“Oh god.” I moaned, arching against his hand.
“Well, you had your panties on,” he stated softly.
His index finger flirted with my soaked core. I sighed, ready to really let go.
That’s when he smirked against my mouth and added, “They were just around your ankles.”
Mortified, I moved my head away from him, but he chased me and had the advantage of sight. His hungry lips captured mine while two of his long fingers thrust inside my pussy.
Hearing his groan deep in his throat, I wrapped my arms around his neck as he hoisted me up. His free hand moved under my ass, pulling me toward him tightly, so I was wedged between the wall and his fingers pushing deep inside of me. He dragged his mouth away from mine.
In a voice that sounded strained and stretched beyond its limits, he said, “God, Chantel, your hungry little cunt is always so eager.”
His words washed over me. He started to rhythmically move his fingers in and out of me.
“Yes, Beauty, surrender. That’s right,” he murmured with his lips on my ear. “Give yourself to me.”
I opened my eyes while he continued to finger me.
“Your eyes are so fucking beautiful. Keep them on me. Keep them where my voice is, and I’ll tell you everything you would see.”
I focused on his voice and let him take me over.
“You’d see a man who can’t keep his eyes away from you and can’t keep his hands off you. You’d see someone who wants to be your lover…” He punctuated his last word with a deep thrust of his fingers. “Your friend…” With another thrust, the sounds of his fingers pushing through my slick folds filled the space. “Your confidant…” He bit my earlobe before his fingers started fucking me fast and hard. “Your everything, Chantel. I’ll beeverythingyou need.”
His hips were moving as if he were inside of me, and in a sense, he was. He crawled deep into my soul and staked his claim.
“You would that see I am yours, and you are mine.”
With that, I felt my body clasp around his fingers, and I screamed his name, the intensity of it echoing down the hall for anyone to hear.
I never did get my surprise, but what I did get, I planned to hang on to forever.
Eighteen
FLEUVE SAUVAGE DE FLEURS
Day 13
I DID EVERYTHING I could to avoid seeing Phillipe today. In all honesty, I’m not ready to face him after the way he so coolly dismissed me last night. My pride is still wounded, and I know the best thing for me is avoidance. Instead of sitting for him, I have spent the day organizing my notes and typing up some key points on my laptop.
Having just awoken from a nap, I stare at the ceiling in silence. As the sun disappears and the night begins to engulf the chateau, I get up and start to wrap up for the day. Yesterday evening took a lot out of me, not only physically but mentally. I’m actually starting to believe that I’mseeingandhearingthings. I’m tired, and it’s becoming more and more obvious that I’m far too close to the man at the center of this story.
A loud knock startles me from my troubling thoughts, so I temporarily shelve them. Making my way to the door, I straighten the red blouse and open the door to a sober-looking Phillipe. He’s changed from yesterday’s jeans and is now back in all black—black slacks and a black button-up shirt with longsleeves. The coat I saw him in earlier is hanging over his arm, and he has one palm on the doorjamb.
“Evening, Gemma.”
I somehow find my voice. “Good evening.”
Taking his palm off the jamb, he steps forward. I automatically step aside to let him into the small space that I have been occupying since I arrived nearly two weeks earlier.
I watch his broad shoulders as he advances toward the window. When he reaches it and looks out, I know the view he will see. I instantly feel guilty, as though he’ll know that I watched him down in the arbor earlier this afternoon.
He clasps his hands behind his back, his coat wedged between his wrist and his back. Without turning, he informs me, “We’re going for a walk. I suggest you put on some shoes.”
“Where are we going?” I ask quietly.
As he turns to face me, I move over to the small closet and bend down to grab my shoes.
