French Blue (9 page)

Why did she feel it was a challenge? She held on tightly as he carried her into his bedroom. A huge white fluffy bath sheet covered the white counterpane, and a large white bolster pillow lay across the middle of the bed.

“Obviously, you were well prepared,” she murmured.

“Of course.”

She winced as her behind made contact with the fabric.

“Relax. The hard part is over.” He sat on the bed next to her.

“What? No nipple clamps or handcuffs?” she joked.

He ran the edge of his thumb over her nipple, which puckered tightly. “Not today. In the state you’re in, I don’t think your beautiful nipples could cope with even the mildest
pinces a seins
from my collection,
but
, as you seem so eager, you can experience them very soon.”

“Me and my big mouth…” Lisa whispered, her imagination running wild about his collection as she wriggled against the quilt. Olivier had said he would soothe her; she needed it.

“Yes, your attitude will get you into a lot of trouble—I hope.” He grinned. “Now, lie facedown with your hips over the pillow.”

She turned over, positioning her hips on the smooth cotton of the bolster. She heard him reach for something from the nightstand next to the bed, and a delicious sweet fragrance filled the air.

“Mm. What’s that?”

“Oil…”

Warm oil oozed over her sore cheeks. She felt tired, in a delicious way, not exhausted, just loose and liquid of limb. The oil felt like honey oozing over her tender skin, and the exotic scent reminded her of a Moroccan souk.

“How do you feel?” His voice was as soothing as the massage.

“Still a little sore.”

“
Bien
.”

“You beast…” said Lisa, then sighed as his fingers made contact with the base of her spine, spreading the oil up her back. “Ohhh…”

She winced as his fingers found the sore skin from the paddling, but the discomfort quickly passed as he massaged the oil into her skin with infinite gentleness. His fingers worked their magic on her skin, gently on her sore bottom, then firmly on her thighs, massaging the oil along the backs of knees and along her calves.

“You didn’t use your safe word. Why not?” he asked as every knot of tension unravelled.

Should she admit she couldn’t remember the word until almost too late and that then she was too stubborn to give in? “I wanted to complete the correction.”

“That’s good, but not the whole story.”

“I don’t want to give you the whole story.”

“But you will. You’re not just here for a physical and sexual experience but an emotional one too. In fact, most subs find that the hardest part having to admit to their deepest fears and desires—which are often the same thing.”

The bed dipped as he shifted to her side, and his hands moved to her back, massaging the oil over her shoulder blades and along her spine. This was bliss.

“I wanted it to stop, but I didn’t want to give in.”

“Hmm.”

She bucked her hips as his fingers parted her cheeks, allowing the oil to trickle down between them to her entrance. As he rubbed the oil around her bottom, she fisted the counterpane in shame and desire.

“You like this?”

“Mmm.”

“But you aren’t ready for more,
ma cherie
, not today. Get up, please.”

Gentle hands lifted her up from the bolster and removed the heavy pillow. Lisa was so lost in languorous pleasure that she might have collapsed back down if Olivier hadn’t helped her upright. She sat back, her arms wrapped around her breasts, skin slippery and tingling as he unbuttoned his Levis and stripped them off. He was naked underneath, and his cock sprang out, erect and ready for her.

She reached out a hand to touch him. “Non,
cherie
. You only touch when I say you can.”

“But I want you.”

“I want you too, but first, lie facedown. Let go and enjoy the pleasure while you can.”

She lay down, and he climbed onto the bed, sitting astride her legs. He trickled oil on her breasts, circling her nipples with it, leaving her breasts glistening and tingling. He rubbed it over her belly. His touch on her clit was electric, making her buck her hips and groan with pleasure. His fingers began to explore her swollen nub, circling it between his fingers.

“Turn over and get on all fours,” he whispered.

Lisa glanced through her knees and saw him remove a small silver cylinder from the small red box.

“This is a bullet vibe,” he said. “You’ve used one on yourself?”

“I’ve tried vibes, but not one like that. It’s so small…”

“But powerful.”

She almost took off from the bed as he laid the vibe against her clit. “Oh God!”

After the paddling and the massage, the effect of the throbbing vibe was instant and sensational. As he moved the vibe between her labia, the sensation drove her almost immediately to the edge of her climax. She moaned with ecstasy. As the metal nudged inside her, her orgasm soared to a new level, and she clutched at the sheets, helpless to stop it. As she began to lose herself, Olivier climbed behind her and nudged his hot cock into her.

“You are beyond beautiful…”

She screamed out her pleasure as he thrust inside her, moving slowly and powerfully. She was lost completely, oblivious to everything except Olivier filling her more completely than any man had ever done before.

Chapter Eight

“
Ca va
?”

Lisa awoke to Olivier beside her on the bed, gently lifting her hair from her eyes. He wore the paint-spattered Levis, was bare-chested, and his hair was damp.

“How are you?”

She rubbed her eyes. “Fine, but…how long have I been asleep?”

“Thirty minutes, maybe a little more. I took a shower while you slept.”

She pushed herself up, still groggy and suddenly aware of a dull soreness in her behind. Oh hell, she’d been paddled and teased with a vibe and fucked. The blush was impossible to subdue.

Olivier smiled. “It’s okay to sleep. You pushed past a lot of barriers today, and you’ve been working hard.”

She bit back a protest as he stroked her hair. Was this the same man who had been so austere and strict an hour ago?

She sighed as he kissed her more deeply, inhaling the sharp scent of his shower gel. “Relax. Enjoy. You’ve done well so far.”

Lisa felt like a girl being praised by a schoolmaster. “And the hardest part is over?”

He pulled back the sheet, exposing her breasts, and ran a finger over her nipple, which hardened instantly. “Non
, cherie
. The hard part has only just begun, but for the rest of tonight, you’ll eat and relax. Why not take a bath while I make some dinner? You are hungry?”

“Yes, I am. Very.”

He grinned. “Well, that’s what a good paddling and hot sex does for you. Now, I’ll see you in a little while.”

“What about my clothes?”

“They’re on the chair by the closet.”

“And my knickers? You said I had to earn them.”

“You’ll find fresh ones there. I decided to be lenient as it’s your first time.”

Lisa didn’t know whether to believe him or not. “Olivier, you…”

“Yes?” He folded his arms.

“
Merci, maître
.” She loaded her voice with irony.

“Mmm. Better get in the bath before I change my mind about your clothes and make you take dinner naked.”

Cleansed and wrapped in a black towelling robe, Lisa followed the aroma of steak to the kitchen doorway. Olivier now wore a shirt with his jeans, a striped tea cloth slung over one shoulder. His mouth quirked in amusement as Lisa hovered on one side of the kitchen counter, rolling back the sleeves of the robe.

“Do you have anything on under that?”

“The French knickers and my bra. Does that meet with your approval?”

“Of course. Does
filet au poivre
meet with yours?”

Lisa raised her voice above the sizzling from the frying pan. “Love it. Lucky I’m not a veggie, isn’t it?”

He flipped the steaks over. “It is, but I guessed you weren’t, from the way you hit the parma ham and pate canapés at the gallery launch.”

“You were watching me?” She stepped closer to the hob.

“Of course, for about twenty minutes before you noticed me.”

“Oh.”

He grinned. “And I also checked with Mimi.”

“Mimi seems to have been doing an awful lot of talking. What else did she say about me?”

“That you’re smart, ambitious and principled, which is difficult in a job that requires you to bend the truth now and again. You like Monet, hate soccer, love cricket and don’t have time to enjoy any of them because you work too hard.”

She blew out a breath. “Just how well do you two really know each other?”

He reached for a carton of cream from the fridge before replying. “If you’re asking if I’ve had a relationship with Mimi, we slept together once when we were at art college. She’s one of my oldest, dearest friends, but she’s strictly vanilla, and now she’s more like a cousin to me. Can you pass the peppercorns, please? They’re on the shelf next to you.”

Lisa reached for the packet. “And how many others like me have there been?”

He took the pack from her hand. “Not as many as you think, but I don’t talk about previous partners. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Total discretion? Now, tell me how your little niece is doing. Have you called your sister?”

The switch from his private life to her own was swift. “Yes, I spoke to Abi while I had a bath. Bella’s absolutely fine.”

Olivier held the peppercorn packet over a pestle and mortar. “That’s good. Now why don’t you make yourself nice and comfortable on the balcony while I finish dinner?”

He was managing her again, but maybe that was because he didn’t like her watching him cook. Some people didn’t, and frankly, she wouldn’t have wanted a sophisticated French guy as an audience for her own culinary efforts. Or perhaps he was being evasive again…and Lisa was pretty sure that his “nice and comfortable” comment was ironic, especially when she saw that only one of the metal bistro chairs on the balcony had a cushion on it. She considered taking the bare chair for a moment, then decided to be sensible. She lowered her bottom gingerly onto the cushion, winced, and knew she’d made the right choice.

The aroma of sizzling steaks made her mouth water. and she realised how hungry she was. There was a dish of olives on the table and a wine cooler with a bottle inside. She popped an olive into her mouth, savouring the bittersweet taste while marvelling at the view. The city glittered ahead of her, seeming to float in the air. The Eiffel Tower dominated the skyline, illuminated by thousands of coloured lights that changed hue every few seconds.

Olivier arrived with a tray containing the steaks, a bowl of dressed salad and a basket of bread. He pulled the cork on the bottle, pulled out the chair and sat opposite her. It was a warm late spring evening, sheltered and still, and the heat from the surrounding walls made it feel even warmer.

“Merci,
maître
,” said Lisa.

He frowned. “You don’t need to do that when we’re not playing.”

“But I might choose to say it.”

A wicked smile played on his lips. “And I might choose to take action.”

Lisa leaned her elbows on the table. “That’s what I was hoping.”

“So I’d better not do anything at all…” The smile disappeared. “Seriously, when we’re not playing, I’d rather things were more civilised.” He reached out and touched her hand. “For both of us.”

Lisa swallowed hard. Suddenly things seemed much more
normal
. It was hard to imagine this was the same man who had explored every intimate part of her and brought her to tears and ecstasy barely an hour before, the man who had promised to take her to new limits in the weeks ahead. Olivier pulled the bottle from the cooler. “Is white okay?”

Wow. Puligny-Montrachet Grand Cru. Lisa loved the vintage when she got the chance, because the odd sip at a corporate event was about the only time she could afford to drink it herself. “Perfect…” she said.

“I thought the occasion deserved marking,” he said. “How’s your seat?”

“I think you know,” said Lisa, the memory of her correction making her press her clit against the cushion. “At the gallery, you said you’re not into the BDSM community,” she said, picking up her knife.

Olivier filled her glass with the straw-coloured wine. “I hate that phrase, just the same as it’s applied to any community. It implies we’re all part of some kinky retirement village, meeting up in village halls with our whips and chains, ruled by some committee of elder Doms and subs.”

She laughed and sipped her wine, the scent filling her nose. The flavour was dry and delicate.

“But there are rules,” she said when she’d swallowed the wine.

He popped the bottle back in the ice bucket. “Yes, the scene has its etiquette and rules, its own language. I did try it for a while. I even trained as a Dom in a small, discreet club for a while. That was worthwhile.”