10. Fleur
10
FLEUR
I got into the back of the SUV, and the driver took me away from the gates. I was in a black dress and heels with my buttoned-up coat on top. Bastien had asked me to meet him and the boys because they’d decided to go out for a couple of drinks.
I assumed they drank all the time and wasn’t sure why Bastien would even want me there, but he didn’t ask if I wanted to go—just told me it was happening.
Ten minutes later, the SUV pulled up to the bar, which was packed with people I could see through the window. I walked inside, the sound of music hitting my ears and the cigarette smoke hitting my nose.
The hostess took my coat, and then I looked across the bar.
Bastien stuck out, not like a sore thumb, but like the hottest guy in the world. He sat in a big round booth that fit at least twenty people, girls on men’s laps, all of them smoking and drinking. Bastien was in the middle, like he was the center of attention, and he looked so hot just sitting there with his arm over the back of the booth, talking to one of the guys without seeming to care about all the gorgeous women around him with their tits nearly popping out.
I headed over, moving through the crowd of people standing near the bar and the full tables.
Bastien noticed me when I was halfway there. He immediately tuned out the guy talking to him and gave me his bedroom eyes, like I was the only woman in the room, the moon on a starless night.
Adrien never made me feel like that—like I was literally the most important thing in the world.
Bastien nodded to the guys piled in on the side. “Get up. My woman is here.”
The girls shuffled out of the booth, and the guys stood up, continuing their conversations like there hadn’t been an interruption.
I scooted in, making my way around the curved seat toward him.
The back of his hand rested on the leather seat like he wanted me to plant my ass there so he could squeeze it then lift me to him.
I finally made it there, and he did exactly that. Squeezed my ass then cradled me into him as he kissed me, his tongue coated with booze so strong it burned my tongue. Then he put me on his lap, everyone sliding back in and retaking their spots.
He relaxed into the booth as he moved his hand into my hair, his fingers lightly grazing the soft skin of my cheek. His dick was hard underneath me, as if he liked what he saw. “Guys, this is Fleur. Fleur, these are the guys.”
I’d met a bunch of people at the wedding, but these were all new people I’d never seen before. “Nice to meet you all.”
Bastien picked up his conversation again while he rested his fingers between my closed thighs right at the hem of my dress. They talked about absinthe and then drugs, and then they discussed the heroin market in London. It was business as usual, but mixed with a bunch of alcohol.
I didn’t notice that Luca was there right away. Probably because the woman making out with him had blocked him from view when I’d walked in. I didn’t have anyone to talk to and I wasn’t sure what the purpose of my being there was, but Bastien seemed to want me to be included.
Bastien finished his conversation then got the waiter’s attention. “Sweetheart, what do you want?”
“Vodka cranberry would be great.”
He projected his voice to her. “Vodka cranberry for my girl.”
She walked off, clearly disappointed that Bastien was already claimed for the night.
Claimed for all the nights, as far as I was concerned.
He pressed a kiss to my shoulder then squeezed my thighs. “You’re looking fine in this dress.” He stared at my body, his eyes lingering on the deep V in the front that showed my cleavage.
“Not as fine as you look in anything—and nothing.”
He smirked like he found that amusing, but I could tell he appreciated the compliment. He’d probably been hit on a dozen times before I’d arrived, so his ego was practically fatter than an inflated blimp. But he only seemed to care for what I had to say. “I’m gonna fuck you in the bathroom.”
“I’m not screwing in the men’s restroom.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s disgusting.”
“You won’t have to touch anything.”
“How’s that possible?”
“It’s just like the shower. And I know you love the way we fuck in the shower.”
When he held me with his thick arms, strong enough to move me up and down without any sign of fatigue. I was a full-grown woman, but he handled me like a pocket pussy.
He smiled in victory. “Knew that would change your mind.”
I got hot and bothered just thinking about it, how strong he was, the way the tendons over his muscles popped as they flexed. He was the sexiest man in this room, but I was the only one he wanted—and that was a turn-on too. Before my face got too red, I changed the subject. “Who are all these people?”
“Partners. Some are producers. Some distributors. Mainly in arms.”
“Arms?”
“Guns.”
“I don’t remember them from the wedding.”
“They weren’t there.”
“So, you just know everybody?”
“Pretty much.”
“And you party with them?”
“Business and pleasure go hand in hand.” He slid his fingers farther between my thighs, as far as he could go when I was clenching them tightly together.
“Why did you want me to come?”
“Why?” he asked. “Because everyone’s got a girl, and I want mine.”
He could fuck around with any of the women there, and I would never know about it. But he’d invited me down there to be a part of his world, to show everyone he knew that he had a girl at home who he didn’t keep at home.
“Let’s go to the bathroom.”
“We just sat down. I haven’t even gotten my drink yet.”
“It’ll be here when you get back.”
“If you only wanted to fuck, you could have just stopped by.”
“That was before I saw you walk in here looking like a hot piece of ass.” His hand left my inner thigh then moved over the top of my leg to slip underneath my dress, feeling the material of my thong hidden away. “Come on.”
“I’m not making these people get up again?—”
“Then we’ll go the other way.” He turned to the group before I could say anything. “Up. Gotta get by.”
They all scooted out of the booth and stood up, taking their drinks with them like they couldn’t part with their booze for a second. Bastien got out first and took me by the hand, walking me into the hallway where the bathrooms were located.
But instead of going into the men’s room, he stopped in front of another door and tried the handle. It was unlocked, so he opened it, revealing a decent-sized closet with cleaning supplies like brooms and mops and extra toilet paper. Then he pulled me inside.
“Someone could open the door.”
He grabbed the mop, snapped it in half at the perfect length, and then wedged it under the door handle so it wouldn’t turn until he removed it. Quick on his feet, like he’d done this a million times, he could pull anything together.
He was on me right away, light coming in from the cracks around the door to silhouette him in the dark. He pinned me against the wall and kissed me as he yanked up my dress and pulled down my thong.
I was hurt that he’d done this a hundred times with a hundred different girls. That was why he was so good at it, so quick on his feet. But then I pushed the jealousy aside because he loved me and not them.
He helped me out of my panties then stuffed them in the front pocket of his jeans before he unbuttoned them. He got ready in just a few seconds, his fat dick coming out with an agenda.
He scooped me up into his thick arms then lowered me onto his dick, not even wetting his tip because he assumed I would be gushing for him. And he was right, because he slid right in like a perfect fit. “Jesus Christ.” He left me on his dick as he savored the union of our bare bodies, as if he’d never felt me like this before, the first time without a condom, even though we’d never used a condom. “This pussy, I swear to fucking god.” He started to move me up and down, pounding me onto his dick because he wanted to fuck me so bad.
My arms were hooked around his neck, and I felt my body rise and fall, sheathing his dick over and over, having the best sex of my life when I didn’t have to do anything but enjoy it. His shirt covered his strong chest, but his arms were on display, enormous and muscly with rivers of tendons.
“Tell me you love me.” He lifted me with incredible speed, like I was a pair of dumbbells when he was used to lifting the bar stacked with weights.
“I love you.” I loved this man with my whole heart, loved this man enough to want to stay when I had every reason to go. Wanted to be by his side, whether it was in the rain or the sun.
“Tell me you want to marry me.”
Now, I didn’t know if he was drunk…or if he really wanted me to say that. Most men were afraid of marriage, and we’d never talked about it. I’d just moved in with him a couple weeks ago. But I wanted him forever…so I would marry him. “I want to marry you.”
He somehow fucked me harder, got a surge of energy out of nowhere. “You want to be my wife?”
“Yes…I want to be your wife.”
“Fuck.” He moaned as he filled me, getting off on something that would freak out most men if they heard it during sex—or at any time. He gave his final pumps, shoving his whole dick inside me even when it was too much. But he barely took a couple breaths before he started up again, fucking me just as hard in the broom closet, jeans around his knees with his dick covered in my cream. “Your turn, sweetheart.”
We left the broom closet and did the walk of shame back into the bar. Bastien didn’t bother to go back for his drink at the table and instead walked right up to the bar and ordered us something new.
The material of my little thong wasn’t much, so I was afraid two loads of his seed would become too heavy and streak down my inner thighs at some point. I had to make sure I didn’t sneeze.
He handed me a drink, and when he got his, he pretty much downed it in a single gulp.
“Are you drunk?”
“I don’t get drunk,” he said. “But this is pretty close.”
I took a drink of the vodka cranberry, the alcohol like gasoline because it was so strong. “Why me?”
“Why you, what?”
“You could be doing that in the closet with any girl here. Every night of the week, if you want. But you picked me, and I still don’t understand why.”
He set his drink on the counter and gave me a hard look. It started off lighthearted and easy, but his gaze slowly became penetrating and serious.
“You’ve given up a bachelor life. That’s not easy to do.”
“It was so easy with you. It’s so fucking easy, sweetheart.” He continued to stare me down. “If you could see yourself from someone else’s eyes, then maybe you would understand.”
“I’m not saying I’m ugly or something. You’re just…a whole different level.”
He didn’t smile at the compliment. “Really? Because I think the same thing about you.”
I woke up the next morning with a small headache. When I looked at the clock, I saw it was almost noon. We’d gotten home around four in the morning, and like the sex-in-the-closet hadn’t happened, he’d fucked me from behind, my face in the sheets and my ass in the air.
He’d collapsed in bed and didn’t wake up until after noon.
I knew he was hungover because he didn’t hit the gym. Just took a quick shower before he joined me in the main room, his eyes tired and bloodshot. I watched him take two pills and swallow them down with water, something I rarely saw him drink.
He was definitely hungover.
“How are you?” I asked as I sat across from him.
He never answered the question, just looked at me with those dead eyes.
“Do you remember much of last night?”
“We went out with some of the guys to the bar. Had a few drinks, fucked in the closet, and then headed home.”
I knew well enough to know he was putting on a front. I thought he recalled the major points of the nights but probably couldn’t remember the smaller details, like when he’d gotten off on the idea of me being his wife.
I decided to keep that to myself. It wasn’t a real proposal. Just a fantasy.
A fantasy that had turned me on too.
He ran his fingers through his hair in the sexiest way then looked out the window, still not fully awake.
“Will you work tonight?”
“No.”
“So, you’re all mine?” I asked in delight.
His bad attitude started to fade, and his smile grew. “Yes, sweetheart.”
“Ooh, what should we do?”
“What would you like to do?”
“Dinner would be nice,” I said. “Then maybe we can find a nice broom closet…”
Sometimes he wore this boyish grin that was such a turn-on. He was all man, but he had an infectious joy that was contagious. “You’re my kind of woman.”