Corrected-book1-v3

by Scarlett Avery

  “Not to flirt with other men.”

  “Yes, I promise,” I barely manage to respond. “Bryce, this is too intense,” I gasp.

  As if to teach me a lesson for asking for lenience, he pounds me with more determination and releases a loud grunt before he pulls himself slowly out my ass and spills on my back.

  He collapses on top of me and we stay there for a few minutes as his heavy breath brushes against my face. He wraps his arms around my body, picks me up and walks across the room and places me gently on the bed. He finally removes the tie he used to cover my eyes and kisses me with savage passion.

  “I’ll hire a car to take you home so you can pack a few bags for our business trip tomorrow,” he says casually.

  “Business trip? Tomorrow? Where are we going?”

  “I’ve already hired your services for the entire week.”

  He can see how confused I am and explains a bit further.

  “I’ll pay you right now for tonight, but I’ve made arrangements with Todd to have you accompany me to Paris. I have a few big tech companies there that I’ve been courting for a few months now. I really want to secure their business, but my French is terrible. I need a translator who can charm these clients and you say you speak fluent French. I have four companies to meet and they are all in a hurry because they’ve already felt the financial pain of a breach of security in their operation.”

  Bryce searches my eyes for an answer, but I’m still so shocked and confused that I remain silent.

  “Didn’t you get Todd’s message?” He’s obviously frustrated with me.

  His words hit me as I remember that a text came in as I was running around from one store to another. Unfortunately, I was so tight on time that I totally forgot to read it.

  “I’m sorry, Bryce. I saw Todd’s text message earlier, but I was rushing to get myself ready for tonight and forgot to check it before leaving to meet you.”

  “I assume you’re free since you won’t be working for any other clients and you can go home and pack for tomorrow?”

  “I haven’t been to Paris in years! I love that city,” I say with excitement.

  “I’ve been plenty of times in the last few months courting these clients, but since I don’t speak French, the negotiations are moving at a snail’s pace. I’ll be honest, I find the French slightly painful because few of them speak any English, whereas other European countries seem to embrace Shakespeare’s tongue with more enthusiasm. I’m hoping this trip will be easier with your help.”

  “You’ve never hired translators before?”

  “Yes, but they were always French and that was a mistake on my part. I want an American who gets our culture and someone who can also adapt to theirs. Todd told me you studied and lived in Paris with your family.”

  “Yes, I did! I lived there for five years when I was young. My sister and I have gone back many times throughout the years to make sure we never forgot our French.”

  “So it’s settled. Don’t forget, you need to sign the contract before we leave tomorrow afternoon. I assume, you'll get your own attorney to go over the terms. I’m sure if you send this off to them tonight, you can get their blessings on the terms before we board the plane.”

  “What contract?”

  What is he talking about?

  “The one I emailed Todd.”

  “Why didn’t you send it to me instead of going through Todd?”

  “I would have had my assistant send it directly to you, but Todd insists on being informed of these sorts of things first.”

  “Oh, I didn't get anything from him.”

  “Amanda, I need you to help me close all of these important deals and we can't board that plane until that contract is signed and delivered to my own legal team.”

  He flashes me an impatient look.

  “I’m really sorry about this, Bryce.”

  “I have a copy on the desk, let me grab it."

  He hands me the contract and I leaf through the pages in shock.

  “Bryce, I don't understand why this is necessary?”

  “Amanda, it’s a simple formality.”

  I'm really not sure about this.

  “This is a fairly lengthy contract. Even if Todd had emailed this to me earlier today, I would never have had the time to consult with a lawyer.”

  “It's standard. Trust me, your legal team goes through hundreds of these every week. I’m sure your attorney can go over it in twenty minutes.”

  I have my fair share of experience with contracts, but one thing I've learned from the debacle of my previous real estate business is that your lawyer can be your lifeline when the shit hits the fan. Signing any kind of document without legal representation can be suicidal and I would know first hand.

  “Since we don’t have a lot of time before our departure, why don’t you sit down, we can go over it together and you can simply sign your name.”

  “That would mean your ass is covered and mine is not.”

  “Amanda, you’re making too much out of this.”

  ***

  “You want me to sign this?”

  “Amanda, you’ll be privy to a lot of sensitive information from both sides—mine and the clients we’ll be meeting—and my legal team wants to make sure you keep that information to yourself, nothing more.”

  “I understand that part, Bryce, but what about clauses nine through thirteen?” I ask, as he demands I read the entire agreement while he kisses the insides of my legs and caresses my thighs. “Clause nine: Receiving party shall submit without question to main party’s requests regardless of the time of day and regardless of the nature of the requests.”

  I pause, reread the sentence aloud and playfully pull his hair so he looks at me.

  “What do you mean by that, Bryce?”

  Oh god, he’s not playing fair.

  I’m silenced with pleasure when he reaches the part of my body he loves to tease with his tongue.

  “Bryce, don’t think you can distract me. You can’t present this sort of paperwork a few hours before we board a plane and expect me to be okay with this.”

  “I love it when you get mad. It fuels strong emotions in you and the idea of you being all worked up is such a turn-on.”

  I roll my eyes at him and know that he’ll get what he wants from me. Since meeting Bryce, I’ve never seen him as vulnerable as he is right now and I can’t help but feel even more attracted to him.

  “Is that all you have to say in your defense, Mr. Van Der Linden?” I hold on tight to his thick and silky mane and I’m amazed by how perfect this moment feels.

  “I just want to make sure we’re clear on the terms of this arrangement. I don’t want you to think this is a Parisian shopping spree and forget to satisfy my every need, business and otherwise.” He reveals a dazzling smile before he slides his hand over my stomach and sensually traces a diagonal line until he reaches my breast. My body curves inwards and trembles at his touch as I nestle my head on top of his.

  “So when you say otherwise, what does that entail exactly?” I whisper in his ear.

  “At the end of a long day of business meetings where I have to force myself to understand French, I might need the kind of release that I can only find when I’m inside you.” He sticks his tongue into my ear to distract me.

  “I see. Thanks for making that crystal clear.”

  I gently push myself away from him—or else I won’t be able to resist him much longer—and continue reading.

  “Clause eleven: Receiving party shall at all times wear one of the designated lingerie selections and must allow main party to inspect.” I stop reading and Bryce looks at me with his intense blue eyes and calmly waits for my reaction. “You want to inspect the bra and panties I’ll be wearing every day? Seriously?”

  “Amanda, it’s tied to clause nine. Knowing that you’re wearing one of the lingerie items I select for you will
be a major turn-on during those dry meetings because no one else but the two of us will know why I keep staring at your breasts.” He bites my stiff nipples, sending shivers through my entire body. “You’re not done yet. There’s much more to read. Carry on.”

  “Carry on? What, are you British all of a sudden?”

  “I love the indignation in your voice,” he says, amused.

  “Number thirteen: Receiving party shall address main party respectfully at all times in public as ‘Mr. Van Der Linden’ or ‘Monsieur Van Der Linden.’ ‘Mr. Van Der Linden?’ Why so formal?”

  “It’s France, Amanda. They are not as casual as we are here in America about ranks, and since you’re acting as my translator and technically I’m your boss, the French will expect a certain level of decorum and respect from a subordinate to the president of an important corporation. It’s normal in their minds that I’d have the upper hand in that manner.”

  “I see. I’m a subordinate now and you have the upper hand on me.”

  “It’s not me, Amanda. It’s the French way,” he says with fake innocence while revealing a grin of satisfaction.

  This arrangement is complicated. I can't possibly sign this contract without compromising myself.

  To be continued…

  ***

  The Story Continues In Unbearable Passion Part 2—French Kiss. Order Your Copy From Major Retailers To Indulge In The Luxury, Glamour And Romance Of The Love Capital Of The World!

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  I’m the author of “Scandalous Seduction” Novels. I write sultry, sensual and steamy erotic romance novels that turn on women. I’ll admit my novels are a bit risqué, but if you can’t push the boundaries between the pages of a book, it’s just not fun.

  I’m a Canadian erotic romance author with a penchant for discovering the world. As a globetrotter, I’ve found it essential to inject my love of travelling in my erotic romance books.

  I have a serious love affair with Italian gelato, ice cream, pound cake, homemade cookies and Martinis. Like most women, I have way more shoes than I need, but it’s so hard to resist getting new ones.

  I’ve always wanted to write erotica novels, but never had the courage to put pen to paper until 2014—when I decided to jump in with both feet.

  Once I started writing, it’s as if I just couldn’t stop and now I find myself constantly walking around with new stories floating in my head.

  I write naughty romance novels because of three reasons:

  1. Living on the edge between the covers of a book is so exhilarating.

  2. I’m addicted to the feeling of falling in love—I’ll even get emotional when I write certain scenes.

  3. I’m a sucker for a happy ending!

  I hope you’ll enjoy reading my erotic romance books as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them!

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  Here is another preview of a story you may also enjoy:

  She went into his arms. Her kiss had been intended to be a light acceptance of his niceness. He kept it up, though, and she certainly had no reason to end it. He sucked her lower lip, and then he licked her lips. She opened them to him, but he kept licking them. She finally sought his tongue with hers. When they met, sparks flew. He pulled her to him, and she felt his firmness against her stomach.

  "Oh, my love," he said when they broke. His hands went to the buttons on her blouse. She was his, and she let him strip her. He did it slowly, kissing every newly revealed inch of skin.

  She felt aroused, more aroused than she had been in years. She also felt cherished, cherished as not even the Rick of years ago had cherished her.

  When he was kneeling and he had her jeans down around her ankles, he eased back to let her step out of them. Then he kissed her legs upward to her panties. He kissed her mound through those panties, and she felt ready for him. He eased her down on the bed.

  If he'd been patience personified in removing her clothes, he was nearly a blur in removing his. Then he faced her, fully nude and magnificently male. He looked as ready for her as she felt ready for him. She pushed the panties down, and Rick took them off her feet. She spread her legs slightly as he got into bed.

  He started with a kiss, though. It was a gentle, but extremely sensual, kiss. She arched her hips off the bed as their tongues met. He cupped her, holding all her femininity. As he moved his mouth from hers to her breasts, her nipple strained upward towards his mouth. He licked it, touching only the tip with the tip of his tongue. She quivered all over, and he moved to the other breast. When he sucked that nipple, sparks shot from the tips of her toes.

  He thrust one finger deep inside her. Then he drew it out, very slowly, and over her clit. It was only one finger, but it went so slowly that it felt much more -- maybe a yard long. He changed breasts again and sucked deeply. The sucking and the stroking were sending heat through her. She felt as though she was being baked, and there was a fire in her womb.


  He raised his head from her breast and stared into her eyes. "Heather," he said. "Heather, my love."

  Then lightning crackled within her. She moaned and writhed. It went on as he kept stroking. She collapsed, and he removed his finger. He kissed her forehead and her shoulder. As her breath eased, he kissed her nose tip, and then her breasts, and then her stomach.

  He again stroked her mound. He rubbed the lips there against one another, very softly. The response, however, was fire. His hand was wonderful, and his look was loving if it was searching. He had brought her delight, and she could believe he would bring her more delight. She wanted more than that, though.

  "You," she said. "Please!"

  He rolled away suddenly. She stifled a protest when she saw that he was reaching in his drawer. She almost told him that he didn't need the rubber. She could tell, though, that this was one more act of caring. He was taking responsibility, taking care of her. Whatever the physical shortcomings, she would celebrate it as an action of the man who would never put her at risk.

  Now, he was kneeling between her legs. She spread her lips with her hand and rolled her hips to receive him fully. She felt open to him.

  "Heather," he said.

  "Yes, oh yes."

  However open she had been, she felt him stretch her more as he went in slowly. And it was slow, agonizingly slow. When he had filled her, he kissed her briefly. She hugged him with her arms and with her legs. He was in her, but she wanted to hold all of him.