French Kissing: Season One

by Harper Bliss

  Dominique rose from the sofa, silencing Steph in the process. “I know what this is about.” Everything was quiet in the flat, their breath the only sound. “You have feelings for me and you have no clue what to do with them.”

  Steph shook her head, lying to herself and this woman who had, somehow, wormed her way into her heart.

  Dominique inched closer and grabbed Steph’s hand, bringing it to her own chest. “I feel it too, Stéphanie.” She cupped Steph’s hand with her own and squeezed it tight around her breast. “And you mustn’t think this is easy for me.” Steph felt Dominique’s nipple stiffen against the palm of her hand.

  “I didn’t expect to feel this way.” To her horror, Steph’s voice cracked a little when she said it. The soft expression that melted Dominique’s face only made matters worse. Steph wasn’t going to say it out loud, but they were falling in love. Maybe it was time to follow her instinct, the only thing that had ever protected her from silly situations like this.

  “Neither did I, sweetheart.” Dominique’s lips landed on her earlobe. “This desire I feel for you, however complicated it is, I’m certain it makes me a better human being, it makes me more aware of what’s important, it even makes me a better representative for my lovely constituents.”

  And every defence Steph had previously relied on crumbled when Dominique sank her teeth into her earlobe, biting down so softly but so determinedly at the same time. Steph felt her pussy open itself up for her already.

  “If you don’t mind,” Dominique said, “I think I’ll stay the night.” Her hand found its way into Steph’s pants, always going straight for the prize. “Should I call the fire brigade, Stéphanie? We seem to have a bit of a flood going on down here.”

  JULIETTE

  Please, meet me tonight and I’ll answer every single one of your questions. No exceptions. Nadia’s reply to her e-mail had been much shorter than Juliette had wanted, but also very different from what she had expected: another long e-mail drenched in apologies.

  When she opened the door and set eyes on Nadia, who seemed to have aged ten years since Juliette had last seen her, her heart sank and a wave of compassion washed over her. But then the image came back to her—the picture in her mind of a faceless woman moving inside of Nadia, giving her pleasure. The image that would stand between them forever if she didn’t get more of an explanation. Compassion was instantly replaced by frustration and anger because, while Juliette had believed their sex life was going through a bit of a slump, Nadia had been getting it elsewhere. It may have only been once, but once was more than enough to add to Juliette’s mounting feeling of inadequacy.

  “Bonsoir,” Nadia said, her voice sounding as broken as her body looked.

  Juliette had prepared the wine, their usual day-to-day bottle of Cabernet, because neither one of them would make it through this conversation without plenty of it.

  They didn’t kiss each other hello and the omission of that simple gesture alone was like a neon sign flickering on the wall: Beware. Dying relationship. Possibly already dead.

  After they sat down and the wine had been poured, Juliette stared at her partner—or was it ex-partner now?—for a few seconds before launching the questions she’d prepared in her head. Ten years, she thought, ten years and then this.

  “What was her name?” Juliette broke the silence that had settled around them.

  “Marie Dievart.” Nadia said it like a witness on the stand on the TV shows they used to watch together—another thing of the past.

  “Did she instigate or did you?” Juliette had to keep her tone harsh in order to ask these questions, to mask how uttering every single word of them made her die a little inside.

  “It, erm, just happened. It wasn’t really a question of who instigated what…”

  But Juliette knew Nadia, knew she wasn’t one to be seduced just like that—which was, most likely, what hurt the most. “I don’t believe you.” Juliette vividly remembered the first time she’d met Nadia, and especially the aggressive way she’d come after her. Nadia was a hunter and she always would be.

  Nadia sucked her bottom lip into her mouth before speaking again. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth.”

  “What? No one said anything and you just magically ended up in bed together? And then what? Did she fuck you? Did you let her?” Juliette lost control of her voice and a deep sob escaped her throat. Had she really believed this would be a good idea?

  “Jules, come on, it’s not really about that and we both know it.”

  “No,” Juliette spat through the tears. “Maybe for you it’s not about that, but for me it bloody well is.” She wiped most of the wetness from her cheeks. “And I’m sick and tired of you telling me what it is and isn’t about.” She wanted to gulp down the wine in her glass but was afraid she’d break it with the sheer force of the rage trembling in her fingers. “Instead of confronting me, instead of slamming me against the wall and telling me what it was all about, which is, let’s be honest, totally your style, you chose to fuck another woman.”

  Anger had pushed away the deflated look Nadia had walked in with. “If you really want to know, she offered me the comfort my own partner couldn’t give me when I needed it most. I let her seduce me and yes, I let her fuck me.” Nadia stood up. “At least, between the two of us, I know I made a mistake, which is much more than can be said of you.”

  Juliette knew she should say something, but Nadia’s words crushed her, wounded her more than any knife stabbed deep into her gut could. She knew she had to fight, but the pain paralysed her, made her mouth go dry and the words die in her throat.

  “I think we’re done here.” Nadia made for the door, her footsteps sounding determined, as if she would never come back.

  Juliette still couldn’t speak. The neon sign glittered: Dead. And all she could see was a woman named Marie Dievart kissing Nadia’s lips, fucking her, and she knew that, as long as she couldn’t get past that, any further conversation was useless.

  The front door slamming into the lock woke Juliette from her daze. Nadia was gone. The flat empty again. Automatically, she reached for her phone and scrolled to Claire’s number. Before her thumb could move again, the tears came, much more forceful this time, oceans of regret and pain raining from her eyes, loud howls coming from her mouth, as if someone was really wielding a knife to her gut.

  CLAIRE

  As Claire lay in her sofa waiting for Margot to ring the bell, watching nothing in particular on TV because the late night news had passed and she really wanted to go to bed, she reasoned that offering Margot the key had really been much more a practical matter than a romantic one. Perhaps she should have tried a different approach, and maybe her timing was off, but Margot was not leaving this apartment without her own key to it. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t really about the key so much as about the insecurity nagging inside Claire’s mind since Margot had told her about her ex’s imminent return. As if a tiny piece of metal could change that.

  Ding-dong. Claire jumped up, happy to have her train of thought interrupted, and even happier to see Margot.

  “House call,” Margot said as she entered. “Please take off your top and lie flat on your back with your hands above your head.”

  “I love the sort of medicine you practice.” Claire drew her near, planting a quick kiss on Margot’s lips.

  “Only for you, though.” Margot looked up into her eyes, her glance unexpectedly stern. “You do know that, don’t you?”

  And Claire knew, all the doubts dissolving in the heavy, sexy air that hung between them—at least for a little while.

  “Sorry I’m a little late,” Margot said, pushing Claire into the bedroom. “I had to make a detour to pick something up.”

  “Did you get me a present?” Claire noticed how the glimmer in Margot’s eyes changed from mischievous to downright bossy.

  “Oh yes.” She shrugged off her leather jacket and, very uncharacteristically, just let it drop to the floor, nex
t to her bag, which she had carried into the bedroom. Next, she came for Claire, tugging her top over her head and getting rid of her bra in the process.

  “What is it?” It wasn’t just curiosity that burned beneath Claire’s skin.

  “It’s your lucky day.” Margot pushed Claire down onto the bed before reaching for her bag. “Because I have not one, but two presents for you.”

  Claire watched Margot as she crouched down and opened the bag.

  “Number one.” She produced a set of fur-lined handcuffs. “Let’s start with that.”

  “Rather predictable,” Claire teased, and pulled Margot down on top of her.

  “Don’t make the mistake of underestimating me,” Margot whispered in her ear, her voice low and a little bit threatening. “Now hold on to the railing.”

  After she’d fastened Claire’s hands to the bed, Margot stripped quickly—much too quickly to Claire’s taste—and unearthed another something from the bag and put it on the nightstand outside of Claire’s field of vision.

  The not knowing soaked Claire’s panties to such an extent she feared for another lost pair—she’d had a lot of those since meeting Margot.

  “Let me examine you first,” Margot said as she climbed onto the bed again. She hoisted down Claire’s pyjama bottoms and knickers in one go.

  “Not wasting anytime tonight then.”

  “Why spend time on foreplay if you’re already so wet?”

  Claire lay naked on her bed, chained to the frame again, her clit throbbing between her legs. She wondered since when she’d been able to be reduced to such a hot mess in a matter of minutes and with just a few words.

  Margot poured her warm body on top of her, careful not to touch any bits that would set Claire off too quickly, and kissed her softly on the mouth. Claire wondered what was waiting for her on the night stand. Nipple clamps? A blindfold maybe? Margot was still such a mystery, it could be anything.

  “Let me know if you don’t like it.” Margot pushed herself up and reached for the night stand. She presented Claire with a medium-sized pastel-pink dildo.

  The mere thought of Margot using it on her sent a jolt of lightning straight to Claire’s clit. “I love it,” she croaked, her voice so hoarse it only produced whispers.

  “I thought you would.” Margot stroked Claire’s nipple with the tip of the dildo. It felt soft against her skin, much softer than any other of these toys she’d ever encountered. Margot trailed it slowly across Claire’s skin, finding her other nipple, and lingering there before tracing it upward, over her collarbones and neck until it reached her lips. “Better lubricate,” Margot said, and dragged the tip of the dildo along Claire’s mouth.

  Claire saw something shimmer in Margot’s glare, something she hadn’t seen before—an unmet need, a flash of darkness. In that moment, Margot’s eyes pinned on hers while she eased the dildo slowly into Claire’s mouth, the sight of it, the unspoken desire it expressed, made Claire’s blood melt even more for her.

  Claire was completely at Margot’s mercy and she trusted her. Even if she didn’t want her key and even if her ex came back to work alongside her every day of the week, she trusted Margot with her life the way she trusted her with the dildo in her mouth.

  Claire sucked the toy between her lips, the soft outer coating of it sizzling against the inside of her mouth. She twirled her tongue around the tip, as if licking an extension of Margot, while keeping her eyes firmly locked on Margot’s. Juices oozed from between her legs and when Margot let the toy slip from her mouth, Claire was ready to beg.

  There was no need because, eyes still locked on hers, Margot seemed to read her mind. She bent over to kiss Claire on the lips while her hand travelled downward with the toy clasped between her fingers.

  She dropped it between Claire’s legs briefly to run a finger over her soaked pussy. She didn’t say anything, just shot Claire a small, approving smile after breaking free from the kiss.

  All of Claire’s energy seemed to have focused in one place, all of her blood pooling in her pulsing pussy lips and clit.

  “Ready?” Margot asked, but it wasn’t really a question, more a word of warning.

  The dildo slid in easily, welcomed by Claire’s copious juices. She couldn’t remember ever having felt so wet, so saturated with desire.

  Margot slipped it in further, filling Claire in a way she hadn’t been in a while. There was no agileness of fingers, no subtleness, just the trust that Margot knew what she was doing, and the sensation of a foreign object inside of her, moving in her, that felt like a part of both of them.

  As Margot started wielding the dildo with more purpose, Claire started to feel more and more in tune with her body. She was nothing but a toy being thrust inside of her, nothing but Margot’s burning, smouldering stare locked on her face.

  She heard someone shriek but it couldn’t possibly be her. Claire didn’t produce noises like that, no matter how satisfactory the actions being performed on her. She held Margot’s gaze. Her face was focused, determined, her eyes turning an even darker shade of black.

  Claire was nothing but a sensory mass, every cell in her body overcome with pure joy, her skin a pincushion of delight. She couldn’t move her hands, but her pelvis shot up violently with every one of Margot’s thrusts inside of her, meeting her, wanting, needing more.

  “Oh, oh, oh,” that woman shrieked again, and Claire realised it was her, and then she shrieked some more, because it felt so good and so right and the wave that crashed over her first, already so strong, was just a warning sign, a warm-up for the next one, that seemed to take every last ounce of her energy.

  She closed her eyes against Margot’s stare because it was too much, she was too far gone, and the waves kept breaking over her, washing over her, every new one heavier than the previous one, until they subsided and, out of breath, Claire came up for air.

  Unable to speak, she found Margot’s eyes. Margot didn’t retract the dildo, she kept it inside of Claire, holding it immobile, but not releasing her. They stared into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, wordless, just breath and hot air between them, until Margot started moving it inside of Claire again. Tiny, minute movements that multiplied through Claire’s sensitive flesh.

  Claire understood. Margot wanted her to come again. She wanted her completely spent—although Claire thought she already was.

  But Margot kept shifting the toy inside of her, so slowly at first, so gently, until she bent over and the closer her face came to Claire’s, the deeper she started thrusting.

  “Come for me again,” she whispered in Claire’s ear, her breath like fire on Claire’s skin. “Do it for me.” It sounded like a plea, almost a cry for help, and Claire felt it was nothing less than her duty to please Margot.

  Then, as if a beast inside of her had been unshackled by saying the words, Margot’s hand seemed to take on a life of its own, pounding away inside of Claire, no signs of the earlier subtlety, just brute, powerful ramming. Despite Claire having already reached her peak earlier, this uncontrolled thrusting, as if Margot had let go of something important, brought her there again and then beyond it. Beyond reason, and beyond what she thought her body was capable of. The fire beneath her skin swelled from a low flicker to a blazing riot in a matter of seconds, as if fuelled by a new batch of gasoline. Woosh, it seemed to go inside Claire’s flesh, tearing through her skin, melting her blood until it was all she felt. Just fire and the sensation of being touched in a place that only someone special could reach.

  She came again, with a deep tremor inside her belly, Margot’s lips on the delicate skin of her neck. A sob, and then another. Claire couldn’t check her own cheeks for wetness, but she knew she wasn’t the one doing the crying.

  She couldn’t move even if she wanted to. Her muscles had given out after all the contractions and her legs seemed to be sinking into the mattress. Margot lay half on top of her, breathing heavily, as if she was the one who…

  “Oh my god,” Claire said, without thi
nking. “Did you?”

  Margot pushed herself up and looked into her eyes, all signs of darkness gone. At last, she let the dildo slip from Claire’s pussy, and Claire folded one leg over Margot’s lower body. Margot just nodded.

  Claire shook her wrists, reminding Margot that they were still bound and she was the only one with the key. How ironic.

  “Oh, sorry,” Margot said, suddenly flushed. She grabbed the key off the nightstand and uncuffed Claire, rubbing her thumbs over her wrists.

  “Come here.” Claire drew her near. “I can honestly say that was the best sex of my life.” Because if Claire had ever felt more satisfied and closer to someone in bed, she couldn’t remember.

  “I think I’m falling in love with you.” Margot’s voice was muffled by her hair that kept her mouth from kissing Claire’s neck fully, but Claire had heard it loud and clear.

  NADIA

  Nadia didn’t have anything better to do than to give the new doctor a tour of the hospital on a Sunday afternoon. Any communication between her and Juliette had been firmly halted after their last meeting. They hadn’t exactly said the words yet, but Nadia was starting to prepare for them, although she had no real idea how. How could it possibly be over between them? Would it really end like this? With fighting, endless reproach and nothing but bitterness between them?

  “Madame Abadi?” Inez knocked on her doorframe. “Thank you so much for agreeing to see me.”

  “I thought it better to show you around during the weekend. Not so hectic.” Nadia stood up to greet Inez. She held out her hand. “And please, call me Nadia.”

  A cool hand met hers. “I prefer Doctor Larue.” Inez kept her facial expression neutral for a few seconds before breaking out into a wide smile. “Just kidding.” She let her fingers slip from Nadia’s grasp. “When you’ve stitched people up in the jungle, formalities become less important.”