Oui: A BWWM Romance (The French Connection Book 1)

by Brooklyn Knight

  My cheeks heated, and my heart swelled. “I am thrilled to have impressed you and Mr. Hamilton,” I said. “You took a chance on me and you’re continuing to do so. I really appreciate it, Mr. Carter.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said. “I know talent when I see it. It’s been a win- win. You just worry about getting a good night’s rest. And have some fun tomorrow.” He winked and disappeared inside of his room.

  I slipped my keycard into the door and pushed it open. A baby blue and a spicy hot pink suite awaited me; it was beautiful, but the only thing I was interested in was the monstrous king-sized bed with crisp white linen.

  I showered and slipped into the Victoria Secret’s Pink boyfriend shirt I had brought with me. I had considered other garments, a silk teddy, a lace negligée, but had quickly changed my mind. I had no plans of being intimate with the CEO on this trip. In fact, whenever he wasn’t near and I was lucid, I determined I would never go there with him again. My feelings for him were spiraling. The word relationship had slipped from his mouth and he’d caught himself because there was no way it could ever be possible.

  So what was the point?

  2 A.M...

  I looked at the clock, which read 1:43 A.M. There was no way he would come, I decided. This wasn’t my apartment. This wasn’t his office or the Sky Lobby. We were in France, surrounded by his colleagues and staff. There was no way he would risk coming into my room.

  I climbed into the bed and melted into the sheets. I snuggled my head against the plush pillow and before I knew it, I had fallen asleep.

  A SOFT BUT FIRM KNOCK on the door pulled me out of slumber. I squeezed my eyes and opened them, peering into the hazy darkness of the room. The muted sounds of the busy Parisian street wafted into my consciousness, and then the knock sounded again, soft, almost inaudible.

  I squinted at the clock.

  “Three-thirty?” I mumbled. I ran my hand across my face and stretched before crawling out of the bed and heading for the door. Peeping through the hole, I paused before I opened it a tad and peeked outside.

  Dylan stared back at me. His bottom lip was clenched seductively between his teeth and his face, freshly shaven, looked as smooth as the blanket I’d just slinked out of. His fresh, spring water scent slipped through the crack of the door.

  My throat grew dry. Other parts of my body did the opposite.

  “May I come in?” he whispered.

  My chest rose and fell as I entertained the devil on my left shoulder, reminding me of how good his erection felt as it filled me. The angel on the right had a different perspective.

  I exhaled and undid the security latch. I pulled the door open and he entered, wearing plaid, loose fitting pajama bottoms.

  “Dylan, it’s three-thirty in the morning. You said two o’clock.” I crossed my arms over my breast.

  “I apologize.” He pulled me close. “I had to wait for everyone to fall asleep. Carter came to my room with some last-minute business; my secretary had a few things to handle...” He trailed off. “Trust me when I tell you it was just as torturous for me as it was for you.”

  “I was not tortured by your absence,” I said smacking his chest playfully.

  “If you say so,” he whispered with a smile. He lowered his head and kissed my mouth. In an instant it transformed from slow and deliberate to frenzied and ravenous. His hands groped my body and slid under my nightgown until they were on my prickling flesh.

  He groaned and squeezed me, running his hands over my curviness, then his affection slowed and he stared into my eyes. “Laila, let me make love to you tonight.”

  “Dylan, we’ve been doing that for almost two weeks,” I reminded him, but he shook his head.

  “No, we haven’t,” he said. “Not like how I want to. Not in the way I’ve been fantasizing.”

  I swallowed, trying not to be consumed by the intensity in his eyes. My eyes fell to the floor then lifted back to him. “What’s the difference?” I whispered.

  He smirked, his eyes glittering. That sexy half grin made me want to tear him to shreds.

  “Let me show you.” He stretched his neck and walked over to a cabinet, which contained a sound system. He pulled out his cell phone and connected it to the wireless speaker system and dangerously seductive music pierced the atmosphere. The sounds of violins, oboes, and moaning, echoing voices lifted in the background. An intense fire lit in my passion pit and my breathing escalated. When Dylan turned around, there was no denying his readiness. His long, thick rod of manhood was poised.

  “That package I gave you on the jet,” he said. “Go and get it.”

  My eyes quivered, but I obeyed his command. I knelt to the floor and unzipped my carry-on. I pulled out the sealed package and extended my hand. He looked at the package and then at me.

  “Open it.”

  I swallowed. I tore the top off, hands trembling, and pulled out two soft, leather ropes. My eyes shot up. My chest lifted and fell. My mouth trembled.

  We were standing in front of each other. The ropes spilled between my fingers.

  “I didn’t know you were into this,” I whispered. My body shivered with curiosity.

  He smiled and shook his head. “I’m not,” he admitted. “I’ve never done this before, but every time I think about loving you I can’t help but imagine.” Dylan’s eyes were low and heavy. “Me fais-tu confiance?”

  “Oui,” I whispered. “I trust you.” I stared into his face, reading the emotions brimming in his eyes. The contents of his expression caused me to gasp. The penetrating, tantric energy he was projecting drew me into him like a powerful magnet and I wanted to give him my body in a way I’d never given it to anyone else.

  Dylan moved in and captured me with a kiss that intoxicated me beyond measure. My head fell back, and my neck strained from the pressure of his lips against mine. He pulled away and pressed his mouth against my ear. “May I take control?” he whispered.

  My breath caught in my throat and a stream of warm liquid was instantly drawn from deep inside of me. I closed my eyes and bit my lip so hard I almost drew blood. I tilted my head so my mouth was closer to his face. “Oui.”

  “I know exactly what I want to do to you tonight. I have imagined it for weeks.” He pressed his nose against my neck and inhaled deeply. “Let me dominate you, Laila. I promise I won’t go too far.”

  There was only one thing I wanted to say. “Oui.”

  He grunted in satisfaction. “What’s your safe word?”

  I swallowed, ready to explode despite him barely having touched me. “Je n’en ai pas.”

  He looked into my eyes and I reached up on my tip-toes to catch his bottom lip between my teeth.

  “I don’t have one,” I repeated. I wanted every drop of what he had to give me tonight. I was hungry and high from the delicious atmosphere he’d created. I wanted to relinquish all control. I wanted to give everything I had to him.

  “I promise I won’t hurt you and when you tell me to stop, I will,” he said penetrating my soul with his hazel eyes.

  “Okay.”

  Dylan pulled the nightgown over my head and let it drop to the floor. I stood before him, naked and trembling. His eyes roamed over my body, regarding my breasts and my abdomen, before falling to my treasure and my feet. He moistened his lips and lifted me off the floor, carrying me to the king-size bed. Dylan eased me onto the mattress and dragged a chair into position. He stepped out of his pajama pants and sat down. Staring at his tanned, muscular thighs and stiff erection, my mouth watered. I watched as he pulled out a condom and rolled it onto his thick, pulsating manhood.

  My breath caught in the back of my throat.

  He tilted his head to the side. “Pass me the rope and put your face on the mattress,” he instructed firmly. He watched as I obeyed. “Now... pull your knees up. I want you bent over.”

  I did as he instructed and slowly crouched on my knees until my ass was propped into the air.

  “Sweetheart... grab your ankles.�
� His voice was low and gruff.

  I winced as I stretched my arms back and wrapped my hands around each of my ankles. The stark vulnerability of my position was scary and inebriating. I anxiously awaited the next moments, wondering what was coming.

  Dylan rose from the chair and positioned himself behind me. He lowered his face and put his mouth on my buttressed flesh. I moaned as he sucked my skin, nipping it lightly with his teeth. He grabbed one of my fluffy cheeks with his hand and squeezed it. The rope cracked lightly against my ass and my back arched in pain and pleasure. He caressed the tender spot and kissed it, blew on it.

  “Dylan...” I moaned his name.

  “Shhh,” he reprimanded me. “Not yet.” He took one rope and bound my left wrist gently to my left ankle. He ran his index finger between the rope and my flesh, making sure it wasn’t too tight.

  “Tu me fais confiance, non?”

  “Oui,” I whimpered.

  He took the remaining rope and bound me on the right side. Dylan wrapped my long hair around his hand. He tugged it firmly, forcing my head and neck to jerk backwards, and then he pushed it forward so that it was covering my face. My hands squeezed around my ankles as I anticipated his touch, the touch I had come to crave with a ferocity I couldn’t explain.

  I couldn’t see anything. Suddenly, his firm hands pressed my back as he massaged and ran them from the base of my neck to the crest of my bum. He gently spread my cheeks and slipped his fingers inside each of my moist entryways.

  My eyes shot open.

  Dylan stroked the inside of my body from different angles with a tender force that propelled me to the edge of climax. My eyes rolled as my teeth clamped down on the sheets. My hair clouded my vision and I was completely powerless. He slowly rubbed my interior, touching buttons that were sending me wild.

  I moaned into the mattress and my body writhed in satisfying agony.

  “Ne bouge pas, mon amour,” he instructed.

  I tried not to move as he’d requested, but it was an impossible task.

  Dylan slowly removed his finger from my derriere and vagina, and replaced it with his eager, hot mouth.

  My mouth opened and my back arched as I cried out in intense pleasure. He used his tongue to apply pressure inside of my pulsating body. Dylan licked me from the back to the front and from the front to the back, and my body rocked against his face, feeling as though I would explode. I wanted his tongue to go deeper inside of me. I pushed my frame against him, wanting him to descend into my throbbing body.

  The torture was delicious.

  The rhythm and sound of the bewitching music in the background consumed me.

  Dylan gently, gripped the back of my neck, forcing my cheek against the bed.

  “Ça va, mon amour?”

  “Oui,” I whispered trying to catch my breath. “I’m fine, but I want more,” I begged. “Give me more, Dylan. S’il vous plait.”

  “How much more?” he asked.

  “I want it all,” I responded. I didn’t recognize my voice.

  Dylan’s hands tightened around my neck and he mounted me from behind. Suddenly, the pleasant force to which I had become accustomed penetrated my core and I cried out in unabashed ecstasy as Dylan drove himself deep inside of me. He slammed into me over and over. His thickness was perfect. His length was perfect. He was perfect.

  “How much more?” he growled.

  I whimpered a response. The force of his sexual power shook the bed. I shuddered and cried out as my mind and emotions exploded.

  “Laila, I asked you a question.”

  He pounded into me.

  “More.” Tears leaked onto my face.

  He slammed into me. His breathing was ragged. He could barely speak. “How much...”

  “Stop,” I cried. “No more... I can’t...” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Dylan let out a throaty expletive and exploded inside of me. His release caused another wave to wash over me and I shook beneath him. His body became limp, but he quickly pulled himself together and began to unbind me. When the ropes were untied, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me sensually. I grabbed the sides of his face, overcome with passion. Tears pricked my eyes as he held me close in the wee hours of the Parisian morning, stroking my body.

  “Ça va?” He stared into my face, searching my eyes for confirmation.

  I nodded and smiled. “Oui.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Laila

  ‘Roussillon’

  Later that morning, thick streams of golden sunlight pouring through the window nudged me out of my slumber. I rubbed my eyes and turned on my side. My hand ran across the barren sheet and I frowned.

  He had left.

  I squeezed my eyes together but could still see blurry images of the morning hours. Dylan and I had gone to another level, yet I had no idea what it meant. I opened myself up to him in a way that I’d never done with another man and now I was completely vulnerable and at his mercy. I sensed that he wanted it to be that way.

  It was a strange and pleasant experience. My body was stiff from both the erotic position I’d been in and the force of Dylan’s love. I scrubbed the back of my neck, trying to pull myself together. I had no idea what was happening between us, but it was okay. I was on track to realizing my professional goals and I had the respect of the CEO. I was learning to okay with the moment and whenever it passed, I would let it go.

  Suddenly, I noticed an additional presence in the room and my head popped up. I pulled the sheets up to my neck. A butler, clad in traditional garb, was arranging a silver platter on the bureau. My tummy growled in response to the pleasant aromas wafting in the air.

  “Bonjour, madame,” he said without looking at me.

  “Bonjour, monsieur...”

  He continued his task without saying anything more.

  I looked around and saw a note on the nightstand next to the bed. Dylan’s impeccable penmanship was on the thick stationary. I picked it up, my hands trembling, reading the short narrative, which was written in French.

  Ma belle fille, please meet me in the lobby at nine o’clock. I have a special day planned for the two of us. Dylan.

  He added a post scriptum: Thank you for this morning. I love you.

  My eyes fluttered, and I looked at the clock. It was close to eight, and thanks to Dylan, I had only gotten three hours of sleep. My tummy rumbled again as the butler approached the bed, bringing the tray over. I was hungry, but didn’t expect the typical French breakfast of a croissant with jam and café au lait to satisfy my hunger. I’d have to wait until lunch for the grand meal. I ate as quickly as I could and showered, wrapping myself in a plush hotel towel. Then I headed for the closet where I’d unpacked my belongings when I arrived.

  I looked around the walk-in closet trying to determine what might be appropriate and I froze when I saw an article of clothing folded on a settee. I walked over and picked it up. Another note had been placed on top of it.

  I told you I’d get you another. I would love to see you in this today.

  AT 8:45, I STEPPED out of the elevator and walked into the lobby. Dylan was sitting in an armchair looking through his phone, but his head lifted and when he saw me and our eyes locked. He blindly packed the phone away and rose to his feet, meeting me halfway.

  “Bonjour,” he whispered, pushing my hair behind my ear. He surveyed the area and then lowered his head to kiss my mouth.

  After a second, I disconnected from him. “We’re at work,” I reprimanded him, wiping red lipstick from his face.

  “The secretaries have already left. Carter and Bullman are upstairs, asleep. They all know we’ll be out for the entire day, so it’s just you and me.” He dipped his head to mine again and kissed me, pulling me into him with an easy tug.

  “And no one was suspicious?” I asked raising an eyebrow at him.

  “Maybe,” he supposed, his nose touching mine. “But I think it’s only proper that on a trip of this magnitude, the intern should spend on
e-on-one time with the CEO, becoming familiar with the city. No one was alarmed,” he assured me. “And trust me, if Carter thought I was being even remotely inappropriate, he would have yanked my chain.”

  Speaking of chains...

  I trembled at the thought and tried to rein in my thoughts.

  Satisfied with his alibi, we headed out of the hotel and were whisked away in a car waiting outside. We arrived at the Paris Gare de Lyon train station and my brow furrowed.

  “I thought we were going to explore Paris,” I said looking at him. “This station is for service outside of the city.”

  “I know, but I figured that since we’ve both been to Paris a million times, we might do something a little different,” he replied. We approached the ticketing agent and Dylan greeted the woman. Her eyes sparkled in response to his sexiness, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Roussillon, please,” he requested.

  “Roussillon?” I blinked back sudden tears. “Dylan... you’re taking me home?”

  He paid the fee and retrieved the tickets before turning to face me. “Yeah, I mean... is that okay?” he asked. “I know you haven’t been back since your father died, but I wasn’t sure if it was a matter of finances or if grief was keeping you away.”

  My mouth trembled. I tried to speak.

  “Either way,” he continued taking me by the shoulders, “I wanted to do this for you. If it’s money, I’ve got it. If it’s about grief, well, I want to be with you in that.” He ran his hands over my arms.

  I covered my mouth with both hands and took a step away from him, trying to process what was happening. Both money and grief had kept me away. My father was a tailor who owned a small shop in downtown Miami and I had worked a night job to help support us while I was in school. Papa believed in me. He believed that I would become a successful businesswoman and every penny he made, he’d poured into my education. When he died, he left me everything he had. I hadn’t been able to return to France since, nor did I want to; until Dylan had invited me.

  Now, I was standing in the heart of the City of Lights with a man who was beginning to mean more to me than I ever dreamed possible, and he was taking me to the place of my birth.