by Madeleine Oh
“Perhaps.”
“I see I have work to do this afternoon,” he replied, as his hand stroked down her side and across her belly. She shivered as his fingertips brushed the top of her pussy, but they didn’t stay. Instead he moved his hand, fingers splayed onto her belly and whispered, “‘Keep your feet and legs like that. I like to see you exposed.”
“I’d like to see you naked.”
“I knew you would, which is why I’m going to ask you to close your eyes. No blindfold, you can open them whenever you wish, just as you can release your arms. But you will enjoy heightened sensations if you block out the room and the light and focus only on your body and your reactions to my attentions.”
As she closed them, knowing he was right about increased awareness of her body, he planted a kiss on her navel. It sent a ripple up and down her body. He was good!
“Are you wet?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I must inspect you.”
He had her lower lips parted and she felt breath on her damp pussy. “You are, a little bit. Seems I need to work you harder to get you as wet as I want.” His weight on the mattress moved and now his breath was in her ear. “I want you sopping wet for me, aching for me, begging me to fuck you and since I have you helpless and bound, I can do whatever I want to you.” His hand cupped her breast. “You are my prisoner, my captive, and I love to see you like this.” He pinched her nipple. Not hard but enough to make her jump. “You see? I can do what I want to you and all you can do is lie there and enjoy it. Or not enjoy it, as the case might be. There’s nothing you can do about it, except submit.”
He moved again. Where was he? She fought the urge to look.
She gasped as his mouth closed over her breast. He was suckling her, playing her nipple with his lips and tongue as he tugged and teased and his hand came between her legs. She wanted to be touched, stroked, entered, but instead he cupped her pussy and whispered, “You are such a sexy little lover, Poppy, and you’ll let me do whatever I want, won’t you?”
“No!” She wasn’t that far gone with need.
“Oh, my sweet, I think you will, because we both know you want my cock.” As he spoke his hands moved, both together, stroking up and down her legs and over her thighs. “If you didn’t want my cock so much, you wouldn’t have made yourself so open and available, now would you? Your lovely cunt needs me, needs a through fucking, and you’ll get one. “He took his hands away. And she sighed with disappointment. “When I decide you are ready and have earned it.”
Damn him! But he was right, teasing and anticipation did heighten the pleasure. What next?
Something smooth and warm fluttering down between her breasts and across her bell. A scarf? Fur? No, it didn’t feel like fur. “What is it?” she asked.
“Won’t tell you,” he replied, “and because you asked, it’s going away.”
Damn him, it did. But instead his hands opened her legs wider, easing her knees down to the mattress, so her legs were splayed and she was completely exposed. “You’re getting wetter now,” he said as his finger eased between her pussy lips. “Much better, my girl, but I need more, so hang on there.”
He went but not for long. Very soon she felt the mattress give under his weight, his knees brushed either side of her chest, and his hand stroked her face as his cock brushed her lips. “Suck me, Poppy, pleasure me.”
Reaching him wasn’t that easy with her arms restrained but he took hold of the back of her head and lifted her, supporting as he moved her up to his cock. He came in deep, very deep, but she took him, caressing him with her tongue and sucking with her lips.
Her pussy flowed, her heart raced and her clit itched with need. This was utterly wonderful…but he was gone, pulled out, her head laid back gently onto the pillow.
“No! I was enjoying that.” And she was pretty sure, so was he. What man didn’t?
“I know, Poppy, my dear, but I need to see if it had any effect on you.”
That shouldn’t be hard to discover, she could smell it had. But he obviously wanted to play it to the limit, opening her pussy lips slowly and stroking her moisture before pressing in deep with several fingers. The latter she hadn’t been ready for and let out a cry.
“Hush,” he said, his voice sounding like an impatient schoolteacher. “Nearly ready, you need just a little more.”
What she needed was a nice big fuck but decided to play along with him. “What more do I need?” After a pause and a deep breath, she added, “Please.”
“Since you asked so nicely.” His hand ran down her side, just brushing her breast. When she turned to have him stroke her breast, he took his hand away. “Lie still,” he whispered. “Don’t you dare move.”
That, no doubt, meant he was planning something to make her jump—or at least wiggle. Where was he? Off somewhere leaving her hanging? No. He was between her legs and kissing up the inside of her thigh. He hadn’t specified silence, so she let out a long and heartfelt sigh. “That’s wonderful!”
He actually chuckled as he reached her groin and gave her a lovely long kiss that was half suck, half slow lick and, by skipping her heated pussy, repeated on the other side before covering her opposite thigh with a another trail of soft kisses.
She needed more but sensed he wanted her acquiescence. Besides, it was so darn hot to be on the receiving end of his ministrations. He could do this all day. Except it would drive her batty.
He moved again. She was tempted to open her eyes and see what the hell was going on but just then he touched her pussy. He was opening her, stroking her and he was in her, hard. God knows how many fingers, two? Three? However many, they were fucking her as his thumb pressed gently on her clit and she cried out his name.
“Like that?”
“Yes, but I’d like your cock more.”
“You are so demanding. One day I will take it upon myself to teach you patience and restraint but not now.” His thumb still stroked her clit, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. “Can you be patient a little longer?”
“I have to, don’t I?”
“But of course you do, as we both know you will.” Gently, he eased the pressure of his thumb and withdrew his fingers. “I want to fuck you, but on your knees. Can you roll over for me and do that?”
Not easy with her arms over her head. “Give me a hand, I don’t want to let go of this.”
“Wonderful, my dear, and I will be delighted. “ He gave her a little push as she rolled onto her belly. His hands on her waist, helped her to kneeling. He even tucked a pillow under her chest to support her.
What next? Was he going to fuck her arse? Was she ready for that yet? He was behind her, his thighs brushing hers as he grasped her hips and pulled her toward him as his cock nudged the entrance to her pussy. That was what she wanted. What she needed. She pressed back, seeking more of him, all of him.
‘‘Impatient, aren’t you?”
She actually thought she’d been incredibly patient but kept that to herself. “I need this.” Damn it sounded almost like a whine.
“I know you do.” As he spoke, his hips shifted and he came in, slowly but deeply until he was pressed in all the way. “Like that, Poppy?”
“Wonderful, fantastic!” She rocked her hips, wanting more, needing him to fuck her well and steadily and he obliged. Holding her hips firmly, he pumped back and forth as she sighed and moaned and his gasps and grunts echoed in the room. It was beyond belief. Her entire body seemed infused with sexual need, desire and raging arousal. Her clit throbbed, her cunt flowed and she let out a series of cries as her arousal built. Sensing her need, he cupped her pussy as his finger found her clit. That was all it took. She came with a great, wild leap of sensation and cried out his name as her body spasmed with joy and satisfaction.
But he wasn’t finished. Holding her steady—she suspected she’d collapse under him otherwise—he drove himself to climax, taking her with him to a second, sweet and fluttering one on the heels of the first.
They were both panting as he slowly withdrew and they ended up arms and legs entwined in a lovely sweaty heap as he kissed her and she turned to kiss him back. It was only then she realized her arms were still over her head and now were twisted with scarf.
“Help me,” she said. “It’s all caught up.”
“Mon Dieu, it is indeed.” He leaned over, untangled the free end from her grasp and carefully unthreaded it from the headboard before, with a bit of difficulty, untying his knot. “You held this too damn tightly,” he said. “Rather enjoyed it, did you?”
Did he really have to ask? “It was a good way to do it. “ She was well on her way to trusting him but better not commit yet, particularly when her brain was drowning in hormones, pheromones and whoever knew what else.
They lay together for some time and having his arms around her was sheer bliss. But she had promised him lunch and there was still the thought of everyone arriving later.
“Fancy a bit of lunch?” she asked.
“Yes, we both burned up a lot of calories just now.”
They showered together, the new shower had plenty of space for two. Had that been part of the plans? And Stéphane opened a bottle of wine while she put the water to boil for the ravioli and retrieved the salad from the fridge. Looking at it, it seemed a puny meal after all that activity but she had cheese for afterward and sooner or later Adele et alia would be arriving and she’d promised to bring a dessert.
He loved the ravioli—at least there weren’t any left—and between them they took care of the salad, most of the wine and were happily making inroads into the Bleu d’Auvergne when Poppy heard a car coming up the drive.
They could have given them a little more time together but never mind.
“Who’s that?’ he asked.
“Helen and Adele and the others, bringing dessert, I think. “
“That’s not Luc’s car.”
He was right, it was as shiny and flashy as Luc’s but his was dark green and this was a sleek, metallic silver. Poppy went to the door and watched, curious and a little irked at the intrusion on their privacy, as the car pulled to a stop and four people got out.
It was the man getting out of the backseat who caught her attention first. “Didier?”
He appeared as stunned as she. “Poppy? What are you doing here?”
“I live here.” Well, almost.
“What? Why are you here? The place is abandoned.”
“No, it’s not. Didier, what on earth…”
She didn’t get to finish, the other man, whom she vaguely remembered meeting with Didier said, “You! What are you going here?”
This was getting a bit repetitive.
Stéphane saved her the trouble of replying. “Jean Prioux! What are you doing here?”
Jean Prioux? So this was the black-sheep brother as well as Didier’s friend from that day in the café. Poppy stared at the four standing in the drive. Jean looked as if he’d just swallowed a giant lizard. Irked wasn’t even the beginning. Didier scowled, and muttered something in her direction. And the two women just looked lost. Although one, with an incredibly short skirt and knees that really needed covering up—catty but true—stepped forward to take Didier’s arm.
“Is this where you promised to take me chouchou?’
He came toward Poppy, blonde still clinging. “Why are you here? I demand an explanation.”
He could demand one for all he was worth but wasn’t getting one any time soon. She didn’t own him one. Besides, she was more curious about Jean Prioux.
So, it seemed, was Stéphane. “This is a surprise,” he said, giving Jean a look that could not be described as either friendly or welcoming.
“Why?” Jean asked. “Why should I not come and see my farm?”
“Your mother’s farm?” Stéphane countered.
“And what is she doing here?” Jean asked with a jerk of his head in Poppy’s direction. Using our property for your trysts, are you? How very professional. I doubt Maman has acquiesced to that.”
Now he was pissing her off. “I’m here because I’m the farm manager. And I live here. Maître Poulain comes up to ascertain that the farm is back into use, according to your request. As you can see, the house is habitable, and we’ve cleared two fields, the rest will be done soon. We’re well ahead your deadline to putting the land into production. If you’d like to view the premises, I’ll be happy to oblige. There’s still work to be done renovating the barns and outbuilding as we plan on producing soap and perfume and other products. Would you like a tour?”
Poppy couldn’t believe that such a torrent of French had come almost unbidden. Just showed what you could do when stirred up.
“You cannot be the manager,” Jean said “It is a front. A deception.”
“Yes, it is,” Didier said—blonde still attached to his arm. “She is lying. I know this woman, she works in a shop in the flower market.”
He looked so smug it would be fun to deflate him. “I used to work in a shop there, yes, but when I was offered the job here, I gave notice.” Okay, she’d stretched the truth a smidgen, she still had a week to work, but never mind.
“So.” Jean put on a particularly nasty sneer. “Seems you have installed some floozy in the position. This you can justify to my lawyer.”
The “floozy” comment really irritated Poppy.
It appeared to incense Stéphane. “How dare you!” He looked ready to fight to defend her honor. Flattering but it would hardly help.
“Monsieur Prioux,” she said, speaking slowly and carefully. “Surprising as it may seem to you. I was hired to run this farm on the basis of my knowledge and experience in this field as I managed a lavender farm in the UK for twelve years. I know a great deal about the cultivation and marketing of lavender and will apply that expertise and my contacts in the business to Les Coquelicots. Your brother and mother are more than satisfied with my professional competence.” And he could put that in his pipe and smoke it! She glared at Didier. He’d better not add another word.
To do him justice, he looked stunned. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
“Of course it’s true.” Did he really think she’d make it up? Poppy looked back at Jean and gave him the most utterly insincere smile she could manage. “About the tour of the property, would you like to view our progress?”
He didn’t appear to be swept up with the idea. “What have you had to do with this?” he asked Stéphane.
“As always, I followed my clients’ requests. Your mother wished the farm put back into production, you gave her an ultimatum and I ensured we satisfied that. I believe this coming Wednesday was your deadline. As you can see, the farm is no longer abandoned.”
“Ha! You think a lick of paint and a few weeds pulled counts.”
She was getting tired of this. “Actually it does. I believe your requirements were that the house be habitable and the land used and it is. More than a ‘few weeds’ have gone. My workers,” a bit possessive but she liked the sound of it, “have cleared over a hectare and, I can assure you, the last two fields will be done by your deadline.”
He really didn’t like her putting her spoke in. Too damn bad.
“This is not over!”
Poppy really hoped it was. He was a pain in the neck. How could he and Luc be brothers and so totally difference?
“Poppy?” Didier had managed to disentangle himself from the blonde and now approached her. “I must talk to you.”
“Not now!” Not ever if she were really lucky. Jean wasn’t about to stop ranting on about the land still being abandoned and she was tempted to leave them to it and make a cup of tea when the sound of another engine approached. This place was a long way from abandoned. It was getting busier than the Cours Saleya on Sunday morning.
Luc’s car pulled up right in the middle of everything, Helen, Adele and another man she guessed was Branko, piled out of the back and Luc opened the passenger door.
A tall, slender woman stepped out. She was
carefully dressed and perfectly coiffed, the sort of Frenchwoman who always made Poppy feel fat and dowdy. What was she doing here and who was she?
Poppy soon found out.
The woman looked around the courtyard and nodded to Stéphane before fastening her gaze on Jean. “Why are you here?”
“Maman, I came to look over your property.”
Maman? So this was Luc and Jean’s mother.
“Stuff and nonsense! You came to pry and sneak and got caught. Good thing Poulain was here ahead of us. And who are these people?” The two women got the full force of her glare. They didn’t seem to enjoy it.
“Friends of mine, Maman.”
She replied to that with a snort. It was very dignified and ladylike but it was still a snort. Impressive. Her glance only just acknowledged Didier with a shrug and, “I see your petty puppy dog came along with you.” Before she launched into a torrent of sarcasm, invective and verbal attack that she unleashed on her younger son, adding a few insults to the two women from time to time as little extras and yapping like a little puppy at Didier when he tried to speak. Poppy began to feel sorry for him. No one needed that much public humiliation. She met Adele’s eyes. She seemed as stunned as Poppy was but everyone else appeared to take it as par for the course.
“Poppy.” Okay, Didier wasn’t mesmerized by all this, or perhaps he was trying to become invisible and taking his chance. “Is it true you work here?”
“What did I say earlier? Yes.”
“And that man, he is your lover?”
When had that become his business? “Goodbye, Didier, I suggest you get your pal out of here before he gets skinned alive. “
“It was not supposed to be like this.”
She’d somehow twigged that. “It was supposed to be deserted and abandoned and I was to be brought along to bear witness to that. Am I right?”
He neither confirmed nor denied. Didn’t need to. The look on his face said it all. Did he really think she was so thick as to not work it out?
“You’re a cold woman,” he replied.
Stéphane would disagree and his opinion mattered far, far more. “Goodbye, Didier.” She stepped back and bumped into Branko. “Sorry.”
