by Kenya Wright
I even thought about Shalimar’s advice on confidence.
So, I gazed at him.
In my mind, I thought about all the ways I wanted him to fuck me. I pictured his naked muscular body over me, pounding hard into my pussy. And I wondered if he felt the sex pulsing from my gaze as he grunted and his lids half-closed.
Still, I remained slow and deliberate.
I kept eye contact, never straying away, always giving him the desire that I felt on the inside. If he really wanted to see my soul, if he really wanted to give me pleasure, then I would experience it all.
It’s going to be okay.
Hot anticipation blazed in his eyes.
Jean-Pierre gripped the edge of his desk harder.
The dress fell to the ground. I stood there in my candy red bra and panty set, complete with garters and thigh high stockings.
Jean-Pierre held a hungry and intense gaze that sent sparks through me. “Je veux t'embrasser.”
Boldly, I whispered back, “I want to kiss you too.”
He gave me a wicked smile. “Le seul vrai langage au monde est un baiser.”
I widened my eyes. “What did you say?”
“The only true language in the world is a kiss.”
“That’s beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you.” He left the desk in a flash.
I lost my breath.
The space closed between us. Jean-Pierre’s mouth pressed against mine. And it was a magnetic pull. A breathtaking tease. He put his hands in my hair, pulling me forward. Consuming me. I leaned into him, wanting to taste more.
It was so good. I wasn’t sure if I was doing this arrangement for the money anymore. It was Jean-Pierre. I ached for him.
He slowly moved away. “What turns you on, Eden?”
I hadn’t been expecting that question.
He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Are you a nymphobraniac?”
Shocked, I smiled. “I guess you can say that. I could probably orgasm from a guy’s brain.”
“Hmmm. We should see.”
“We should.” I bit my lip.
“Take out your Eros.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Oh. You don’t want to play?” He licked his lips. “You want me to fuck you instead?”
Blushing, I widened my eyes but couldn’t keep the desire out of them.
“Don’t worry, ma femme magnifique, there will be a lot of fucking. For now, I want you to play.”
Chapter 12
Soaked Panties
Eden
I played for him. The whole time my body buzzed with horniness. And he sat on the edge of his desk.
Fuck this violin. I want to have sex.
He’d got me all hyped for it. I’d thought about it all night, unable to go to sleep. I didn’t know how I could focus on playing, but somehow, I did. At first, I began with Mozart, but then I became bold.
And he watched me. So strategic. He knew I was close to begging for him. He knew how wet I was. My soaked panties could be spotted from his distance.
He’d glanced between my thighs as I played, making me even more wet. Those eyes devoured me, raking over my face like he couldn't get enough. My desire for him gave me courage.
I shifted and played his song Iliad, hoping I’d remembered the right rhythm of his notes.
He rose from the desk. “Stop.”
I trembled, part in desire, and part in fear. Did I piss him off by playing a song from his past?
He came away and stood before me, so close that our bodies almost touched. Close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him. “You’re very smart.”
I took Leo’s advice and simply looked him in his eyes. I showed him confidence, even though every cell in my body yearned for his touch.
“How do you know that song?”
“I looked you up.”
“I didn’t tell you much.”
“It wasn’t hard to find your album. Violinists can look up other violinists. I would know the circles. The notable symphony alum lists—”
“You know too much.” There was no anger on his face, just desire.
My skin felt hot, like the chandelier overhead was the mid-summer sun. My pussy throbbed steadily, and I could feel my panties growing damper.
“How long did you practice that song?”
“For the past two days.”
He leaned his head to the side. “Why?”
“I wanted to know more about you.”
“So, you chose to learn about me through my music?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not that person anymore.”
“But you were.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m something else completely.” His gaze heated. “Put Eros down and take off your bra.”
I swallowed and began to turn from him. He stopped me. “No, I’ll put up Eros, you focus on the bra.”
I gave him a nervous smile. “Okay.”
He gently took Eros, walked over, and slowly placed the violin in its case. When he turned around, he frowned. His voice was deeper than usual and had a ragged edge to it that sent a shiver up my spine. “The bra is still on.”
“Oh yeah. I’m sorry.”
The moment was surreal.
Take off the bra. You’re going to be naked. That’s fine. We knew this. Hey, my tits aren’t bad at all.
I exhaled, reached behind me, and unhooked the clasp of my bra. Slowly I drew the straps down my shoulders, taking care to keep the cups in place. It was an attempt to tease him some more. Prolong the moment. The cups covered most of my breasts.
His breath hitched as he stared at those spots.
“His desire to chase you will kick in. You’re confident. Funny. Smart.”
I slipped the bra off, held it by one strap, and tossed the bra at him.
Okay. That might not be as sexy as I imagined.
The bra fell in front of his feet. Cool air brushed against my hardening nipples. I didn’t think Jean-Pierre noticed where the bra landed or how I threw it. My breasts lay bare and exposed.
“You don’t need him, but you definitely want him.”
I fought the urge to cover myself with my hands. Instead I pulled my shoulders back, shook my hair out of my face, and stood as tall and proud as I could.
He slipped his gaze over my breasts. “Je te veux tellement.”
My nipples grew stiffer. “What did you say?”
He walked over and stopped right in front of me. “Trente jours peuvent ne pas suffire.”
All I understood was that he’d said thirty days.
He raised his hands to my face and brushed my cheek with his fingers. “Did you ever think you would be here?”
“No.”
“I didn’t want anyone else to have you. They were all listening to you and waiting around like vultures ready to eat. Shalimar did a good job of blocking them.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “I didn’t want that for you.”
Leaning in closer, he teased my mouth, leaving his lips so close to mine. I trembled under his attention.
“Et maintenant je suis ici avec toi.” He brushed his bottom lip against mine and then he devoured me. He drank me in. My mouth was his. My thoughts were too. And his lips were as full and soft as I imagined. And I was lost in the feel and taste of them. Their memory would be forever imprinted on my tongue. Frozen in time.
His other hand possessively held me against his waist as he pulled me closer. His rock hard body was pressed tight to mine. I could feel him under that smooth fabric. Every curve. Every muscle.
The kiss was hot. Steaming and blazing. My lips warmed with him. My body begged for more. My heart. My mind. They’d both turned to mush. Had he kissed me days before, he would’ve received a serious discount. I might’ve even drawn up a coupon.
Damn. This is more like the boyfriend experience.
And still Jean-Pierre had more to give, never letting me up to breathe. He deepened the kiss, and I drowned in
him.
Fuck.
My heart boomed in my chest. Getting on the tips of my toes, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, unable to help myself.
Grunting, he twirled his tongue around mine.
Goddamn. This feels so good.
I ran my fingers through his hair. Those silk strands smoothed against my skin. Every part of him was a delight to my senses. His scent. His voice. His taste. I couldn’t get enough of him.
And then someone knocked at the door.
The kiss ended. Groaning, Jean-Pierre pulled away. A man screamed from the other side of the door.
What was that?
A slam came next. I jumped.
Jean-Pierre didn’t appear disturbed by the noise at all as he gazed at me. “I have something to take care of. I’ll be right back.”
I could barely breathe. The rapid pace of my heart slowed. My hands trembled at his neck and there was no way to hide it. I pulled away from him and cold air filled the space. “Okay.”
The man screamed again.
Holy shit. What’s going on?
And then the person knocked again.
He scowled at the door and moved away from me. “I’ll talk to you again. My butler Stanley will show you around.”
“Okay.”
“Put on your dress. I don’t want anyone else to see you.”
“Of course.” I walked over to pick my bra up.
“No. That stays with me.”
O-kay.
“But, take your time. They’ll wait.”
Thankfully, no more screams came.
Jean-Pierre stalked my way as I focused on putting on the dress. When it came time for the zipper, he took over and slowly closed the dress.
And then Jean-Pierre looked at the door. “Entrer.”
Three huge men barreled in, dragging a beaten guy with them.
I looked away, remembering Shalimar’s advice. The last thing I wanted to do was be a witness to anything.
Additionally, this was a sour wake-up call to who I was drooling over. Although Jean-Pierre was gorgeous and turned me on, this was business. He was not a man that could give me more. He was le Boucher, and nothing about that said safe and loving.
Who’s the man? Is he someone’s father or husband? Or. . .don’t think about this. It isn’t your business.
“Donne moi une minute,” Jean-Pierre told his men and then guided me out of his office. “Eden, I’ll show you to Stanley.”
“Uh. . .” I hurried out of there. “That’s okay. You don’t have to.”
“No…” His gaze slipped over me. “I want to spend some more time with you.”
The man screamed from another room. I had no idea what they were doing to him, but they’d definitely done enough.
I trembled.
In that moment—he must’ve noticed my fear—smelled it somehow.
He backed away. “You’re scared?”
I shook my head, because I was too terrified to say anything else.
Someone closed the door in the hallway, shutting away the man’s torture.
“You’re protected,” he whispered. “And I’ll never hurt you.”
I nodded, but how could I know for sure?
Shalimar said he didn’t break the rules and he stayed true to promises. I believe I can trust her about him.
“I promise, Eden. You’ll be safe.”
“Okay.”
He turned to walk off.
“But,” I blurted out.
He paused and turned around. “Yes?”
“But. . .if I feel unsafe, I will leave.”
“Hmmm.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. The whole time he studied me. “Define unsafe.”
I held my hands out. “Feeling like I’m in danger.”
“Anything could make you feel like you’re in danger.”
The man screamed again.
What had he done? Did he deserve this? It’s not your questions to ask, Eden.
Jean-Pierre gestured to him. “He should feel unsafe right now, but not you.”
“True.” I nodded. “But. . .his screams do make me feel a little unsafe.”
“Then, I’ll make sure he doesn’t scream anymore.”
I widened my eyes.
“In a nice way.” He gave me a wicked smile. “I’ll tell him to keep it down.”
I tapped my foot.
“But if you feel unsafe, you tell me first.” He unfolded his arms and placed his hands in his pockets. “You don’t just leave. It should be a discussion. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve just begun, but I’m enjoying myself. Are you?”
I blushed. “Yes.”
“Bien.” He looked around the hallway. It was empty besides us. “How wet are your panties?”
I blushed. “Very wet.”
“Give them to me.”
I blinked.
That wicked edge curved those full lips into a smile. “I want to put them in my pocket, until I see you later. That would keep down the screams.”
I opened my mouth and then closed it.
“It was a joke. Don’t be scared.”
I lifted my dress a little, grabbed my panties under it, and slowly wiggled them down. The whole time he watched. I stepped out of them and held the panties in my hand. “I can do this girlfriend experience, but. . .again, if I don’t like the situation or feel unsafe, then I am finished.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched. “Of course.”
I handed the panties to him.
He pointed to the door next to me. “Stanley will be waiting for you in his office. He’ll show you to your room and make sure you’re comfortable.”
“Okay.”
“I wasn’t expecting visitors this evening, so don’t wait up for me. Get your rest.”
“Okay.”
He placed the panties in his pocket. “I’ll see you later, Eden.”
Chapter 13
A Symphony of Blood
Three years ago
Jean-Pierre
Rafael slipped the bloody gloves off his hands and dropped them on the carpet. “Pussy is better than music.”
“No,” I said. “Music eases the stress and pain that pussy causes. So, how can pussy be better than music?”
He gestured for our main guard Giorgio to bring him a chair. “Jean-Pierre, if you could fuck an instrument, I think you would.”
“We’ll never know that answer.” I turned to the battered man in front of us. Tied by rope, he was slumped over forward in his chair and panting. Blood-drenched saliva spilled from his mouth.
Giorgio carried a chair over to Rafael.
I walked over to Dr. Vieg, grabbed his sweaty face, and lifted his view to me. “What are your thoughts, Dr. Vieg? Is pussy better than music?”
Rafael had blacked both of Dr. Vieg’s eyes. A purplish shade decorated them. The torn man gazed up at me and blinked tears away. “I…I d-don’t know.”
I let go of his face. “You don’t know much tonight.”
Our men stood behind us, armed and ready to shoot at our command.
We’d made a mess of Dr. Vieg’s office. Shelves and broken pieces of porcelain birds lay scattered across the carpet. My men had cracked his safe, grabbed diamonds and boxes of francs. They continued to yank open files and drawers as they scanned every document they could find. Meanwhile, Rafael’s men had discovered the drugs and porn as they always tended to do.
Dr. Vieg had a nice stash of cocaine and marijuana in a gold box adored with carved flowers on the top.
Giorgio brought it over to Rafael like a waiter presenting the dessert tray.
Rafael pulled out a rolled joint and sniffed it. “Not bad. At least the doctor knows about cannabis.”
Giorgio closed the gold box, pulled out a lighter, and lit it the end of the joint for Rafael.
I shook my head. “You don’t know what it’s rolled with.”
“He’s a doctor. I’m sure it’s the good s
tuff.” Rafael inhaled and then coughed. “Yes. It’s the good stuff.”
“Nevertheless, I’m getting bored.” I leaned against Dr. Vieg’s desk and studied him. “Anything else, before you die?”
Dr. Vieg trembled. “Please, Jean-Pierre…I…I don’t know. . .who has…the violin.”
“I doubt that.” I unbuttoned my jacket, took it off, and handed it to Giorgio who instantly appeared at my side. “You made ten million dollars off the deal. Surely, you have the buyer’s address.”
Dr. Vieg shook his head. “It was black market.”
“It was black market.” Rafael coughed as he laughed. “Who says things like that, but liars? I thought doctors were supposed to be smart.”
I undid my shirt while Giorgio placed my jacket on his arm and waited. “Dr. Vieg isn’t a medical doctor. His degree is for music theory.”
“But still.”
I took off my shirt, gave it to Giorgio, and walked over to Dr. Vieg. “I came to you because I believed that you were one of the loyal. And I gave you one thing before they took me off to jail.”
“I-I was in a tough spot.” Dr. Vieg twisted and turned in his chair, trying to break free from the ropes. “I…Cynthia needed m-medical care…s-she had cancer—”
“You left your wife a day after the sale.”
“But…I still—”
“And you bought your mistress a brand new house and moved in with her.
“Jean-Pierre, p-please. I could give you another instrument. I have many—”
“I found something.” Louis rushed over to me with a thick folder in his hand.
I grabbed and rummaged through it while Rafael eased back in his chair and blew circles of smoke. Dead silence filled the room.
There’d been some truth to Dr. Vieg’s statement. He didn’t know the exact location of the violin, but he knew the city and country.
I flipped the page over and spotted the buyer’s name. “He’s working with the devil. Alexander.”
Alexander was the head of the Unione Corse.
Started in the 1910s, the Corsican mafia was a set of criminal groups from Corsica. No drugs or arms passed through the French border without one of the groups knowing about it. It was an influential organized crime structure. And we operated in France, Russia, as well as African and Latin American countries. It was many groups of criminals. However, there were only two groups that one noted when mentioning the Corsican mafia. The Unione Corse and the Brise de Mer gang.
