Chapter 8.
Brian stepped into the kitchen, the air a delicious mix of fresh herbs and simmering spices.
Just outside the door, Dani stood as a silent, formidable presence.
She knew this was one of the times she needed to give him privacy.
Holly had explained it to her: the kitchen, the private moments with the chef, were sacred ground.
"Mr. Thomson," Dominique whispered, her voice a soft, low sound.
She stepped closer to him, her eyes, those deep, intelligent brown eyes, fixed on his.
He smiled, a genuine, warm expression, but his heart was pounding.
He had been thinking about her all night, about the promise of more she had made.
"I think before we go any further, we need to talk," he whispered.
She looked into his eyes, a flicker of understanding in her own. "Because I am married?" she said, the words a quiet question.
He nodded, a serious, grim expression on his face.
"Mr. Thomson," she started, her accent heavy, her voice a low, raw murmur. "My husband… he is not able..."
Brian nodded. "I know. You told me. But I'm not sure I feel comfortable doing this with a married woman." The words were a lie, a half-truth. He was more than comfortable, but he wanted more. He wanted her to be his, all his.
She sighed, a soft, weary sound of resignation. "I knew you were a good man," she whispered, her French accent heavy with a mix of gratitude and a touch of sadness.
He reached out and gently lifted her chin, his thumb tracing a soft line on her skin. "Dominique," he whispered, his voice a low, firm command. "What will it take to get him to leave?"
Her eyes went wide, a look of stunned disbelief. "Leave?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
He nodded, a serious, determined look on his face.
"Divorce him." It was an unfair question, an unfair situation to put her in, but he couldn't help himself.
He kissed her lips, softly at first, a gentle, tender touch that was a promise of a new, different life.
"You will always be mine and always be here, but you have to be only mine," he whispered.
She looked at him, her eyes searching his, a question in their depths. "Always?" she asked, her voice a mix of hope and disbelief.
He nodded. Her eyes closed, and she seemed to fall into the promise, a silent, beautiful surrender. "He once said he would never let me go for a million dollars," she whispered.
Brian smirked. "Call him. Tell him I will give him ten million dollars to divorce you, and I will give you a million a year to be mine."
She gasped, her eyes wide with shock. "That is a lot of money, monsieur," she said, the words a silent plea for him to reconsider.
Brian smiled. "The question is, do you want that?"
She pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling slightly, and she dialed.
"Gaston, Monsieur Thomson souhaite vous payer dix millions de dollars pour me quitter…
divorcez-moi." (Gaston, Mr. Thomson wishes to pay you ten million dollars to leave me…
divorce me.) She listened for a moment, her eyes locked with Brian's.
"Oui... Il veut que tu partes et que je sois à lui.
" (Yes… He wants you to leave so that I can be his.)
Brian didn't understand a word of French, but he listened, a tense, expectant look on his face. Dominique smirked as she listened to her husband's furious, demanding voice. "Monsieur Thomson… he says you pay fifteen million," she said.
Brian smirked. He had expected this. He nodded. "Deal. But he is gone by morning."
Dominique's smile widened, a beautiful, triumphant expression. "Gaston... Vous avez un accord... Mais vous devez être parti le matin." (Gaston... You have a deal... But you must be gone in the morning.) She looked at Brian again, a new fire in her eyes. "He wants the money tonight," she said.
Brian nodded. He was a man of action, a man who got things done. He pulled out his phone and texted Constance. "Arrange fifteen million to be paid to Gaston La'Cure right away." He hit send and showed the text to Dominique.
She smiled, a radiant, beautiful expression.
"Ce sera fait, Gaston... Vous allez me manquer...
" (It will be done, Gaston... I will miss you...) She hung up and looked at Brian, her eyes filled with a new, beautiful light.
She went to him, her lips on his, a long, deep, and passionate kiss that was a silent promise of a new life.
"I am yours," she whispered, her hand reaching down and cupping his cock, a firm, sensual grasp that was both a promise and a demand.
Lowering herself to her knees with a graceful, deliberate motion, Dominique's eyes locked onto Brian's with a smoldering intensity that spoke volumes of her pent-up desire.
The kitchen air was thick with the scent of lingering spices and their shared arousal, the dim overhead lights casting soft shadows that accentuated the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts beneath her chef's jacket.
Her hands trembled slightly… not from nervousness, but from the raw hunger building inside her…
as she reached for the zipper of his pants.
With a slow, teasing pull, she freed him, her fingers brushing against the hot, hardening length of his cock as it sprang forth, thick and veined, already pulsing with need.
She wrapped her hand around the base, feeling the velvety skin over steel-hard muscle, and stroked him a couple of times, her grip firm yet sensual, thumb circling the sensitive head to spread the bead of precum that had gathered there.
The way he throbbed in her palm sent a thrill through activity, and explore every inch with her tongue later.
Brian's breath hitched, a low moan escaping his lips as her touch ignited fireworks along his nerves.
But she didn't stop there; leaning forward, she parted her full, painted lips and took him into her mouth, the warmth and wetness enveloping him like a forbidden promise.
Her tongue swirled around the tip, tasting the salty essence of his arousal, before she slid down further, taking more of him inch by inch until he hit the back of her throat.
She hummed softly, the vibrations sending shudders through his body, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked with expert rhythm…
slow bobs at first, then deeper, hungrier pulls that made his knees weaken.
Her free hand cupped his balls, gently massaging them, rolling them in her palm as she worked him over, her own desire pooling between her thighs at the power she held in this moment, the way his cock twitched in response to her every move.
"Fuck, Dominique... that feels so good...
" Brian growled, his voice rough and gravelly, laced with the lust that had been simmering between them since their eyes first met.
His hands tangled in her dark, silky hair, not guiding but simply holding on as waves of pleasure crashed through him.
The sight of her on her knees, this elegant, soon to be un-married woman devouring him with such unabashed passion, fueled his desire to new heights…
he wanted to claim her, to lose himself in her completely.
But reluctance tugged at him; he didn't want to finish like this, not yet.
With a Herculean effort, he pulled his cock from her mouth, the wet pop echoing in the quiet kitchen, a string of saliva connecting them for a lingering second before breaking.
He helped her to her feet, his strong hands gripping her arms with a tenderness that belied the fire in his eyes.
In seconds, his lips were on hers, crashing together in a kiss that was all-consuming…
tongues dueling, teeth nipping, breaths mingling in hot, desperate gasps.
The taste of himself on her lips only heightened his lust, making him groan into her mouth as his hands fumbled with the buttons of her chef's jacket.
He peeled it open impatiently, revealing the lacy black bra beneath, her full breasts straining against the fabric, nipples already peaked and begging for attention.
His palms cupped them through the thin material, thumbs rubbing circles over the hardened buds, eliciting soft whimpers from her that vibrated against his lips.
The feel of her soft, yielding flesh in his hands was intoxicating, stirring a primal need to worship every inch of her body.
Breaking the kiss, Brian trailed his lips down her chin, nipping gently at the delicate skin, then lower to her neck, where he sucked and licked, leaving faint marks that would remind her of this moment later.
Her pulse thrummed under his tongue, quickening with each caress, and she arched into him, her hands clutching his shoulders for support.
He continued his descent, kissing along her collarbone, down to the valley between her breasts, inhaling the sweet, feminine scent of her skin mixed with a hint of vanilla from her day's work.
With a flick of his fingers, he unclasped her bra, letting it fall away to expose her bare, heaving chest. Her breasts were perfect…
full and firm, with dusky nipples that tightened further in the cool air.
He captured one in his mouth, sucking greedily, his tongue flicking and swirling around the sensitive peak while his hand kneaded the other, pinching and rolling the nipple between his fingers.
"Mon Dieu..." Dominique moaned, her voice a breathy whisper laced with French inflection, her head falling back as pleasure radiated from her core.
The sensation of his hot mouth on her skin sent electric jolts straight to her pussy, making her thighs clench with need.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on as waves of desire crashed over her, her body aching for more, for him to fill the emptiness that had built over years of unfulfilled longing.