by Liz Maverick
“You’re not a good girl anymore?”
I laughed. “Oh, please. Some rules, yes. But obeying all the rules never gets you anywhere.”
“You just have to know which ones are worth breaking, oui?” He looked at the foreboding red-and-white sign and then back at me with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Let’s do it.”
I really didn’t want to get deported, but hell, I was leaving Paris, anyway. And besides, somehow I knew that if the police did come, at least Jack would tell them he convinced me. You’re falling again, Cassie. Be careful.
“Un, deux, trois,” Jack pushed on the door and I froze, giggling softly, waiting to see if an alarm would sound. The door opened with nothing more than a slight puff of dust to reveal wooden steps bound by iron rails. Jack raised an eyebrow, looking at my dress. “Non?” he asked, offering me an out.
I took off my shoes and handed them to him along with my champagne glass, and then I raised my skirts and climbed to the top of the stairs, which ended with two dilapidated white-framed skylight windows.
Jack gave one side a push, and it opened without protest. He looked out and then offered his hand to hoist me to the rooftop. Dusty lights lined the edge of the space, revealing shadowy gargoyles on the sides. It was glorious. I dropped my skirts and walked toward a tiny garden patch with two chairs and table and a view of Paris lit up below. The faint strains of the music from the party wafted up to our hideaway. The skirts of my dress shifted in the slight wind, and the small quantity of light from a picturesquely rusty fixture made it look like the glitter on my skin was real fairy dust. Jack leaned against the barrier, a gargoyle looking protectively down on him, Jack looking seductively down on me.
“Do you want more champagne?” Jack asked.
I downed the rest of my glass and placed it on the table. “Who needs more champagne?” I asked, gesturing to the magical scene.
He left his empty glass next to mine and literally swept me into his arms, his mouth pressing against the hollow of my throat. His tuxedo jacket slid from my shoulders, and Jack let it go, whispering, “I’ll keep you warm.”
Jack held me against his body, backed up to the rail like we were standing on the edge of the world. His hands roamed over the curves of my body as we kissed. I closed my eyes and lost myself in sensation, his velvet tongue caressing mine, his fiery touch dragging fireworks across my skin. I wanted him inside me. In fact, I was pretty certain I would die if he didn’t throw me down somewhere and have at me. “Jack,” I whispered against his cheek, running my hand across his belt buckle, letting my fingertips drag over the swell of his erection.
Jack looked at me with eyes as dark as the evening sky. “Let me take you away from here, Cassie. I want to give you such pleasure,” he said, his accent thick with emotion. “But I want to take my time with you, and I want you to wake up in my arms, in my bed, in my home. Where you belong.”
Chapter Seven
The Marchand family home had not been divided into tiny little rental units and sold off piece by piece like many of the grand old Parisian homes. The three brothers shared the massive accommodations, and Jack had an entire wing to himself, which was lucky because the size of his bedroom and the distance of it from the common rooms suggested that I could scream with the pleasure he wanted to give me as loud as I wanted to without being heard.
Jack’s living room was dominated by a gray suede couch in front of a fireplace alongside a long bar made of oiled walnut and brushed metal. Jack removed his tuxedo jacket and draped it over the back of the couch. I looked mournfully at the fireplace. “It’s too bad it’s July,” I said. But maybe when I come back to Paris in January…
“I don’t think we’ll need it,” Jack said. Oh, I could see the heat in his eyes, all right. His look made my cheeks turn warm. Damn, Cass. You’d think you were back in high school
He stepped behind the bar and got to work on a pair of drinks while I looked around. A stack of ivory monogrammed napkins anchored one side of the bar, and a miniature tabletop refrigerator full of cocktail garnishes sat beside a cutting board and various accoutrement for shaking and stirring and whatever else one does to prepare a precision cocktail. Top-shelf booze and cocktail glasses sorted by size and shape lined the back wall, interspersed with showy art books and antique posters including vintage artwork.
I smiled at the one that illustrated the old cabaret at the Moulin Rouge. “Do you remember the night we stayed after school and watched Moulin Rouge in the A/V room?”
“I remember everything we did,” he said, following my gaze to the poster. “Truth, beauty, freedom and above all things, love,” he murmured, echoing the bohemian tagline of the movie.
“So what happened?” I asked with a laugh.
“None of those things make money, Cass,” he said.
“None of them make money as easily as your way,” I said.
“My father’s way,” he said dismissively.
“Right.”
“That was a great day,” Jack said in a faraway voice.
I nodded. “You pointed out all the Parisian landmarks and in-jokes.”
He came back to Earth with a wicked grin and said, “And you pointed out that when a pale female character has a nosebleed at the beginning of a movie, she’s going to be dead by the end of it.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I must have been either very nervous or very certain we were never going to be more than friends.”
“You were comfortable with me. I was comfortable with you.” He suddenly cursed vigorously in French. I raised an eyebrow. Jack paced behind the bar, looking cross. “This is the problem with you, Cassandra.”
“Er…”
“I want to talk to you as much as I want to make love to you. It is like…what is it like? It is like you heat my blood but you calm my soul. How could…”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to. I stared at him as my creaky old heart skipped a beat. This is not going well. You’re not supposed to fall for each other all over again. You’re just supposed to sleep together.
“You are okay?” he asked, holding out a lowball glass, our fingers brushing hot over the cool glass. I sipped the drink, and the liquor steadied me a bit, a whiff of sugar mingling with high-end bourbon tickling my nose. We looked at each other over the rims of our glasses. His dark eyes were liquid with desire. Oh, God. Kiss me, Jack.
He put down his glass and took mine away from me and pulled me into his arms and pressed his mouth down on mine, and I was just gone, gone, gone.
I closed my eyes as our tongues met, warring for a second until his slipped away again and he bit down on the soft pad of my lower lip with his teeth. He pulled away and licked the spot he’d claimed. I already wanted more of him and the heat between us made me feisty. I bit him back and we fought to dominate each other, sensuality giving way to something more primal. As he moved against me to slant his mouth over mine again and again, his erection pressed against my skirts like a tease, too far away, too much fabric making me wait.
Backed up against the bar, I panted, half out of my head and ready to pounce. Jack put even more distance between us by offering me his hand. I gave him mine, and we didn’t take our eyes off each other as he walked backward down his hall, pulling me deeper and deeper into his world. The lights were off in his bedroom, but the near-full moon shed plenty of blue-tinged light through the windows.
“Midnight blue,” he whispered, his hands burying into the skirts of my navy dress, ruching it up my thighs. “Just like the frame of your eyes.”
Glitter flew into the air as he swept my hair back with a quick motion, exposing my neck. The translucent specks lingered in the air for a moment before descending all over us. Jack’s tuxedo sparkled in the light. Giddy with champagne and sex on the brain, I giggled and whispered, “When I leave this room, you’re not going to be able to forget about me for a while.”
“Who said anything about leaving or forgetting?” he whispered, biting my neck gently
just above my pulse. “I just found you again.”
He ran his hands slowly down my curves, cupping my ass and jerking my body against him. The length of his erection pressed my thigh. His lips curled in a smile against my throat as I sucked in a quick breath. Desire pooled between my legs.
I closed my eyes and curled my fingers around his biceps, holding on for dear life as he found my mouth again and drew my tongue into his mouth, sucking rhythmically, a slow, seductive pull.
I whimpered softly as he moved away for a moment, immediately missing his fire. And then he was behind me, his hand on my zipper, drawing it down, pressing his hot, damp mouth along my spine.
“One,” he said, pressing a kiss against my feverish skin.
“Two,” he whispered as the zipper snaked downward, and my dress began to fall away.
I smiled to myself, knowing what he was about to reveal, anticipating his reaction. He never got to “three.” As satin and tulle pooled at my feet, Jack inhaled sharply. French lingerie had a global reputation for good reason. I looked over my shoulder, into his smoldering eyes.
“The first time I laid eyes on you, Cassandra, you were the best thing I had ever seen. But looking at you now…even more beautiful. You are going to make it very hard to take my time. We have a lot of homework to do.”
“Homework?” I asked. Not a word I usually associated with mind-blowing sex. “What do you have up your sleeve?” I stretched out on the bed to give him the full impact of my electric-blue silk bra and panties, nude thigh-high stockings and silver stilettos, which were screaming “fuck me” so loud it was almost puzzling they didn’t actually make a sound.
Jack stood facing me, a smirk on his face, and began to undress with the authority and poise of a man who knows exactly what he is doing and has the body to back it up.
His jaw set, his body tense and coiled, Jack looked over my splayed body as he stripped clothing off his own. With one quick yank his bow tie came apart. His gaze bore into my eyes as he loosened his French cuffs, tossing the cufflinks to the heart of a lacquered box on the dresser. His movements were rough, but precise. He undid his buttons, his fingers moving more quickly now until the white fell away to reveal his tanned, muscular chest.
His nimble fingers made quick work of his belt and tuxedo pants. I was thinking I’d like those nimble fingers to make quick work of me, but my brain arrested at the sight of his lean golden body in nothing but black briefs that hugged the curves of his taut ass.
“Where were we?” I muttered, aflame anew.
“Math,” he said, coming to the bed.
“What?” I asked absently as he sat down next to me, holding me down when I moved to bring our bodies closer.
“We’re rewriting history,” he murmured, pulling down the strap of my bra and swirling his tongue around my nipple. “This is math class.”
He teased my taut nipple until I moaned from the pleasure, and then he whispered, “One,” before he slid his mouth to my other breast and licked and sucked until I gasped his name. “Mmm,” Jack said. “Two.”
I knew what “three,” was going to be, and I gripped the bed, taking handfuls of the cool sheets into my fists. His hands cupped my ass, and I arched off the bed as he trailed his tongue between my breasts and down my torso. The ache at the apex of my thighs wanted all this and more; I didn’t want to rush him. Hell, I wanted to savor every bit of this. But I wasn’t sure how much longer I could wait.
And just when I thought I might burst into flames, the tip of his tongue dragged down to my belly button toward the promised land…
And then he pulled away, a seductive smile on his face.
I bucked, missing his warmth, already wanting so much more. “Jack,” I said urgently.
“Yes?” he whispered, planting another kiss just a smidge lower, still not low enough, still not full enough.
“Jack!”
A smidge lower, just low enough for his grip to feel slippery against my thighs where I’d soaked through my panties. “Yes?” he asked, all throaty and deep.
“JACK!” My limbs trembled as I waited, my body taut, nearly desperate with want.
“Oh, Cass,” he murmured through a smile, pulling off my panties roughly enough to rip the seams, and finally, finally he kissed me there.
A bolt of pleasure raced through my bloodstream, and he slipped a finger inside me, grazing my clit with his fingertip with each stroke. Two fingers now. Oh, my mind went hazy. He pulled his body full over mine and I bucked, trying to press the hard length of his shaft against my thigh.
“I want…” I tried to say, but I was already crazy close.
I want you inside me, Jack.
Three fingers now, and I rode them, oh, I rode them. The world fell away, and I reared off the bed, orgasming in a twinkle of glitter. I let the waves of pleasure wash over me, turning my body into Jack’s warmth, enjoying the circle of his arms.
Jack nuzzled my hair and after a while, I curled against him, languid and sated. “Don’t get too comfortable,” he murmured, nuzzling my hair. “I’ve got more in mind for you,” he said, the muscles in his back flexing as he ran the palm of his hand gently up and down my leg. “You are going to feel such pleasure tonight.”
It felt glorious, his fingers gently stroking my skin, but I stopped him. “Jack,” I whispered. “Jack, look at me.”
His face came into view, and he looked into my eyes. I suddenly realized how long and how patiently he’d been waiting for this, for me.
“I forgive you,” I said. “I accept your apology. It’s behind us now. Stop trying to please only me. Let’s do this for us. Things are different now. You taking pleasure will give me pleasure.”
He didn’t speak for a moment, but his eyes went soft, and that softness went straight into my heart, thawing the last shard of ice he’d planted there so many years ago. Thawed. I am so thawed. And in the next moment, the softness vanished. Jack had a wicked grin on his face and a burr in his throat when he uttered, “I am going to fuck you so hard.”
He stripped off the briefs and pulled a condom from the drawer in his nightstand. I could have come just watching him fist the engorged base of his cock while he slipped on the rubber if he’d played around a little longer. But we were both done waiting. His hands dropped away, and he settled between my legs, pressing his erection against my core, his tip teasing me in the slick of my lips. “Oh,” I said, more a breath than a word.
“I’ve missed you,” he said in French, a funny little smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. I didn’t know if he meant the ten years apart or the ten minutes our bodies had been separated—maybe he meant both.
Jack bit down on his lower lip as he slowly pushed into me. I gasped, closing my eyes as his size filled me, and he began to move. He started slowly, groaning with the effort of control, his dark lashes sweeping down as he looked down to watch our bodies move together.
The weight of his body over mine felt delicious, the rhythm as he moved inside me, hypnotic. Desire fluttered in my stomach, and when I heard Jack’s breathing hitch, I nearly swooned. His strokes became faster, rougher. I ran my hands over the corded muscle in his back, arching up to meet his movements, driving him deeper and deeper inside me, as deep as we could go.
A litany of French breezed against my ear like music, but I was already too far gone to use brain cells to translate his desire. His arms bracketed my body, his palms caressing my face, one thumb brushed against my lips. I wrapped my mouth around it and sucked it like a blow job as he fucked me, saw how it drove him crazy. Our eyes locked. “Take me how you want me,” I said. “This one’s just for you.”
Faster, faster now…as Jack moved toward orgasm, he moved with more abandon, with a kind of animal freedom. His beautiful face lit with desire, his jaw tight and his eyes on mine, he wrapped his arms around my torso and rammed into me, fucking me hard to the other side of the bed. Didn’t think I could come again so easily, with just his cock inside me and no fingers or mouth, but then,
I’d never been so turned on. The more he dominated my body to take for himself, the more I liked it. I groaned with the pleasure of another release suddenly building inside me.
“Not just for me,” Jack uttered. Again and again, he took my body with his until the air was thick with frenzied lust. I held out until I felt him peak, and then came harder than before, crying out just as Jack finally let himself go, his hips jolting as he relinquished control, my name on his lips.
Spent and breathless, we curled into each other and lay in silence for a while, half dozing until Jack reached out and pulled a blanket over us. “I’m falling in love with you all over again,” he said into my ear.
“When were you in love with me?” I mumbled against his neck.
He rolled away slightly and propped his head up on one elbow. His free hand rested possessively on my thigh. “The irony is that I’m sure I was but didn’t know. I didn’t have anything to compare it with. I’ve always been able to talk to you. We like the same things. We like stupid puns and laugh at the same things. You know enough French to know what I’m saying when I’m saying it in French. Most French women don’t even know what I’m saying.”
I giggled at that, and he kept going.
“You look like a million dollars, but you don’t require a million dollars to let me look. You have a good heart. You are made of real stuff. The designer clothes and the fancy—” he waved his hand in the air to represent the fancy “—it all looks very good on you. But you don’t need it the way…some women do. I could go on and on. What it all means to me is that when I am with you, I am reminded what it is to appreciate what matters and I…I simply feel happy. What is better than that?”
Can a person melt? Melty me pressed my lips gently to his. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
“Bergman and Bogie didn’t end up together,” he reminded me.
“Maybe I’m Bogie,” I teased. “He got the Frenchman.”
