Unbearable Passion - Book 2: French Kiss (Romantic Erotica For Women Series) (4 page)

That’s the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever experienced with a man. My body is so overtaken by the explosive sensations that I can’t move for what seems like an eternity. I lay my exhausted body on top of his head while he caresses my back.

“Are you okay or did I push you too far?”

I lift my head to meet his gaze and offer a smile of pure satisfaction.

“No, not at all. You’ve made my body feel pleasure like never before. I’m so satisfied sexually right now there are no words, but this level of climax is very new to me and I think you caught my body and mind off guard.”

“Well, if you cannot keep up, I can slow things down, you know.”

“Nah, I’ll catch up fine.”

Chapter 3

After our morning romp, he allows me to soak in the moment by leaving me alone in my room while he gets dressed. When I get out of the shower, a note lies on the bed next to his selection of French lingerie for me on the first day.

“I’ll be at the
Camélia
café getting ready for the day and I’ll see you there by seven-fifteen. I’ll be waiting impatiently all day knowing that under your suit, you’ll be wearing these. I haven’t seen you in black underwear yet and I’m getting hard just thinking about it. I’m sure you brought a lot of beautiful clothes from New York, but I took the liberty of getting you a few new pieces. Hope you like them. See you soon. Bryce.”

He’s selected a black lace bra with a motif of butterfly wings. Each wing covers a nipple and only when I snap the front closure can I appreciate the full effect. I take time to apply my makeup and sleek back my hair. I want to embody the perfect executive assistant. I look at the black suit Bryce selected for me and gasp when I see the label: Dolce & Gabbana Milano. When I slip into the perfectly tailored suit, I’m shocked at how well it fits my petite and curvaceous body.

He has me all figured out, it seems.

Bryce is already sitting at a table at the
Camélia
café located at the lobby of the hotel and at precisely ten past seven I walk inside the café to meet him. Bryce immediately gets up, smiles and takes me in. Instantly I know I’ve hit the mark.

“Yellow high-heel shoes with a black suit? Sexy.”

I bought these yellow Louboutin shoes when I was out shopping for the gala. I figured since he wired so much money, I might as well grab a few extra items for future evenings with him.

“In Paris, you can be this daring,” I say, secretly proud of the effect I have on him.

We have a brief meeting over a scrumptious French breakfast before heading out to our first meeting. I’ve never navigated the streets of Paris by car during rush hour—I’ve relied on their efficient public transportation or taxis—and this is a new experience for me as we relax at the back of a chauffeured Mercedes Benz.

We arrive at our first meeting at precisely eight-thirty am to meet with a trio of young heads of a widely successful high-tech start-up. After shaking hands and touring their impressive modern office, we sit down inside the meeting room to talk business.

“Thank you so much for inviting us to your office. My assistant and I are looking forward to this day.”

“Quel plaisir de faire votre connaissance, Messieurs. C’est un honneur pour Monsieur Van Der Linden et moi-même d’être invités dans vos bureaux.”

The tech trio is as surprised as the chauffeur and the bellhop at the quality of my French. I can see how pleased that makes Bryce.

It’s a long, grueling morning of number-crunching, fact-sharing and analysis. We stop at one pm for lunch and this is the first time since arriving that I can rest my voice.

“Vous permettez que je fasse un petit tour à l’extérieur question de respirer un peu?”
I desperately need some air. I’ve spent the last four hours translating every single word back and forth and I have a headache.

“Mais bien sûr. Nous avons une superbe terrasse sur le toit, vous pouvez vous y reposer quelques instants. Ce doit être épuisant de traduire pendant quatre heures d’affilée.”
I nod in agreement and thank Gabriel, the tallest of the tech trio, and head to their rooftop terrace for some fresh air. As I pass Bryce, I offer a feeble smile and mouth, “I’ll be right back.”

This is magnificent!

The terrace looks like a little oasis. The walls are lined with cozy-looking grey sofas and it’s so charming how they’ve been paired with marble top tables and bistro chairs.

There’s a peaceful pond right in the middle and it’s only when I get close that I see seven beautiful koi fishes dancing together. The exotic plants that surround the terrace only add to the tranquility of this rooftop sanctuary.

Man, these tech moguls know how to live.

I sit on one of the lounge chairs with my eyes closed, soaking in the Parisian sunshine, when his hands rub my shoulders.

“Are you okay, Amanda?”

“Bryce, I hope I’m doing a good job down there?”

“That’s not the question I asked. I asked if you were okay.”

“Thanks for your concern. It’s a lot of work translating at that pace for such a long time. I just need a few minutes, a bit of lunch, a latte and I’ll be fully recharged.”

“Good. I was worried. You didn’t look too good when you left the room.”

“I’m feeling the jet lag. Thank God I have to translate. If you had asked me to sit at the meeting and take notes, I would have fallen asleep.”

He smiles as he slides one hand under my jacket to feel the lingerie he asked me to wear. “Nice. I can’t wait to see it on you later tonight.”

“Thanks for the lingerie and suit, Bryce. They are perfect. I’ve wanted to thank you since this morning, but couldn’t find a time where we were alone.”

“No need to thank me. I take a lot of pleasure in seeing you in the clothes and just feeling your breast covered with the lace bra makes my cock hard.” He slides his hand up to the back of my neck, pulls my hair back and murmurs in my ear, “Let’s get back to the meeting,” while kissing my earlobe.

The catered lunch gives me a boost of energy and the latte perks me up. We’re back to the grind and hammer out for another four high-paced hours a deal that could represent several hundreds of millions of dollars in additional revenue for Bryce’s already successful company by the end of the week.

I wish my business transactions had been this smooth and successful.

I most likely wouldn’t have found myself here in Paris playing the role of an escort-slash-translator if they had.

Bryce is an astute businessman and it’s obvious after a few hours of translation that, although he might not have fully mastered French, he has such a keen intuition that he can guess the objections the French might voice and he always has a brilliant reply for me to translate.

“Monsieur Van Der Linden and Madame Hardy, this has been a great day for François, Mathis and me. We will discuss and give you an answer before the end of the week. Perhaps we should book an immediate meeting to conclude.” Gabriel thanks us with a thick French accent and his English flows mechanically.

Bryce smiles wide as he pulls out his iPhone to book a lunch meeting on Friday with the tech trio. Gabriel seems ready to sign the deal and his partners seem to also feel confident about moving forward.

“Madame Hardy, it was a pleasure to have you as the translator. You have done a superb job and we know it must have been quite tiring. We have asked Gaëlle, our secretary, to run out to get you a little French thank you.” Mathis’s English is as academic as Gabriel’s, but he’s sweet nonetheless. Gaëlle approaches me and hands me a large bouquet of colorful flowers and a big box of pastries.

“We hope you’ll enjoy them with Monsieur Van Der Linden.”

I feel myself blushing in the face of such unexpected gratitude and kindness. “Oh, that’s not necessary, Mathis, but thank you so much. The flowers are so beautiful.” I dart a quick glance in Bryce’s direction and he seems genuinely impressed.

“You will like the desserts. We have an extraordinary pastry shop that rivals any
Ladurée
shop near our office. They were the ones who prepared our delicious lunch.”

After a few more parting words of politeness and gratitude, Bryce and I are sitting at the back of our chauffeured Benz heading in the direction of our hotel. It takes him a long time to break the silence. As he turns his eyes towards me, he weighs his words.

“You impressed the heck out of me, Amanda,” he says with a beaming smile. “I mean, Todd said you spoke French, but I didn’t realize you had such a good business head on you. What on earth are you…”

Bryce stops in mid-sentence because he realizes what he was about to say. I figured this would come up eventually. I don’t have to pretend I’m dumb because I’m an escort for hire. I’m not upset by his observation. He’s simply stating the truth. The only missing part is the story that led me to make the decision to work for Todd. I unlock my eyes from his and look down at my big box of French pastries.

“It’s a long and complicated story that involves me making some pretty bad business decisions,” I reply in a shy voice.

I feel so embarrassed by my past, sitting in this luxury vehicle, chauffeured by a Frenchman, bound for an outrageously pricey hotel room I could never in my life afford. The only reason I’m here is because I’m willing to become someone I never thought I’d ever become.

Bryce senses my discomfort and squeezes my hand tighter. “Whatever it is, I can make it go away.”

“Thanks, Bryce. It might be too late.” I can’t help but curl my lips in disgust at the thought of Brad Keller running around Monaco in a Ferrari thanks to the money he stole from me. There isn’t much Bryce or anyone else can do now.

“Amanda, when you’re ready to tell me, I can help you. I run the largest Internet security firm in the world and I can tap into the most influential people at will. If someone has caused you harm, I can go after them. There’s nowhere on this planet they can hide from my network.”

I really want to believe Bryce, but the heaviness of my situation prevents me from believing that even someone with his wealth and influence can catch Brad Keller and bring him to justice.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Bryce. I’m just not ready now.”

“Take your time, but the longer you let this go the harder it will be to go after the bad guys.”

He’s searching my eyes for answers and I fight back the tears to avoid opening a Pandora’s box I never want to open again. I tighten my lips and nod to let him know that I understand, but I’m too choked up to speak.

After a few minutes of silence, I’m able to compose myself again and open my box of sweets to look at the selection.

“Oh, my God! They bought all the best French pastries. Which one do you want to try, Bryce?”

“Which one do you recommend?” He sees that my mood has changed and becomes more playful.

“I love the lavender
religieuse
and I see they bought two of those, so let’s each have one.”

“What is a
reli
… I can’t even pronounce what I’m about to eat.”

I look at him, amused. There aren’t too many things in life Bryce doesn’t master. He might be an incredible businessman and a phenomenal lover, but his language skills are definitely his weakness.

“You find me funny?”

“Yes, you are funny right now. It’s a
religieuse.
It’s a
pâte à choux.
”

“Translation, please. Can you speak English? Or at least American?” he says, cocking his head to the side while he curls up his lips in a smile.

“It’s
a light pastry dough that’s the same as the one used to make doughnuts, but
instead of frying them,
you bake them. The pastry is filled with
crème pâtissière
—custard cream—and topped with a flavored glaze. In Paris they come in a variety of flavors like rose, coffee, lavender, chocolate, caramel and vanilla. Lavender has always been my favorite and it’s the rarest one, because not too many pastry shops sell it.”

“That sounded a bit complicated, so I’ll trust you. Lavender
reli
—whatever they’re called—it is.”

We relish the French desserts at the back of the Benz and I can tell from his expression that he enjoys the dessert. I eat my
religieuse
with so much gusto that I end up with c
rème pâtissière
all over my hand. I’m about to lick it off when Bryce grabs my wrist and says, “Let me do it.”

He grabs my hand and sensually licks the dessert off. He then leans towards me and whispers in my ear, “It’s not your hand I want to lick, but I’ll have to wait until later for that.”

“Ooohhh,” I gasp. “Don’t say things like that, you’ll get me all wet.”

* * *

As we ride back to our rooms, I think fondly of the nice quiet evening ahead after a long day. I look forward to freshening up and going out for dinner or maybe ordering room service.

Bryce is busy answering a text message on his phone.

“We’re invited for dinner at my friend Mariella’s home, or should I say Contessa Mariella Borini Mozzetti? She’s in Paris and she insists on us having dinner tonight.”

“Us?” I ask, perplexed.

“I’ve told a few friends who travel in and out of Paris on a regular basis that I’m in the city with a drop-dead-gorgeous and super-smart friend of mine. The Contessa wants to meet you.”

“She’s a real Contessa?” I ask, as we enter Bryce’s room.

“She is. She’s related to the former President of France’s second wife. When Nicolas Sarkozy was in power, Mariella had the most lavish parties and it was as if she owned Paris. She knows everyone in the French political arena and she’s also a friend of the top businesspeople in the city. She comes from an extremely rich family and married a count who was twenty-three years her elder. He passed away a few years after they married and left her everything, to the dismay of his grown children. She’s by far the most extravagant and the richest woman I know. She can buy anything and anyone she wants.”