by King, Imani
“I understand…and I’m sorry .”
It was hard to keep my jaw from dropping. As Blaine glanced away, clearly pained, I thought on how well I had come to know this boastful, sly man – and how far above the world he really was. He didn’t apologize. He never had to .
But he was doing it right now, for me .
“You’re a real jackass, you know that?” I told him. “You whisk me away to experience things I’d never see otherwise, you set me up in my career field, you give me these opportunities…and then you come to my house? And you apologize for all of it? You ? ”
Blaine looked surprised. “I don’t think I’m following …”
I could feel my glowering wrath diminishing as my eyes gazed upon this foolish man…and I thought to how isolated he must have been, with all that prestige and wealth. I could see him now – a young child, raised by tutors and kept behind doors, unable to comprehend how to handle social interaction, blindly stumbling through life…and then he saved me .
He saved me, and I never even knew it .
And he saw me for what I was – equally foolish, prone to disaster, and unable to take care of myself. I was gullible, overly trustworthy, and naïve. But he wanted something more for me – something better. So he stood in the shadows, guiding me away from trouble, steering me towards a better life .
He needed me to stay the course that he had chosen, based upon what I wanted; and when I veered off-course, he stepped in personally, purposefully taking over. Of course I wouldn’t be able to turn down his offer; of course I would submit to his gilded cage, not realizing how much control he had over me until it was too late .
After taking a deep breath, I finally opened my mouth. “There’s something you have to realize, Blaine. I’m more mature than you think. I don’t need your help anymore. Maybe I did back then…but I’ve outgrown this cage you want to keep me in. I know you just want what’s best for me, that you just want me to be happy …”
I reached across the table and took his hands into mine .
“…And I am happy. But I need you to let go. You’re too domineering…too controlling. I’ll never be truly happy with you interfering in my life…not unless we’re on the same level .”
Blaine swallowed briefly. “The same level ?”
“You’re an idiot, but you’re heart’s in the right place. It always was. It just took me a while to really understand that. And I’m willing to swallow my pride and admit that I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me…so long as you promise that you’ll let me live my life .”
He nodded quietly. “I never meant to hurt you, Sierra .”
“You didn’t hurt me,” I told him, shaking my head. “You just disappointed me. That’s all. But disappointment is forgivable. And Mama told me what you did, in her own words – and how grateful she has always been to you for that .”
“Did she?” He seemed genuinely stunned .
“She did,” I nodded. “And no matter how angry I am, there’s a big part of me that can never repay you for saving me – before I ever knew you .”
Blaine smiled softly, his eyes twinkling .
“But there’s something else she told me. Something you probably don’t know .”
“And what might that be?” He asked with bated breath .
“That you loved me with all of your heart,” I answered, trying to suppress a wide smile – it didn’t work. While he widened his eyes in astonishment, I pressed on. “She could see it in your eyes, just like I do now. She told me that she could never believe that someone would be as selfless as you were for her daughter, and that she knew in a heartbeat that you wanted to protect me – that you loved me. Even back then .”
Blaine glanced down at my hands, clasped around his, and back up to me. All those years of womanizing and tabloid coverage, living a lavish lifestyle to fill the crushing void in his heart… It all seemed to melt away from his face as he gazed longingly into my eyes .
I whispered the words that my heart longed to say – words that my pride, my determination, had refused to let me even conceive. I was willing to let it all fall away, to let the past be the past, if he would just let me fly…and the look in his eyes told me that he was ready to let me be who I needed to be – without his constant care from the shadows .
The only words I could bring myself to say then were the words that really mattered .
“I love you, Blaine .”
32
S ierra
O ne long, happy year later, on a beautiful beach terrace in Greece, Blaine Winguard and I were wed. My mother, Keesha, and his receptionist – I mean, little sister – Ivy were all present, as well as a number of my friends. On Blaine’s side, he didn’t have any other immediate family, but work associates of his lined his half of the procession: directors, actors and actresses, and several producers. A solid few of them were even household names, and took the constant hidden selfies and attention from my half of things in stride .
It hadn’t been easy at first. That night that Blaine arrived at my house, he laid out everything from start to finish. The billionaire spoke of his actions with complete humility, willing to prove to me that he understood the mistakes that he had made. The man who had done so much for me knew that he had gone too far, and he accepted that he had to work on his severe control issues, and let me be the woman I really was .
I couldn’t overlook the fact that he had saved my life, both figuratively and literally. He had also done everything in his power to keep me happy from afar for years …
The career he’d helped me with had kicked into high gear. When my story broke, it put me on the map as a rising star in the journalism field. I eventually turned down the majority of work I’d face in front of the camera to perform on-the-ground investigations. It seemed like there was always bad people out there, trying to take advantage of the less fortunate…and for my work uncovering a national child trafficking ring, I earned myself the esteemed Pulitzer Prize for Journalism .
Every cent that I had earned off interviews and speaking arrangements was put into a charity organization that Blaine and I started together – dedicated to fighting sex violence, trafficking, and those who would dare take advantage of young women devoid of opportunities. Blaine, eager to leave the film industry life, began to funnel his time into spearheading the campaign – and with his considerable resources, we were making solid headway into fighting the good fight .
Blaine, true to his word, let me make my own mistakes. Although I accepted the help he offered, he never tried to directly steer my path, and I grew care deeply for him for the tremendous love in his heart .
Stroking my small but growing belly during the wedding reception, I knew that our child would have two parents that would love her with all their hearts – and bestow upon her the kind of compassion and support that my husband had once shown me .
My husband would be there to steer our child clear from the shadows, letting our baby grow confident and strong. I would be there to keep Blaine in check, and to allow our little seed of joy to learn humility, self-control, and to stand on her own two feet. Whoever that little child grew up to be, they would be able to solve their problems with or without money…and carve their way into the world .
Blaine reached his hand out to me, and I joined him for the first dance. With our loved ones and friends around, we pulled in close. I rested my head on his shoulder, and I knew from that moment on that everything was going to be perfectly fine .
Dear reader… don’t stop now because I’ve got one last surprise. Turn the page for The Frenchman’s Bride! A sexy BWWM Romance !
Imani
More from Imani King
Dorian Lambert has a problem. His grandfather is dying, and the vast fortune he stands to inherit has been compromised by one little detail: Dorian has marry and produce an heir in order to receive it .
Dorian isn't the type to play by the rules. And when he sees Georgia Devereaux, he knows exactly how to get what h
e wants—and how to piss off his rich, conservative family in the process .
Georgia Deveraux—Gigi, to her friends—has her own problems to worry about. Graduating from Harvard law school left her deep in debt, but when she lands a spot at a prestigious law firm handling the Lambert estate, Dorian makes her an offer she can’t refuse .
Love wasn’t supposed to be part of the bargain. Now Dorian and Gigi must decide if their unconventional marriage can ever amount to something more .
Intrigued? Click right here for your copy of The Convenient Wife !
The Frenchman’s Bride
Imani King
T he Frenchman’s Bride is a steamy Romance Novel with a happy-ever-after and NO CLIFFHANGER !
Mega-rich, mega-handsome Blaize Simon is France’s hottest, best-selling author/filmmaker and he’s back in Los Angeles promoting his latest smash-hit novel .
But problems arise for the French playboy as soon as he sets foot on American soil: A visa snafu, and his undeniable taste for trouble threaten his ability to stay and work in the United States .
His scheming (but always well-meaning), agent suggests a highly questionable work-around: Why not just marry a U.S. citizen? Or possibly have a child with one? Sacré Bleu! Marriage has always been a totally obnoxious idea to the die-hard bad boy !
Except...........this time he’s smitten with pastry chef extraordinaire Chelsea Dixon. Chelsea’s beauty and sweet talents captivate and capture the footloose Frenchman. But are his feelings for her real or just more fiction? And is she willing to settle for a pretend marriage? Not to worry; her feisty dad, Willie, is prepared to protect his “baby girl” at all costs .
1
Blaize Simon
L ooking out over my sprawling estate from the rooftop terrace of my chateau, I felt like an underworld god smiling down on his own private Sodom and Gomorrah. My insane party guests provided endless entertainment with their drunken antics. They were five hundred of my closest “friends” in various stages of undress, enjoying the fucking shit out of seemingly every corner of my property, in every demented way possible. One could hardly call it a party, though. They were always fucking epic events !
And that is precisely the way the news media described them: “Depraved Epic Events”, to be exact. The release of each of my books and movies was always cause to celebrate in high style at my 200 year-old villa on the Seine. Located fifty miles outside Paris, there were no pesky neighbors to complain about the noise level. Did I say noise? That was an understatement. The bass vibrations of the techno dance music could be felt pulsating throughout all 69 rooms of the main house. The walls and floors thumped to the steady beat and the window glass shook in sync with the rhythm. I could barely hear myself think, but that didn’t matter. My ever-ready dick was doing all my thinking for me at the moment. The time had arrived for me to wade amongst the throng of hopefuls below and select the two or three lucky girls I deemed worthy for a private rooftop “meet and greet .”
As I mingled and snaked my way through the guests, I kept my eyes open for any and all girls who appeared to be “unusually adventurous”. My latest vampire novel inspired some of the partiers to come in costume. There were a number of luscious ladies slinking around in gothic-looking bat outfits, complete with brilliantly realistic fangs. Although I appreciated their creative enthusiasm, I noted the obvious possible problem for me in the cock-sucking department and decided to pass on the blood-curdling experience. One of them turned and clawed at the crotch of my trousers, digging into my family jewels with her three-inch black fingernails, and almost causing me to drop my drink .
“Hey what the fuck? Control yourself sweetheart! Don’t force me to spank you !”
Surveying the grounds of my mini-kingdom, I was utterly thrilled with the level of debauchery that was taking place in and around my swimming pool. My “peeps” appeared to be setting a new low in merrymaking: Premium booze flowed freely. As usual, my horny little guests were exchanging sexual favors in the dark shadows of the spooky purple and red outdoor lighting .
Out of nowhere, two water-filled condom balloons whizzed past my head in rapid succession and exploded onto the crowded patio. My attention was quickly diverted to the packed second-story balcony above, where a heavenly vision stood wearing nothing but a red satin Dracula cape. She slowly raised her arms over her head, paused for dramatic effect and then did a perfectly executed swan dive into the pool .
When she surfaced for air, I was able to catch a glimpse of her teeth and happily noted her lack of fangs. I decided that she would be a perfect candidate for the private rooftop rendezvous with yours truly and headed back toward the house to seek out others .
Once inside, I could instantly feel the entire house quaking with the music and dancing from the makeshift disco club on the second floor. Not surprisingly, my lavish kitchen was practically wall-to-wall people gorging themselves on the impressive array of delectable gourmet foods, rare French wines, and the most orgasmic desserts imaginable .
A petite little mademoiselle with long lavender hair sat perched high atop a barstool, and she immediately caught my eye. Her pink laced demi-bra was overflowing with young firm tits and her thong panties were practically screaming, “Oh Blaize, please rip me off with your teeth !”
I had apparently come in on the tail-end of a conversation I would have loved to have participated in, as she was now attempting to pinch a chocolate éclair off the dessert tray with her ass cheeks. I was completely astounded when she managed it. My cock hardened like a cement sidewalk. Fuck she was hot! She was also the lucky winner of spot number two for the rooftop threesome .
I immediately dialed my agent and longtime friend, Rolande Girard to give him the descriptions and locations of my two lovely choices. I knew he was enjoying himself somewhere amongst the multitude of other revelers, but the premises were just too large for me to search for him .
“Will you escort both lovelies up to me please, my oldest and most trusted ass kisser?” I yelled into the phone so he could hear me above the musical din .
“Absolutely!” he screamed back, “Your wish is my command, oh royal douchebag .”
His voice was almost hoarse. I loved Rolande. He was the brother I never had. I headed up to my top floor bedroom suite and waited outside on the terrace for the real fun to begin .
Rolande appeared in the doorway of my suite wearing only his necktie and striped boxers, his arms entwined around both mouth-watering beauties. “Knock knock! Special delivery for Mr. Blaize Simon! Permission to enter your den of delinquency !”
“I’m on the terrace! Bring them out here!” The warm summer air felt just perfect for a balcony fuck-fest .
“Are you in a sharing mood tonight, master? I think I might have blown my chance with the girl I was hitting on downstairs. You called at a very inopportune time, you know. I think you owe me, buddy .”
“I owe you? That’s a laugh! And no, I’m not in a sharing mood. Go find your own! Off you go…….don’t let the door hit you in the ass !”
That Rolande. Such a great friend. I had no idea what I’d do without him, but it was still not a compelling enough reason to share my bounty with him. He begrudgingly handed both girls over to me and scurried out, saluting me with his middle finger before closing the door .
I steered them over to the corner of the balcony near the railing, so we could all enjoy the panoramic view while we pleasured each other. I christened the one wearing the lace lingerie “Pinky” and the one who did the awesome dive “Swan”. After all, there was no need to learn their real names .
Swan had traded her cold, sopping wet cape for a rather expensive-looking men’s suit jacket that she had found draped over a lawn chair by the pool. It was the only thing clinging to her nakedness and just barely long enough to cover her sweet ass. She unbuttoned my shirt and ran her fingers through my chest hair while Pinky ran her hands up and down my ass from behind. I sat down on the overstuffed chaise lounge chair and relaxed back int
o the soft cushions, pulling both of them down on top of me .
“I can’t decide…….which one of you tasty little morsels shall I eat first ?”
Swan undid the three buttons of her oversized jacket, and crawled onto my lap, fiddling with my zipper .
Pinky was just about to help her free my aching cock from my suddenly restrictive pants when I heard a completely sickening sound emanating up from the stone balcony below us. It was a horrible combination of creaking, snapping, and crumbling………the sounds of a very old building coming apart at the seams. The screams of my guests prompted me to spring up from the pleasures at hand and look over the railing, just in time to see the second story porch collapse onto the patio and pool below. A cloud of dust and debris billowed up into my face, shattering my moment of reflection .
Without even looking back at my rooftop lovelies, I sped down the stairs to the level below to find the entire balcony gone and my guests either in a state of shock or panic .
“Is everyone okay?” I shouted, overlooking the damage. The balcony alone would cost a small fortune to repair, and the pool cleaner was going to have his work cut out for him this week …
“Everybody’s fine!” someone shouted from below. “You’ve got one hell of a mess down here though …”
I knew it would be best if I made my way outside to better assess the damage, so I headed down to ground level, cutting through the kitchen on the way. I was relieved to find most of the downstairs cleared out to bear witness to the carnage, giving me free rein to sprint through the hallways .
Suddenly, I was stopped literally in my tracks; just like I had run into a brick wall. One of the catering staff was busy boxing up the remaining pastries, just as cool and casual as could be. Collapsing balconies and shouting guests be damned. She looked up from her work and our eyes locked… And talk about eyes; they were like large dark pools of melted chocolate. Fuck! Where had this dark-skinned little temptress been hiding all night? How did I miss this one? She was beautiful beyond all logic and reason. And even her plain white uniform could do nothing to disguise the smokin’ hot body smoldering underneath .
