French Kissing: Season One

by Harper Bliss

  She was beginning to suspect Margot was more a fan of mind games than prudent abstinence.

  STEPH

  Steph fumbled with her phone, trying to find the door code Dominique had sent her when she’d first summoned her to the Avenue Foch. She was tired and thirsty—having seriously underestimated the distance from Les Pêches in her drunken state of mind. It was late and the effect of the shots was starting to wear off. What was she doing?

  She stared at the message with the four-lettered code for an instant before turning to the keypad next to the massive, blue door.

  “Looking for someone?” Seemingly out of nowhere, Dominique appeared on the sidewalk beside her. Only then did Steph spot a taxi driving off.

  “You’re out late.”

  Dominique looked stunning in a knee-length navy summer dress, a pensive smile painted on her lips. “I didn’t know I had a curfew.” Dominique stepped closer, keyed in the code quickly and held the door open for Steph. “Come in.” Her heels came down hard on the tiles in the quiet hallway.

  They rode the elevator in silence, Steph’s heart beating frantically beneath her flimsy, clubbing t-shirt. She caught a whiff of Dominique’s scent, the same perfume as always, weakened by the hours since it was applied, and faint notes of whiskey on her breath.

  Dominique shut the door of her flat behind them, dumped her keys on the cabinet by the door and stepped out of her high heels. “I take it you’re not here for a meaningful, late-night conversation.”

  “I’m tipsy and I may regret this in the morning, but fuck, I want you.” Her voice sounded hoarse and low, like when she was going in for the kill after picking someone up.

  “Let me make sure you don’t regret it then.” Dominique curled her arms behind her back and Steph could hear the distinct sound of a zipper being lowered. She couldn’t imagine a sexier noise. A blink of her eyes, and Dominique stood before her in a set of matching blue bra and knickers. Right-wing party colours all the way.

  Steph swallowed the dryness out of her throat. She’d tried to push any sexual thoughts of Dominique out of her head since her conversation with Nadia, but they’d crept up on her when she least expected it. On the Métro, in the shower—as soon as she woke up in the morning.

  This wasn’t a matter of thoughts anymore. Dominique approached wearing only lingerie and everything inside of Steph went mellow, any remaining sliver of resistance melting with the rest of her. If she didn’t know any better—if she allowed herself silly thoughts like that—she’d believe she was falling in love.

  “What’s the matter, Stéphanie?” Steph felt Dominique’s hot breath on the skin of her cheeks. “I do hope the cat didn’t get your tongue.”

  Steph’s only reply was to pull Dominique near and flash the tip of her tongue between her lips. The heat coming off Dominique’s half-naked body radiated through Steph’s t-shirt, and, only breaking their lip lock for a split second, she pulled it over her head, needing to feel Dominique’s warm skin on hers.

  “I missed you,” Dominique whispered in Steph’s ear, and it was so much more powerful than any clever quip or even the dirtiest word.

  Despite knowing full well this had no future, no chance of being more than a string of fleeting moments like this, Steph felt the warmth of Dominique’s words close around her heart. She could brace herself for heartache, or she could pull Dominique’s knickers down and feel the wetness gathered there for her. It wasn’t really a choice at all.

  Dominique pulled at the buttons of Steph’s jeans and let her hand slide in while Steph’s fingers found their way into Dominique’s panties. The touch of a finger on her clit made Steph’s muscles twitch momentarily, but the moist heat between Dominique’s legs roused her to action. She had no trouble slipping in deep—just like that, as if the entire week had only led up to this moment—and coaxing a low moan from Dominique’s throat.

  Dominique steadied herself against the door with her other hand, her eyes firmly locked on Steph’s. As if she could read her mind, Dominique slid two fingers between Steph’s throbbing pussy lips, her wrist curving into Steph’s open jeans.

  They found a rhythm, going deep while the other pulled back, to and fro, the pace growing faster, their breaths becoming more ragged. Hands frantic, eyes glazing over, Steph felt it crash in to her. She didn’t close her eyes when the walls of her pussy contracted around Dominique’s fingers. Instead, she lost herself in Dominique’s green gaze while her body surrendered.

  Steph had the presence of mind to finish her task, thrusting deep until Dominique’s eyes narrowed—as if wanting to mirror the spasms of her pussy—and her body thundered down on top of hers.

  “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” Dominique whispered after catching her breath, ”can I offer you a drink?”

  JULIETTE

  Juliette waited until the light coming through the drapes was strong enough to wake Nadia up naturally. She’d been awake for a while, revelling in the fact that Nadia was back in their bed. They’d danced for hours—Nadia moving, Juliette watching at first, until she’d drunk enough to get her limbs limbered up. Too tired for anything else, they’d fallen into bed, a deep, dreamless sleep seizing Juliette instantly.

  She could make out the vague symptoms of a hangover, but it wasn’t enough to spoil the gloriousness of the moment. Nadia was back. It was Sunday. They’d had such fun the night before. Actually, Juliette briefly wondered if it was, in fact, real and she wasn’t dreaming.

  Nadia opened her eyes, a smile immediately lighting up her crumpled face. She pushed a strand of hair from her forehead and the simple gesture almost roused a tear from Juliette’s eyes—as if it had been lodged there for days, waiting for a reason to break free.

  “Morning,” Juliette whispered, her voice half-gone.

  “Hey stranger.” Nadia’s skin stood out against the white sheets and Juliette had missed the sight of it so much, the tear now made its way down her cheek.

  “What’s the matter?” Worry suppressed the smile on Nadia’s face. She brought her thumb to Juliette’s cheekbone and brushed away the tear.

  “Absolutely nothing.” Juliette trapped Nadia’s hand against her skin, letting the sleepy warmth of it penetrate her flesh. “Just so happy you’re here.” Juliette pressed her lips against the heel of Nadia’s hand, her eyes fixed on Nadia’s. She kissed her hand again, and again, remembering their romp outside the club last night. She pecked her way up Nadia’s arm, her bare shoulder, the gooseflesh on her neck and, finally, her lips.

  They could have a quickie outside against a concrete wall, in the sofa, or in Margot’s guest room, but nothing could compete with the intimate history of their own bed.

  Nadia’s skin was still warm with sleep, and soft—always so soft—and inviting. Juliette pushed herself up so half her body landed on top of Nadia’s, running her toes over her smooth shins and her knee along Nadia’s thigh.

  Nadia cradled Juliette in her arms, reciprocating the kiss, but her body remained rigid, not yielding just yet.

  Nadia broke the lip lock and found Juliette’s ear. “You know I’m not a morning person, babe.”

  And sure, Juliette knew, but she hardly thought it mattered in these circumstances, and believed Nadia would make an effort after last night. Clearly not.

  Juliette planted her palms next to Nadia’s head, stretching her arms and looking down at her. “We have all day.” It wasn’t just that Nadia wasn’t one for a morning rumble, though, Juliette could see that in the unexpected—and rather hurtful—dullness in her eyes and in the way the corners of her mouth stretched almost dutifully into a smile, as opposed to the real one she’d woken up with.

  “Are you coming this afternoon? It’s okay if you don’t feel up to it.”

  Juliette searched her brain. “Where to?” The dim throb in her temples seemed to launch itself into a full-blown headache, possibly enhanced by the sting of rejection.

  “My dad’s birthday.”

  “I thought that wa
s next week?” And just like that, the moment had passed. Juliette let herself fall back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling of which she knew every little hairline crack.

  “It is, but they’re going on this last minute trip to Tunis, so we’re celebrating early.” Nadia made no effort to find Juliette’s gaze, or to apologise further. “You don’t have to come. I’ll tell them you have a work thing.”

  An afternoon with the Abadi family was the last thing Juliette felt like, but she was Nadia’s partner and it was her duty. “Do you want me to come?” Juliette rolled onto her side, facing Nadia, already running a finger over her belly again, unable to not touch her. Didn’t she feel this?

  “Of course.” Nadia shuffled her body so she lay on her side as well. “You know they adore you.”

  It wasn’t Nadia’s parents’ adoration Juliette was after. “Sure.”

  “Thanks, babe,” Nadia said. “Last night was fun.” She pushed herself forward to plant a kiss on Juliette’s forehead. “Maybe we should try to get a bit more sleep before setting off to Saint-Denis.”

  “I think I’ll get up, but you should get back to sleep.” If that’s what you want. Juliette turned away from Nadia and slipped out of their bed, in search of a double dose of pain killers and a tall glass of water.

  CLAIRE

  Claire had slept in fits, unable to relax with Margot lying next to her in a shoulder-line enhancing tank top and a pair of flimsy boy shorts. Subconsciously, she kept listening for the door to fall in the lock, waiting to see if Nadia would make it home—because with her and Juliette these days, you just never knew.

  She’d dozed off as the morning light was starting to throw shadows through the windows, her hands buried underneath the pillow and her body so exhausted with the sheer force of unanswered desire, it just gave up.

  Through half-lidded eyes, she noticed Margot shift. It was warm in the bedroom, and Margot had shaken off the duvet. Her tank top had ridden up her stomach, displaying the impressive abs Claire had always suspected were hiding underneath her layers of clothing. If she’d still been sleep-drunk an instant before, Claire was now wide awake. She felt a deep throb spread from beneath the moist panel of her panties to every extremity of her body.

  If Margot wasn’t on the same page as her now, surely she’d have to flee and tend to herself, such was the level of her arousal. Claire was sober. They’d bided their time. Their affection for each other could hardly still be questioned. Claire fully respected that Margot needed time. She understood. But surely, they’d waited long enough.

  “I know exactly what you’re thinking.” Margot’s voice surprised her, its gravelly morning rasp cutting through the silence. “I suggest that, if you need the washroom, you go now because you’re about to be tied up here for a while.”

  “Good morning to you too,” Claire said, countering Margot’s matter-of-factness with a soft kiss on her bicep. Her words had caused the wetness between her legs to multiply, though.

  “Hey.” The smile that broke on Margot’s face lit Claire’s skin on fire. She understood the virtues of waiting even more now. “How are you feeling?”

  “Ready.” Claire shuffled closer, inhaling the sleepy, comforting scent of Margot’s skin.

  Margot held out her arm and Claire nestled in the crook of her shoulder. “I mean it, though.”

  “What? About me using the loo or you tying me up?”

  “Both.” There wasn’t a trace of irony in Margot’s voice.

  Claire pushed herself up, away from Margot’s body. “Are you serious?”

  “Deadly.” She detected only a hint of a smile on Margot’s face.

  “Don’t you, erm, have to ask for my consent first or something?” A tingling sensation took root in Claire’s stomach.

  “What do you think I’m going to do to you while you’re tied up?”

  Claire was momentarily at a loss for words at such a display of determination and confidence this early on a Sunday morning. Maybe Margot had been holding off until Claire was ready. “Can’t wait to find out now,” she said, injecting as much bravado into her voice as she could muster.

  “Good.” Margot sat up and, in one swift movement, toppled Claire onto her back. “Don’t worry, I’ll go slow,” she said as she straddled Claire, her nipples poking hard through the fabric of her tank top. The grin on her lips faded as her face approached Claire’s for a kiss, soft at first, exploratory and gentle, until Claire, still with full control of her hands, pulled Margot close and let her tongue roam free in her mouth.

  Claire was afraid that, even if Margot only inadvertently brushed against her knickers with her knee, she’d come on the spot. But Margot’s knees were firmly planted on either side of Claire’s thighs, pushing her legs close together, while the intensity of their kiss grew and Claire could clearly feel moisture trickle through the back of her panties, down the sensitive flesh there.

  Claire’s hands travelled down from Margot’s hair, down her strong back, searching for the swell of her biceps. She figured she’d cop a good feel now that she still could. The tingle in her belly increased when Margot rose from the bent-over position she’d been in and locked her dark, mysterious gaze on Claire’s.

  Without saying a word, she hoisted her tank top over her head, exposing her breasts and nipples as hard as pebbles. Claire only seemed to have eyes for her abs, which stood out spectacularly in the position she was sitting in.

  Instead of discarding the tank top, she briefly deposited it on Claire’s torso while taking her wrists in her hands. She tied the tank top around Claire’s wrists and brought her arms over her head, hooking the fabric over something Claire hadn’t noticed before—because she’d had no reason to—on the bed frame behind her.

  A devilish grin took hold of Margot’s face. Told you, it seemed to say.

  Claire was stuck under Margot’s muscled, strong body, her arms tied above her head. Not exactly how she had expected things to turn out. She’d slept in a t-shirt Margot had lent her, which Margot was now slowly pulling upwards, until her chest was bare, the fabric of the t-shirt bunched up under her chin.

  Claire guessed the slight slant of Margot’s head was as close to a nod of approval as she was going to get. She wanted to ask—and in normal circumstances would have—if she liked what she saw, but her throat was so dry with anticipation, any questions remained mute and confined to her mind.

  Claire felt her nipples reach skyward violently, eager for some relief. The darkness in Margot’s eyes shimmered with mischief as she leaned over and took one in her mouth. It couldn’t have had more effect on Claire if Margot had wrapped her lips directly around Claire’s clit.

  “Ooh,” she moaned, two weeks of pent-up arousal escaping from her lips. Her breasts jutted out, pressed together by the upward curve of her arms, seemingly begging for Margot to lavish all her attention on them.

  Margot kissed a moist path down Claire’s breasts, biting at the skin stretched over her belly, and, at last, dipping her tongue underneath the waistband of Claire’s drenched panties. Her long black hair floated across Claire’s nipples, leaving them just as erect as when Margot’s lips had been locked around them.

  Margot shuffled down, over Claire’s legs, freeing them. “Let’s get this off you,” she said more to herself than to Claire, already hooking her fingers under her panties, taking them down.

  Arms tied, t-shirt rolled up over her breasts, knickers off and at the mercy of Margot, unable to roll Margot’s nipples between her fingers or even reach for them with her lips, Claire spread her legs. Whatever Margot had in store next, climax was imminent.

  Margot took position between Claire’s legs, staying immobile for an instant, locking her eyes on Claire’s.

  “Oh god, please.” Claire couldn’t take it any longer. “Please just—” The words died in her throat as Margot averted her gaze and peeked down between her legs, her glance as smouldering as any touch could have been. Being on display had never aroused Claire as much as now.


  “Looks like I’ll need to teach you some patience.” The zen in Margot’s voice was long gone, her excitement shining through.

  She planted her palms next to Claire’s thighs, their skin barely brushing together, and kissed Claire’s belly. Slowly, she pecked down, but nowhere near enough to where Claire needed it most.

  In response, Claire bucked up her pelvis, trying to meet Margot’s lips, which had now reached the wetness of her inner thighs, subjecting them to the same slow torture.

  When Margot flicked the tip of her tongue once over Claire’s clit, a ball of fire burst in her stomach, but Margot didn’t indulge her just yet. Instead, she circled her tongue in wide ellipses around Claire’s nub of pleasure.

  Margot slid her tongue over Claire’s engorged nether lips, briefly brushing her clit on the way up. More fireworks exploded in Claire’s veins. Then, nothing but faint puffs of hot breath. Claire looked down, straight into Margot’s narrowed eyes. They stared at each other for another moment, Claire’s flesh simmering under Margot’s breath.

  At last, she sucked Claire’s clit between her lips, once, twice, before touching her tongue to it in rapid-fire flicks. A sigh of relief exited Claire’s lungs, expelling all the lust that had built up, all the tension coiled inside of her. She curled her fingers around the fabric of the tank top as best as she could as the first wave crashed through, so much more forceful than she could have imagined.

  She heard someone shriek loudly, but was too far gone to realise it was her own voice losing control. When Margot sucked her clit into her mouth again while simultaneously slipping a finger inside her pussy, Claire believed she would pass out with pleasure. The second wave left her slightly more aware of what was happening, bursts of relief engulfing her, prickling on her skin.

  “Jesus,” she yelled, when Margot thrust mercilessly inside of her, not letting go of her clit. She had nowhere to go but under, her hands in place and her legs—and heart—wide open.