Unbearable Passion - Book 2: French Kiss (Romantic Erotica For Women Series)

by Scarlett Avery

  During the evenings, we make the rounds of Bryce’s Parisian friends and I spend the week hobnobbing with Paris’ rich and influential crowd. Each evening is surpassed by the next. We are invited back to Mariella’s and she insists on spending Saturday with me shopping at some of her favorite boutiques before inviting me out for lunch at Le Jules Verne Restaurant. The experience of sitting on top of the Eiffel Tower enjoying an exquisite meal is one of the highlights of this trip.

  Mariella organizes a superb sendoff dinner on Saturday night that includes twenty-eight of her closest friends. The evening is an amazing affair and she insists on me wearing one of the outfits she helped me select during our shopping spree. I feel as wealthy, rich, powerful and successful as all these people who surround me. The dinner lasts until three in the morning, but that doesn’t stop Bryce and I from meeting our chauffeur at precisely eight o’clock in the morning for our all-day trip to Château Versailles.

  Who needs to sleep when I can spend the day at Versailles?

  I haven’t been to Versailles in years and I’m looking forward to the day. Bryce breaks away from his usual impeccable suits and perfectly tailored shirts in favor of a more casual look. Even in casual clothing, he’s still disarmingly dashing and handsome.

  The day at Versailles is magical. We visit the magnificent château, perfectly manicured gardens and spectacular fountains before enjoying a private lunch nearby at La Veranda Restaurant located inside the Trianon Palace hotel. The food and service is outstanding and for a minute I almost believe this type of magical day is a common occurrence in my life.

  We continue our guided tour until Bryce declares it’s cocktail hour and time for us to take a much-needed rest before heading back to Paris.

  “Everything will be closed at this time, so let’s head to the Gallery Bar for drinks and appetizers.”

  He wraps his arm around my shoulders and guides me to a cozy bar. It’s surprisingly busy when we arrive, but Bryce explains that a lot of people make the trip outside of Paris to enjoy the bar’s infamous Marie Antoinette tea from NINA’s, infused with rose and apple flavors from the king’s garden. I’m in awe of so much luxury and decadence on a Sunday afternoon. The bar is lined with silver buckets filled to the rim with ice and bottles of champagne. The crowd is a mix of rich tourists exploring Versailles for the day and Parisians escaping the boisterous city center.

  Man, this is the good life.

  We’re enjoying a drink and nibbling on an assortment of decadent French pastries when someone behind me shouts, “Bryce, my sexy American. Why you not call me ever again?”

  My blood turns cold. Something in that sentence sounds far too intimate for comfort and when I look at Bryce for answers, I’m met with a stunned stare. His eyes are locked on the woman standing next to me.

  “Anastasiya. You’re in Paris?” Bryce’s voice is almost mechanical and he seems to have completely forgotten about me as he questions the tall, leggy blonde.

  “You ask me to marry you, give me huge diamond ring and because Anastasiya not want to marry, you refuse to call back. Why, Bryce? We can discuss like adults.”

  “Anastasiya, now is not the time.” Bryce’s voice is icy now and it’s obvious by his facial expression that he had strong feelings for this Anastasiya.

  “When? When we talk, Bryce? I want us to be friends still. I give you back the big ring. I don’t need it. Why you mad? My father owns half of Russia. I buy rings like yours for breakfast.” Her thick Russian accent only accentuates the disdain in her voice.

  Anastasiya is exactly the type of woman I hate. You know the tall, thin, drop-dead gorgeous, smart, successful and extremely confident woman that can get any man she wants? That’s exactly the type that is standing next to me right now and ignoring me at the same time. In many ways she reminds me of my sister, but, of course, I love my sister.

  “Bryce, you not introduce me to your friend. Or she new wife?” The tall blonde takes us both off guard and for the first time since she called out his name, Bryce seems to remember I exist.

  He nearly fumbles his words, which for Bryce is highly unusual, and says in a flat voice, “Amanda Hardy, please meet Anastasiya Melnichenko.”

  I extend my hand, but she simply waves hers to avoid touching mine.

  “Why not talk? I’m sorry about a few years ago. I make mistake, Bryce. I follow your career and see that Linden Corp now valued at several billions of dollars. You very rich man now. You nearly as rich as Russian mogul.” She sneers as she speaks those words and flings her perfect long, blonde, silky hair back to accentuate her point.

  What a fucking bitch. I cannot believe Bryce is allowing this Russian Anastasiya to cut him up like this in public.

  Anastasiya is still relentlessly nagging Bryce and becoming more and more the focus of attention when he stands up, excuses himself from the table, grabs her by the arm and storms outside of the bar with her in tow. I could die right there and then because the entire bar has eyes on me. I’m mortified. Bryce proposed to this rich-bitch Russian mogul. I’m nothing like that Anastasiya woman. I’m simply the escort he’s paid for and now he leaves me sitting in the middle of a crowded room that’s eyeing me with such pity.

  I can’t believe this is happening.

  I sit there staring at the plate of assorted French pastries for twenty-three minutes until Bryce storms back in, grabs my hand without a word and drags me outside the bar.

  “Let’s get out of here right now.” He’s speaking to me, but he’s avoiding eye contact.

  “Is everything okay, Bryce?”

  Why am I asking such an obvious question?

  “Amanda, I don’t pay you to be my shrink. Let’s get back in the car immediately.” His command is so violent that a slap across the face would have hurt less.

  I sink into the back of the car and look outside the window to avoid crying. Although I’m not looking at him, I can feel his blood boiling and the rage inside him is unmistakable.

  Who is this rich Anastasiya and is Bryce still in love with her? Does that explain his violent reaction to the leggy blonde?

  My head is spinning with unanswered questions and my heart is bleeding because I’m finally willing to admit to myself that I’ve fallen for Bryce.

  Don’t fall in lust or love with your client.

  Todd’s words are ringing in my head as we drive all the way back to Paris in silence. The tension is so thick between us that I could cut it with a knife. I fear that I’ve lost him to this Russian woman who he still obviously has feelings for. I mean, I’m an escort. Not the daughter of a Russian tycoon.

  As soon as the chauffeur turns the corner to the hotel, something inside me snaps and the words escape my mouth before I know it.

  “You didn’t have to embarrass me that way.”

  I glare at him, trying to read his expression, but it’s as if he’s gone totally blank.

  “You don’t have to keep reminding me why you pay for my services. I’m clear on the reasons why I’m here and I know my place. I understand the terms of our arrangement very well and I got into it with eyes wide open, but I genuinely was worried about you and wanted to make sure you were okay. Perhaps it came out sounding a bit awkward, but it came from a sincere place.”

  For the first time since Anastasiya entered into my life, Bryce seems to go back to his usual self. “Amanada, I’m terribly sorry. I was out of line and I acted like a jerk.”

  Our Benz is quickly approaching the hotel where we’ll most likely end up sulking in private in our rooms.

  “Gerard, take us around to a quiet place where you can park the car and allow us to talk,” Bryce commands and we whiz right past the hotel, heading to a more discreet location.

  Finding a spot to park a massive car like a Benz is an impressive accomplishment in a crammed city like Paris, but Gerard finds a quiet street, parks the car on the sidewalk, turns around and waits for Bryce’s instructions.

  “Gerard, give us forty minutes or so. I’ll text y
ou on your mobile when we’re ready.”

  The chauffeur casually informs Bryce that he’ll be smoking a few cigarettes while catching up on the latest soccer scores not far from the vehicle.

  “Monsieur, I remain close to the car. The French police may wonder why a car is parked this way in the middle of Paris. I’ll open the hood, to pretend we have mechanical problems, just in case.”

  “Gerard, you’re the best. Thanks for the diversion.”

  Bryce waits for the front door to close, rolls up the dark glass divider and clears his voice before speaking.

  “I’m not very good with this sort of thing.”

  “What do you mean by this sort of thing? I don’t understand,” I began. “I know why you hired me and I know why I’m in Paris. I’m not stupid, you know. I also know you had a life well before hiring me for this job. You made me feel so cheap and dirty in that bar by walking out with that woman and leaving me there alone.”

  “I acted like a hotheaded fool. Anastasiya does that to me. I shouldn’t have said any of things I said to you.”

  It’s clear from the unimpressed expression on my face that I’m still not buying his story, so he continues.

  “Anastasiya Melnichenko is part of one of Russia’s richest families. She’s beautiful, extremely smart and incredibly manipulative. I dated her for a while and she swept me off my feet with her charm and wit. It was seemingly a perfect relationship and I fooled myself into believing this was the woman I wanted to be with for the rest of my life. I got her the biggest stone I could afford at the time, a stupidly expensive diamond ring that nearly ruined me, because I knew her enough to know that a woman like that wouldn’t accept anything less. When I proposed, she looked at the ring, raised her green eyes, smiled and said, ‘How lovely, Bryce.’ Her tone was so flat, but I was so excited I didn’t realize she actually hadn’t said yes to my proposal.”

  He doesn’t wait for a reply from me and keeps talking.

  “We had a passionate night after the proposal and the next morning I woke up to an empty bed. When I went looking for her inside my home, I stumbled upon a note where she dismissed my proposal on the basis that I wasn’t nearly rich enough to afford the lifestyle suited for a woman of her status. She’s tried calling me at my office many times to remain friends, but as you can imagine, I’m uninterested in returning her calls.”

  “Wow, that’s quite the story. Are you still in love with her?” The words fly out of my mouth and I nearly clamp my mouth shut. I can hear my heart bounding out of my chest as I eagerly wait for his answer.

  “Humph. No. Not at all. It’s male pride that made me react that way. Anastasiya Melnichenko is a cold-hearted bitch and she didn’t deserve me.” He nearly spits those words with contempt.

  I hate that I allowed myself to fall for Bryce knowing that there is little chance anything will develop past our arrangement. I close my eyes, feeling the weight of this realization. The second his hands touch mine, the tide of emotions trapped inside me escapes. I really don’t want to cry in front of him. I can’t do this to him because it’s not his fault I fell so hard for him, but this day is more than I can bear.

  He tenderly wipes away the first tear and then leans in to kiss away the next.

  “I’m sorry for crying, Bryce.”

  “Don’t apologize, Amanda. I’m really sorry.” He pulls a tissue from his pocket and wipes away my tears. “There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you since we got back from Mariella’s on our first night in Paris, but I wasn’t quite sure how to put it.” I open my eyes and he leans in to gently kiss the tip of my nose. “Since seeing your photo, I knew I’d do whatever it took to book you solid so that you wouldn’t be able to be with any other man.”

  I open my mouth to ask a question, but nothing comes out. He smiles and continues.

  “I know we have this arrangement, but I think I’m starting to fall for you, Amanda, and I don’t know how you feel about me.”

  I try to say something that makes sense, but my voice sounds choked up when I speak.

  “You’ve fallen for me? Are you serious?”

  He nods and searches my eyes to see if it’s mutual. I’m still in such shock that I look at him, unable to answer.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, Bryce, you didn’t. I’m simply taken aback. I didn’t think men like you could fall for women like me.”

  “I’m usually all business, but when I’m with you, I feel alive. You remind me there’s more to life than just negotiating and closing deals. Seeing Paris through your eyes this week has allowed me to fall in love with this city again. I like everything about you—well, almost everything.” He stops and allows that sentence to hang off his lips.

  I give him a suspicious side look, waiting for him to continue.

  “You’re not going to finish your sentence?”

  “I like almost everything about you except your name. I’m sure you’re not an Amanda and I’d love to know your real name.”

  My heart jumps into my throat and it’s pounding like a drum.

  “Bryce, I’ve fallen for you since our first time together and I know I shouldn’t have because this is an arrangement, but I couldn’t help myself.”

  He smiles and whispers, “I’m happy you couldn’t help yourself. You’re delightful in every possible way. Will I have to beg for your real name?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. My real name is Sofia. Sofia Herrera.”

  “Sofia. Yeah, that sounds more like your real name,” he says softly. “Sofia, I love being with you because you turn me on in so many ways and I also love that you have a great business head on your shoulders. But what I like the most is that you unconditionally allow me to have my way with you.”

  “Bryce, I love being with you as well because you bring out a part of me I had never explored before. I’m grateful for the gifts and I enjoyed every moment of our Parisian trip, but what I love the most is just spending time with you.”

  “I know this might seem complicated given our initial arrangement, but I’m sure that we can figure things out together when we get back to Manhattan.”

  “I agree, let’s think of this when we get back to New York City. Right now, I’m dying to kiss you.”

  He pulls me onto his lap and I straddle him before he covers my neck with kisses. His fever-hungry eyes stay on me as he rips open my white linen blouse, releasing my engorged breasts, still trapped inside the white lace bra he had selected for me that morning. He looks down before pushing aside the fabric and grabbing my nipple with his mouth. He sucks and bites my nipple so hard that I can’t help but scream with delight. I reach down, unzip his pants, grab his hard cock in my hand and caress his shaft. He bites the top of my shoulder hard as I slide up and down his shaft as his fingers toy with my hard nub. He grunts louder with every thrust and I moan as he slides in and out of me more forcefully.

  “Oh, my God. Harder. Please, harder!” I beg.

  He leans me back and holds on to my waist with one hand while gripping my shoulder with the other as he responds to my plea and pounds me harder.

  “You fucking turn me on,” he groans as he grabs my hair and gently pulls my head back until I meet his gaze.

  He stops pounding me and brings my head closer to his as he kisses me hard.

  “Make me come with your full lips, Sofia.”

  I get on my knees, open wide and take in his juicy cock inside my mouth.

  “Ahhh,” he grunts, as his hard cock hits the back of my throat. He pulls my head back, leans down and whispers as he kisses my lips, “I want to come inside your mouth. Will you let me, Sofia?”

  I nod in agreement as I lick my lips in anticipation.

  I mercilessly tease the tip of his cock with my tongue and suck his juices while I grab the base of his hard shaft to fully feel his manhood. I squeeze my erect nipple at the same time as I gently squeeze his balls and we both grunt.

  “Take my cock in your mouth,” he begs.

  I
lift jubilant eyes to look up at him while I devour his penis, and I can see he likes the way I suck his cock. I push him deep inside my mouth and pump my head back and forth, entirely engulfing his hard shaft with each bob of my head. I rub the tip of his cock against my cheek before gently pressing my lips together, forcing him to release more of his sweet juices into my mouth, and he moans with pleasure.

  I lift my head again and defiantly declare, “I want to savor your tasty treat inside my mouth, Bryce.” He’s way too turned on to even speak. I give him a coy smile before I continue eating him. I take his juicy cock back into my mouth and work it by pumping my head up and down until he comes into the back of my throat. His bittersweet nectar gushes inside my mouth and I swallow with satisfaction. I look up at him with a naughty grin as I caress his thighs.

  “You’re good. You’re really, really, really good.”

  “What?” I ask innocently. “You asked me to make you come inside my mouth and I did.” He laughs and shakes his head at my cockiness.

  “Have you ever had sex in the back of a parked luxury car in the middle of Paris with a chauffeur standing outside en garde before?”

  “Now that you put it that way, I haven’t.”

  “I assume you’ve never had a man lick your pussy in the back of a car in the middle of Paris either.” His words are a jolt of sexual urge that immediately makes me yearn to feel the warmth of his tongue on my clit. He doesn’t wait for my answer as he lifts me from the floor to place my body on the seat next to him.

  “Lie back and open wide, Sofia. Or do I continue calling you Amanda?”

  “If you’re going to use your tongue the way you do so well, you can call me anything you want.” I whisper those words with eagerness, as I know what awaits me.

  His fingers poke my wetness while his tongue tantalizes my engorged clit and I already feel consumed by the sweet sensations that precede an orgasm.

  “Mmmmm. Please don’t stop, Bryce.”

  He holds on firmly to my thighs to keep me from squirming as he presses his tongue harder against my clit and makes me climax. I try to get away, but his grip prevents me from moving as he relentlessly works at making me come a second time. His lips massage my clit in a circular motion that brings me to a second, much more powerful climax. I collapse against the seat, exhausted and utterly satisfied. He rests his head on my stomach and I exhale a deep sigh. He kisses my stomach before he nibbles at my breasts again, suggesting he might be ready for another round.