by J. D. Fox
Chapter Thirty-One
Genevieve could feel the heat simmering in her veins at the thought of what was to come with Olivier, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. They still had to pick Mathilde up from the friend’s house where she had spent the night the night. That had been an essential part of their plans; making sure that the five-year-old was somewhere safe while the business was going down.
The changes they’d made to the contracts and paperwork had been easy enough for Gen to come up with, and they’d discussed how to make them happen while in bed together a few nights before. The important thing had been that Clint needed to think he was signing the paperwork that he had put together for the formation of the company, when in fact he was going to be signing the altered contracts that she and Olivier had written.
They had gotten down to the business of planning their scheme after they’d put Mathilde to bed together after Gen had had time to consider what she most wanted to do. “I don’t just want to cover your ass in this,” she’d said. “The whole point was for you to come out ahead, right?”
“Well, I wanted to be set for the rest of my life and to be able to take care of Mathilde as she deserves,” Olivier had replied. Gen had nodded.
“So here is what we’re going to do: we are going to make sure that Clinton takes the fall for what will happen when people engage in fraud, and make sure that you get double your percentage.”
Olivier had been dubious about the possibility of rigging the paperwork to make those things happen, but Gen had merely made a call to another friend she knew back in New York; Collin, a lawyer who worked for one of the biggest financial corporations in the US. He had never had much time for Clinton. Gen had known that as long as she remained purely in the “theoretical” about how she could go about making sure that one person took the fall for fraud and embezzlement in the business operation, and made it clear that she was working against Clinton, he would consider it a personal privilege to help her.
They had adjusted the phrasing in the paperwork— both the English and then in the French contract, once Olivier knew what Gen had altered— and then hatched their plan to get the documents where they needed to be. Clint had to go in with his own papers, but they would need to replace them before the signing. Gen had acted far more cavalier about her part in that stage of their plan than she’d felt, but with it behind her, she could enjoy how readily Clinton had bought it.
“When do you think he will discover what we did?” Gen glanced out of the window as she spoke, verifying they were still a few minutes away from Mathilde’s friend’s house. Neither she nor Olivier wanted to talk about their scheme in front of his daughter; it was too dangerous.
“I think once he gets his copies of the contract, if he reads them,” Olivier said. The next part of their plan was going to take place one month into the future; there was no way for Clint to undo what he had done, even if he did find the change in the contract. He had signed his agreement to it under the notary’s gaze, and there would be no real way for him to prove that he had not intended to.
Once Olivier had made his money— the new total that Clinton had agreed to— they would deliver an anonymous tip to the French and American authorities alike, alerting them to the fraud occurring. At the same time, Gen had the documentation she needed to prove Clint’s role in her parents’ disgrace and the illegal activities that had brought it about. It would take a little more evidence, but Gen thought that with her connections and the people now starting to come out of the woodwork a bit when she called, she would be able to get the information she needed to hand it over to the FTC and the prosecutor in New York. It might not result in her parents going free, but it would at least give them grounds on which to appeal their case, and give the prosecutor an excellent reason to cut a deal with them for a lesser sentence.
“I don’t think he’s going to read them until it becomes too late,” Gen said. “Possibly not even until the Feds are knocking on his door.” Just as she had thought, Clint had been in a hurry to come after her after she’d left the office, interested in gloating and threatening her. Her recording of him included his admission of what he had done and his renewal of the threat that if she didn’t marry him and go along with his present plan to make Olivier his patsy, he would implicate her as well, would get him safely convicted. It would be tricky to make sure it was admissible as evidence, but Gen thought that she could convince a prosecutor to make it happen.
They arrived at the home of Mathilde’s friend’s family, and all discussion of their plan— even indirect— was off the table. Gen followed Olivier to the door, and Mathilde hurried out, not fully paying attention to the courtesies of being a guest in her haste to see her father and her nanny again. “Papa, papa!”
Gen stood off to the side as Olivier greeted Amandine’s parents, holding Mathilde in his arms. She knew enough of the language after a month or so in the country to mostly follow what the adults were discussing, but not quite enough to feel entirely comfortable jumping in. If you’re really going to be staying here, you’re going to have to get to where you can just have a normal conversation with people, Gen reminded herself. She’d noticed that French people never quite seemed to make a little bit of small talk and part ways. Whether it was just encountering a friend on the street even in business settings, they tended to want to catch up on everything that had happened since the last time they had seen each other, or discuss current events.
“Bon! Je pense qu’on doit rentrer,” Olivier said finally. “C’était vraiment bon de vous revoir.”
“Ah oui,” Amandine’s mother, a woman with a sweet face named Sylvie, said with a nod. “Nous sommes ravis de vous connaître, Genevieve.” She approached, and Genevieve responded almost automatically, leaning in for the two air-kisses that custom demanded. She did the same with Amandine’s father, Paul, and managed to say that she was glad to meet them, too, and hoped to see them again soon, as Olivier had done. He, in turn, said something about having a parents’ night, and Genevieve felt her cheeks heat up just a bit.
Then they were walking back to the car, Mathilde going on in a mixture of French and English about what she had done during her sleepover with Amandine. Gen took a moment just to enjoy how different her life was to what it had been before coming to France: even a year before, she didn’t think she would have traded her high-powered career in finance for a far simpler job being an au pair in another country. Even two months before, she would never have guessed she would engage in a scheme like the one she and Olivier had managed to put together.
“Mathilde, I wanted to ask you something,” Olivier said as they neared the car where Louis waited for them, just down the street from the house the little girl had been staying.
“Oui, Papa?” Mathilde looked up at him so trustingly, and Gen felt the warmth spreading out from her heart at the girl’s absolute faith in her father. If nothing else happened between them, Gen was grateful that Olivier would not be going to jail any time soon.
“What would you think if instead of being your nanny, Genny became your mother?” Gen froze, trying to hide the shock she felt at that statement. When Mathilde’s expression shifted into confusion, Olivier spoke again. “Tu l’aimerais que Genny devienne ta maman?”
“Oui! Oui, j’aimerais ça!” Mathilde hopped up and down in place.
“I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves a bit here,” Gen commented. “I mean, I only just got my job with you guys. And I haven’t even seen a ring yet.” Olivier chuckled, and then they were at the car.
“I promise you that the ring will make you want to say yes,” Olivier told her. Gen struggled to control her breathing. Did that mean that he’d been looking at rings? They barely knew each other
“What ring?” Olivier told his daughter not to worry about it.
“Given how much money I just helped you to earn,” Gen said, raising an eyebrow at her oblique refe
rence, “I certainly hope you could afford a ring I couldn’t say no to.”
“Mais c’est quoi la bague?” Mathilde wanted to know.
“It would be if Genevieve were going to marry me,” Olivier explained finally. “When two people wish to become married, one offers the other a ring, to show to the world that they will become married. That would be how she could become your mother.” They got into the car, and Olivier explained again in French, while Gen made sure that Mathilde was securely fastened into her seat. It was strange, how much caring for the little girl had become second nature; completely normal teamwork. In some respects, it felt to Gen as if she had been helping Olivier parent the little girl for much longer. Given this environment, Gen could certainly envision a future in which she shared Olivier's bed every night, and she was considered Mathilde’s mother in all but blood.
On the way back to the house, they changed the topic to other things, since there was still much for the two adults to discuss on the possibility of getting married, especially now that Gen knew it was a possibility. But every so often, Genevieve caught Olivier looking at her, and felt the little jolt of heat work through her body, remembering his promise: that as soon as they put Mathilde to bed for the night, she would get “payment in kind” for her winnings in the bet. She had made the wager after sex when they were about to fall asleep. She had insisted that she could get Clinton to brag and admit to what he had done, but Olivier had doubted that Clint could possibly be that foolish.
Don’t forget the vocabulary, either, Gen reminded herself, shifting in her seat as memories of that night came back to her. Olivier had been taking his job of teaching her all the filthiest, sexiest things to say about and during sex in French very seriously, and Gen was taking the work of learning it all even more seriously. She wanted to be able to affect him the same way he did her: it just didn’t seem fair that he could whisper something in her ear and make her feel instantly hot all over, only from the suggestiveness of it. “T’es prête à tenir la queue du loup, ma minette?” Gen pressed her lips together, remembering the warmth of Olivier’s breath on her skin when he had last said that to her, the night before, in the kitchen. She had never before in her life enjoyed the idea of being someone’s “kitten,” but somehow the way Olivier said it sent thrills running through her spine, directly to her pussy.
She thought of a trick she could play on him before Mathilde went to bed that might get a little of her own back. She took her phone out of her bag, nodding and murmuring along in agreement with Mathilde’s story as she composed a text message: J’ai hâte de lécher ma sucette… she tapped send and put her phone away, barely sparing a glance at Olivier when he got the notification and took his phone out to read the message. Even with the quick glance, she could see the effect her naughty message had had on him: an eyebrow went up, his lips curved, and there was just the slightest flush in his face, all showing that he was starting to become turned on.
They arrived at the house, and Gen played innocent, discussing what they should have for dinner while she felt Olivier’s gaze on her, hungry and more than ready for Mathilde to go to bed immediately. She left Olivier to his own devices while she and the five-year-old girl played with dolls and watched TV, confident that she would pay for what Olivier had taken to calling her “insouciance” at the first available opportunity. She tingled all over at the thought of just what form Olivier’s reaction would take, and counted down the minutes until it was time to make dinner, and then until she could reasonably begin getting Mathilde ready for bed.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Olivier followed Genevieve into the kitchen, treading lightly behind her. He’d been in his office while she’d gotten his daughter ready for bed, thinking and planning— but what he had in mind was far from business.
“T’as pris des leçons de quelqu’un d’autre,” he said quietly, closing the distance between Genevieve and himself and quickly wrapping his arms around her from behind. “T’as envie d’une sucette?” Genevieve chuckled.
“Oui, je veux ma sucette,” she told him, turning around in his arms to face him. “Are you insulted that I’m calling it a lollipop?” Olivier grinned.
“Not at all insulted,” he said. “More...intrigued.” He kissed her hungrily on the lips, letting his hands roam over her body freely. To think he had tried to push her away, that he had thought it would be better for everyone for him to simply dismiss her. Now he couldn’t think of anything he wanted less than to let her go. “Where did you learn that from?”
“I ran the idea by one of my friends,” Genevieve replied, and Olivier dragged his lips along the line of her jaw. “I knew the word sucette, but didn’t know if the idea would translate.” Olivier chuckled, nipping sharply at the spot where he could feel her pulse fluttering, and then claiming her earlobe between his lips.
“It translates very, very well,” Olivier informed her. “Je t'ai imaginé à genoux, prêt pour ta belle grosse sucette.” Genevieve moaned softly at his words, pressing her body against his.
“It’s only fair,” Genevieve said, her voice slightly breathless. “After all, you devour me all the time.”
“Are you going to— how is it— gobble me up?” Genevieve snickered at his phrasing and tilted her head back as Olivier kissed along the column of her throat.
“I’m not going to do anything until we’re not in a room where Mathilde could walk in any minute,” Genevieve countered.
“Bon, on y va,” Olivier said agreeably, pulling back from her neck and letting her go, only to take her by the hand and begin leading her out of the kitchen. He half-carried her up the stairs to his bedroom, more than ready, after hours of anticipation, to get her alone. The message she’d sent had brought recurring mental images into his head: the idea of Genevieve, on her knees, naked in front of him, eagerly taking him in hand and leading the tip of his erection to her pretty, sweet mouth. Though they’d had sex steadily for the past few nights, that was one thing that they never seemed to get around to, and Olivier was more than happy to indulge Genevieve’s interest.
They barely made it into the room and closed the door behind them before Olivier got to work, stripping off Genevieve’s clothes. She focused her efforts on his pants, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly, reaching in to touch him first through the fabric of his shorts and then slithering her hand under the elastic waistband to feel his bare cock. Olivier let Genevieve take the lead, guiding him to the bed to sit down, and watched eagerly as she took off her bra and panties— the only things he hadn’t had time to get to before she’d pulled down his pants— before standing before him, fully naked. Olivier unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt and threw it aside along with his undershirt, heedless of where it landed.
“Montre-moi comment tu manges une sucette,” he suggested, grinning. Genevieve licked her lips and sank down slowly onto her knees, presenting him with the image he’d been dreaming of all afternoon. She moved forward, inching closer and closer to him, and Olivier felt himself getting harder and harder just from anticipation, his cock like a hot lead rod attached to him.
Genevieve wrapped her hand around the base of his erection, and Olivier groaned, barely able to keep his eyes open, as she leaned in and breathed against the tip, one moment before taking him into her mouth. He reached down and cupped the back of her skull lightly, tangling his fingers in her hair as Genevieve took more and more of him into her mouth, sucking and licking. Olivier’s head fell back as Genevieve worked him with her hand, lips and tongue eagerly, working her way down the length of him and then pulling back just enough to tease him before going down again.
Olivier’s hips bucked, and he struggled against the impulse to push her head farther down as Genevieve worshipped him with her mouth, her soft, muffled moans vibrating around his aching, needy flesh. One of her hands reached up to cup his balls gently, and Olivier groaned out long and low at the sensation of her careful touch on his sensitiv
e skin there, her attention only heightening his pleasure. “Ah oui, t’es bonne, t’es trop bonne,” he murmured, his fingers tightening in her hair.
He fought to hold back the tension he could feel building up along his groin, deep in his balls, as Genevieve continued to work him, her head bobbing up and down faster, her hand tightening around the base of his cock and her thumb rubbing lightly along the sensitive underside. Olivier didn’t want to finish too soon, and this time, at least, he did not want to finish in her mouth. Though, he thought, it would be good to try that another time. Genevieve seemed intent on bringing him to climax as quickly as possible, though, and Olivier grappled with the conflicting desire to let her keep going and not to let her bring him too close to the edge, rocking his hips and holding her head in his hand as gently as he could manage.
When he almost couldn’t take another moment— when Olivier was almost certain he would climax in seconds— he gently pushed Genevieve away, taking shuddering, deep breaths to steady himself. He reached down and pulled her up off of the floor onto his lap, and kissed her hungrily, pressing Genevieve’s hot, tight body against his own. “I want…” he groaned, frustrated with his inability to think clearly enough in English due to the way his arousal burned through him. “Je veux te baiser, j’ai besoin de ta chatte.” Olivier reached up between Genevieve’s legs, spread over his lap, and felt how soaking wet she was. “Et toi, t’as besoin de ma queue, je sais.”
“Oui, god… yes, I definitely need it,” Genevieve agreed. Olivier took another quick, struggling breath and gripped Genevieve’s hips, positioning her directly over his erection. He took one hand off of her and used it to guide the tip of his cock up against her slick, slippery folds, and then gently pushed her down onto him. The feeling of her tight, wet heat wrapping around his throbbing erection almost brought Olivier to climax immediately; he thrust up into her, holding onto his self-control as tightly as possible until their bodies were as close together as they could possibly be. He held still for a few moments, just savoring the feeling of Genevieve’s body wrapped around him, and then at the same moment, they both began to move, Genevieve pulling herself up while Olivier shifted his hips back.
