The Sheik's Son

“Alphonse admires you.” He deliberately avoided her eyes and brushed away an imaginary fluff of dust from his breeches.

“He doesn’t suit.”

“And Laurent?” He named a previous suitor.

“Too old.”

“Jacques?” He named another.

“Too young.”

“Henri?” He named yet another.

“Too stupid.”

Jean Pierre laughed aloud. “Chère, is there not one man in Paris you find agreeable?”

“No, I’m sorry to say,” Sophie said sincerely.

“Perhaps Alphonse has improved with age.”

“Like a fine wine?” Sophie shook her head. “He hasn’t improved with time. He’s morose.”

Jean Pierre smiled again. “Well, don’t be too hasty. After all, marriage isn’t a curse—it’s a gift from God.”

“You never remarried,” she returned.

“No. I didn’t. That’s because after your dear mother left us, no one could take her place.”

Sophie smiled. “I’ll try to be pleasant with Alphonse. I can offer no more.”

He moved towards his daughter, kissing her lightly on the forehead. “I can ask for no more.”

***

Sebastian watched her move slowly down his body and stop at his hard, throbbing shaft. She moved her hand up and down it lightly before taking the pink head into her mouth. He

closed his eyes at the sensation and almost bucked his hips as she moved her mouth, taking his length into her throat.

He was fond of Giselle and knew that she was even a little in love with him. She had strawberry-blonde hair and blue eyes set in a small heart-shaped face. She was chubby and young, and he knew she had seen enough of Paris and its men to want a different life.

Giselle suddenly pulled her wet, warm mouth away from him and replaced it with her tight snatch, settling herself on top of him. She mounted him like an eager horsewoman and he filled his hands with her heavy breasts.

“Oh Bash,” she breathed and began to move up and down.

Sebastian enjoyed the sensation of her on top of him before he moved position and pressed into her as she wrapped her legs around him. He could feel the climax building before he emptied his seed inside of her.

They lay together in a mass of limbs and sweat before he moved away from her. Giselle watched him dress and thought of asking him to stay but didn’t. No, she knew he wouldn’t like that.

“Bash come to me tomorrow,” she murmured.

He pulled on his dark breeches and white linen shirt while buttoning his waistcoat, which matched his breeches. He tied his white cravat loosely around his neck and pulled on his hose and black shoes. Then, he shrugged into his knee-length coat, which was cut to show off the width of his shoulders.

“We’ll see,” he replied.

Sebastian enjoyed Giselle and had for almost a year. But she was clingy and he preferred to keep a distance with women, especially the women at the exclusive brothels he and his friends frequented. He knew that oftentimes the women entertained fancies that if a man continued to see them exclusively they would be set up in their own home.

Though he had thought about doing this, it was not the young Giselle whom he had considered.