Knight And Play

by Kitty French

  Lucien threw a log on the fire and settled down alongside Sophie, their backs leaning against the sofa. She was all golden curves and warmth in the amber glow of the flames, one leg folded in front of her, supporting her elbow, the other stretched out so she could wriggle her toes into the sheepskin rug. She’d slipped her knickers back on and half buttoned his shirt over her body after dinner, typical gestures of bashfulness despite the fact that she’d let him screw her senseless on the dining table.

  “You okay?” he murmured, twisting a strand of her hair lightly around his finger. She sipped her generous measure of brandy and nodded, eyes fixed on the dancing flames.

  “I think so.” Her features were melancholy in profile. “Just sad that this is the end.”

  He wasn’t sure if she was referring to their time together or her marriage. Or both. He slipped his hand beneath the weight of her hair to massage the back of her neck.

  She tilted her head forward a little to take full advantage of his ministrations, then sighed and rolled her shoulders.

  “I just wish I could press the pause button, I’m dreading tomorrow.”

  “I’d prefer the rewind button,” Lucien said, pleased by the gentle smile that tilted her lips as he glanced up at the clock. It was a little after ten. “Anyway, we don’t need to leave for a few hours yet, and I’m not planning on sleeping.”

  She leaned back and turned to face him. “Thank you for bringing me here, Lucien.” Her eyes were round and serious, and twin pink apples kissed her creamy cheeks. Everything about her spoke of goodness and wholesomeness, which made the erotic kick of unbuttoning her inhibitions all the more addictive.

  She glowed, and he basked in it. “You’re welcome any time, Ms. Black.”

  Shadows dulled the brightness of her eyes. They both knew she wouldn’t come back here again after tonight. Their worlds were poles apart, and this had only ever been about one week.

  All of that could wait for another day, though. Right now he wanted to banish those shadows, and fast.

  “The way I see it, we can spend tonight talking, or we can do something else.” He leaned forward and trailed a finger down skin exposed by the deep open V-neck of his shirt. “Personally, I think talking is overrated.”

  Her eyelids drifted down and her plump lips parted with a soft sigh. His cock stirred in his jeans. Sophie Black’s unintentional mix of innocence and sultriness was a lethal combination that had him half way to hard every time he looked at her. It was the main reason he’d given her the job, and the whole reason he’d brought her with him on this trip to Norway.

  The latest letter from his father had pulled him back here as surely as if he’d yanked on an invisible string, but having Sophie along for the trip had turned it from an instinctive obligation to a very adult pleasure ride.

  He leaned in, and her mouth opened like a flower when he covered it with his own. She tasted of honey laced with brandy. The trace of her tongue over his had his hands moving into her hair to draw her closer, to open her mouth wider, to let him drink more deeply.

  A tiny sigh of pleasure escaped her throat as she tipped her head back and let him lead her, and he couldn’t resist sliding his hand inside his – now her - shirt to cup the softness of her breast as her tongue slid over his.

  Christ, she made his cock ache. Her nipple instantly ripened from velvet soft to a stiff peak when he brushed a slow thumb over it, and he was gratified by the catch in her breathing and the fractional arch of her back. Her body was alive with sensual desire, and he was going to take his sweet time satisfying her tonight.

  Sophie felt her breast swell into Lucien’s hand as every fibre in her responded to his touch. His unhurried tongue explored her mouth as his other hand smoothed flat over the back of her hair. He was oh so thorough, and all she could think of was right here, and right now. Indistinct music played in the background; late night, laid back sounds that conjured up hazy images of backstreet Parisian bars.

  One by one, he opened her shirt buttons, and she shivered with expectation when he eased it off her shoulders. Naked aside from her knickers, she snaked her arms around him and closed her eyes. When he hauled her over to straddle his lap her breasts flattened against his bare chest, finding him firm and warmed from the fire. His hands swept up her spine to twist into her hair, easing her head back to expose her throat to his trail of open-mouthed kisses. She could feel his erection pressed between her legs, separated only by denim and silk. Hard against soft.

  Lucien’s hands ran down Sophie’s spine again to mould her bottom as she conducted her own exploration of his back, committing the smooth planes and taut curves to memory. She couldn’t see it, but she knew that the predatory lone wolf slumbered beneath her hands as she stroked his shoulder blades.

  He held her breasts in his hands, then lowered his face to them and breathed in deeply.

  Sophie arched, greedy for his mouth all over her, his tongue on her nipples, his five o’clock shadow prickling deliciously against the tender undersides of her breasts.

  His hair slipped through her fingers, and when he came back up to claim her mouth, his kiss sent her senses reeling.

  “Kiss me all night?” She sank her teeth into the fullness of his bottom lip.

  “Where?” He tweaked her nipple. “Here?” He ran his finger down her stomach. “Or here?” He traced a barely there line across the top edge of her knickers.

  “Or do you want me to kiss you here, Princess?” His fingers scorched against her sex, warm and massaging through the flimsy silk.

  Yes, yes, and oh God, yes. She wanted his mouth everywhere. She lifted her hips, and he surprised her by slithering down to lie on his back beneath her, nuzzling between her legs. He was more insistent now, she could feel his tongue probing her through the material.

  Oh, he was so, so good.

  He moved her knickers aside with his fingers, and Sophie had to hold back the orgasm that hovered ready for him to claim. She wanted it to last, but the slow, insistent stroke of his tongue along her sex was beyond thrilling. Hot… wet… and when he fulfilled her wish and kissed her clitoris, his tenderness overwhelmed her efforts to hold it back any longer. He kissed her through the long blissful tremors, and then slid out from beneath her and hauled her down to sit between his legs. His bent knees bracketed hers as she leaned back against his chest.

  “More relaxed now?” She could feel his smile against her ear as he crossed his arms over her body and held her breasts in his hands, the relaxed embrace of comfortable lovers.

  “Just a little bit,” she laughed shakily, her heart still pounding. Sex with Lucien was a cross between the most sweeping romantic movie and the filthiest porn flick; he was feather gentle and filthy erotic all at the same time.

  Sophie had never known such a generous man. He seemed to get off on getting her off, and right at that moment she could feel his still raging erection pressing against the base of her back. She reached a hand behind her and covered his denim-clad crotch. “You don’t seem quite as relaxed yourself, though.”

  “It’s what you do to me.” He lifted her hair over one shoulder and kissed the nape of her neck. After the week they’d spent together, Sophie knew they weren’t just empty words. She slipped her knickers off and scooted around to face him, her hand back on his crotch, her mouth on his. He moaned low and cradled her face in his hands as she unfastened his buttons. He was naked beneath his jeans, as she’d known he would be, and his cock sprang out of its confines, thick, ridged and begging for her attention. Sophie pushed his jeans clear and circled him with her hand between their bodies. He was so ready, she could feel the heavy rise and fall of his chest against her breasts.

  “Jesus, Sophie…”

  She kissed his closed eyelids, and the sensitive skin beneath his ear as she palmed his length. He was golden and sculpted in the firelight. Beyond beautiful.

  “Condom?” she breathed, increasing her speed a little and getting a kick out of the look of almost agonised pleasure
on his face. “In my jeans,” he muttered, and she reached behind her into his pocket. He ripped it open and sheathed himself, then pulled her back into his lap.

  “Sit on me.”

  Sophie laughed softly into his mouth. “Say that again.”

  He rocked his hips, rubbing the head of his cock over her clitoris. “Sit on me.”

  She raised herself up and impaled herself on every glorious inch of him. She sighed with pleasure, holding him as deep inside her body as he could possibly be. Utterly connected, totally lost.

  “Fuck… fuck…” Lucien repeated his mantra, his face a study of erotic concentration as Sophie dictated the slow pace of their sex. She mouthed his neck when he tipped his head back, and he licked her nipples when she hollowed her spine.

  His hands spanned her waist, and she could feel him holding onto his control as she rocked herself on him. Lust darkened his blue eyes and tensed his jaw, yet he was iron hard and unhurried in his quest to make the moment last for both of them. It was exquisite, and deeply erotic, and Sophie knew it was a memory that would stay with her forever. Her hand on his jaw, she increased the tempo, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer. His fingers bumped up her spine to curl over her shoulders, holding her down on his jerking hips as he climaxed with a shudder that shook his whole body.

  Sophie watched Lucien’s face as he came. She saw his teeth clench, and when he opened his blue-grey eyes, she saw raw vulnerability there that was all at odds with the self-assured sex god he usually let the world see.

  She laid her hand on his cheek, and he turned and placed a tender kiss against her palm. Then, instinctively, she wrapped her arms around him and drew him against her breast.

  Of all the emotions Lucien Knight had aroused in her over the last few days, the one thing she hadn’t expected to feel was protective.

  Lucien drew in a deep breath as his orgasm ebbed. Somehow, Sophie had turned the tables on him. He’d never felt anything like the orgasm she’d just given him, and over the years he’d had more than his share of beautiful and accomplished lovers.

  A butterfly from her chrysalis, she’d emerged even brighter and more spellbinding than he’d imagined. She’d used her body to pleasure him, and in her arms he’d found far more than physical release.

  The world had seemed a pretty bleak place standing in the cold graveyard that afternoon, but right now, anchored inside Sophie’s naked body with the warmth of the fire on their skin, it seemed pretty damn close to perfect.

  Some time just after one and somewhere in between awake and asleep, Sophie moved beneath him again. Tangled limbs. Entwined fingers. Damp cheeks. Bruised hearts.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Sophie settled into her leather recliner on Lucien’s jet as it taxied for take off. The velvet black skies of the early hours outside matched the colour of her mood. Her stomach churned with dread, her mind already hundreds of miles ahead in London, playing through possible ways the day might play out.

  Where would she be come nightfall?

  If only she could rewind the clock and live last night over and over. Lucien had taken her breath away so many times it was a wonder she was still standing. He’d been rampant and rude at the dinner table, and later on he’d been tender because she’d needed him to be. She’d felt like crystal in his hands.

  She glanced up as he buckled himself into the seat alongside hers.

  “All set?” he asked. Already she could feel the gulf between them widening as reality intruded on their interlude. There was an awkwardness to his tone, and a detached look in his eye.

  Or was she imagining those things in him because she felt them herself?

  With every passing minute she felt more like the old Sophie, as if she were sliding back into her old, dull skin after a borrowed week covered in burnished gold.

  “Ready to go,” she murmured. What other choice did she have? No, I’m not all set? No, turn this plane around, I don’t want to go home?

  This had only ever been a one week deal. Now it was over and time to get on with the messy business of real life and cheating husbands and ruptured marriages.

  Sophie closed her eyes and swallowed the lump that rose in her throat as the plane took off from Norwegian soil. It was a country she’d never imagined that she would even see, yet within a few short days, she’d fallen completely under its spell. Its sweeping vistas, soaring Alps and mystical skies had imprinted themselves on her forever, as had the big, beautiful Viking at her side now.

  Warm fingers covered her own clenched ones, and she opened her eyes.

  “I’m all right, really. Just sad to leave.”

  He nodded. “Today will be okay, Sophie.”

  “Will it?” She searched his eyes with her own as panic rose in her chest. “I don’t think I can face him.”

  “It’s not too late for me to have him taken care of,” Lucien said, deadpan, but his eyes were gentle and concerned.

  “I just feel so guilty, Lucien.”

  Lucien shook his head. “Tell me this, then. Would you be here now if he had treated you properly?”

  Sophie looked down and studied her wedding ring.

  Would she? Could she have resisted Lucien if she’d have been blissfully happy with Dan? She’d have liked to say yes, but she wasn’t so sure. It was a big ask. After a week in his company she was under no illusion about the power of his allure.

  He reached out and held her shoulders, forcing her eyes up to meet his. “Why should you be the one with moral fibre, when he’s the one who has been screwing someone else for months?”

  But much as he had a point, this wasn’t just about Dan, Sophie thought. It was about her, too. It was about the trail of destruction she was about to wreak on her own life.

  “Lucien, I’m going home, and I’m probably about to leave my husband. And I can’t work for you any more, not after this. By the end of today I’ll most likely be single, possibly homeless, and jobless.”

  “You aren’t going to be jobless. You have a job.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She stared at him. How could he think it tenable for her to continue as his PA? “Obviously I can’t carry on working for you after this.”

  “Why not? We haven’t lied to each other or made any false promises. We’re not kids. We can separate work from play.”

  Sophie shivered. Wow. He really was as ice-cool as the land they’d just left behind. So analytical, so free of emotional bonds.

  “I’m not like you, Lucien. I can’t neatly compartmentalise my life into work, and sex.” She shrugged. “I’m not a man, I guess.”

  Something about her words pierced through the ice. She saw it in the narrowing of his eyes and in the sudden stiffness in his jaw.

  “Don’t throw me in with the likes of your husband, Sophie. Yeah, I like sex, but I’m honest about what I do, and who I do it with. I don’t run around behind closed doors getting my kicks from hurting the people I profess to love.”

  Whoa. Where did that come from?

  “Love.” She repeated the word distractedly as if she’d never heard it before. It was something she felt she knew very little about these days.

  “Yeah, love. That thing that causes nothing but misery and heartbreak, then makes people grow fat on too much ice cream and get ill-advised haircuts when it goes wrong.”

  Ouch. She was alert again now. What on earth was behind this?

  “Have you never been in love, Lucien? Have you never wanted someone so much that your heart roars when you’re with them, and every bone in your body aches for them when you’re not?”

  “No.”

  “That’s it? Just, no?”

  “What did you expect?” He shrugged and splayed his hands out to the sides. “Some sorry tale of my poor broken heart? Sorry, Princess.”

  Sophie shrugged, at a loss. He’d managed to turn his term of endearment into a sneer once again. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I just…”

  “I don’t need to labe
l my feelings as love, or shackle some woman to me just for the sake of a big fucking party and a meaningless piece of tat.” He glanced down at her wedding ring and she covered it instinctively. It had never left her finger since the day Dan had slid it into place, and however much of a sham it seemed right now, the idea of taking it off felt like removing a piece of herself. Like her whole identity being scraped off with a scalpel.

  “Don’t say that.” She defensively touched the gold band on her third finger.

  “Why not? Because the truth hurts?” Lucien’s mouth twisted in distaste. “I bet your husband takes his off when he fucks his lover.”

  Sophie felt his words land like punches. “Do you have to be so blunt?” she shot back at him.

  “Yes. Yes I do. Because if I’m not, you’ll walk back in there and listen to his platitudes and lies.”

  “But isn’t that my choice? Why does it matter to you what I do, Lucien?”

  Lucien thumped the arm of his seat in anger and frustration. “Why are you doing this now, Sophie? Why are you doubting all the things you’ve said and felt this week?”

  Sophie sighed heavily. “Because this is my whole life we’re talking about Lucien, not an episode of some TV reality show. I have to listen to him, to at least hear his side of the story.”

  “His side of the story?” Lucien’s laugh held no humour. “Is that the part where he falls on his knees and you forgive him?” He gazed at her intently, and Sophie glared right back, noticing the way his throat moved as he swallowed hard. “I’ll show you his side of the fucking story.”

  He reached for his laptop, opened it up, and after a few key-presses, angled the screen towards Sophie, who found herself staring at a series of photographs. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of the images in front of her. But they didn’t make any sense. Not here, not on Lucien’s laptop, not in Lucien’s private jet.