Daddy's Secret Deal

by J. D. Fox

  ​“I should go,” Gen said weakly.

  ​“But I do not see you trying to leave,” Olivier said. “T’as peur de moi?”

  ​“No, I’m not afraid of you!” Gen scowled at him, irritation briefly winning out over desire.

  ​“Good,” Olivier said. “Je te ferai une proposition.” Gen took a quick breath, instinctively knowing what would come next, but so eager to hear it said that she couldn’t resist.

  ​“What is your proposition?” Gen’s heart raced, pounding so hard she could hear her blood rushing in her ears.

  ​“Let me kiss you, and if it does not make you want more, we will never mention this again, and I will forget it all,” Olivier said. Gen knew that she should say no. That she should tell Olivier that there couldn’t be anything between them; not even a kiss. But the heat rushing through her, the tingling along every nerve in her body, made it impossible for her to think reasonably.

  ​“Okay,” she said. “But if I say I don’t want any more than that—”

  ​“I will stop and never mention it again,” Olivier said once more. “I do not push women that do not want me, Genevieve.” Gen swallowed against the dryness in her throat and took a quick breath as Olivier moved closer. It had been months since she’d kissed or been kissed by anyone; Gen suddenly worried that she had forgotten how, or would somehow be awkward at it. But as Olivier moved closer to her, all concerns fled from her mind.

  ​Olivier reached for her, his hands shockingly gentle on her shoulders as he pulled her in closer. Gen leaned up onto the balls of her feet, and then felt Olivier’s lips brush against hers; softly at first and then, when she didn’t pull back, more fully, his lips sealing against hers completely. His hands shifted off of her shoulders to her back, pulling her tight against him, even as the tip of his tongue slid along the seam of her lips, and Gen found herself opening her mouth to let him in.

  ​In the back of her mind, she knew that she should stop him; but as Olivier’s tongue darted into her mouth, she got more and more into the kiss, responding in kind. She moaned softly as Olivier nibbled at her bottom lip, and before she knew what she was doing, Gen found herself pressing up against him, draping her arms around his shoulders. Olivier’s hands began to wander, kneading and stroking as he worked down from her shoulders to the small of her back and back up again.

  ​All at once, Olivier pulled back, and Gen’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes opening to see what had stopped him. Olivier was watching her face, smiling a wolfish smile. “Et donc? Do you wish for me to stop?” Gen shivered, every nerve in her body awake, and looked up into his eyes.

  ​“I think you know better than that,” she said, once more torn between desire and frustration. Olivier chuckled lowly.

  ​“I know that I can taste how much you want me,” Olivier told her, closing the distance between their lips once more to kiss her lightly. “But if you tell me that you do not want this, I will stop, as I promised.”

  ​“If we’re not going to stop, then we should probably go somewhere more private,” Gen said, trembling slightly. She knew she was making a choice she was likely to regret, but at the moment she was incapable of thinking of anything other than how turned on she was and how much she wanted to take care of that problem.

  ​“Come with me,” Olivier said, reaching out briefly— but then stopping at the last moment before he touched her hand. He gave her a playful smile. “I did promise to you…”

  ​“Now you’re just deliberately teasing,” Gen said, grabbing for his hand. Olivier laughed and gave her hand a squeeze before leading her out of the living room, towards the stairs that Gen knew led to the upstairs level, where his room was. She had seen it during the original tour, but only in passing; it hadn’t been a place that either she or Olivier had intended that she would ever spend much time, though Mathilde felt comfortable coming and going, of course.

  ​As luxurious as Gen had found her own quarters from the beginning, Olivier’s room eclipsed hers by miles. As he led her through the door, pulling her in for another kiss, Gen’s wandering gaze caught sight of the huge bed that dominated the room: it was a classic four-post frame that looked big enough to fit three or maybe even four people on it, with a heavy duvet and fat, comfortable-looking pillows. It looked like something that she’d expect to see on the set of a film about a decadent king, not a random millionaire.

  ​Olivier’s hands slid up underneath her hoodie and her tee-shirt, brushing against her skin and sending a jolt through her body, pulling Gen’s attention away from his furniture and back onto him. She let her hands wander over the planes of his body as well, feeling the tension through his shoulders and down onto his back, lost in the heat of his skin. Olivier’s lips slid from her mouth and along the line of her jaw to her throat, and Gen’s breath caught in her throat as he nipped at the sensitive skin where her pulse fluttered. She found the hem of Olivier’s shirt and slipped her hands underneath, working her way around to the front of his body, even as Olivier’s hands shifted up towards her breasts.

  ​They remained like that for what seemed like ages, kissing and touching and not moving beyond that; Gen felt the tension mounting deep down between her hips, like a knot pulling tighter and tighter, until she couldn’t stand the slow pace anymore. She grabbed at the hem of Olivier’s shirt and hauled it along his back, breaking away from his lips to tug it over his head.

  ​“Ah, then we are ready for the next step?” Olivier cupped Gen’s breasts underneath her shirt, his thumbs rolling over her nipples, stroking them as they hardened in response to the contact. It was exactly as it had been in her dream— so much so that it almost took her out of the moment.

  ​“Definitely ready,” Gen told him, struggling to keep her breath even.

  ​Olivier pulled her shirt over her head and cast it aside, and then their lips connected again; Gen leaned up onto the balls of her feet in reaction to his hands once more cupping her breasts, squeezing them lightly, his thumbs once more teasing her nipples. They began moving towards the bed together, and Gen had one last moment where she realized that she could— and should— put a stop to what was happening between them; that she should break away from Olivier’s lips and tell him that she didn’t want to continue. But the tension between her hips was so high that it had become an ache, and even if she knew she could make herself stop, Gen didn’t want to.

  ​They tumbled to the bed together, and Olivier’s hands moved down to the waistband of her pajama pants, his fingers hooking into the material. Gen kissed him hungrily, pushing her hips down and pressing her body against his. She was so wet that she knew she had already soaked through her panties, so turned on that she almost couldn’t stand it. Her hands fumbled slightly as she reached down to find the bulge at the front of Olivier’s pajama pants; it throbbed in her hand through the fabric; thick and hard, heavy and warm even through the material between their skin.

  ​Olivier tugged her pajama pants down over her hips, and in a moment Gen was naked except for her panties. She pulled back from Olivier to catch her breath, looking up at him in the dim light of the bedroom; Olivier’s eyes were so dark with desire that they were almost black, his cheeks flushed with a tinge of pink, his lips parted. “You can say no at any time, and I will stop,” Olivier told her. Unable to speak for a moment, Gen shook her head.

  ​“I’m good,” she said, not trusting her voice for any more than that. Olivier lifted himself up more, taking in the sight of her, nearly naked, and the smile that curved his lips was pure pleasure.

  ​“You are… beaucoup mieux que bon, t’es merveilleuse.” Gen heard herself make a noise that was somewhere between a squeak and a whimper as Olivier’s hand slid up between her legs to press up against her vulva through her panties.

  ​“You don’t have to be so flattering,” she managed to say, panting slightly as Olivier steadily rubbed her.

  ​“Pour un homme français, c’est comme une crime de ne pas dire qu’une femme est belle,”
he told her. Gen chuckled.

  ​“You’ve already told me I am beautiful, I think,” she said. She couldn’t remember if that had only been in the dream, or if it had happened in real life as well.

  ​“Quand-même,” Olivier said. “I should not be remiss to tell you.” Gen shook her head and reached for the waistband of his pants, slipping her hand past the fabric-wrapped elastic. He had on nothing underneath, and in a moment her fingers came into contact with the thick tangle of pubic hair and then— finally— his hard, hot cock.

  ​“I think we’re done talking for the moment,” Gen said breathlessly. Olivier nodded and then groaned as Gen wrapped her fingers around him, slowly working her way up his shaft until she found the tip, already slick. Olivier shuddered against her, and his hand pawed at her panties, struggling to pull them away from her to get equal access.

  ​Somehow, without Gen being able to say when it happened, they were both naked, touching and caressing each other. Olivier’s lips trailed from her mouth to her neck, down to her breasts, and Gen moaned out as he worshipped first one and then the other with his lips and tongue, claiming each nipple in turn, sending jolts of electric pleasure through her body. He worked his way downward, slowly, from her breasts, tickling her abdomen with his hot breath. Gen gasped, reaching blindly until her fingers tangled in his thick, soft hair, the suspense building along with the tension deep down between her hips with every moment that passed.

  ​Olivier spread her legs apart carefully, and Gen trembled as she waited for him to finish his descent, gripping his hair in one hand and the duvet with the other. When she was sure she couldn’t stand waiting any longer, Olivier buried his face against her slick folds, his tongue darting out to taste her. It had been ages since Gen had experienced someone going down on her, and indeed the last time it had happened, her partner hadn’t been as enthusiastic as Olivier was, sucking and licking as if he wanted to devour her entirely. She moaned out again as Olivier’s tongue batted lightly against her clitoris, sending a crackling jolt of sensation through her.

  ​He worked her more thoroughly than any partner she’d ever had, his tongue seemingly everywhere at once, his lips sucking steadily, pulsing around her. Gen’s hips bucked as Olivier worshipped her with his mouth, teasing her relentlessly. She twisted and writhed as her boss’s tongue moved from her pleasure center down to her inner labia and back up again, bringing her closer and closer to the edge with every passing moment. Olivier moaned against her sensitive skin, sending more waves of pleasure through her, tingling along every nerve.

  ​Olivier kept going until Gen was on the very edge of orgasm, panting and moaning, shaking from the sensations coursing through her body. All at once, he pulled back, breathing heavily, and Gen let out a disappointed wail, looking down to meet his gaze. “You… aren’t stopping… now?” Olivier chuckled lowly and slithered up along her body, pressing damp, eager kisses along his path until he reached her lips.

  ​“Shouldn’t I have a little bit of fun, too?” Gen couldn’t understand what he meant for a moment— and then all at once, it dawned on her.

  ​“Okay, that’s okay,” Gen told him. “Just— for the love of God— stop teasing me!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  ​Olivier took a steadying breath as he held himself over Genevieve; his cock ached from how hard he had become, and much though he’d wanted to finish her off first before moving onto the next phase of their tryst, he couldn’t stand waiting any longer. He kissed her again, nipping playfully at her bottom lip, and rocked his hips against hers. Olivier felt Genevieve’s slick heat rubbing against his aching, straining erection, and knew that it would only feel better when he was actually inside of her.

  ​“Let me see if I can find un capote,” Olivier said, kissing Genevieve lightly on the forehead. She groaned in frustration at the interruption and Olivier grinned. “You are not very patient, are you?”

  ​“Are you clean?” Olivier frowned for a moment, his brain too clouded by desire to make sense of what she was asking.

  ​“Oui,” he said finally, realizing what she meant. “Mais la grossesse?”

  ​Genevieve shook her head. “I have another month or two before I have to worry,” she replied. “I have the implant.”

  ​“Ah oui? C’est pratique,” Olivier said. He kissed her again. “So do you want… can we… without?” He couldn’t quite think deeply enough to form a sensible sentence.

  ​“I definitely don’t want to wait for you to find a condom,” Genevieve said. Olivier chuckled. He rocked his hips against hers once again, rubbing his hard cock against her slick folds. He wanted so badly to be inside of her— wanted it so badly he could almost taste it.

  ​“Tell me you want this,” Olivier murmured, dragging his lips along the line of her jaw, up to her ear. “Je veux t’entendre le dire.”

  ​“You already know I want this,” Genevieve protested, pushing her hips down against him.

  ​“But I want to hear you say it,” Olivier insisted, nibbling playfully along the column of her throat, down to her collarbones. He felt Genevieve’s body, tense all around him, her grip on him tightening as he teased her, staying out of reach of her hips as they twisted to get better contact between her clitoris and his cock.

  ​“Fine, fine!” Genevieve shivered underneath him, writhing with desire. “I want this. I want to feel you inside of me.” Olivier grinned and kissed her lips hungrily, shifting against her. He lined up the tip of his cock against her drenched folds and then thrust into her slowly.

  ​Genevieve moaned out, wrapping her legs around him and pushing her hips down to take him deeper and deeper inside of her. Olivier groaned against Genevieve’s lips as he felt her wet heat wrap around him, her muscles flexing tighter.

  ​“Mon dieu— c’était quand la dernière fois que t’as baisé?” Olivier struggled to hold himself back; Genevieve was so tight, so hot around him, and it had been so long since he’d been with anyone.

  ​“Wha—ah, fuck, yes— what did you say?” Genevieve’s hips twisted underneath him and Olivier forced himself to be absolutely still to keep from reaching climax too quickly.

  ​“When…” Olivier panted slightly as he tried to make his brain work. “When was the last time you were… with someone?” it was as close as he could come to a translation.

  ​“Months, at least,” Genevieve replied, as they fell into a rhythm together. Olivier thrust into her, finding a steady pace that brought moans up from deep down in her chest. He kissed her again and again, gradually quickening his pace as he pushed deeper and deeper inside of her. He reached down between their bodies and found Genevieve’s pleasure center by touch. Olivier grinned to himself as he got an instant reaction as soon as he began to stroke and rub her. He knew that he had to get her to climax first— he would be finished if he didn’t.

  ​They moved together as if their bodies were made for each other, and Olivier fought to keep himself off of the edge as he worked Genevieve’s clitoris with his fingertips, matching his touches to his thrusts. He felt the tension mounting in his au pair’s body, her inner muscles flexing around his aching, needy cock in erratic flutters. Olivier managed to keep himself from tumbling into orgasm as Genevieve got closer and closer to her own climax, almost shaking from the effort of holding back. All at once, Genevieve’s muscles clamped around him, her body writhing as she moaned out long and low. Olivier knew the moment she hit her climax, between the panting half-moans and the way her body tightened around him; her hands gripping his shoulders like a vise and her inner muscles clamping down as if her body never wanted him to leave it.

  ​Olivier managed to ride through most of Genevieve’s climax, swallowing down her moans with his kisses. But then, all of a sudden, it was too much; it felt too good. The tight ball of heat gathering in his groin, down into his balls, seemed to almost implode, and wave after wave of pleasure washed through him. Olivier groaned as he struggled to keep going for as long as possible before he was spe
nt, barely holding himself up on top of her. The two of them panted and gasped for breath, their limbs tangled up, sweat from each of their bodies mingling together.

  ​Olivier caught his breath and slid off of Genevieve’s body, still breathing a bit heavily. “Ça valait le coup? Was it worth the wait?” Genevieve giggled and curled in on herself, and Olivier could see the faint trembling in her body. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. There was something comforting about such close contact right after their mutual climax, even if Olivier had never been much for cuddling after sex. He breathed in the scent of Genevieve’s sex, her sweat, and her soap, wondering how it could be so familiar and so novel all at the same time.

  ​“Yeah; I might live to regret getting up close and personal with my boss, but this was definitely worth it,” Genevieve replied finally, her voice still faintly breathless. Olivier buried his face against her neck, waiting to gather the strength to haul the duvet over both of them. He knew that he, at least, had no energy to get up out of bed and that he wouldn’t be getting it anytime soon. While Genevieve might eventually, there was no sense in throwing her out of bed.

  ​They didn’t speak but just lay there together, each of them catching their breath. Olivier hung in the warm afterglow, feeling the relief all through his body like honey dripping through his veins. He kissed Genevieve absently and then finally pulled the duvet over them both, dozing off with the scent of Genevieve’s body in his nose, the feeling of her warmth draped around him soothing in a way he hadn’t experienced since his wife had passed away. Olivier pulled Genevieve tighter to him and fell asleep.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ​Genevieve already knew that she had made a mistake— a grave one— when she woke up in Olivier’s bed. She’d known she was making a mistake every step of the way, at every point when she could have told Olivier that she didn’t want to keep going and had chosen not to. She pretended to be asleep as her mind reeled at the knowledge of what she had done, but there was only so long that she could keep it up, and she knew it.