The Frenchman's Woman

by Lee Taylor

  ~~

  Chapter 24

  Bai spent nearly ten hours holed up with Wan and Nianzu and other Sing Leon preparing for the conclave. He was exhausted and needed to rest. His body ached. The muscles on his neck were stiff. He dug his fingers in the tight knots to relieve some of the pressure. Returning to his chambers, he lit a fire in the fireplace. Pouring himself a glass of bourbon, he took off his jacket and prepared to settle in for a night of reading. Though he was tired, he knew that if he went to bed he would do what he had avoided doing all day, and that was to think about Elena.

  To amuse himself, or more likely, he thought, to torment himself, he wondered what would have happened if he had taken Wyatt up on his offer to join them for an afternoon ride and a picnic. It sounded normal, easy, until he imagined what Elena would have done when she saw him. He was certain she would have refused to go, or, if she did, would have painstakingly avoided him throughout the day. He reminded himself that they would never be able to do things like that together. Surprised at the sense of loss he felt, he turned back to his reading.

  He loosened the collar on his shirt and stood up to bring the bottle of bourbon next to his chair, when he heard a knock on his door. Frowning, he went to the door, annoyed at the unexpected interruption. He opened the door and, to his surprise, Elena stood in the doorway. She was wearing that grey skirt with the slit up the front and the white silk blouse that made his prick swell whenever she wore it. Her hair was pulled back, the usual wispy curls springing free, shadowing her face and neck. She looked like a vision until he saw her eyes. The vision was terrified.

  They stared at each other, unmoving for a long moment. As Bai stood in the doorway looking at her, he knew he should turn her away. He didn’t try to hide his irritation and she paled even more. She closed her eyes, then swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

  As if willing her breath steady, she gazed up at him and asked, “What are the rules?”

  It took him a good ten seconds to understand her reference, then another ten seconds to decide how to respond. Even though she looked terrified, his first thought was that she was doing what she had done in the garden -- playing her usual game, flirting recklessly but ready to scream for help when he responded to her.

  He felt his face harden. But hell, she was here. The least he could do was torment her. Deciding to take her on, he gave a dispassionate shrug.

  “The first rule is that I make the rules.”

  She startled, choking slightly. Her indecision was clear-- as was his. He glared at her and held her gaze --- daring her to respond. She hesitated, then straightened her shoulders. She took another deep breath and asked in a quavering voice, “May I come in?”

  He gave her a dismissive smile. “As long as you understand the rules.”

  She nodded and stepped in front of him. She lifted her chin and resolutely walked into the room.

  He closed the door behind her, making a point of locking it. He stood with his back to the door. He leaned against it with his arms folded across his chest, looking at her with a sardonic smile.

  She stood for a moment, glancing around the room, first at the flames dancing in the fireplace and then her gaze landed on the large four poster bed. She visibly paled and squeezed her eyes shut, as if to block out the image she saw in her mind.

  He almost laughed, knowing what she was thinking, but more than amusement, he felt his fury rise. He wondered how long it would take her to burst into tears and insist that she leave.

  He purposefully raked his eyes over her body, staring rudely at the swell of her breasts, her slender waist, her curvaceous hips. Willing his cock to settle down, he openly leered at her, a mocking smile twisting his lips.

  She glanced uncertainly at her clothes, then flushed with embarrassment.

  Nervously biting her lip, she stammered, “I…I know these clothes are…are silly in the middle of the night … but…you said it wasn’t interesting to undress someone who was practically naked. But I...I didn’t know what would be interesting.”

  She finished with a pained rush of words. Her face flamed, tears threatened in her eyes.

  He stifled his amusement as best he could, but a glimmer of a smile broke through. He nodded and said in as serious a voice as he could manage, “Good choice.”

  When he saw her shoulders relax and heard her sigh of relief, he was glad he hadn’t been a complete asshole and laughed at her.

  Bai walked over to the fireplace and stoked the logs. He kept his back to her, trying to decide if he wanted to play her game. He didn’t believe she was serious. Even if she thought she was, he was sure she would renege when things exceeded her control. Wary at best, angry at worst, he closed his eyes to consider his options. He decided to do what he told her today that he would. He would not play her game, he would play his. And he would make the rules.

  With an indifferent nod of his head, he walked over to the bed and took the quilt from the foot of the bed, tossing it on the floor in front of the fireplace. He leaned down and spread the quilt making a small pallet before the fire. He dropped a pillow from the sofa on the floor and then another. Taking several more pillows from the bed, he pitched them off to the side.

  Relishing her startled reaction, he said with a nonchalant smile, “For your hips.”

  She stared at him, her eyes wide and dark, her lips trembling. She nibbled at them nervously. He refilled his glass, then sat in the armchair by the fire, appraising her with a cynical smile. Looking through half closed eyes at her pale beautiful face, he lit one of his slender cigars and took several puffs on it, blowing the aromatic smoke up in the air. He motioned to her to come over and stand in front of him. She came and stood where he pointed.

  He nodded and puffed again on his cigar. “The second rule is that you take off your blouse.”

  When she hesitated, he took a sip of bourbon and gazed at her, openly taunting her, testing her.

  She smiled hesitantly and licked her lips nervously, then gave him a shaky smile. . Seeming to gather her courage, she began to unbutton her blouse. His jaw clenched slightly when she fumbled with the buttons, then slowly let it slide off her shoulders. She held it for a brief moment, then expelling a wispy breath, she let it fall to the floor.

  He studied the lacy camisole that she was wearing. Seeing the swell of her breasts against the silky fabric, he quirked an eyebrow and smiled appreciatively, trying to keep his breath steady. “Now your skirt.”

  He watched her face flush and she looked down. But, then, to his surprise, she peeked up at him with a shy smile. She reached around behind her to the buttons on the back of her skirt and began to release them. She had to twist to reach them. When she did, her camisole slipped, giving him a tantalizing view of the top swell of her breasts.

  Bai took another puff off his cigar, wondering where the hell this was going. Part of the answer came when she bent over, further exposing her breasts. She pushed her skirt down, daintily stepping out of it. She let the skirt sink to the floor and stood up, revealing the sexiest fucking pair of drawers he ever saw. Unlike the thigh length drawers the most daring of Madam Couchette’s whores wore, Elena’s drawers were so short that they cupped her ass. Their abbreviated length emphasized her long, athletic legs. As if that wasn’t enough, when she bent over to take off her skirt, he could swear he saw a tiny curl of soft hair protruding from the edge of the crotch. The red tint of the tuft sent a rush of blood to his already burgeoning prick.

  She stood up straight, next to naked, in her lace camisole, French drawers, and her fucking lizard-skin knee-high boots. Her face was a warm pink, her eyes wide. She hesitated and nibbled on her lower lip waiting for his orders.

  He managed to keep his voice steady, even though his heart was racing and his prick was hard as iron.

  “Ah, yes, cherie. Now a difficult decision for me. Do I have you take off those sexy boots before I have you remove your camisole? Or, do I have you show me your beautiful breasts dressed only in those outrageous
drawers and your boots?”

  She waited for his instructions, then with a saucy toss of her head, took a deep breath and said, “You’re making the rules.”

  He studied her through half closed eyes, shaking his head at her pert reply. Holy Christ! What if she is for real, he thought, stopping any pretense of trying to quiet his cock. But something about her sauciness made him want to taunt her, test her, and, yeah, fucking control her.

  “Cherie, take off your camisole. But before you do, take down your hair.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise, but she reached up and removed the combs. She shook her head and her hair fell down her back in a cascade of fiery copper and gold curls. His cock responded like it had been lit on fire.

  “Thank you. Now, the camisole.”

  Once again, she had to twist behind her to free the buttons. She flushed and closed her eyes, as if by keeping them closed she wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing and neither would he. She held the camisole over her breasts for a moment and then let it drop.

  He took another puff on his cigar, and put his head back, blowing the smoke up in the air, then stared at what he was sure were the most beautiful breasts he had seen. They were much fuller than they appeared when she was clothed, or in his brief tortured glimpses at the waterfall. And, Christ, her nipples. They were soft full pink tips that he knew he could spend a lifetime sucking.

  She flushed and looked at him uncertainly as if she didn’t understand the way that he was looking at her. She whispered, “Are they okay?”

  He gave a small involuntary snort and said with a soft smile, “Qui, mademoiselle, they are most certainly ‘okay.’”

  A sardonic smile crossed his lips when her exposed nipples tightened and peaked.

  “You seem to like baring your breasts for me,” he said, unsuccessfully trying to stifle the rising lust that had his prick jamming against the front of his trousers.

  She shook her head, not understanding.

  “Look at you, cherie,” he said with a mocking leer. “Just knowing that I am staring at your naked breasts makes your nipples hard.”

  Elena looked down almost in wonder at the puckered flesh then blushed and quickly put her hands up to cover her breasts.

  “Uh, uh. Non, non. You don’t hide from me. Don’t ever hide from me. You have no inhibitions, no inhibitions with me, cherie. Your body is mine.

  “It’s a rule,” he added with a wicked grin, motioning to her to put her hands down.

  Her eyes opened wide and, blushing brighter, she slowly lowered her hands to her sides. Bai’s eyes narrowed in appreciation at the enticing sight.

  He asked in a quiet voice, “What happens if you touch your nipples – just the tips? Do they get harder?”

  She paled and swallowed hard. She squeezed her eyes tight and when she opened them he thought he saw tears. Again, she took a deep breath and whispered, “Do you…want…me… to touch them?”

  He took a sip of bourbon and nodded, looking and feeling more and more like a predator wolf.

  “Is it a rule?” Her voice was soft, shy.

  “Yes, cherie, it is a rule.”

  She kept looking at him, but reached up and touched one nipple tentatively and gasped when it stiffened to a dusty pink point. She touched the other nipple and her eyes widened when it did the same.

  She whispered in surprise, “I know this happens when you hold me. But I’m surprised that I can make it happen, too.”

  “Do you think it might be that you are standing in front of me naked except for your drawers and sexy boots?” he drawled, puffing on his cigar.

  She hesitated, and for the first time, he thought she was going to renege. His jaw clenched and he felt a quick rush of anger.

  Instead she said, “Bai?”

  “Yes, cherie?”

  “Can you…will you…will you hold me? I don’t want to stand here any longer. I need you to hold me and tell me this is all right. I can’t tell by the way you are looking at me if you like me or if you are making fun of me.”

  “Non, non, cherie, I am not making fun of you and, oui, I will hold you. I will hold you and show you what I do to make your nipples hard. Would you like that? Oui? Would you like me to twist them, bite them, and suck on them?”

  Her face flamed and she trembled. A soft moan escaped her lips.

  “Yes? Good, because that’s what I’m going to do. But first take off your boots. And, cherie, bend over when you take them off.”

  When she bent over, her breasts swayed and her fingers swept across the tips, peaking them even more. She took off her boots, and stood before him naked, except for her lacy, ass-hugging drawers. Her eyes were wide with a mix of fear, uncertainty, and, what he hoped was excitement.

  Bai stood up, adjusting his trousers to accommodate his rock hard, throbbing cock. His heart was pounding wildly, his aroused breaths more like ragged gasps. He was surprised his legs held him upright. Gazing at the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, he smiled and snuffed out his cigar.

  His voice was gruff, tight with emotion.

  “Come here, Elena.”

  ~~

  Chapter 25

  She stepped toward him. He took her in his arms and pulled her close to him. He began murmuring in French. She understood enough to know that he was calling her loving names, praising her beauty. She relaxed in his arms, tears of relief stinging her eyes. She had been afraid, so afraid. She didn’t know if she could do this, but she did. Now she was here, and he was holding her like he would never let her go.

  He kept one strong arm around her and held her tight against his chest, then started to lay her down on the floor. “Here, cherie. Lay here. Put your head here.”

  He laid her on the quilt before the fire, gently positioning her head on the pillow. She took a deep breath, breathing in his heady odor. He smelled like tobacco and bourbon, the smoke from the fire, and that strong male smell of his that made her stomach flutter. A flood of sensation washed over her. She knew her face flushed because his knowing smile widened.

  He loomed over her, large, certain, his eyes glowing with a predatory gleam. He looked as though he would devour her. She thought she should be frightened, but she wasn’t. She wanted him to touch her. She ached for him to hold her close. He removed one of his black leather boots and then the other. He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it to the floor, then reached down and unbuttoned the top buttons of his pants, never breaking eye contact with her.

  She looked at the taut, lean muscles on his chest and shoulders and thought she might choke when she saw the fine dark hair on his chest arrowing down his taut belly to the huge bulge in his trousers. Her groin clenched. She pressed her fists against the floor to keep from crying out. Instead she whispered, “You are beautiful. May I touch you?”

  His eyes widened but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, cherie. You may. But first, I need to do this.”

  He lay beside her and stretched his lean body against hers. He reached down and took her face in his hands and began to kiss her the way he had in the garden, gently, lightly nipping at the corners of her mouth. Then taking her bottom lip between his teeth, he bit down. She started and moaned.

  He shuddered in response to her needy sound and his soft entreaties became harder, more urgent. He pushed her teeth open and drove his tongue deep into her mouth. He tasted like spicy bourbon and fine smoky cigars. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and moved up against him. She wanted to put her tongue in his mouth, twist it around his. She had never known what kissing could do. It was as though she was on fire, her skin was hot and damp, all because of the way he was driving his tongue deeper and harder, plundering her mouth as if he wanted to possess her starting with her mouth.

  She tasted his desire and felt his strong thighs rub against her. He reached down and separated her legs and pressed his hard cock up between her thighs. The same flash of heat that she felt in the garden and before in the barn made her groin clench, her breath catch. With
a painful start, she remembered those other times, how he had pulled back, pushed her away. Oh, God, what if he did that again? What if he stopped, rejected her, or, God help her, laughed at her? She knew she might die if he pushed her away again.

  “Bai, are you, are we…” Her voice was breathless, tentative.

  “Oui, cherie, what, petit amour?”

  “Bai, you…you aren’t going to stop, are you?” she whispered trying to hide her fear.

  “Oh. ma bien adoré,” his voice was a raspy mix of a chuckle and groan. “Non, non, never. I will never let you go. You are mine now, cherie, mine.”

  She squeezed back tears of relief and buried her face against his sculptured chest, digging her fingers even deeper in his tense shoulders, pulling him closer.

  ~~~

  Bai was startled by her question, chagrined, remembering the times he had pushed her away, fighting his desire for her, denying himself her soft body. He pulled her tight against him then gently laid her back to the floor, looking at her in amazement.

  “Mon Dieu, Elena, look at you! How could I possibly let you go? Do you know how much I want you? Feel me, mon amour, feel what you do to me.”

  He pressed her hand against his cock bulging in his pants and smirked at her surprise when it jumped against her hand. He looked down at her in wonder. Jesus, he couldn’t believe her body. He marveled at her soft pale skin, her lush hips, her glorious ass, and her strong, slender legs toned from years of riding horses and practicing kung fu. God, she was beautiful, perfect. He wanted to inhale her, absorb her, suck her into him -- connect to her every possible way.