The Curvy Waitress and the Billionaire French Count (He Wanted Me Pregnant!) (6 page)

“I can feel you,” he said. “I can feel every part of you.” The French twisted in my mind, turning hot and dark, flooding down my body to my groin. I felt my thighs unconsciously open a little wider for him.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, now,” he told me softly, and his hands pressed mine a little harder into the bed, his hips pinning my lower body in place.

My breath caught in my throat, but I nodded wordlessly up at him. I wanted it. I wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything in the world.

He began to pump at me, pulling out almost all the way each time and then rooting himself in me. He started slow but sped up quickly, until he was slamming into me, our bodies connecting with a wet slap. The bed was rocking, my breath coming in hot little pants in time with his thrusts. We were both glistening with sweat, my breasts damp beneath the hardness of his chest. I found myself wrapping my ankles around his lower legs, locking him into place.

He gave a low growl as he felt that and began to move faster, until the sensation of his hard cock sliding back and forth past my slickened walls became one long blur of pleasure, until I was swirling my groin around and around and flexing myself up to meet him. I could feel my climax building in me, swelling to fill every part of my body, ready to burst free…. I locked eyes with him and suddenly he leaned down and kissed me, hard and savage on the lips, and the orgasm detonated at my core, making me arch my back right off the bed. My fingers clutched his, my head thrashing on the sheets. I couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. I was aware of my sex clamping around him, again and again, and heard him groan in pleasure.

I flopped back onto the sheets, locks of my hair sticking to my forehead.

I felt him withdraw from me, still hard. I closed my eyes and heard him moving the pillows on the bed around. Then he was moving me, gently rolling me over onto my stomach, and there was something underneath me. I opened my eyes and looked down. Two pillows were under my hips, lifting them off the bed. That put my ass up in the air and, as I heard him move around behind me, I was suddenly worried.

“Um,” I said uncertainly. “I’ve never done it…
there.”

He came around to my side and brushed the hair off my face. “Shh,” he said. “We’re not doing that. Not today. Today I just want to feel your marvelous ass against me.” And he climbed on the bed, nudging my legs apart. I let my head sink down to the pillows, trusting him.

I felt his cock probe at the moist lips of my sex, teasing me, and I ground back against him. I’d never done it face-down before. On all fours, yes—once—but not like this. It was totally different. I didn’t have to support myself, which meant—my stomach flipped over—
he can fuck me like this for hours.

He slid into my pussy in one long, firm stroke and I sucked in my breath as I was stretched again. I could feel him staring at my upraised ass cheeks. The part of my body I’d always hated most…but then I felt his hands smooth over them, stroking them as he penetrated me. “Wonderful,” he said. “So round…delicious.” And then his hard thighs were pressing against them and he was rooted in me, making my eyes go wide in wonder.

He began to fuck me, and it was even better than before. Now I could grind my clit against the pillows, and his thick cock sinking into me felt exquisite from this new angle. He slid his hands under me and palmed my breasts, rolling them and squeezing them, and I started to feel another orgasm racing towards me. I almost didn’t want it, yet, because I wanted to savor this….

His powerful hips quickly set up a rhythm, and he began to pound me. My climax was building, moving up from my toes and fingers, speeding towards my center. God, his cock, hard and hot and unstoppable, sliding past my slippery flesh like iron wrapped in silk. I could feel my ass flexing as I ground myself against the pillows, getting the friction I need to send me over the edge. Maybe the sight of that or the feel of it was too much for him, because I heard his breathing go ragged, as if he was trying to hold himself back.

Hold himself back…

My eyes widened. “Erard!” I gasped. “Stop! I’m not on the pill! You have to pull out!”

He kept going. And then I realized that, in my panic, I’d said it in English.
Oh my God! What’s the French for “pull out?!”
He was getting closer and closer, I could tell, and all my vocabulary had disappeared from my head.

“I’m…going…to….” He grunted in French.

A thousand French words went through my head, none of them the right one. And then, just as my addled brain finally grabbed hold of the answer—

“AH!” grunted Erard. “Ah! AH!” I felt his hips lunge forward and then the thick, liquid squirt of it, right up against the opening to my womb. And not just once—he shot again and again, hot and powerful and potent and oh God he’s come inside me and—

I arched my back, my head lifting off the bed, and moaned as my orgasm let go, crashing through me like a wave, sending a sinuous twist all the way down my spine until my ass wriggled against him. The idea of it, the idea that a man was actually doing that forbidden thing, shooting his seed right inside my unprotected body, made it ten times better. Lights danced in front of my eyes and I collapsed onto the bed, and for a moment I didn’t care at all.

I felt him gently withdraw from me and then slide up beside me. He rolled me off the pillows and spooned me, pressing his body against my back from ankle to shoulder, nuzzling my neck. I lay there in utter bliss. I should have been terrified. Millions of determined little swimmers were at that very second rushing towards my waiting egg. And yet it didn’t seem bad, or scary. It seemed…good. In fact, there was a dark little twisting delight, somewhere deep inside me, at what we’d just done.

Erard flopped onto his back, panting. I hadn’t realized how much effort he’d put into it—and probably neither had he, until he’d stopped. Now he was barely capable of moving.

I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “I’m going to take a shower,” I told him. And then, I figured, we needed to sit down and have a proper talk about where this was going and the future and all that stuff. But a shower first.

I searched the floor for my clothes, so that I could take them through to the bathroom with me. “Damnit,” I said to myself in English. “Where the hell are my panties?”

“They’re behind you,” said Erard from the bed. “Hanging from the lampshade.”

My world stopped.

He’d said it in English.

He saw my jaw drop and leaped off the bed, his hands outstretched towards me. “Wait! I can explain!” He was back in French again, but it was too late.

“
Oh my God!”
I whispered. “Oh my God! I’ve been so stupid. Of course you speak English. You’ve been conning me all along!”

“No!” he said sharply. He hesitated. “Yes, I lied, but—“

“Was Henri even your translator?” I howled. “Are you even a real
count?”

“I can explain!”

But I was beyond listening. My eyes locked on the bed. “You knew!” I gasped. “You knew exactly what I was saying, didn’t you? You knew I wanted you to pull out!”

I saw the guilt flicker in his eyes. I clapped a hand over my mouth in disbelief.

“You wanted it!” he told me. “Tell me it didn’t feel great when I came inside you! If you’d really wanted me not to, you would have said
something
in French, and I would have stopped.”

“I—Couldn’t think of anything!” I shouted. A little voice inside me nagged that he was right. Why
had
I suddenly forgotten every word of French, right at that crucial moment? Why hadn’t I just tapped his arm, or yelled “Stop!” Could it be that I’d wanted him to come inside me…and I’d just wanted an excuse to let him?

I shook my head. That didn’t change anything. He’d still been lying to me all day. And that meant—

My stomach lurched. “It was all just a trick, wasn’t it? All that stuff about liking my body!”

“No!” He sounded horrified.

I grabbed my skirt and t-shirt and pulled them on, without bra or panties. “This is all a routine, isn’t it? Find some girl, tell her what she wants to hear—“

“
No!
”

I grabbed my shoes. “I never want to see you again,” I told him and ran for the door. He jumped forward, but I was out into the corridor before he could stop me, and I knew he’d have to stop to put clothes on. I heard him calling my name, but I was already at the elevator, viciously stabbing the button, hot tears filling my eyes. As the doors closed and I began to descend, I put my hands to my face and sobbed.

***

While we’d been in the hotel, the storm had finally broken. Rain was crashing to the ground as if the gods were emptying buckets just a few stories up. I blundered out of the hotel doors and was soaked to the skin before I’d gone six feet. Central Park was just across the street and I ran for it, dodging between the traffic. The rain was washing away my tears, but as fast as the heat left my eyes it was replaced with more.

I cursed myself. I cursed myself for hitting Henri with the tray, I cursed myself for going with Erard to the meeting, I cursed myself for spreading my legs for him like a cheap whore. I cursed myself for letting those French words penetrate my defenses when no English ones could have done. But most of all, I cursed myself for daring, even for a second, to believe a man could want a woman like me.

I ran through the park—I don’t know what I was looking for, maybe a quiet place, maybe a dry place. I just wanted to be away from everyone. I wanted to lie down somewhere dark and shelter for a thousand years while the shame died away. I’d let him come inside me! I’d done something I’d never done with any man before, and there was a very real possibility that now I was—was— I swallowed. I couldn’t even say the word in my head.

I staggered along a jogging path, almost out of breath, and finally slowed to a stop. The rain had cleared everyone else from the park, so at least there was no one to see my humiliation.

I sat down on the path, my head in my hands, and gave myself up to huge, wracking sobs. Everything was ruined. Even my sucky job would now be worse, because I’d had a glimpse—just a glimpse—of a different life. Now I had to go back to being alone.

The sound of the rain changed. It wasn’t hitting the path in front of me, anymore. It was bouncing off something else.

I slowly opened my eyes.

Erard was standing in front of me, naked except for a hotel towel around his waist.

“I’d offer you a towel,” he said in English. “But it’s quite wet.”

I looked down at his bare feet. He crouched down in front of me to get in my eye line.

“The thing I want least in the world,” he said, “is to make you cry.”

“Why did you lie to me, then?” I said, forcing it out through my tears.

He took a deep breath. “I
am
a count. Henri
is
my translator. I do need him in meetings—it gives me thinking time. I didn’t tell you I spoke English because—“ He flushed. “Because I wanted an excuse to be with you.”

I finally lifted my head a little. “That doesn’t change what you did. You should have pulled out.”

He took my face between his hands. “And if I’d thought you really wanted me to, I would have, but….” He searched my face.

I tried to twist away, embarrassed, but he held me there. “You didn’t want me to pull out, did you?” he asked.

I couldn’t lie to him. I shook my head.

“Holly,” he said carefully, “I didn’t pull out because—
Jesus
, this is difficult in English. Can I just speak French?”

I nodded.

“Because I love your curves just the way they are,” he told me in French. “They’re fantastic. Alluring. Sexual. And the only way I’d ever want to change them—the thing that drives me crazy—is for them to change because you’re carrying my child.”

My jaw dropped and I backed away from him.
“
You
wanted
to get me pregnant?!”

He nodded slowly.

“You don’t even know me!”

“I know enough. I know that you’re smart and kind and I know that you like me for who I am, not what I’m worth. You’re a good person, Holly. I don’t think you know how rare that is. And everything—
everything—
I said about your body is true.”

I shakily stood up. The rain had plastered my clothes to my skin. Without bra or panties, every curve of me was on display. “R—Really?” I asked doubtfully.

“
Yes!”
he told me.

A tiny flicker of hope inside me. I allowed it to grow.

“Life is too short not to be impulsive,” said Erard. “I want you. I want a child with you. And if you still want to be with me, I’ll show you how much I love your body. And I’ll never lie to you again.”

I took a hesitant step forward and then another. And then he was pulling me into his arms, my soaked body against his, and kissing me hard and deep.

Rain was flowing down our faces, running over our lips as mashed them together, rolling over our eyes as we squeezed them tight shut.