by Abby Gordon
“And when was this?” the Comte wondered.
“Three and a half years ago. Oh, and all the wines I picked to win were Lavendals,” she told him.
“Mais oui,” he agreed, with a nod and smile.
“Come to think of it, each one I picked did win that year,” she reflected. “But I had to save up for the courses and research what was involved. I still didn’t think it was possible. But Jess wouldn’t let go of it.” Pippa’s eyes went from one to the other. “I see where she gets it from. Elegance and strength,” she gestured at the comtesse, who smiled at the compliment, “and the determination to make something happen,” she waved at the comte.
“Well put,” Madeline murmured.
“And you, monsieur?” the comte wondered, turning his attention to Tony.
“I won a scholarship to an elite private school, met Sean, and he became my brother. His career took off, and he told me I was probably the only one who could keep him out of trouble, so I went to college for public relations. I have been doing that for fourteen years, including a couple years before I graduated.”
“Keep him out of trouble?” the comte chuckled. “I’m not sure of your success record.”
“It hasn’t been easy, believe me,” Tony agreed with a nod. “Between punching out singers, getting food poisoning, being caught in quicksand, and having women sneak—” He snapped his jaw shut. “Never mind.”
“We heard about that. It was in Italy, after all,” Madeline told him, smiling, then shrugging. “It was before Jessica, non?”
“It was,” he confirmed. “And if any try it again, I have no doubt that Jessica will toss them out immediately.”
“That she will,” agreed the grandmother. “Now, I told the staff at Lavendal we wanted a simple dinner this evening.” The comte snorted lightly at that and she nodded. “Our chef’s definition of ‘simple’ is five courses.”
“Oh, dear,” whispered Pippa, going through what she had to wear. Nothing would be appropriate. “I’ve only the one dinner dress from Madame DeLuca.”
“It’ll be just us, ma petite,” the comtesse assured her, “in Bertrand’s study.”
“If you’re sure,” Pippa said, worried at offending the couple.
“Positive,” she replied, though clearly touched that Pippa was concerned. “Then, in the morning, we meet with Antoine.”
“He’s our chief vintner,” the comte told them. “Treats the vineyard like it’s his.”
“Understandable,” Pippa observed. “And better for you, because then he cares about the wine from root to cork.”
Tony pulled out a notebook. “Did you come up with that or was it a quote?” he asked, writing it.
“That was me.”
“You like it?” the comte questioned.
“It’s brilliant for advertising,” Tony replied. “If Sean hadn’t been so busy, I’d have done that instead of public relations.” He started sketching on a clean page, and Pippa leaned over to watch. “The Lavendal label hasn’t changed in at least, what, a hundred years or so?”
“Careful,” she murmured, warning as she saw the comte’s startled expression. “Some traditions you don’t mess with.”
“Exactly,” he agreed. “But isn’t the first Lavendal vineyard’s quadrennial anniversary in a couple years? You said something about that last night, darling. That might be enough time to come up with a blend, or package of bottles, or a series, to celebrate. Something specific for the commemoration celebration. And something like that should be commemorated. There are only a few older vineyards in France or Italy that have continuous production.”
“Spain and Greece might argue with you,” she commented, nodding as he continued drawing. “But I see what you’re getting at.”
“This is a bit rough but it works. Just for sets of fours or sixes. The Lavendal manor on the side, the crest at the ends. It would work on boxes, bags, or crates for shipping or visitors. Or at award tastings,” Tony added, pulling the first page out and passed it to the comte. Pippa caught the bemused expression on the older man’s face. “Maybe even a drawing of the manor at its earliest on one side and how it is now on the other. It would show continuity and tradition, while showing the growth of the vineyard.
“Now, a special label that is simple and clean. Maybe something for each type of wine or champagne, but with something to unify them as a collection. Perhaps a photo of the type of grape in the center, Lavendal above, or the family crest.” He drew the shield and shook his head, erasing it. “A bit much. Too cluttered.” He returned to writing. “Lavendal above and, in French of course, ‘Caring about wines root to cork for four hundred years’.”
He tore the page out and handed it to the comte, who held both pages so his wife could see. While the two murmured in French, Pippa turned to Tony with a soft, proud smile.
“A hidden talent or two yourself,” she said quietly, hand on his forearm. “I’m very impressed.”
“You inspire me the way Jessica inspired Sean’s recent recording binge,” Tony replied, kissing her quickly.
The comte lifted his hand and the attendant was there before he lowered it.
“Check with Charles and see if I can call Provence.”
“Oui, monsieur.”
Puzzled, Pippa sipped her tea. Once started, Tony couldn’t stop sketching and muttering to himself. She glanced across the table to see the older couple smiling.
“Monsieur, Charles says it is safe and we will be landing in forty minutes. Jean is waiting with the car. Andre says dinner will be twenty minutes after you arrive at the manor, madame.”
“Merci,” Madeline replied as her husband pulled out his phone and spoke in rapid French.
“Mattheu…”
Pippa’s jaw dropped. The comte saw her expression as he ended the call.
“You speak French,” he stated.
“Yes, sir,” she managed, glancing at Tony who hadn’t understood. “Jessica said she found a set of self-taught French and Italian manuals at a market when I started the sommelier courses. She said not to bother with the German.”
The comte chuckled and Madeline shook her head. “So like her grandfather,” she murmured.
“Would you like to tell him?” the comte asked.
“I think you should,” she demurred, smiling.
“Mattheu is vice president for corporate communications at Lavendal Limited,” he explained. “And I’d like to hire you as our new advertising director to oversee first the quadrennial anniversary and then bring us further into the twenty-first century.” The comte glanced at Pippa, who was beaming with pride at Tony. “I think you’ll work well with our new sommelier. And in time, with the next comtesse.”
Pippa’s pride glowed as Tony caught her hand.
“It would be our honor, sir,” he replied.
****
“You all right, Venus?” Tony knocked on the door to the bathroom in their suite.
“I’m fine,” she replied. “Just finishing up. But I do need you to do something for me.”
“Anything,” he said promptly.
“This morning I asked you to pinch me.”
“I remember. I told you we’d get arrested.”
“Yes, well, now I’m an actual sommelier for one of the most prestigious vineyards in the world. Going to marry the man I love, who will also be working at the vineyard. My best friend is a future comtesse, and I’m staying in a small castle, even if they call it a manor house. I think I need a few pinches to make sure it’s all real.”
The door opened and she turned off the bathroom light switch. Their suite had a fireplace that Tony had started, which was enough light to see the appreciation on his face. Gisele had slipped in a negligee and peignoir set in pale green silk. Pippa had been nervous as she’d never worn anything so delicate or sexy, but the look on Tony’s face reassured her. He was wearing a pair of navy silk pajama bottoms slung low on his hips.
“Pinch me, Master,” she whispered. “Please.”
>
“Mm, Venus,” he murmured, head moving to crack his neck slightly. “I’m going to do a helluva lot more than pinch you tonight.” He stretched out his hand. “Let me see you in the firelight.”
Feeling a different heat warming up her body, she placed her fingers in his. He backed up, not taking his eyes off her. When his eyes narrowed, she realized that the fire had made her negligee nearly see through.
“Master, please, it’s been hours.”
Tony moved her so she stood a few feet from the hearth and walked around her. By the time he stood in front of her again, his erection distorted the silk. A large square pillow was in his hands. He held it in front of her eyes, then dropped it to the floor with a smile.
“Should I take this off first?” she wondered. “I’ve never had anything so fine and delicate.”
“It would be a shame to tear it,” he agreed, reaching out and untying the lace at the neck.
Pippa slipped out of first the peignoir then the negligee. Tony took each and placed them on a nearby chair.
“Wait,” he whispered when she started to bend a knee.
His hands reached out, tracing over her shoulders and down her sides. His thumbs brushed over her nipples. Pippa whimpered, swaying on her feet. He reached for her waist, caught it in a strong grip, and hauled her against him. His right hand braced the back of her head as he ravished her mouth. Moaning, she shifted against his body. Feeling his cock against her hip, she tried to move to feel him against her pussy.
“Oh, not yet, Venus,” he told her.
Tony moved to face the fire. Turning her so her back was to him, he whispered in her ear. His hands held her shoulders.
“I’m going to finger-fuck you first, then fuck you right here in front of the fire, Venus. Just like Hephaestus would.”
“Yes, Master,” she breathed. “Please, Master. Fuck me. My pussy is very empty.”
“It’s a good thing we’re at the opposite end of the hall from the Lavendals with the noise you make,” he observed, hands covering her breasts. “You did want me to pinch you, correct?”
His fingers caught her nipples and she moaned. His left hand continued playing, but the right smoothed down right over her abdomen to her folds. Her pussy clenched and her hips twisted about.
“So wet, my Venus,” he murmured, fingers parting her and fondling. “God, you’re always so wet and ready for me, aren’t you?”
Her hips bucked against him. His finger swirled at her opening, and he brought his hand up to his mouth. Fascinated, she watched him suck his finger clean of her juices.
“Delicious,” he murmured. “I need more.”
“Master, please,” she whimpered. “Need you. Need your cock.”
His chuckled was sensually wicked and sent a thrill through her. “Do you need a good fucking, Venus?”
“Yes,” she moaned.
“Say it.”
“I need a good fucking, Master,” she repeated, moaning as his hand returned to her pussy and two fingers thrust inside. “Oh, please, Master, please, give me a good fucking.”
“Master knows what you need, Venus,” he told her.
“Please,” begged Pippa.
His left thumb and forefinger caught her right nipple and squeezed it hard. Breath catching, Pippa’s legs trembled. She turned her head to his right shoulder, trying to breathe. Trying to be quiet, she put her hand over her mouth.
His fingers stroked in and out of her pussy a few times, then the third was added. As they thrust in, they parted, stretching her. She let out a low cry.
“Tighten around my fingers, Venus. We’ll do this every night to keep your muscles strong. Ten times. Now.”
Panting rapidly, she squeezed, counting to ten. He kissed her temple.
“Good girl. Now, would you like to be fucked?”
“Yes, Master,” she replied eagerly. “Please, fuck me.”
Tony’s hand cupped her pussy before the fingers thrust deep, the heel rubbing her clit. His left arm went around her waist. And Tony knelt before the fire, Pippa’s legs outside his.
Thrust, pinch. Thrust, pinch. Harder and faster each time, until she was a whimpering, writhing her body in his embrace. Begging for release. Begging for him to whisper the word that would send her flying.
Tony kept an eye on the clock on the mantle. When he’d been finger-fucking her nearly three minutes, he leaned forward and whispered.
“Come.”
Her pussy became a vise around his fingers as her body stiffened and jolted. He smiled, savoring the power he had over this woman. He nibbled on her shoulders, then licked the saltiness of her perspiration. All the time, his fingers kept her on the edge, never letting her body recover. His left hand constantly played with her breasts, kneading, stroking, tugging her nipples.
Three minutes and he wrapped his left hand in her hair and tugged her head up, turning so she could see his face.
“Look at your Master, Venus.”
He waited for her eyelids to open, for her eyes to focus on his face.
Thrust, pinch. Thrust, pinch.
“Come.”
His mouth covered hers as her body flailed helplessly against him. His tongue swept in, claiming as his fingers did. As his cock was demanding to. Unable to resist her anymore, he pressed her upper body down on the cushion, his hand leaving her pussy.
Weak from the orgasms, she protested, trying to catch his hand with hers. His hand smacked her ass before both grabbed her hips.
“Hold onto the cushion, Venus.”
Her fingers scrabbled, clutched. His cock drove deep into her pussy. Her moan of satisfaction had him smiling.
“Now, hold tight to my cock.”
Primed by the Kegel exercises and the orgasms, her muscles clamped. They couldn’t keep him in, but the friction built up with every stroke. His balls slapped against her. His hands smoothed over her back, returned to her hips as he kept up the rhythm.
“Master,” she panted. “Please, Master.”
“Almost, Venus. Almost.”
She gave a little whimper and he smiled. A few more strokes, a glance at the clock, and he knew he was almost there. He’d read about how slowly building up the sub’s need, then prolonging the heat caused an even more explosive orgasm.
“Come.”
He stroked in and she cried out, her head arching up in triumph. Two more strokes.
“Pull me with you, Venus. Come.”
Tony was sure every ounce of her was involved as her body spasmed around his cock. Hell with it. He groaned in completion as he poured into her. Connected at their hips, arching back as they strained to get the most out of their pleasure. God, he’d never come so fast and hard in his life.
Gasping, Tony let his torso rest on hers. Felt her shift slightly before she sighed.
“You all right, Venus?”
“Mm, wonderful,” she murmured. “Master came in his slave.”
“Indeed I did,” he agreed, nuzzling the back of her neck. “Releasing in you is my greatest joy.”
Pippa hummed in pleasure. “I like it here by the fire,” she whispered.
“We’ll make sure we have a fire in our bedroom,” he promised.
Chapter Thirteen
Back in her new clothes, this time wearing a light gold cashmere sweater with slacks, Pippa donned a pair of borrowed knee-high rain boots and ventured out into the muddy vineyard with the comte and his vintner, Antoine. She had put the scarf over her head to guard against the misting rain and seemed completely unconcerned about what she was wearing once they started out.
Watching from the slate-covered steps of the vineyard’s office building, holding a large umbrella over the comtesse, Tony felt swollen with pride as he watched her.
“She is an incredible young woman,” Madeline observed. “She’s been through a lot. You can see it in her eyes. There’s great pain there.”
“She has gone through hell,” Tony confirmed.
“And so young,” Madeline tsked. “Sh
e’s twenty-two?”
“In two months. I can’t tell you what she went through.”
“My dear Anthony,” the woman murmured, putting a hand on his forearm. “A woman can see these things if she’s been through them as well.”
He tore his gaze off Pippa to stare at the older woman. Remembered pain reflected in the teary eyes.
“I’ll talk to her, making sure she knows you said nothing to me.” Her gaze went to the trio. “She will be good for us as well as you. Antoine’s wife had only three sons. Good men, but they desperately wanted a little girl. Pippa will be theirs as well as ours and yours.”
“That will be good for her,” he replied. “She needs to belong to people. To a family.”
“Ah,” Madeline murmured. “I see.”
“Sheesh,” he groaned.
“Do not worry,” she smiled. “I had guessed it was something like that. Ah, what has them so excited?”
Pippa gestured toward the office where they stood and then toward the vines. Antoine nodded rapidly, tramping over, and the three of them huddled.
“She must have mentioned your suggestion of a blend,” Madeline deduced. “I’m not sure they could get it ready for the four-hundredth, but it would be something to hint about and introduce after.”
“Something to keep the ball rolling,” he agreed.
“Precisely.”
“I’m going to use the set Jessica gave Pippa for teaching oneself French,” he mentioned. “What I know certainly isn’t for polite society.”
“Being in France and surrounded by it every day, you’ll learn quickly,” she replied with certainty. “Pippa will see to that.”
