IntheArmsofaLover Read online

“Perhaps you’d like something a little different.” He took her hands and pulled her arms over her head. She wasn’t quite sure how he did it, given he was also rocking inside her, but he had both her arms over her head, holding them down with his right hand as his left supported his weight.

  She gasped as she looked up into his eyes.

  “You like this.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Oh yes, I do.”

  “Very good, and now, sweetest Poppy, this is what you truly desire, isn’t it?”

  Not waiting for a reply, he started moving. Fucking her softly as she sighed with utter happiness. If she was a fool to trust him this early, so be it. He’d sensed her needs. Heaven alone knew how, but he had and was meeting them. He whispered he would hold her down and fuck her until she screamed, all the while maintaining his steady rhythm, coming in deeply then almost withdrawing before pressing back home. As her sighs became little moans, he quickened his pace and told her he’d give her more, much more and harder until she cried out.

  She would be his captive until she climaxed. That she was here to be fucked thoroughly and hard, and he was the man to do it. She was beautiful, but most beautiful of all, held under him, as he did exactly what she most wanted. That she was his to fuck and adore.

  Now he was thrusting with all his strength and she cried out as her climax built, calling his name as she threw back her head and let the pleasure flood her mind. She was climbing, reaching for the peak as his beautiful cock drove her harder and faster.

  She came in a wild flood of sensation, crying out her satisfaction. But he wasn’t finished, pushing her along with him as her body seemed to ignite with joy until, with a grunt, a shout and a wild and unbridled gasp he came, thrusting faster than ever until his body sagged and he released her hands.

  They ended up in a lovely, sweaty tangle of legs and arms.

  “Incredible,” he whispered, his voice a little hoarse, hardly surprising.

  “You were, rather,” she replied. “You…” Words seemed a little pointless, so she kissed him. “Thank you.” She meant it from the bottom of her heart. Later she’d ask how he knew, but for now, “Can we spend the night here?”

  “If you wish.”

  Did he imagine she’d want to get up, dress and drive all the way back to Nice? “I do wish.”

  * * * * *

  Poppy woke before him. The light streaming through the window was enough to rouse anyone, except a gently snoring Stéphane it seemed. At some point he’d pulled covers over her and tucked her in. Nice of him. She had no memory of it happening but after the second, or perhaps third, climax, she was pretty hazy. And she now felt wonderful, her body still hummed with the glorious aftermath of a delightful and through fuck. A glance at the small carriage clock on the bedside table told her it was after eight! She was out of bed in a flash. Should she wake him too? He no doubt had to get to work, or did he? She got the sense that his work hours were flexible. Unlike hers. She needed to be back in Nice before the shop opened at ten.

  She gathered up the clothes she’d strewn all over the room and after a quick shower decided he had to get up. He was her lift back home after all. Looking down at him, dark lashes brushing his tanned cheeks, she had a sudden urge to yank back the bedclothes, take his soft and quiescent cock between her lips and rouse him in the best possible way. But, she reminded herself, she had to get to work and she needed him to take her there.

  She settled for a kiss on his forehead and ruffling his dark hair. It worked. “Good morning. Hate to wake you but I need a lift back into Nice.”

  “Mon Dieu! Poppy!” He was wide awake in seconds peering at the clock. “I have to go too!” He leapt out of bed, giving her the delightful view of a full frontal, and kissed her hard and well. “I must get ready. Please, call down for coffee and whatever you need, I must shower and then we must run.” As he crossed into the bathroom she took a moment to admire his arse. Nice body. Nice man come to that. Would he prove to be a nice lover? Time would tell.

  She wouldn’t get too optimistic until they had a good long talk. Meanwhile she ordered café complet for two.

  “I ought to say thank you,” Poppy said as he emerged from the bathroom, perfectly groomed she couldn’t help noticing, and downed a small cup of black coffee and took a bite from a croissant.

  He raised one dark eyebrow at her. “You’re thanking me?”

  “Of course, for a fantastic dinner and a truly memorable and unforgettable evening.”

  “I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t forget it,” he replied, as he set the cup back on the tray. “Come, we have to go.”

  * * * * *

  “You liked me holding you down?” he asked, as they headed down the hill.

  “Couldn’t you tell?”

  “Yes, I could tell.”

  “How did you guess?”

  He hesitated as if unwilling to be direct. “I just knew but I’d like to know what else you like. Do you like to be tied down?”

  Better pick her words carefully here. “I did with Tommy, but I knew him well and trusted him.” That was how it was and if he took umbrage she’d no doubt thrown away a good chance.

  “I will do all I can to earn your total trust, Poppy.” Fair enough. “Meanwhile let us meet for lunch and talk about what you will permit me.”

  “Okay, where?”

  He suggested Chez Freddy in the Flower Market, a place she’d walked past often but never splurged on. “Wonderful, I get off for an hour at two. “ It was late for lunch but as the newest employee, that was her luck.

  “I will be waiting for you.”

  * * * * *

  That was nice prospect but maybe she needed a day or so to think about last night. Not that she even had ten minutes as the shop was busy and in the middle of a hectic morning, Helen texted her. Could she come by the estate later that afternoon, if convenient? She wanted Poppy’s input over furniture and some details about the house.

  And if that wasn’t enough for one morning, who should stroll into the shop about eleven but Didier? He wanted her to have lunch with him and seemed prepared to hang around until she was ready to leave.

  Stressed out with the patronne’s eyes on her, Poppy told him not today and she’d call him later but perhaps they shouldn’t see each other again.

  He wasn’t happy at that and stomped out of the shop, deliberately—or so it seemed—knocking over a display of postcards and lavender bags.

  Chapter Seven

  When Poppy finally broke for lunch, she headed down the flower market with a torrent of mixed feelings. Feelings that switched to delight at seeing Stéphane seated at an outside table, a large bottle of San Pellegrino at his elbow.

  He’d been watching, smiling the minute he caught sight of her. He was gorgeous and the light in his blue eyes brought back the image of him naked. She returned his smile, but felt herself blushing. Ridiculous! Women her age didn’t blush.

  “You came,” he said, rising from his seat and reaching out to her to offer a nice, friendly French bise on each cheek. She’d rather fancied more but that would come later. Please let it come.

  “Of course I did. I said I would.”

  “You have made me happy.”

  “You did the same for me last night. It was pretty marvelous.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  Apparently they were in complete agreement on that point. Now what? Menus, it seemed. Of course, this was France and conversation took second place to food.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, looking at her over the menu. Who was he kidding? After their hasty breakfast her stomach was rumbling. “I have a suggestion…”

  She was listening but something caught her eye as she scanned the menu. “Moules frites.”

  He looked up. “Why not, and what shall we drink?”

  “Not too much, I’ve got to go back to work.” And so, presumably, did he.

  He ordered a half-liter of rosé and, as he raised his glass, said, “To us.”

&n
bsp; “Yes, to us.” She put the glass back down. “You said we needed to talk and I agree, but this is a bit in the open.”

  “You think I cannot be discreet?”

  Not precisely. “I think we need to be circumspect.”

  “Very well, you like being restrained. I enjoy restraining my partners shall we start there?”

  Good enough point as any given just his words sent a delicious shiver of anticipation down her spine. “I do. I did last night, but tell me first, how did you know?”

  He hesitated, taking a sip of wine before replying. “To tell the truth, I did not know for absolute certainty but thought you might. If you had objected, I would have released you immediately.”

  Fair enough. “Well I do like it and did very much last night. That was a lucky guess on your part.” Or was it? “Are you always Dominant in bed?”

  That had him almost choking on his wine. “You are direct.”

  “You said we needed to talk. Let’s talk about what we like.”

  “Very well. Yes, I do like to dominate but not all women are willing to submit.”

  “I am, up to a point at least. Assuming you want to continue.” Although he’d hardly be here if he didn’t, would he?

  “Most certainly, I do. I can picture you in chains.”

  She had a few moments to think that over as two waiters appeared bearing deep pans of mussels. Poppy had to try one. “Just a minute.” It was fantastic, redolent of garlic and wine and herbs. She ate three, seeing he’d tucked into his just as eagerly. “About chains,” she went on, once the waiters were out of earshot. “Not now. At least not yet.”

  “I understand. Last night I said I’d endeavor to earn your complete trust. I will. You tell me when you’re ready. One day I hope you will trust me enough to let me tie you down spread-eagle on the bed and flog you, but until then we explore and experiment.”

  Sounded fair enough to her. “I’d enjoy that.”

  There was another pause as they devoured another half-dozen mussels.

  “One thing I do want to do most earnestly,” Stéphane said, “is to spank you. Will you permit that?”

  It was a good thing she hadn’t actually put the next mussel into her mouth. Would she? Hell yes, her body responded in an instant to the suggestion. “How would you go about it?”

  “Ah! How would I?” “He paused to eat another mussel as she watched him chew and his throat muscles undulate as he swallowed. “Administering much-needed discipline can be so satisfying but for the first time between two new lovers, it is important for it to be memorable. To imprint a memory that will not fade. Unlike the redness of the buttocks that seldom lasts more than a few hours.”

  He was fucking good! No other way to describe it. He’d even lowered his voice to a slow, sexy whisper.

  “I think, out of all the many possibilities, it would be best with you over my knee. I could sit on the end of the bed, or on a chair—perhaps the latter—that way your head and shoulders will hang down, making you even more vulnerable and helpless. On the other hand, across my lap on the bed, I could be sure you’d feel my growing erection as the punishment continues.

  “I think,” he went on, “I will leave you clothed the first time. Later I might make you strip for me, but this first occasion I think I want the pleasure of raising your skirts over your head and revealing your buttocks to my caress. And caress them I will. A sweet, untouched arse is a beautiful sight. I will take your knickers down. All the way to your knees, to leave you completely exposed and vulnerable and, you know what will happen next.” He reached his fork and stabbed several pommes frites and ate them slowly. “Don’t you?” he asked after he finished chewing.

  Her nipples were hard and as for her cunt, well damn it was shame she didn’t have a spare pair of knickers in her handbag. “You tease!”

  “Of course.” He looked so smug she briefly considered tipping wine down his shirt. “And you enjoyed it every minute of it.”

  She’d be a fool and a liar to deny it. “Very much. I hope the reality lives up to my expectations.”

  “It will. I promise.” He topped up her wine glass. “How does that sound for next time?”

  Bloody fantastic but no point in sounding too utterly desperate for it. “I think it sounds delightful, but where? I’d invite you to my place but all I have is a little single room.” And what about when? She wouldn’t say no to tonight. He had her primed after all.

  “I will arrange that, Poppy. It will be something for both of us to anticipate.”

  “When?” All right, she was desperate. Her nipples were hard and rubbing against her lacy bra.

  He sighed. Not a good omen. “I had hoped to arrange this for tonight or tomorrow evening but alas.” Alas what? Had he just intended to wind her up and leave her hanging? “It will have to be Friday. I need to go out of town for two nights. I am sorry. I had a call this morning. “

  “So you’re going to leave me hanging for three days?” Might as well go ahead and say it.

  “Sadly yes, but I have something for you while I’m away.” He handed her a box, wrapped in shiny black paper and topped with a silver bow. “Open it when you get home. I don’t think the nice clientele in the shop need to see what’s inside.”

  “Okay. “ Good thing she carried a big handbag. “I look forward to your return.”

  He leaned across the table and whispered. “I look forward to watching you squirm as you try, most ineffectively, to evade my chastisement. You will feel every single well-aimed slap. I promise you.”

  Poppy swallowed and downed most of her wine in an effort to ease the dryness in her mouth. “I hope your return isn’t delayed.”

  “So do I, Poppy, so do I.”

  “And we still need to talk more.”

  “We will, my dear, we will, but let us proceed slowly as we explore each other’s needs and wants.”

  “Perfect.” A pity the pommes frites had gone cold, but really she didn’t need to eat them anyway.

  * * * * *

  She was almost back at the shop, when Didier accosted her. “You had lunch with a man,” he said, making it sound as if the action was up there with patricide or eating one’s young. “I asked you to have lunch with me.”

  She might have been more patient if she’d wasn’t still primed and aroused. “You did and I thanked you and told you I couldn’t do lunch today.”

  “You didn’t say you were lunching with another man.”

  “Why should I have?”

  “Why? We are lovers.”

  She gasped, couldn’t help it. Talk about presuming, jumping the gun, taking for granted. Darn it all, when they’d parted that evening, it had been with a casual “see you” and he hadn’t even asked for her mobile number. “No we’re not! We had a nice evening together, that’s all. Goodbye, Didier, I need to get to work.” Since he didn’t budge, she walked to the side to pass him and he grabbed her arm.

  That self-defense course she’d taken twenty years ago in her student days was still handy. She broke away and stepped back, ready to land him one where it would hurt if he tried that again. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

  “You were happy to have me touch you before.”

  “Didier, we had a pleasant evening. I enjoyed myself, but we made no promises.”

  He drew himself up, eyebrows creased and face tinged pink. Dear heaven what was she having to cope with, affronted male pride? Damn, he did not own her. “You are a callous, cold woman! I thought we had a connection.”

  “‘Didier, this is ridiculous.” Quite the wrong thing to say, or had she misspoken and told him he was ridiculous?

  “Putain.” He turned and walked away, muttering.

  One minute he was claiming they were lovers, the next calling her a whore. Odd chap, to put it mildly. Not that she had time to worry about him now. She ran the last few meters. Later, when she got home, she’d try to sort things out in her mind. It she could be bothered. She hated they’d parted on bad terms. On the other
had he’d called her a whore! Not exactly the action of a gentleman.

  She smiled at that, she was sounding like her grandmother.

  * * * * *

  “Come on up tonight and have dinner,” Helen insisted when Poppy finally returned her call. “You can meet the rest of the staff and Adele’s a great cook.”

  Sounded preferable to picking up a sandwich on the way home.

  Helen’s directions were spot on, but nothing could have prepared Poppy for Les Santons. All right, she’d already worked out that Luc Prioux didn’t need to worry about money, but this was beyond her imagination. The gates, standing open for her arrival, looked as if they’d been nicked from Buckingham Place or perhaps Versailles. The paved drive curved downhill, until it ended in a wide area beside a vast villa and several outbuildings, including a block of four garages. Her old Mini looked a trifle shabby beside the sleek Citroën but she didn’t waste time worrying about that as she gaped at the immaculate gardens sloping down to a stone wall and the sea far below.

  Nice, hell, very nice. Maybe she’d get to stroll around the gardens some time.

  “Poppy!” Helen came out of a side door to greet her. “Glad you got here, come on in.”

  “You wanted to talk about furniture and so forth?”

  “Luc told me to see to it but I thought you’d like to have some say in it. Might as well get what you’d like.”

  Made good sense. “There’s been a lot of work already.”

  “You’ve been up there?”

  “Yesterday. Stéphane drove me up. He wanted to look at the progress I think. A lot’s been done already.”

  “Stéphane?”

  “The solicitor, I went in to sign my employment contract and we went up afterward.” She hadn’t intended to cause shock, astonishment and a dropped jaw but it appeared she had.

  “We’re talking about the same person? Luc’s lawyer, Maître Poulain?”

  “Yes, that’s him.”

  That earned her a strange look. Maybe letting his Christian name slip had been mistake. Oh well, it was done now. “You know him too?” She hoped not in the way she did. Oh dear, was that his modus operandi? Please no!