French Connection Vol. 2

  “All the way to the glass,” I said.

  She hesitated, but then crossed the remaining space until she was directly in front of the window.

  “Put your hands on the window.”

  I saw her breasts heave as she took a deep breath, then followed my directions. I closed the distance between us and placed my hands on her waist. I rubbed my thumbs up and down her spine before hooking my fingers in the waistband of her bottoms and pulling them off. She stepped out of them without having to be told and I straightened. I moved off to the side and then looked at her reflection in the window.

  “Take a step back, but don't move your hands.” I reached up and unpinned her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders and down her back. “I want your ass out.”

  She shifted her stance until she was standing the way I wanted her. I took a moment to savor how she looked. I wanted Carrie to enjoy this as much as I did. The thought of her begging me to spank her was heady, but there would never be another first time, and there was nothing like watching someone experience it for the first time.

  “Do you remember what I told you?” I asked as I ran my hand down the length of her spine. “That, if done right, spanking could be as much of a turn on as oral sex?”

  She nodded. “I remember.”

  “I once threatened to spank you for disobeying.” I reached under her and gave a light tug to her nipple. “I didn't do it then, but I'm going to now.” I buried my hand in her hair and turned her head until she was looking at me. “I'm not going to be gentle.”

  Her eyes darkened to nearly black and I swore silently at the desire I saw there. My guess had been right. She'd done all this on purpose, wanting to see what I'd do. She didn't want me to be gentle. My hand tightened in her hair and she made a sound that made my stomach tighten. What had I been missing with her all this time?

  I kept my hold on her as I raised my other hand. I wanted to see the expression on her face the first time I made contact. I might not have planned on being gentle, but I wasn't going to start off as hard as I really wanted to. Not for someone who'd never done this before.

  She gasped as my hand came down, a loud crack sounding in my ears. A slight sting went through my palm and my cock grew impossibly harder. It had been too long since I'd been able to indulge this part of me. I landed another smack on her other cheek. Her face was flushed, her lips parted, and as I spanked her harder the next time, she made a sound that was half-pain, half-pleasure.

  I let go of her hair and she turned her head forward. My hand came down again and elicited another of those wonderful noises. My other hand moved underneath her, fingers roughly pushing between her legs until I found her clit.

  “Oh!” Her head jerked up, her eyes wide as I rubbed against the little bundle of nerves, quick circular motions that her body wasn't quite ready for.

  My fingers were still working over her clit when I spanked her again, twice in rapid succession, hitting the same spot. I could feel her skin heating up and my palm was getting hot. Her hands squeaked against the glass as they slid an inch downwards, but she didn't pull away. Even as she yelped when I struck her ass again, she stayed where she was.

  I ran my hand down further, ignoring the whimper as I lost contact with her clit. By the time my fingers reached her pussy, my hand was soaked. I pushed two inside, making her gasp.

  “So wet,” I murmured. “Are you enjoying your punishment?”

  I didn't expect an answer, not when I had two fingers inside her and was still spanking her with my other hand, but she had other ideas.

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Oh, yes.”

  Fuck.

  I was tempted to put her down on her knees and fuck her mouth until I came, but that could wait. Maybe later tonight, after I was ready for a second round. For right now, I wanted to bury my cock inside her and make her scream my name.

  First, there was one other thing I wanted to do. A taste of things to come. I pulled my fingers out of her and she made a sound of frustration. As I stepped around to stand behind her, I groaned. Her cheeks were red. Not the kind of red that bruised or caused any harm, but the kind that would make it tender for the rest of the day.

  I leaned over her body, hearing her hiss as I rubbed against her ass. I cupped her breasts as my chest rested flush against her back. My fingers immediately began to twist and pull at her nipples, fast, hard tugs that made her cry out.

  “These,” I spoke low in her ear. “Are mine to see, to touch. Mine to pleasure.” I scraped my teeth against the side of her throat. “I’m the only one who gets to bring you pleasure. The only one who gets to see you come.”

  Our eyes locked in the window's hazy reflection.

  “How would you feel if another woman saw me naked?”

  A sound very much like a growl came from Carrie. Her eyes flashed and I chuckled.

  “Exactly.” I tweaked her nipples again. “The next time you decide to do something like that, these are going to pay.”

  She shuddered, but the expression on her face made it clear it wasn't in protest. She might've just been learning the game, but she'd been made for it.

  “It'll be a flogger to these pretty little tits you're so proud of.” I kissed her shoulder. “And if you're really bad, maybe even to your clit.”

  “Fuck,” she whispered.

  “You said you wanted to know what I liked,” I said as I straightened. I ran my finger down her crack and circled her asshole. “And soon, we'll work on the pleasures that come from here.”

  I watched her eyelids flutter. Damn. If just a light touch could do that, what would she do when it was my tongue? A finger? My cock? So many different ways I wanted to take her, and I couldn't wait any more. I was so hard that it hurt.

  I nudged her legs with my knee and she walked forward until she was standing straight, her hands still on the window, her swollen nipples touching the cool glass. If she still had any qualms about being naked in front of the window, she didn't voice them.

  I bent my knees slightly and positioned myself at her entrance. I pushed forward slowly, knowing if I went too fast, it'd be over too quickly. I needed the tight pressure of her, the resistance that came from her pussy stretching around me. Listening to her moan as I entered her though was almost my undoing. Worse was when she began to beg.

  “Gavin, please.” Her fingers flexed against the glass. “Please, baby.”

  I closed my eyes as I reached the end of her. She fit me perfectly, as if we'd been made for each other. People laughed at things like that, said it was just biology, but I knew that wasn't the case, especially for someone built like me. Our bodies were like two halves of a whole, and I saw now that we were even more sexually compatible than I'd dreamed. I could feel her pussy quivering around my cock, feel her muscles trembling beneath my hands. This wasn't someone who was tolerating something her lover wanted. She was hovering on the edge of an orgasm, ready to explode at any moment.

  “Think you can come from my cock alone?” I asked. I could hear the strain in my voice as I pulled back until I was almost out and then pushed back inside. “I think that should be part of your punishment. If you can't get off like this, you don't get to come.”

  “Please!” She looked at me, her expression desperate. She was closer than I'd thought.

  I gave her a wicked smile and repeated those slow, even strokes until I was sure I could last long enough to make her scream. The entire time, she continued to plead with me, her entire body shaking as I kept her hanging right on that edge. Finally, I shifted my hips as I thrust again, pressing my cock against that spot inside her I knew would take her over.

  She gave a strangled yell as she came and I swore. Her pussy contracted around my cock, squeezing it almost painfully. I could feel my own body reaching for its release, wanting to join her. I fought it back, determined that this wouldn't be it. Before she could come down from her high, I drew back and then slammed into her again. She keened, her body going rigid. I gripped her hips and began to
pound into her, each thrust pushing her up onto her toes.

  “Gavin, yes. Gavin. Fuck, baby. Yes.”

  My name fell from her lips and drove me harder and faster. She'd once told me she'd never been vocal in bed before, and knowing that I could make her say things, do things, that she'd never imagined, was a heady aphrodisiac.

  I could feel my balls tightening, the heat in my stomach ready to come apart. I was close. And so was she. I didn't think she'd technically stopped coming after that first orgasm, but her body was building toward something bigger, I was sure of it.

  I pressed myself against her, changing the angle of my thrusts and giving my mouth access to her neck. I sucked on the side of her throat, pulling the skin into my mouth until I knew she'd have a mark. My mark.

  “Mine,” I growled against her neck as I buried myself deep.

  She cried out and I felt her come again. The sound of her pleasure and the spasming heat of her was too much and I came, feeling my wet heat surge from my body. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight as I emptied myself into her. I pressed my face against her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her as pleasure washed over me. I sank down to my knees, taking her with me, our bodies still joined as I cradled her on my lap.

  We sat there as our breathing slowed and the sweat on our skin dried. Only when my knees began to protest the awkward position did I move her, feeling a pang of loss as I slid out of her. I stood, pulling her with me, and slid my arm around her waist.

  I looked down at her, concerned. “Are you okay?”

  She smiled at me and stretched onto her tiptoes to brush her lips across mine. “I'm great. Thank you.”

  “No,” I said. “Trust me. Thank you.”

  She rolled her eyes and leaned her head against my shoulder. “What do you say we go get cleaned up and then order room service?”

  “That sounds perfect,” I said.

  We were half-way to the bedroom when I heard my phone ringing. I fully intended to ignore it, but Carrie pulled away.

  “I'll get the shower warmed up,” she said. “You answer the phone.”

  “I don't have to.”

  “Go.” She gave me a gentle push and then headed into the bedroom.

  I kept my eyes on her still-red ass even as I walked over to the table and picked up my cell phone. I didn't recognize the number, but it looked like it was local.

  “Hello?”

  “Bonjour, Gavin.” A woman's throaty voice came over the phone. “This is Alizee.”

  “Hello.” I frowned. Why was Alizee calling me instead of Vincent?

  “I would like to discuss a few things with you and Vincent.”

  At least she got right to business. I would've felt a bit awkward having to make small talk while standing naked in my hotel room. Business was weird enough.

  “Tomorrow morning, you and Vincent will have brunch on my yacht.”

  Did she just tell me what to do? I really hoped it was just a language barrier thing making what should be a request into a demand. She was already far more involved than a non-partner technically should've been, but I agreed with Vincent… it wouldn't be a good idea to piss off someone who could be considered a business rival or who had so many connections in Cannes.

  “We will discuss things then,” Alizee continued.

  “Okay,” I agreed. I listened as she told me where to go and then said a polite good-bye. I stood there for a moment after the call ended. I'd have to tell Carrie about the meeting but didn't think it'd be a good idea to let her know all the details. I didn't want her to have any reason to think there'd be a repeat of what had happened with Felice and Marguerite. Especially not after that little display of possessiveness I'd just put on. Any argument about a double standard wouldn't go over well.

  With that in mind, I started toward the bedroom. There was no way I was going to ruin what was shaping up to be an amazing night.

  Chapter 12

  Gavin

  I felt guilty for not giving Carrie the details about my meeting today, but I convinced myself I wasn't actually lying to her or denying anything. If she'd asked specific questions, I would've answered them. I knew it was a cop out, but I allowed myself to be deluded into thinking I was doing the right thing.

  Then, I showed up at the slip where Alizee had told me come. Warning signs flew up when I didn’t see Vincent anywhere.

  Alizee stood on her yacht, looking stunning in a gold bikini that showed off a figure most women would kill for. She smiled and motioned for me to come aboard. Hoping that Vincent was just below deck, I headed up. Alizee held out a glass of champagne.

  “I'd better not,” I declined with a polite smile. “It always takes me a couple minutes to get my sea legs back. I don't want to spill anything.”

  “Nonsense,” Alizee said. She held the glass closer to me. “Please.”

  I had a feeling it'd be pointless to argue. Alizee struck me as the kind of woman who always got what she wanted, no matter how strongly someone protested. I took the glass but didn't drink anything. I was all for having a glass of wine with lunch, but wasn't so sure a liquid brunch on a boat was a good idea.

  “We’ll be casting off shortly,” Alizee said. “My crew is made up of only the best. I am sure that sea legs will be quite adequate for smooth sailing.”

  I looked around. “Where's Vincent?”

  “Oh, he will not be joining us.” Alizee smiled at me, her eyes floating down to my lips. “He called a while ago. Apparently, something he ate last night did not agree with him. He fears he has food poisoning.”

  I wasn't entirely sure how to respond to that. I felt bad that Vincent was sick, but I was also annoyed that the brunch hadn't been canceled. While I appreciated Alizee's help, she was going to be working much more closely with Vincent. I wouldn’t be involved in most of the day-to-day stuff getting the club going. Although I was willing to spend some time working, I didn't want to spend it with a strange woman when I had a beautiful girlfriend I could be with. A beautiful girlfriend who was going to spend the rest of the morning and early afternoon with a good-looking French reporter because I'd told her I had to work.

  I forced a smile and opened my mouth to offer some sort of excuse as to why I should leave, but the boat lurched and we pulled away from the dock. Dammit.

  “Come,” Alizee said. “We shall eat first, then talk business.”

  I considered asking her to tell her crew to back up and let me off, but I knew that would come off as rude. Even if Vincent was the main one dealing with Alizee, I didn't want to do anything to offend her. Besides, she hadn't really done anything that would merit that kind of behavior. Even her flirting wasn't something I couldn't logically explain away with culture or personality.

  I took a drink of my champagne as I followed her. Alcohol seemed like a good idea after all. I was really glad I hadn't said anything to Carrie about the kind of meeting I was having. When she asked later, I'd keep it vague and simple, tell her that the meeting was fine. Boring stuff talked about. She didn't need to know about how it was just me and a scantily-dressed Alizee on an expensive yacht. Well, us and the crew, but crews on boats like this were in the background, trained not to be seen, not to see.

  “I had the chef keep the meal light,” Alizee said as she led me around to the back of the boat where a table and chairs had been set up. “I wasn’t sure how you or Vincent would be on the water.”

  I looked down at the array of food spread across the table. Light, yes. Cheap, not even close. There was the rich people staple of caviar and crackers. Cheeses that I knew easily ran hundreds of dollars. Fruit that had to be imported.

  “Help yourself.” Alizee waved her hand over the table and then picked up a strawberry. “These are delicious with champagne.”

  As we ate, Alizee and I made small talk. She never tried to pry into anything personal, keeping the conversation mostly on my life in New York City, though she seemed to avoid mentioning Carrie. I wasn't sure if that was intentional, beca
use she didn't want to say anything to acknowledge I had a girlfriend, or simply because the questions she asked didn't lead there. Either way, I let her direct the non-business part of the conversation. I didn't want her to get the wrong idea that I was interested in her that way. Everything I asked was associated with work.

  “Have you been to Cannes before?” Alizee asked as the boat slowly turned, giving us a beautiful view of the coast.

  “Yes,” I said. “But only for a few days, and I rarely had time to enjoy the sights before.” I gave my most charming smile. “And never with my girlfriend.”

  “Ah, yes, Ms. Summers.” Alizee turned toward the coast and walked over to the side of the boat. “She is quite lovely.”

  “Yes, she is,” I agreed as I followed Alizee.

  “How involved is she in the club?” Alizee asked. “She did not seem too interested in our conversations before.”

  “She's more of a silent partner,” I said. “She's very busy with her work.”

  “And what does she do?”

  “She's a lawyer. Works on sex trafficking cases,” I said.

  “And how does that work with your sex club?” Alizee asked, lifting her glass to her lips and staring out onto the water.

  “Better than you'd think.” I kept my answer vague. Vincent still didn't know that Club Privé had changed its focus. I wasn't about to tip my hand to Alizee.

  We were circling around toward the dock and I was surprised we weren't staying out longer. I'd fully expected her to keep me out here for hours, especially once I'd discovered Vincent wasn't coming. Even if her flirting was just who she was and nothing personal, I'd gotten the impression she was the kind of woman who liked undivided attention from those she chose. And, at the moment, she'd chosen me.

  “I’ve been to your America,” Alizee said. “To New York, though I did not visit your club. I like America.” She glanced at me and drained her glass. “But there are many things about my home country I like better.”

  I frowned. I wasn't sure where she was going with this.

  “America likes to pretend that it is sexually free, but there are still many who do not see that where women are concerned. We are to be demure, sexually innocent, even if in pretend. We are to be the responders, never the initiators.”