by J. D. Fox
They teased each other for what seemed to Gen to be an hour, touching and caressing; she felt the tension deep down between her hips pulling tighter and tighter every moment, the heat building up as she became more and more turned on until she almost couldn’t stand it any longer. She kissed Olivier again and again, no longer even capable of thinking about Mathilde, or Clint, or anything other than how much she wanted to feel Olivier inside of her finally.
“If you… don’t get— fuck!— to the point soon, I am going to…” she couldn’t think of a threat to finish on, and Olivier laughed, kissing the tip of her nose and then her lips lightly. “You will what? Leave unfulfilled?” He claimed her lips before she could answer, and Gen groaned as she felt Olivier’s fingers slip out of her. “I do not think you would do that.”
“I might,” Gen said sulkily, twisting her hips to try and get contact again. Olivier pushed her hand away from him and shifted his body on top of hers, spreading her legs with his weight. He held himself up on one arm, and Gen watched as he brought the fingers of his other hand, slick with her fluids, up to his mouth and licked them clean.
“Waste not,” he said, grinning. Before she could complain about the delayed gratification, Olivier guided the tip of his cock up against her, and Gen closed her eyes, feeling the heat of him sliding along her slippery labia, barely brushing against her sensitive clitoris. She was barely able to contain her impatience, and when Olivier thrust into her, pushing past the half-hearted resistance her muscles gave him at first, Gen pushed her own hips down to meet him, bringing her legs up to wrap them around his waist and keep him right where she wanted him.
Just like the first time, they found their rhythm almost immediately, and Gen let her hands wander all over Olivier’s body as they moved together, faster than the first time; somewhere in the back of their minds, they both remembered they had little time to spare. She nibbled and kissed and licked everywhere within her reach, and Olivier returned the affection, claiming her lips, again and again, to swallow down her moans as they started moving faster. His hand slid down between their bodies, and Gen cried out as he found her pleasure center by touch, rubbing and stroking the bead of nerves in time with his thrusts.
If it had felt like they’d spent at least an hour fooling around, Gen could feel the climax building up inside of her within what seemed like seconds. She tried to hold back, tried to savor the delicious feeling of Olivier’s hot, hard cock inside of her, brushing up against her g-spot every second or third thrust, but all at once the tension in her hips gave way, sending wave after wave of pleasure through her body. Olivier’s body tensed against her, but he kept going through her climax, barely slowing down even as she gasped and tried to stifle her moans of pleasure. He waited until she had finished and then built her up again, kissing and touching her, slowing his thrusts to almost nothing, and then gradually moving harder and faster, rubbing her clitoris steadily with carefully swirling fingertips.
Her second orgasm seemed to be even more intense than the first, and Genevieve felt her muscles flexing and gripping Olivier’s cock as if her body itself was demanding his climax. He held out for a few moments longer, and then Gen felt the telltale tension ripple through his body and heard him groan against her neck, a few heartbeats before she felt the sticky-slick flood rush into her in warm gushes, mingling with her own fluids.
They both collapsed to the bed at the same moment, their limbs tangled, bodies slick with sweat, panting and gasping in the aftermath of their mutual climax. Gen let the warm buzz slip through her veins without any resistance, shivering until the aftershocks let up, and Olivier lifted himself up slightly. “Are you okay?” Gen nodded.
“Oh yeah, definitely… okay is a word for what I am right now,” she said, giggling irresistibly. She ducked her head, burying it against Olivier’s shoulder. She felt as giddy as a teenager. When was the last time I came this hard? Even their first time— amazing as it had been— had not been quite so intense.
“Mathilde should be up soon— if she is not, one of us should wake her,” Olivier said. “But until then, we have a choice.” Gen pulled back, taking a deep breath to dispel the last of her giggles, and looked up at him.
“And what is that choice?” Olivier half-smiled.
“We can talk about how we will bring your stupid ex-fiancé down,” Olivier said, kissing her lightly on the forehead. “Or I can begin teaching you all the dirtiest things one can talk about in French.”
“I don’t remember if we actually agreed that I would help you,” Gen pointed out, trying to figure out if that had happened before Olivier had begun seducing her. “Did we?”
“I find it is usually good to presume that someone will agree to my business deal,” Olivier replied. “But do you not want to help? I would understand if you feel it is too dangerous.”
“I am definitely going to help. I want that asshole in jail,” Gen told him.
“Well, then; shall we talk about what we will do, or should I tell you filthy words?” Gen chuckled, reaching up to push a lock of Olivier’s sweat-dampened hair out of his face. “How about both?”
Olivier smirked. “Well since you have called me a wolf, I should teach you about what you can call this,” he said, guiding her hand to his penis. Gen felt it stir and knew that she could probably get him hard again in a matter of moments.
“Oh?” she gave him the slightest of squeezes before letting her hand retreat.
“On l’appelle une queue,” Olivier said. “So you could say you just had ‘la queue du loup.'" Genevieve laughed.
“So the wolf’s tail and the kitten’s pussy?” Olivier nodded, chuckling.
“C’est marrant, non?” Gen nodded.
“That is pretty hilarious,” she agreed. Olivier shifted, taking most of his weight off of her to reach around her, and his hand cupped her ass possessively as he looked down into her face. “Is there something on my nose?” Gen raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze.
“Non, it’s just that I cannot believe that I was an idiot for trying to push you away before,” Olivier said. “And to fire you? Suis bête.” He shook his head, and Gen smiled slightly.
“Well, you have made it right by promising never to fire me again,” Gen pointed out.
“Okay,” Olivier said, and the faint dreaminess on his face left, replaced with playfulness once more. “You know another useful term you will enjoy: levrette.”
“What’s that?” Olivier slid his fingertips along her slippery folds almost absently, not quite enough to arouse her.
“It means ‘greyhound’ really, but it is used to refer to a specific position you can have sex in. Can you guess which?” Gen laughed again, licking her lips.
“Well then, I think it would be appropriate to try that sometime, since you are ‘un loup.'" Olivier slid one finger inside of her slowly.
“Non, je ne suis pas un loup,” he said, nipping sharply at a spot just above her collarbones before bringing his mouth up to her ear. “Je suis ton loup.”
Chapter Thirty
Olivier checked the time on the clock posted above the office door, reminding himself to be patient. He and Gen had worked as quickly as they could in the two days since his meeting with Clint over lunch to put everything into place; he had gotten a call from his would-be partner and managed— he hoped— to convince Clint that Genevieve had not successfully warned him about the potential danger. That had been difficult; finally, he had told Clint that he had fired Genevieve after discovering that she was meddling in his business, asking too many questions of his associates, which strictly speaking wasn’t entirely a lie.
The second part of the plan had involved making some creative changes to the contracts they would be signing that day, in both the French and English copies, and doing it in such a way as to make sure there was no ready way for Clint to know what they had done. Genevieve had come up with the plan, and she had her part to
play in the drama that was about to unfold as well. Olivier checked the time once more and heard the sound of the elevator coming up; that should, he hoped, be Clinton Humphries, coming to complete the first part of the deal.
Olivier shuffled the papers and stood, glancing at the door. The plan he had hatched with Genevieve was iffy, but he thought that they couldn’t have made it any more secure in the limited time they had had. He reminded himself, smiling slightly for just a moment, that he had always been the kind of person to enjoy gamble. A moment later, the door to the office opened to reveal Clinton and the notary who would be overseeing the official founding of the company. Clinton had brought his briefcase with the documentation, and Olivier nodded respectfully to each man, setting his paperwork down.
“Before we begin, I am required to read and understand the terms of these contracts,” the notary, who had introduced himself as Charles Grant, said in accented English.
“That is certainly in order. I think that Monsieur Humphries and I can entertain ourselves as you review the documents,” Olivier said. Clinton murmured his agreement. All three men sat down, and Olivier glanced as unobtrusively as he could at the clock. Genevieve would, if everything worked out correctly, come into the office in about 15 minutes.
“I have to say that I am glad we were able to put the complications to rest on this,” Clinton observed, as the notary began reviewing the documents, starting with the French language ones. The changes that he and Genevieve had made to the two versions were subtle— but they were ones that Olivier knew the notary would notice and call attention to if he had the chance to compare.
“It is a small world, as they say,” Olivier said. “I am sorry that you had cause for concern.” They moved on from that, chatting about the weather, about what Clinton had been doing since coming to France, and Olivier noticed that the other man didn’t mention anything about arriving a day early. Mentally he counted down the minutes, and just as the notary was coming to the end of the French version of the documents incorporating the business, Olivier had a moment of doubt; maybe Genevieve hadn’t been able to get into the offices, or she hadn’t come intentionally, and somehow, all along, had intended to double-cross him.
But then, the door opened, and Genevieve burst into the room. “You have to stop this,” she said, looking from Olivier to the notary. “S'il vous plaît, monsieur, ne les laissez pas démarrer cette entreprise!”
“Qu’est-ce qui se passe? What is this?” The notary looked from Olivier to Clinton, gesturing to Genevieve.
“She is my ex-fiancé,” Clinton said quickly, and Olivier felt a grudging respect for the other man’s quick thinking. “She’s been trying to meddle in my business affairs since I ended our engagement.”
“That is not true at all!” Genevieve came into the room and glared at Clinton. “I’ve only been trying to raise awareness of the fact that you’re a scammer, and only since it came to my attention.”
“Comment est-elle associée à vous?” The notary’s attention was on Olivier, who shrugged indifferently.
“Elle était mon au pair,” Olivier told the man. “Je devais la virer à cause de sa curiosité indiscret.” Clinton raised an eyebrow at his explanation. “I told him that I had to fire her because of her nosiness.”
“You fired me because I wouldn’t have sex with you,” Genevieve countered. “And if you were as smart as you think you are, you would listen to me.” Clinton snorted, and Olivier struggled to resist a grin as the chaos in the room only intensified: Genevieve accused Clinton of committing fraud and making her parents take the fall, and of threatening her with the same fate if she told Olivier anything about his plans. The notary pressed a button on some kind of system, and they only had a few moments left. Genevieve lunged at Clinton, and the notary and Olivier moved at the same time to intercept her. In the process, he made sure to knock the documents off of the table— just the English ones— and push Genevieve’s own open briefcase with her paperwork out of her hands so that it would spill onto the floor with the rest of the papers.
The notary “convinced” Genevieve to leave them, and Olivier suggested to the man as she complained about her paperwork that she would likely go more quietly if she were allowed to get her papers first. The notary submitted to that idea, and Olivier moved to distract Clinton as Genevieve got to work collecting her things. The notary checked to make sure that the French language paperwork was still in order.
“I will get in contact with someone to cancel her work visa,” Olivier assured Clinton. “Then she will have to leave the country.”
“I can drop some information on her back in the US, so she should be of no concern to you there,” Clinton told him. “It’s just a shame— before her parents’ situation, she was one of the sharpest minds in finance.”
Genevieve launched one final, abortive attack at Clinton, just as they had planned, and Olivier pulled her off of him, escorting her out of the room. As he closed the door behind her, he gave her a quick wink that the other two men wouldn’t see, his back turned to them.
“Now shall we conclude this business?” He sat down, smoothing the suit he had put on for the meeting.
“I think everything is in order,” the notary said. “So yes, we will proceed.”
The two men signed the paperwork and Olivier managed to keep his composure as Clinton hurried through it, clearly intent on going after Genevieve. That was, fortunately, precisely what they had hoped his reaction would be. When Clinton excused himself as soon as the notary had finished his part of the job, Olivier lingered behind for a moment or two, explaining the situation as Clinton knew it to the other man. He laughed in agreement with the notary that it was an absurd situation. “Mais elle est belle. Tant pis,” he concluded.
“Oui, je ne l’ai vue qu’un instant, mais je l’ai trouvée très attirante,” the notary agreed. Olivier suppressed the instinctive rise of jealousy at the fact of another man finding the woman he had fallen for alluring, and just shrugged again.
“Il y en a plusieurs beautés au monde,” Olivier said. “Merci beaucoup pour votre aide.” He said goodbye to the man and left the office, briskly walking down the corridor to the elevator.
Olivier got off the elevator and looked around, homing in on where he thought Genevieve and Clinton would be. This was a riskier aspect of their plan; Genevieve knew Clinton much better than Olivier did, but Olivier didn’t believe that even Clinton would be so stupid as to out himself to the woman who had just shown herself to be openly and tenaciously against him.
He emerged from the building to find the two of them talking, and once again Olivier had a brief moment of paranoia; what if he really had been the one being played all along? But he pushed that possibility out of his mind. If Genevieve had been playing him, she wouldn’t have taken on the kinds of risks she had in making their plan happen. It was something that— if she hadn’t succeeded, and had been trying to double-cross him— could quickly come back to bite her in the ass and result in her not only being deported but never allowed to re-enter the country.
“I told you exactly what would happen, Gen, and I haven’t changed my mind,” Clinton was saying as Olivier approached.
“What is this?” Olivier kept his face in innocent lines, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Just warning her what happens to people who meddle in things that aren’t their business,” Clinton said quickly.
“Threatening someone is a crime here, Clinton,” Olivier said mildly. “I am happy to make arrangements to secure my safety and my daughter’s, but I believe that you should let Genevieve leave.”
“I’m not stopping her,” Clinton said.
“You just admitted to threatening her,” Olivier countered.
“And I have a witness,” Genevieve chimed in.
“I believe it would be best for us to part ways here— all three of us,” Olivier suggested. He nodded to Clinton
and then turned his attention onto Genevieve. “You should go, Genevieve,” he told her.
There were a few moments of tension, but Clinton started to leave, and Olivier and Genevieve maintained their cover, parting ways. Olivier smiled slightly to himself as he watched Clinton go in a different direction to catch his ride back to Rouen, where he was staying. It was important that the other man know nothing about the fact that they had been working together, at least until after he had left the country. Once he was gone, and the business was moving forward, it didn’t matter; and for Clinton, it would be far too late.
Olivier walked briskly around the corner and one block down the street, spotting Louis waiting for him with the car. He looked around to make sure that Clinton hadn’t doubled back or followed him, and saw Genevieve emerging onto the street from a different direction as they’d planned, heading towards the car. Olivier checked one more time, and then hurried to where Louis waited for them both. He smiled at Genevieve as she approached, but they both waited until they got into the car to speak. Genevieve settled into the seat next to him, and Olivier reached for her hand, giving it a quick squeeze.
She took her phone out of her briefcase and showed him the screen. Olivier grinned more broadly, seeing the recording she had made was ten minutes long. “It seems that I owe you fifty dollars,” Olivier said playfully.
“I am more than willing to take payment in kind,” Genevieve countered with a little smile. Olivier settled in his seat more firmly as Louis pulled away from the curb, satisfied with what he and Genevieve had been able to accomplish.
“It will have to wait until we get Mathilde to go to bed,” Olivier reminded her, “but I believe that I can very easily give you more than fifty dollars of pleasure.” Genevieve chuckled, and Olivier didn’t miss the quick rise of color in her cheeks. There would be plenty for them to talk about once Mathilde was asleep and they were alone together once more; but for the moment, he was just glad that the first step was behind them and that the plan had gone off without a single hitch.
