“Really?”
“Of course.”
“Why would you do that for me?”
“Because I can. Why do you want to speak French?”
I shrug. “Because I can.” So that no one can talk about me behind my back ever again.
His eyes darken but the humor remains in his voice. “You and that sassy mouth of yours. I can think of ways to tame it, and I’m not going to hold out until we’re home.”
Clenching the wheel with one hand, he pulls down his zipper with the other and frees his cock. Seeing him so hard for me just from a game of words makes me horny and wet. When he cups the back of my neck, I go down on him willingly, swallowing him like he taught me. I swirl my tongue around the head and suck until my cheeks hollow. He curses, saying filthy words in French. I don’t need a tutor to understand those. I take the power he gives. I own the groan that erupts from his chest. I own his release.
Chapter 22
Maxime
I watch Zoe through the open door of the dressing room while buttoning up my shirt. She sits in front of the dresser, applying her makeup. Her hair is twisted on her head in pretty curls. She’s wearing a red dress with black heels, and the diamonds I gave her in Venice as a gift to commemorate our first time shines in her ears. She’s a vision. It’s hard tearing my gaze away to fit my cufflinks.
I check my watch. We have an hour before the dinner. It’s a charity event to raise money for cancer research. I hate these galas, but I’m hoping it’ll do Zoe good. She objected, said she didn’t want to go, but she needs to be around people.
Now that the Italian deal has been negotiated, I can focus on her again. I feel both lighter and heavier. We need the alliance with the Italians. It gives us access to their infrastructure, a broadened scope to move our diamonds safely, while the tax they’re paying to ship from our port doesn’t hurt, either. We’ve been at war for too long, wiping out each other’s men and resources. Hence, the deal is a good thing. Complicated, but good. It’s going to require some finesse in the foreseeable future. In the short term, it means I can spend more time with my flower.
Yesterday’s lunch didn’t go as well as I’ve hoped. The men owe Zoe the respect she deserves as my lover. It’s an unbendable rule. However, I didn’t foresee how the women would react. I can’t really blame them. Of course, they’d frown upon her sharing my bed. Mistresses are a common occurrence among the menfolk in our circles, but you don’t bring them to a family lunch. A charity event, yes. A weekend in the Bahamas, definitely. While mistresses wear diamonds and sip champagne on yachts, the wives are home raising their cheating husband’s kids. I’d hoped Maman would’ve been more open-minded, if not for Zoe then for my sake, but I’d misjudged my mother’s tolerance and Catholic values. For as staunch as her values are, her tolerance is low.
I still don’t know why Alexis didn’t show. If I haven’t fucked Zoe from the minute we got home to sunrise, I would’ve called him. He’s probably scheming behind my back like he tried to weasel his way into the Italian deal. Taking my phone from my pocket, I send a text to Gautier, telling him to tail my brother and find out what he’s so busy with that’s more important than a family lunch. For all the times the married men in my family have entertained their lovers on exotic islands and faraway dream escapes, they don’t back out when there’s a family lunch at home. Another one of our unspoken rules.
“I’m ready,” Zoe says.
I lift my head to look at her. The breath is knocked from my lungs. The dress clings to her body, accentuating her curves. The gown was my choice. I know she hates it, but she has no idea what a knockout she is with her slender neck and the milky skin of her shoulders exposed. There’s a flush on her cheeks again since she started taking long walks outside. Her skin and eyes glow, the freckles on her nose like a dusting of golden stars. She’s the epitome of innocence and purity. Only, I know she likes sex both sweet and rough. I know how to read her, how to give her what she needs, and I burn with satisfaction knowing I’m the one who corrupted her. Her moans and dirty little acts are all mine.
“I don’t know about this,” she says, smoothing her palms over her hips. “I really don’t like these formal parties.”
I take her wrap from the chair and drape it around her shoulders. “So you’ve said.”