Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Fabien
Everything about her thrills me. Literally everything.
Nicolette.
The vivacious, curvy brunette with those gray-green eyes and heart-shaped mouth are enough to turn any head.
The way she talks, the way she moves… I want to hold her against me and run my palms down the length of her body.
I want to stroke the swell of her breasts and make her body hum for me.
I want to kiss her mouth and inhale her moans of pleasure.
But it’s more than that. So much more. Her wit and charm, somehow still tinged with a brush of innocence despite what she’s gone through, entices me to know more.
I know how I am. I know who I am. And I know if I allow myself to touch her any more… to taste her, to feel her… I’ll have to own her.
I can’t help it, though.
I can’t help dragging her onto my lap.
I can’t help diving my fingers into the silky strands of her hair.
I can’t help leaning down to kiss the gentle slope of her neck.
And when she sighs against me and leans in closer, I can’t help capturing her mouth with mine.
I mean for it to be a gentle kiss. I just want a little taste.
But when my lips meet hers, my hunger grows. She licks her tongue against mine, and the sudden need to possess her grips me in a vise-like hold. I forget for a minute where we are, who we are. I need to claim this woman.
Mine, mine, MINE.
I kiss her hungrily, like I’m starving and her mouth brings me sustenance. I kiss her with abandon, relishing every moan as the heat between us kindles and sparks. I kiss her until her body melts against me, as pliant and supple as warmed toffee.
My hands are at her waist, lifting her top. Hers are at my collar, unbuttoning my shirt. I’m dimly aware of the sound of a door opening, but my muffled command, “Get the hell out,” sends the flight attendants scurrying away.
Dear God, I’ve never wanted a woman so badly in my life.
I feel like an asshole for indulging in this when my brother’s in danger, but hell if I don’t need a brief distraction.
“Fabien,” she whispers against my ear when I release her mouth long enough for her to speak. “God, you taste so good. You smell so good. But we can’t—"
“You let me decide what we can or cannot do,” I interrupt.
“Oh, is that how it goes?”
“Are you talking back to me? I told you I’d have expectations.”
“Rules?” she whispers with just enough reluctance my grip tightens.
“Rules.”
I lift her top off and glide my hands up her warm torso until I find the sweet plumpness of her breasts.
I cup and weigh them in my hands as her mouth finds mine again.
I lick her tongue when I find her nipples.
Her hips jerk and she releases a tiny cry into my mouth. I want to taste every inch of her.
I pull away from the kiss with reluctance. “Hands behind your head,” I order. “We haven’t ironed out details yet, Nicolette. But you should know right now that I expect immediate obedience from you.”
“Ah, so you like to command in bed?” she asks with a teasing wink. “Shocking. And yes, sir, I can get behind that.”
“Not just in bed, lovely. But yes. Now put those hands behind your head like I told you.”
I groan out loud at the sight of her gorgeous breasts spilling out of a lacy little number.
I snap her bra open with one hand, and when her breasts swing free, I slide my hands down her naked back to hold her while I find one of her swollen buds with my mouth.
I suckle and groan, relishing the way she pants.
I lick one hardened bud, then the other. When I tease her nipple with my teeth, her hands fly forward as if to stop me.
“Hands back,” I order. “Or you’ll see what happens when you disobey me.”
“Oooh, is that how we’re playing it, then?” Her coquettish tone doesn’t dissuade me. No, it isn’t play, but she can think that for now.
“Nicolette.” My voice holds warning.
“Yes, yes, of course. If I don’t obey, you won’t let me climax, is that right?”
Among other things.
I tug a lock of her hair. “Obey.”
She falls backward against my hands, her fingers laced behind her head. I lave one nipple then the next until she’s whimpering. I can smell the seductive scent of her arousal.
“Are you wet? Do you like being threatened with punishment?” I whisper in her ear.
“Oh God, yes,” she mewls. “Fucking soaked. A strong gust of air… the slightest pressure…”
I lay her backward over my lap, the span of my hands long enough to hold her there. She’s tiny and limber, so she bends easily. I lick her navel and relish the way she shudders as if she’s about to climax.
“Give me that pussy,” I growl. “I want to taste you.”
I brace her against the span of my hands as I lay her further back.
She still wears leggings, but that doesn’t stop me from kissing her fully clothed pussy.
The scent of her arousal grips me so hard I’m almost blinded by my need for her.
I press my tongue to her pussy and grind my mouth against her.
With a soft cry, her hips jerk. I press my mouth, the heat of my breath against her, and hold her to me while she shudders and moans.
“Oh my God,” she whispers. “Yesss. Fabien…”
When she slumps back, I lift her back against my chest.
“There are… perks… to being… a gymnast,” she pants.
“Apparently so.”
I kiss her shoulder as I hold her against me. I kiss the top of her head.
“I haven’t been held like this… ever.”
“If you like to be held, I’ll remember that.”
“I do.”
My cock’s so hard it’s painful. I’d give anything to slide myself in her. I know she’d let me. She damn near promised she would.
But I don’t want to take advantage. I need her to trust me. I don’t want her to think I’m using her even though I’ve bought her for the weekend.
“Alright, mister hottie. Your turn.”
I shake my head. “Not now.”
I don’t expect her to look dejected. Her face falls. “What?”
“Not now.”
“But I… Well. Okay then. I can make you a very happy man, you know.”
Oh, she will. What she doesn’t yet understand is that I didn’t just hire her like she thinks I did.
She’ll play the part of slave in The Underground.
I’m paying her so she can leave La Maison.
I made her climax because she belongs to me. She’s mine.
This has nothing to do with money.
“I have no doubt. And I didn’t say no, I said not now. Are you talking back to me again?”
A slow blink as she looks at me. Lowered lashes and the sultry voice I crave. “What happens if I disobey?”
I pinch her ass. “Why don’t you try and see?”
The plane lurches. She falls heavily against my chest just as the front of the plane points downward and descends so rapidly, my stomach plummets before the plane rights again.
“Oh God! What’s happening?”
“I don’t know, but I hire only the best pilots. Trust that we’re okay.”
Still, I slide her off my lap to secure her in a seat belt after she pulls her top on.
I hit a button beside my armrest. “What’s going on?”
“Thought it was turbulence, sir, but it appears one of our engine’s failing. We’ll need to make an emergency landing.”
Jesus.
Nicolette sits still as a statue beside me. I reach for her hand. She grips me tightly, as if holding onto me will keep the plane steady.
“Don’t be afraid,” I say softly. I’ve learned in stressful situations how important it is to stay calm. I rarely raise my voice and rarely lose my temper. It helps in situations like this.
“We’re just going to make a landing. The location is actually ideal for us, because we aren’t over any water yet. There are numerous locations where we might be able to land safely.”
“If you say so,” she whispers.
I give her hand a gentle squeeze.
The pilot’s voice crackles overhead. “We’ll be landing in Lucciana, Monsieur Gerard.”
“So we can make it to an airport in Northern Corsica, likely Bastia Poretta. See? We’ll be fine.”
Another lurch forward makes me look like a liar. Her grip on my hand tightens to nearly painful.
“How soon?” she whispers. It’s not out of the ordinary for someone to be afraid in such a situation. If anything, it would probably be out of the ordinary for her not to be. But damn, it isn’t fair that just yesterday she was attacked and now we’re facing this.
“I’m not sure, but our pilot has this under control. We’ll be landing shortly and then figure out our next step. I know it’s scary, but he has this under control. There’s no reason to panic.”
I know literally nothing about airplanes, but I’m doing my best to keep her calm.
“Okay. Got it.” Another hair-raising dip tosses us in the air like we’re balloons bobbing in the wind. Clouds sail past our windows, and it looks for one minute as if we’re actually flying upside down.
Maybe it’s better not to look out the windows.
Nicolette’s knuckles are pure white as she grips my hand with a death grip.
“Let’s change the subject,” I try.
“We weren’t t-talking.” Her teeth chatter as if she’s freezing to death.
“We are now. Talk to me. Tell me.” I rack my brain. “What’s your favorite guilty pleasure?”
The plane rights itself for a minute.
“Fr-french pastries,” she stammers. “Most kinds as long as they’re fresh and accompanied by a nice strong cup of tea. Yours?”
“Expensive cars.”
That makes her laugh. Mission accomplished. “My guilty pleasure’s a lot more affordable.”
“Mine lasts a lot longer.”
“True, true. My turn. Do you have any pets?”
I shake my head. “No. I travel too often for pets, though Lyam has quite a snake collection.”
“Snakes!”
“Mhm. He wears them around his neck like jewelry.”
“No. Oh, God. I can’t believe your mother allows those.”
“He doesn’t live with her anymore.”
“Oh,” she says on a laugh. “Right.”
Good, good.
Another hard dip of the plane draws another whimper, but we only dip for seconds before we’re able to right again. I notice that we’re descending slowly. Our pilot has this fully under control.
“Do you have any special talents?” I ask her.
“Blow jobs.”
“Fucking hell. Let’s make it a million dollars,” I mutter.
Another cute grin.
“You?”
“I can play the piano. I started when I was four years old, and I’m pretty damn good at it.”
“Now that is impressive. Okay, let me think. Hmm. Are you an indoors or outdoors person?”
“Indoors. I like environments I can control.”
“Also not a surprise. I like both. Indoors so I can snuggle under a blanket and read when it’s cold out, but outdoors when the weather’s warm and I can go for a nice, long walk.”
“You’ll like my mother’s home, then. The garden’s been featured in some of Paris’s best home and garden magazines.”
“Ooooh, really? Alright, my turn. Your favorite kind of ice cream?”
“Not fair, it’s my turn.”
We slowly descend a bit lower. She gasps.
“Fine then,” she says with a nod. “Your turn.”
“Favorite ice cream.”
“Cheater! I like good, plain vanilla, but not the cheap kind. The premium, handmade kind that’s creamy and not too sweet.”
“I see. Ice cream snob, are you?”
“You have no idea. Now is it my turn?”
“Go for it.”
“If you could talk to anyone, dead or alive, who would it be?”
This one takes me by surprise. I didn’t expect we’d dive deeper this soon.
I draw in a breath and let it out slowly.
“I’d say Napoleon. When I was a kid, I was fascinated by him, but maybe instead…
” I’ll start this slowly and lure her in.
She doesn’t know what I’m going to ask her to do.
But if I’m honest… “I’d say my father. I was an asshole when I was a teen.
Mouthed off a lot. Thought I knew better than he did. ”
“Not uncommon for a teen, though.” I realize she’s the one holding my hand now, instead of the other way around.
“There were things I’d like to say to him.”
“Believe me,” she says with a sigh. “I understand. Though with me, it would be my mother. My father and I understood each other. We talked all the time. My mother was hardworking. She dedicated her entire life to her family. It mattered to her that we became successful, and the two of us fought a lot about what that looked like.”
I nod and stroke my thumb along the top of her hand. “I understand that, too.”
I draw in a deep breath.
“Two minutes until landing,” the pilot tells us.
“Good. Just enough time for you to answer my question. I want you to tell me, in detail, what your perfect day looks like.”
“Oh, my. Now that I’d have to think about.”
“You have to answer before we land.”
“Okay. Hmm. Alright, I’d have breakfast in bed to start. Featuring, of course—”
“French pastries and eggs.”
“Very good, Fabien.” I adore that look of approval so much, I’d do anything to earn it.
“And good, strong coffee, of course. Then I’d take a nice, long shower, in one of those huge luxury bathrooms with pretty white candles all lit up, scented soaps and lotion and fluffy towels and maybe soft strains of music playing somewhere.
Everything gleaming and spotless and spacious.
We grew up in a tiny, cramped apartment in Chicago, so to me, a spacious bathroom is the height of luxury. ”
Such an easy accommodation.
“Go on.”
“I’d get dressed in clothes that fit me perfectly but were comfortable, then head downstairs. No gym, thank you. If we’re fantasizing, I have a perfect figure that comes to me naturally without having to break a sweat.”
“Of course.”
“I’d go for a stroll to the heart of the city, because it would be warm and sunny.
I’m in Paris, of course. I’d buy a book and read it at a café with a nice hot cup of tea, then do a little shopping.
Maybe get some shoes. I’ve always wanted to shop in the Louvre and Tuileries district.
Then maybe I’d do something fun, like bike ride along the Seine.
” Her voice trails off as we begin to land.
“There’s only one problem with all of this. ”
“What’s that?”
She manages to give me a coy little smile. “I’m alone. It would be a lot nicer if I had someone with me. Now, your turn.”
I don’t bother playing nice or coy. I go straight for the jugular.
“That’s an easy one. A perfect day for me is a day spent with you.”