She broke her hold on him and dropped one hand between them. She ran her fingernails over his tight stomach and down to the place where they were joined. He groaned in her ear. She felt his hard cock thrusting in and out of her, then lightly cupped his balls. She, ever so gently, squeezed the sensitive skin. He bucked against her, hard. “Fuck!” he called out. She smiled. He'd driven her mad, now it was her turn. She squeezed again. He made a strangled sound in his throat and thrust deep inside of her. A giggle escaped her. In a quick motion, he had her pinned by her wrists again.
“You trying to kill me?” he moaned, his eyes slits. She giggled again, girlish like a teenager. He was making her feel drunk and giddy. She wanted more. She wanted all of him. She had to have all of him. She rolled her hips, pulling him deeper. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. She continued her rhythm, releasing him then pulling him back in. “Annie,” he hissed. She knew he was on the edge.
She squeezed her inner muscles around him, then pumped her hips into him. He gave a ragged cry, and his muscles stiffened. His fingers cut into her wrists. She felt his cock pulsing and jerking inside her. She reared back, allowing him to slide almost completely out of her. After a moment, as long as she could stand it, she rolled her hips again, swallowing him completely again and milking him of the last seconds of his orgasm. He jerked once more and collapsed on top of her. She could feel tremors rippling under his skin. His heartbeat pounded against her chest. After what felt like an eternity, he rolled to his back, taking her with him. She settled against his chest, legs straddling his waist, him still inside her.
“Holy shit,” he said, out of breath. She put her hands against his chest and pushed herself up. She raised her arms above her head, stretching. She hadn't been this relaxed in a long time. Her muscles felt smooth as silk. She almost actually felt like a teenager again. He watched her, his eyes slits. “You're a goddess,” he whispered. She smiled and leveraged herself up on her knees, releasing his softening cock. He moaned, a sound between pleasure and pain. She hinged forward, capturing his lips. She'd finally let go, and let him win. And it felt damn good.
Chapter 9
Christophe couldn't keep his eyes off of Annata. She breezed around the Paris office, charming, but completely in charge. He was in awe of her as she answered questions and put out fires. How could she be so perfect? She was graceful. She was beautiful. She was smart as a whip. Watching her full lips form around French words was making his cock hard. His whole body was still reeling from the aftershocks of the early morning fucking she'd treated him to.
For seven years, he would crave her sometimes, when he was alone. In graduate school he would date society girls but fuck around and attempt to satiate his cravings with others. Sometimes, he would specifically look for girls that resembled Annata. He wasn't proud of it, but he did. Then he would take them home and fuck them and it wouldn't be the same. Two years in Brazil, and he didn't even attempt to date anymore. What was the point? No one could measure up to his fantasy of her. And now he knew no one could ever measure up to the reality of her, either. It was like she had thrown a switch inside of him. Brazil was done. He would move back to New York immediately upon their return.
Her eyes caught his from across the room. She furrowed her brow, questioning his look. He realized he must be staring at her intensely, so he allowed a smile to pass over his lips. She smiled back and then bent her head to continue reading a report. The trick would be to slowly imbed himself in her life without scaring her off, he decided. To make his presence seem as natural as breathing to her. He had never wanted anything as bad as he wanted Annie. He had never been more serious about anything in his life. He wondered when was too soon to buy a ring?
“Christy!” A voice that dripped honey cried out. He recognized the voice. Julie, Jean Pierre's daughter, stood in the door of the office, a smile spreading across her face. She crossed the space between them and threw her arms around him. “I heard you were here, and I had to come see you,” she said in a flurry of French.
“How are you, Julie?” He patted her back. Her flowery perfume and the spicy scent of smoke wrapped around him like a cloak. He remembered she was a smoker, like most French girls. She was thin, all skin and bones, and her hair was longer than the last time he saw her. Her emerald eyes blinked back tears when they parted.
“I've been better. But Father is doing well. Oh, it's good to see you, mon chouchou!” She hugged him again. He looked over the top of Julie's head for Annata. She was watching them. He could have sworn he saw jealousy in her eyes. But then she blinked, and it was gone. In its place was a professional polish. She glided across the room to them just as Julie pulled away from him.
“Julie? I'm Annata St. James. Christophe and I were sent by William to manage the office in your father's absence.” Annata's French was perfect and smooth. “How is he recovering? Did you receive the flowers we sent?”
“Oh, yes. Thank you.” Julie nodded, her eyes glassy. “He is doing much better. They say he'll make a full recovery.”
Annata put her hand to her heart. “What a relief. I've known your father for ten years and I was shocked to hear of his heart attack.”
Julie nodded again, biting her lip. Christophe lowered his eyes. He truly felt for Julie. The thought of The Old Man frail and weak in a hospital bed was hard to imagine, despite any differences they'd had.
“You can let Jean Pierre know that when he's ready to return, this office will be running as smoothly as when he left it.” Annata assured Julie. “I'm sure he's worried that everything is going to hell over here.”
“I tell him not to think about work, but of course, his head is all business.” Julie said worriedly.
“Let us know if you need anything. Anything at all.” Annata took Julie's hand and squeezed.
“Thanks so much.” Julie snuck a look at Christophe. Annata looked pointedly at Christophe. Christophe cleared his throat. “I'll let you two catch up.” She turned on her heel to go.
“Come to dinner tonight.” Julie tugged on his shirt sleeve. Her eyes pleaded with him. Julie was always this way—desperate and clingy. They dated when they were teenagers and had been each other's first loves, if one could call it that. She was beautiful and elegant and sexy, basically everything his 18-year-old self wanted in a girl. That is, until she had too much to drink or suspected his eyes were roaming. Then she was would scream and cry and be inconsolable. He knew what she wanted. Like always, she was probably looking for a man to kiss and make everything better in her time of need. He just happened to be the most convenient warm body.
“Actually Annata and I were already planning on dinner tonight,” he lied smoothly. Annata tossed a look at him from over her shoulder. She lifted an eyebrow. He could see the gears shifting behind Julie's eyes.
“Where were you planning to dine? I have a standing reservation at L'Astrance.” Julie darted a glance at Annata. Christophe knew Annata would probably jump at the chance to eat at the famed eatery, but he could have gotten them reservations, no problem, had he thought ahead to. He tried to come up with another excuse, but Julie was having none of it.“We simply must go!” she exclaimed.
***
Christophe rapped his knuckles on Annata's door that evening, dressed in his navy suit. It was all his fault, and he took credit for it. He should have just told Julie no. Now he was being forced to go to dinner with an ex-girlfriend and his current—his current what, exactly? Annata was definitely the woman in his life, but he doubted she would label it as such. He massaged his temples. He was too tired for this shit. He just wanted to fall in bed beside Annata, do naughty things to her, and then go to sleep with her in his arms.
He felt a rush of fresh air to his face as Annata opened the door. She wore a black, form-fitting ankle length dress. Her hair was pulled away from her face, and red lipstick defined her lips. His eyes ran the length of her and he debated whether he should just slam the door behind them, push her up against the wall, and bury himse
lf inside her. She turned and receded back into the room barefoot, fumbling with her earring. “I'm almost ready,” she called out as he closed the door behind him. She stood in the mirror and smoothed her hands down her thighs. He leaned against the doorjamb and admired her. Her dress clung to every curve. She was covered from neck to ankle, but she could have been naked as far as he was concerned. Her gold earrings nearly grazed her shoulders. She looked so damn regal. He took a deep breath and shook his head.
“Take your time. Please,” he said, a wry smile on his lips. “I'll enjoy the view.” She pursed her red lips at him and narrowed her eyes.
“Don't just stand there. Help me with this.” She held up a simple pearl necklace to her neck. He sidled up behind her and ran his hands from her ass to her shoulders. She shivered against him. “You jerk,” she chastised. Chuckling, he took the delicate strands of the necklace in his fingers.
“Do we have to go?” he whispered in her ear. He clasped the necklace and snaked his arms around her slender waist. He pulled her tight against him. She dropped her hands to his arms.
“You're the one who wanted to go,” she tilted her head so that he could nuzzle her neck.
“I disagree.” Christophe ran his nose along the soft, perfumed skin of her throat. “I said yes because I knew you would want to.”
“Oh chouchou, we simply must go!” She mimicked Julie's honeyed voice. He growled.
“Fuck L'Astrance.” He bit her ear. “The food's not as delicious as you are.”
“You are too much.” She swatted at his arm and pulled away from him. He let her go, reluctantly. She moved to the bed and stepped into her six-inch heels. “So how long ago did you date her?”
“Date who?” he feigned innocence.
“Julie Bissett.”
“Oh, her.” He rolled his eyes. “We went together when we were 18. For about a year, when she was in school at Yale.”
“A year, huh? Did you love her?” she asked, plopping her hands on her hips. Christophe rubbed his face. She always wanted to talk about shit he didn't want to talk about.
“I thought I did, at the time.”
“What does that mean? Either you did or you didn't,” she replied.
“Jesus!” Christophe barked. “I was 18. I had simple needs back then. If a hot girl sucked my dick, I thought I was in love.”
“Did she love you?”
“Annie,” he said in a warning tone.
“I think she did.” Annata leaned over and snagged her gold leather clutch purse off the bed. “She probably still does.”
“What the fuck does it matter?” He could feel a flare up of anger. She always knew how to get to him. He didn't want to talk about Julie, someone who felt so insignificant, with Annie.
“It doesn't,” she said, her tone light. “I just wanted to know what I was walking into.” She avoided his eyes as she dropped the red lipstick into her bag. Then she moved to walk past him and he grabbed her.
“Kiss me,” he demanded.
“My lipstick,” she protested, pushing against his chest. He enveloped her in his arms.
“Come on,” he cajoled her, his hands memorizing her curves. Giving in, she pressed her lips to his cheek.
“That's all you get,” she said, her eyes laughing. She rubbed the red lipstick off of his skin with the pad of her thumb. The she pushed herself on her tiptoes to reach his ear. “Wait until I suck your dick. You're gonna go out of your mind,” she whispered.
***
Annata slid across the backseat of the car and glanced out the window. The sky was milky-thick with clouds. The air outside was still and quiet. She smiled. Ever since she moved to New York from Louisiana, she would look forward to the first snow of the season. It was a secret, childish pleasure of hers. She loved to sit at her window and watch the flakes fall. She loved when the snow would blanket the city and all would be quiet, if only for a few hours. Christophe slid in next to her and shut the car door. “Looks like it's going to snow,” she said, pointing to the tell-tale clouds.
“You want to discuss the weather? How banal,” he teased.
“I love the snow,” she admitted, turning her face back to the window. She could feel his eyes on her. Then he pressed the palm of her leather-clad hand to his lips.
“In that case, I hope there's a fucking blizzard,” he murmured. She smiled at him as the driver eased them into traffic.
“I never experienced snow until I moved to New York.” She dropped her head, slightly embarrassed. “It's magical.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“Louisiana,” she said, letting her Southern drawl rise to the surface. He looked at her in amazement.
“Say that again.”
“Louisiana,” she said, drawing out the word. He threw his head back and laughed.
“That is so sexy,” he said. “I never would have guessed.”
“You just haven't seen the South come out.” She snapped her fingers. “When it rears up, you better watch yo'self.”
“I look forward to it.” He laughed. “Believe me.”
“Where did you think I was from?”
“Boston. Or Connecticut.” He shrugged. “Or maybe New Jersey.”
“New Jersey!” She slapped his hand. “I do not sound like a Jersey girl.”
“No, you don't. Your Yankee accent is superb.” He drew his hand up to trace her jaw. “But hey, fake it til you make it.”
“That's my motto.” She leaned into his hand, enjoying the smooth buttery feel of this leather glove. “You were born in New York?”
“Born and raised. But I spent summers abroad, and had internships all around the country. Undergrad at Yale. I've jumped around. So I suppose, I haven't spent much time in the actual city.”
“Poor little rich boy.” It was her turn to tease. He didn't laugh along, though. He clenched his jaw and looked away. She was tempted to continue poking at him and make him snap at her. But she didn't. She just watched him and wondered what was going through his mind.
“I'm moving back to New York,” he said, his eyes straight ahead. She furrowed her brow, not quite understanding. What? Why was he moving back? Did his decision have to do with William? She felt a rising tide of panic. For the last two days in Paris, they had existed in a bubble. But when they returned to New York tomorrow, William's retirement would be back in the forefront of her mind. She could not fathom giving up on becoming William's successor.
“Well?” he asked, still not looking at her. “Nothing to say?"
“Because the Brazil deal is done?” she asked. She could feel the coldness creeping back into her. The businesswoman was taking over again. He dropped his head and sighed.
“Because I'm done with Brazil,” he said.
“Does William know?” Annata asked.
“No.”
“So William had nothing to do with this decision?” she asked, not quite believing it. When William said jump, Christophe said 'how high?'
“Goddammit, Annie.” He shook his head. “That's all you have to say?” Annata turned back to the window and stared out blindly. She realized that having him in New York would complicate her life infinitely. But her heart was racing. A ridiculous thought occurred to her. Maybe she wouldn't have to give him up. The attraction to Christophe was definitely not fading. And the sex was mind-blowingly, earth-shatteringly good.The more time she spent with him, the greedier she was getting. When she had seen Julie all over Christophe in the office, she had wanted to grab the bitch by her red hair and pull her off of him. But then Christophe had acted so blasé about Julie. He didn't seem to see that Julie was obviously still in love with him. And the most telling thing was he didn't seem to care. Would he someday be that way towards her when he found someone new to fuck? Would it even matter, once she was CEO?
Annata shook her head. So many thoughts ran through her brain, but for once, she didn't know what to say.
Chapter 10
Julie breezed through the entrance of the restaur
ant, her sable coat drooping off of her bony shoulders. She wore a green strapless dress that showed off her perky tits to perfection. She wrapped an arm around Christophe's neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek, her eyes catching Annie's. “So glad you could make it,” she breathed. She and Annie exchanged air kisses. “Are you ready to have an orgasm in your mouth?” She asked, her eyes now firmly planted on Christophe.
Christophe was pissed. Annie had been giving him the silent treatment for the last 20 minutes. She didn't want him to move to New York. After everything, she still didn't want him. And now he had to deal with Julie and her elitist bullshit. He wanted to punch a hole in the nearest wall. He wondered how the two ladies he accompanied would react to that? Suppressing a bitter smile, he swept his arm out, motioning for them to precede him into the dining room. The stern maitre'd led them to a quiet nook in the full dining room. The table was small and intimate, lit with a trio of beeswax candles. Great.
He pulled out Julie's chair first and she squeezed his arm in appreciation. He suppressed an eye-roll and then moved to get Annie's chair. She plopped her perfect ass in the seat without so much as a glance. He took a deep breath and worked his jaw. This dinner was obviously going to be hell. He just wanted it over with as soon as possible. Unbuttoning his suit jacket, he sat down.
“Is a bottle of red okay?” Julie asked, her eyelashes fluttering.
“Red sounds amazing.” Annie answered, fiddling with her earring. He narrowed his eyes at her light tone. She'd rejected him and now she was acting like nothing had happened? He felt hot anger burning in his chest as he stared at her.
Julie ordered a vintage bottle of wine for the table and then smiled at Annie. “So Annata, how long have you and Christy been working together?” She began in French.
“For about—,” Annie flicked her wrist and glanced at her gold watch. “Fifty-six hours.”
“Oh.” Julie looked surprised. “But you've been with the company for how long?”
Kiss of Ice (St. James Family) Page 6
