French Kissing: Season Three

by Harper Bliss

  Then, Dominique did bring a finger out to play. But it turned up where Steph had decidedly not expected it. Ever so gently, Dominique circled a fingertip between her butt cheeks, and Steph started to lose it completely.

  “Jesus,” she sighed, while she felt herself fall deeper into the mattress, and she lost control over her body. Dominique commanded it now. The fingertip slipped in while Dominique intensified the flicks of her tongue. Steph’s skin seemed to catch on fire, then her flesh beneath it, and invisible fuses connected within her body and set off burst after burst of fireworks. She cried out louder than she ever had before.

  When she came to, Dominique was hovering over her with a smug smile on her face. “Desperate times call for desperate measures, babe,” she said.

  MARGOT

  Margot didn’t think she’d be able to stand this any longer. Claire had moved out of her spare room and not only did Margot miss her presence, but when she woke up in the middle of the night, she’d also had nothing but sexy images assault her brain since that kiss at Montmartre. They’d kissed quite a few times since then but it had never gone any further because they had both—very solemnly—declared they would take things slowly and now they seemed to be stuck in that ‘slow’ phase. Neither one of them seemed to have the balls to break the magic spell that had descended on them. And it was magical, for Margot at least, to be able to feel this way about Claire again. She hadn’t expected it—and she surely wouldn’t have allowed it if all the things that had happened hadn’t. But they had happened. Margot had nearly killed herself, and another person, when she’d crashed her motorcycle. And it had changed everything.

  Now, they were strolling through le Jardin des Tuileries, one of the most magnificent parks of Paris—and a constant reminder of why she would never leave this city. They walked hand-in-hand and just the touch of Claire’s fingers against hers was driving Margot crazy. Margot hadn’t been properly touched in months. She had surely not touched herself because that didn’t fit the punishment scheme she adhered to. Margot could easily have remained untouched for a good while longer, if it hadn’t been for Claire re-inserting herself into her life with full force three weeks ago.

  All of these thoughts crowded Margot’s brain when she stopped their slow-paced stroll, turned to Claire and asked, “Has this been slow enough for you?”

  “We can walk faster if you like,” Claire said, but Margot could tell from the sparkle in her eyes that she knew exactly what Margot meant.

  “I love you, Claire,” Margot blurted out, though she had certainly not meant to say that out loud. “I never stopped loving you.”

  Claire dropped Margot’s hand from hers and draped her arms over Margot’s shoulders. “I love you, too.” When Claire looked at her with her clear blue eyes, Margot’s frustration only grew. “Take me somewhere.” Claire’s voice sounded throaty.

  Margot had picked Claire up after they’d both voted and driven them to the centre of town to enjoy the gorgeous weather and to ‘take it slow’ a bit more. Where would she take her? Home? Margot wanted their physical reunion to happen in a place with more significance. And she couldn’t wait so long. If there weren’t so many people around, she’d have Claire there and then, but that wasn’t an option. She didn’t want to go to Claire’s place either, where the ghost of Marie Dievart still lingered.

  “Come on.” Margot took hold of Claire’s hand again. She knew exactly where to take her—she knew what Claire had to see through hooded eyes when she was climaxing at Margot’s fingers. Theoretically, it was the perfect spot—and the only one where they could come full circle.

  “That’s not where your bike is parked,” Claire said.

  “We’re walking.” Margot realized she was tugging at Claire’s hand. But she didn’t mind Claire feeling her eagerness. Margot hadn’t had her physical urges satisfied during the time they were apart like Claire had. Margot wanted to chase every memory of Dievart from Claire’s mind in the process as well, even though she knew full well she shouldn’t be thinking like that. She couldn’t control what went on in Claire’s brain—but she could damn well try.

  “Someone’s keen.” Claire tightened her grip on Margot’s hand, expressing a good amount of keenness herself.

  They didn’t have to go far. Margot hadn’t been to that particular spot since she’d graduated med school. Perhaps it didn’t even exist anymore. Or everyone else had discovered it now. Margot had happened upon it by chance when she was still a teenager. She wasn’t like her sister in her teens. She didn’t hang out with her class mates on the weekend and talk about boys. Margot mostly walked.

  She walked and walked until she understood the layout of her city, and was convinced that no other city in the world would ever do. Paris was where her adoptive parents had brought her, raised her, and shaped her into the person she was. Margot would never know for certain if she’d been lucky to have been adopted as a baby, but taking into account what she knew about her birth country, she could have an educated guess. Therefore, Margot had always counted herself lucky. Until she’d slammed her motorcycle into that van. Though that had not so much been a case of bad luck, more of terrible judgement.

  “Where are we going?” Claire sounded a little out of breath. She didn’t exercise the way Margot did, Margot reminded herself, and slowed her pace.

  “You’ll see.” It would have been foolish to try to describe the spot in words when they were only minutes away.

  “I don’t know how you do it, Margot,” Claire said. “How you manage to remain such an enigma.”

  “We’re almost there,” Margot said, ignoring Claire’s need for chatter. Margot didn’t want to chat anymore. She wanted to rip Claire’s clothes off her body and kiss her so fiercely they’d both be stumped for words for hours.

  They’d walked to the far west corner of le Jardin des Tuileries and headed to the back of the pavilion that was closest to the Seine. Margot’s heart sang with nostalgic memories from her youth. On that first proper date with Claire, she’d picked the spot with a view of the Eiffel Tower for a reason. Margot wasn’t one of those cynical Parisians who didn’t notice the iconic tower anymore. To her, it was a symbol of how lucky she’d been to have been brought here before she could even create any memories of it. This was her city. As far as she was concerned, she might as well have been born here.

  She led Claire through some bushes until they arrived at a small alcove in the wall of the building. “Will this do?” Margot asked with relief. They were in front of a recessed emergency exit door, that, with the row of shrubbery they had squeezed through, sheltered them from the prying eyes of anyone walking out of the park towards the river. It did however offer a clear, if somewhat distant, view of the Eiffel Tower.

  This was not a spot lost tourists happened across, nor was it in the way of anyone going about their regular day-to-day business. This was a spot only die-hard Parisians like Margot knew about.

  “You seem to have a fondness for the tower,” Claire said, her cheeks dimpling.

  “You can’t deny it’s a bit special for us.” Margot pulled Claire closer. “Now let’s undo that last memory we made underneath it.” Margot looked deep into Claire’s eyes. This moment wasn’t as stress-free for her as she had wanted it to be, though she knew that, with time, that would pass, too.

  Margot remembered the drunken confession Claire had made to her about how Dievart had treated her in the bedroom. Not that Margot needed to be told, because she could easily have guessed. She knew because she’d spent time with Dievart and she knew what kind of person she was, just as she knew what kind of person Claire was. Therefore, she wanted their physical reunion to be completely different than anything the neurosurgeon had done to Claire. Another reason why this spot was perfect.

  “Let’s.” Claire put her arms on Margot’s shoulders again, then waited.

  Margot stepped a bit closer into their embrace and kissed Claire. Kissing someone in the open air was always such a different sensation to ki
ssing them inside. Margot’s nose was full of outdoor scents and even Claire smelled different outside. Wilder. More free. Up for anything—though Margot knew Claire was always up for anything anywhere.

  “Are you okay with some al fresco loving?” Margot asked after tearing her lips away from Claire’s. Though kissing Claire was exquisite, and they’d done quite a bit of that the past week, Margot wanted—needed—more.

  “With you, I’m okay with anything.” Claire’s voice was soft, but her eyes glittered.

  Margot’s only response was a grin that stretched all the way across her face. She walked them both backwards a bit. She wanted Claire with her back against the building that was hiding them from view. A full state of undress would not be possible in this spot, but it wasn’t necessary. Margot hoisted up Claire’s top. Her eyes halted on the slope of her pale breasts where they exited the lace-edged bra. Then she slid a hand inside the cups of Claire’s bra and lifted her breasts out. The mild spring air seemed to have an instant effect on Claire’s arousal because her nipples sprang stiffly to attention at being set free.

  Margot couldn’t possibly resist a taste. She bent her knees a little and took Claire’s nipple in her mouth. Her own body responded in kind. Her nipples poked hard against the fabric of her bra and her pussy was gushing with wetness already.

  After releasing Claire’s nipple from her mouth, Margot found her eyes again. “I want you so much,” she said. You have no idea, she wanted to add, but she guessed—and hoped—Claire had a pretty good idea of the lust riding through her veins.

  “I’m all yours,” Claire said.

  It was all Margot needed to hear to go for the button of Claire’s jeans, flip it open, and slide her hand inside. She met soft fabric and hot skin. Margot let her finger linger just inside the waistband of Claire’s panties while looking up to kiss her again. Claire apparently felt that her other breast was being neglected because she was cupping it in her hand. Definitely an invitation Margot couldn’t refuse. And how dare she not bestow the same attention on Claire’s other breast? Margot chuckled inwardly while clasping her lips around Claire’s other nipple, which brought about another round of frantic throbbing between her own legs.

  Claire obviously didn’t mind using her hands today. Margot would put them to good use then. With her lips still folded around Claire’s nipple, she reached for Claire’s hand and brought it to the button of her own jeans.

  “Oh, yes please,” Claire said, getting the hint, and unsnapped Margot’s jeans before lowering her zipper.

  CLAIRE

  Claire didn’t want to think about Dievart at the very moment Margot let her slip a hand inside her pants, but she couldn’t help it. Dievart had never allowed her to do this. Her affair with Dievart had been relegated to dark rooms—usually Claire’s own bedroom. To the shadows. To a space where it only existed between them, and therefore might not have existed at all. Unfortunately, it had been very real, almost costing Claire a great deal in the process. Ironically, it had been that very affair that had brought Margot back into Claire’s life. If she hadn’t needed to have that dreadful confessional conversation with Juliette, Claire didn’t know if she would ever have called Margot. She might have let her be in peace. Might not have had this third chance. But Claire had needed Margot and now here they stood.

  Moreover, Claire could always count on Margot to top any romantic gesture she’d made previously. It was no coincidence that Claire had a clear view—a faraway one, but a view nonetheless—of the Eiffel Tower while her hand dipped lower into Margot’s pants.

  And Claire didn’t think of Dievart because finally doing this again with Margot brought back fond memories, but only because it was so radically different. It was so different that Claire could presently not even remember what had drawn her to Dievart in the first place. This was so much better. This was love. This was devotion to another person. This was two people letting the other see them up close, full-on, stripped bare—though only metaphorically because Margot was still fully dressed.

  Claire never thought it an honor when Dievart let her touch her—because that was how it was between them—the way she felt honored to slip a finger into Margot’s panties. Margot’s finger had slipped further down Claire’s own panties already and was lying in wait millimeters from her clit. Claire’s clit felt like it was on fire and she wanted nothing more than to set it free the way her breasts were free, with the light, early-May breeze on them.

  “This won’t do,” she said. She quickly retracted her hand and pushed her jeans and underwear over her behind, not caring one bit about who might see. It was just them here. As far as Claire was concerned it was just them on the face of the earth. When she looked into Margot’s sparkling eyes, that was how it felt.

  “Are you sure?” Margot asked. But her glance wasn’t questioning and a split second later she was lowering her own jeans. Granted, they couldn’t spread their legs as wide as Claire may have wanted, but they could spread them wide enough for what mattered. Additionally, it was a thousandfold more arousing to stand in this spot with Margot like this. Though Claire knew not to push it and expect Margot to hoist up her white t-shirt as well.

  All week at work, she’d hoped Margot would show up at Barbier & Cyr and treat her the way she’d done a few times before. Every time her phone rang or she’d heard footsteps approach, Claire had hoped it was Margot who had come to ‘speed things up’. But it never had been because this Margot, this post-accident Margot, would always take her promises seriously. And they’d vowed to take things slowly. One week of taking things slowly had left Claire wetter than ever.

  She slipped her hand between Margot’s legs while Margot did the same to her, and then it felt as though everything that had recently fallen apart in Claire’s life, fell back into place. This was the outcome she’d never dared to hope for, the outcome that had been too bold to even consider, let alone dream of—but here she was nonetheless. Margot had just told her she loved her. Claire had professed her own love—because love her she did. How else had they ended up here? This wasn’t destiny bringing them together, or Dievart and Juliette, it was Claire and Margot actively choosing each other. It was a love that was meant to be. A love Claire had never known before. That was why they were here. Just like, despite all their troubles, Claire knew Juliette and Nadia would always be together because they simply belonged together, she knew that she and Margot belonged together as well.

  She knew it even better when Margot slipped two fingers inside of her and took her breath away. She knew because despite this being a very vanilla act for the likes of Margot, it felt so incredibly right, so true, so them, that Claire’s legs buckled and she nearly forgot about her own task at hand.

  Claire slid her fingers between Margot’s hot wet folds and started fucking her, as she caught glimpses of the Eiffel Tower, though that certainly wasn’t the most spectacular thing on display. Margot’s eyes had tears in them, and that floored Claire more than any tower could. It was all well and good to fall in love, but there was nothing better than to have the object of your affection return your feelings in equal measure. Margot must have felt the exact same way and Claire thanked her lucky stars. They were making the new memory they needed and it would be more than adequate to erase the previous one of that cold night when they had broken up—and everything that had followed. With every stroke inside of Margot, Claire was, one by one, casting the bad things that had happened between them into a great black hole in her brain from which they could never be retrieved. This was the new them. And Claire was—increasingly—liking the new them. Margot kept her fingers high inside of Claire and wiggled them around minutely, and however small the motion, Claire was about to lose her mind. Because Margot was still crying and Claire rubbed her free thumb over Margot’s cheek, catching her tears.

  She luxuriated in the warmth with which Margot enveloped her fingers. It spurred on the sensations flooding Claire’s flesh. Her eyes started falling shut but she wanted to see Margot�
�s face. She had to keep on looking at this magnificent creature who was fucking her and loving her and who Claire was fucking back.

  “Oh Claire,” Margot mewed softly. “Oh Claire, yes.”

  Was she coming already? Claire didn’t leave anything to chance, although it was difficult with Margot’s fingers wiggling about like that and touching that ultra-sensitive spot inside of her. Soon Claire was uttering her own cries of delight because she was coming at Margot’s fingers and Margot was coming at hers.

  A brand new tear rolled out of Margot’s eyes as she cried out Claire’s name again and it unleashed a fire in Claire’s belly so great she had to put her free hand against the wall for support, or she would crash through her legs altogether.

  “Jesus,” Margot whispered after catching her balance. She didn’t try to hoist up her jeans straight away, but, instead, kissed Claire fully on the lips, transferring some tears from her cheek to Claire’s in the process.

  “Are you okay?” Claire asked, as she ran a thumb over Margot’s cheek again.

  “I’m more than okay.” Margot kissed her and Claire felt the kiss all the way to her toes. “Best cover up before we get arrested for indecent exposure,” she said with a giggle.

  “We’ll be friends with the president soon enough,” Claire said. “They can’t touch us.” She slid her jeans back over her behind nonetheless, returned her breasts to her bra and smoothed the wrinkles out of her top.

  “Are you coming home with me to freshen up before the party?” Margot asked.