhing did his pounding stop.

  Arnaud pulled her down to his chest, cradling her body as he continued to slowly fuck her. Flipping her onto her back, he straddled her. All Amanda could see were the mounds of his chest and stomach as he continued to heave over her, but gently and more tenderly.

  The pain was no longer as pleasurable, but his gentleness was. She continued exploring his torso with her hands till he gave out a large groan and stiffened. No longer frenzied, she could feel his hot juice spilling out of her and onto her legs.

  “Bon dieu!” he finally managed as his weight pinned her to her mattress.

  Amanda understood that bit of French and chuckled. “Thank god, indeed!”

  Chapter 5

  “Amanda?”

  “Yes, Nanette?”

  “These are for you.”

  Amanda looked up and gaped. A giant bouquet, complete with legs and folded arms, was walking toward her. It stopped at her work bench and plopped itself on top, at which point the arms vanished and the legs retreated.

  “This is beautiful, non?” said her trainee admiringly with a tinge of jealousy.

  Amanda couldn’t stop ogling. She knew who’d sent it even though the trainee remarked on the lack of a card. Part of her was flattered, but a bigger part of her was angry. The hell is he thinking bringing this to my office!? We’re not in high school!

  She tried calling Arnaud on his cellphone, but all she got was his answering service, so she hung up. She sat there for long minutes, torn between annoyance and a sense of joy that he would do such a thing. The last thing she wanted were people in the office talking about her, but she had to admit, it had been a while since she’d received flowers.

  Fortunately, Savitri answered her phone right away. “So what’s the problem, Mandy? Sheesh a guy gives you flowers and you’re upset about what other people will think? All I get from men are their phone numbers, followed by and a wham bang thank you ma’am spiel as they walk out the door.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is. And that’s just the way I like it. Oh! I get it now.”

  Amanda winced. Her friend could read her like a book.

  “Look, Mandy. The guy just sent you flowers, all right? It’s not as if he’s proposing marriage or anything like that. This is France. Guys pride themselves on being the romantic sort and making gestures like that. You meeting up with him later?”

  “No. He’s had to fly out of the country for some business meeting.”

  “Or so he s
ays, eh?”

  “Doesn’t matter, Sav. I wouldn’t have minded so much if he sent it to my apartment. But sending it here? The receptionists must be talking by now. I know my assistant is.”

  Savitri snorted. “So let them! They’re probably jealous. I know I am. And since you don’t want flowers, can I have them?”

  “Let’s talk over lunch, ok?”

  “Yup. And stop worrying. They’re just flowers, ok? By the way, what did the note say?”

  “There was none.”

  “So typically French.”

  “Is it, really?”

  Savitri laughed. “I really wouldn’t know. No one’s given me flowers, yet. And I’ve been here a year! Worse luck. Oops, I have to go. Lunch, yeah?”

  “Bye.”

  Amanda sat back and looked at the bouquet, no longer sure about how to feel about it. She tried calling Arnaud again, but all she got this time was a busy tone. Oh well.

  Several colleagues walked in to admire the flowers, congratulating her on having such a generous lover. She was amazed at their casual attitude. Did everyone in France have lovers?! And did French lovers send expensive bouquets to their partner’s place of work?

  It made her uncomfortable. Not just the attention, but also this blurring of boundaries between the personal and professional worlds. Back in London, such things were kept strictly separate. In her personal experience, her previous employers would have been neither supportive nor encouraging. And why no card?

  “Perhaps,” Nanette suggested, “he believes his intent is obvious, non?” She gave Amanda a wicked smile.

  Amanda’s phone rang, but she didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

  She could hear someone breathing on the other end. “Hello? Who’s this? Hello!? Listen, I can hear you breathing, can you hear me talking? Oh bugger. I’m hanging up, whoever you are. Bye!”

  Nanette looked puzzled. “Is it your lover?”

  Amanda shrugged as she got back to work. “I don’t have a lover.”