My Naughty Little Secret (5 page)

He led me over to a red Mercedes convertible with French license plates and held the passenger door open. He shut the top to protect my hair and clothes. The journey into town was fairly stiff. I tried to worm it out of him where we were headed, but all he would give me was that we were parking at his apartment and getting a taxi to our next destination. Work seemed to be a no-go area once again. Thank Christ for the stereo system. He had an eighties mix on his mp3 player and it was really good. I just had to be careful not to sing along; I didn’t want to scare him off. Finally the journey was done; forty-five minutes can seem a hell of a long time when you’re stuck in a car with one other person and neither of you knows what to say.

When we arrived at his apartment, he pulled into the underground car-park. He opened the door to the apartment, then stood back to let me in. I was contemplating teasing him about his perfect manners when he took me firmly in his arms and pushed me against the wall, kissing me hard. Manners, my arse! That fairly took my breath away. I was trembling with desire, wanting more, when he abruptly pulled back.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he apologised in a raspish voice.

“S’ok, it was pretty nice,” was all I could think of.

Lame, I know, but it didn’t seem appropriate to say
don’t be sorry, that was shit hot,
on a first date. But fuck, it
was
passionate and very, very hot.

“I’ve wanted to do that to you since the first time I saw you, and today you look really beautiful,” he said.

Not giving me a chance to reply, he pulled out his mobile phone and called for a cab. I was reeling, physically and emotionally. All this time I thought he was scathing of me. I had no idea.

“Cab’ll be fifteen minutes,” he said, snapping his phone off. “Can I get you a glass of wine?”

“Please, or brandy,” I teased.

Ah, a genuine smile. I knew there had to be a sense of humour hiding in there somewhere.

“Red or white?”

I opted for red and he opened a bottle of Chateauneuf-Du-Pape, pouring just one glass. Jesus, this was a man with expensive tastes: Chateauneuf-Du-Pape, a Mercedes convertible, and renting a large apartment in Knightsbridge, all by himself. Where did all the money come from? He must be on some dough at work, I thought. He was a complete enigma; I wondered how much would be resolved before the evening was out, but I doubted it would be much. I wanted him to kiss me like that again, but he behaved impeccably. We stuck to neutral topics as I sipped my wine. For the first time ever, I felt quite at ease in his company and amazingly, he was quite a good conversationalist—well-read and informed. Just as we were starting to break the ice, the buzzer announced the arrival of the taxi.

Michael pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to the taxi driver, so I still didn’t know where we were going. I had to hand it to him; he was good at this surprise thing. It was only when we pulled up outside the Ritz that I knew what was happening. We were booked in to an early dinner and he had something else up his sleeve, but he wasn’t telling.

After a glass of champagne, we were shown to our table. I chose a
foie gras
starter followed by a seafood medley. Michael selected escargot and veal. The food was wonderful, and after another glass of wine, Michael was loosening up. I had just commented on how impressed I was that he had managed to get a table here with such short notice, when out of the blue he announced, totally off topic:

“I’m not sure whether I’ll stay in Banbury’s or England; that’s why I’ve been keeping out of your way. I didn’t want to start something with you, not knowing what I’m at.”

“What do you mean, you might not stay?” I asked.

“Well, I have a six-month contract, to see how it goes, both for me and for Banbury’s. I’m not sure about working in England, or about the store itself. It’s all so different. I came mainly to please my mother.”

I couldn’t believe that he was capable of saying that much about himself and unprompted too. I learned that his parents had both pushed him into the move, and that he had reluctantly gotten six months leave of absence from his job in Paris. He told me a little about growing up in France, and that he was an only child shared between four parents and stepparents in all. It seemed that he got on well with both his stepparents. I was beginning to realise there was a nice side to him when he let it show. The main courses had arrived and I was tucking into my seafood medley with gusto.

“I love fish, it makes me think of home,” I said. “I grew up in a seaside village near Sligo town and the fish was always so fresh and tasty. Even the humble mackerel tastes great when it’s just out of the sea.”

“Mackerel tastes good?” he disputed, pulling a face. “Maybe you’ll have to bring me there to prove it.”

“Stalking alert,” I warned. My face must have registered quite a bit of shock because he started to explain himself:

“I’m kidding, Siobhan, I know we only know each other for a few weeks. I’m not a crazy stalker, in spite of what you think. I sent you the flowers because I had been an ass and wasn’t looking where I was going. Then when you laughed, instead of giving me the rollicking I deserved, I felt worse. I got your address from James after I told him what happened.”

“Ok, well, thanks, and sorry for being so touchy; it’s just you always seemed to be so disapproving of me.” I gave what I hoped was an apologetic smile.

“Disapproving? How?” He genuinely seemed surprised.

“I dunno; you always seem to be frowning when you look at me.”

“Maybe it was myself I was frowning at! I had to keep telling myself to back off. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”

What could I say to that? I was spared the necessity of a reply as the waiter arrived with the dessert menu, which we both declined. We moved on to our next destination, again Michael giving the address to the driver on a piece of paper.

“How many of those have you got in your pockets?” I giggled.

“Last one. Next cab is home.”

We pulled up outside a theatre. The billboards were showing
Phantom of the Opera
and I could barely contain my glee. I’d always wanted to see it, but had never been able to talk any of the girls into coming. As he gave me his hand to help me out of the taxi, I squeezed it in gratitude and excitement. He responded by kissing me chastely on the lips as I stood upright, but there was a promise in that kiss.

The show was just as magical as I expected and to my shame I couldn’t help the tears that rolled down my cheeks. Tissues, damn, I knew I’d forgotten something, but I felt a soft cotton handkerchief being pressed into my hand.

When the show was over, we hailed a cab. Michael gave his address, and I was wondering what he expected next, but he quickly reassured me. “I’ve only had a couple of drinks and that was hours ago. I’ll drop you home after a nightcap, if that’s ok with you?”

Well, at least I was being asked this time; well, sort of. He had the given his address, but I had a way out. Yet again I found I liked the decision being taken out of my hands. It made life easier. My nerves were on edge as we entered his apartment. Without offering, he poured me another glass of wine.

“Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?” I teased.

“If I’m taking advantage of you, I want you sober,” he said, taking the glass he had just handed me back and placing it on the coffee table. He sat on the sofa beside me and pulled me over onto his lap and kissed me. And I mean
kissed.
His mouth was pressed firmly down on mine and he held me tightly in his arms. I doubt I could have escaped if I tried. But I didn’t try. I returned the kiss with as much fervour as he. Lord, could he kiss. I could faintly taste wine on his breath, and the masculine smell of Paco Rabanne and musk filled my senses. Again, all too soon he stopped. I looked at him, confused.

“Can I let down your hair?” he asked. What the hell? I wondered; what a strange request. I nodded and he started fishing around, pulling the hair grips out one by one. When it was dismantled, he ran his fingers through it as best he could, obstructed by the half a can of hairspray that had been holding it in place, stretching it down over my shoulders.

“Stand up,” ordered Michael, the schoolmaster reappearing.

I stood up and faced him. Then he told me to turn a full circle. This was getting a bit embarrassing.

“It’s beautiful; you shouldn’t keep it tied back all the time.” He grabbed my hand and gently pulled me back down on the sofa, on him. As he was kissing me, I could feel his hands searching my dress, looking for a zip. I chuckled smugly, I knew this dress had been a good choice. The only way it would come off was over my head, with my cooperation.

He kissed and bit my neck and the shivers ran down my spine. I slipped my hand inside his shirt. His skin felt smooth, taut, and lovely. I could feel the desire searing through me.

“Will you stay?” he asked huskily.

I nodded my assent and he stopped molesting me again, this time to insist I texted the girls to let them know I wouldn’t be home. I tried to tell him they’d be too busy with their own Saturday nights to notice or care, but he was having none of it.

“Just tell them,” he persisted.

Jesus, I seemed to spend a lot of time following his orders and I didn’t even work for him. He wasn’t finished yet; as I put down the phone, he told me to take off my dress. I wasn’t even tempted to object; I wanted this as much as he did. As I lifted the silk over my head, I heard him gasp.

“
Fuck
, you bought it.” It was the first time I’d ever heard him swear and I smirked. I made Michael Henrii lose control. Now that
was
a good feeling! He made his way over to me and I hurriedly kicked off my shoes. I could see where this was heading and I didn’t want to be tripping across my heels. I should have saved myself the bother, as he scooped me up in his arms and carried me into his bedroom, ignoring my squeals of protest.

Placing me gently on the bed, he started kissing all down my neck, pushing down my underwear with his hands exposing my breasts. My nipples were already hard buds of desire and his fingers gently rolled them, causing exquisite pangs of pleasure to travel all the way south. I could feel the moisture forming in my sex. My breathing was starting to sound like an out-of-control asthmatic. I wanted him like I had never wanted anyone before. My very core was screaming for him. I tried to move to undress him.

“Be still or I’ll stop, Siobhan,” he scolded.

I had no control. He was calling all the shots and it was incredible. He paused for long enough to remove my underwear, and I expected him to undress himself, but no. He was back on top of me; I could feel the hard bulge of his erect penis pushing against me and I knew how badly he wanted me too. Over and over between kisses, he told me I was beautiful. I even felt beautiful. His mouth travelled slowly from mine, down to my nipples, pausing long enough to tease and nip them, causing more moisture and an aching empty feeling between my legs.

Fuck
, he was good. I was arching my hips with hunger when I felt his mouth finally reach me. Ooh, it was a long cold drink of water in the desert. He worked my clitoris with his tongue, first slowly and gently and then, in response to my writhing, fast and firm. I felt his fingers finally penetrate my pussy and immediately felt my release as the tension he had worked up exploded like fireworks. And that was only the starter.

Finally he undressed himself. I lay on the bed, recovering and admiring. He was so lean and muscular and tanned. Sexy as hell with a stiff hard penis proudly standing to attention. Jesus, I wanted to feel that inside me, then and there. As he joined me in the bed, I rose to a sitting position and pushed him down. He protested, but it was my turn to get bossy. I wanted to taste him, all over. I started with his chest and the smells of deodorant and aftershave fought with the masculine taste, but the further down I went, the better he tasted. I too nipped his nipples, though he feebly complained, so I moved on quickly. I trailed my tongue and lips along his navel, lingering even longer than I wanted to, just to increase the anticipation. Then I kissed the engorged tip of his penis and lightly licked down the shaft. There was a small droplet of silky moisture sitting on the top. I gently smeared it over the head of his cock with my finger, savouring the velvety soft texture. I lightly rubbed the nubs just under the foreskin. I heard him gasp as I finally took him in my mouth. The scent of musk and his sex was divine. I was working his penis with my mouth and using my hand at the base of his cock to add to his pleasure. The tension was building, and if he had gotten any harder he’d have burst. Just as I was about to make him come, I felt him roughly push me away.

“No, not the first time; I want to fuck you first.”

He pushed me back on the bed and he fumbled hurriedly in his bedside locker, pulling out a condom. He rolled it on carefully, and just before he penetrated me, he paused and asked my permission. I could hardly hold in the giggles, like I had any choice at this stage, after what he had done to me. He had set me on fire.

“Yes, please, inside me, now,” I rasped in desperation.

I was lying on my back with my body arched to meet his. His shaft felt hard and delicious as it forced its way into my hot, wet, aching crevice, finally sating my need. My knees were trembling as he thrust it in and out, first slowly, then more surely.

“Faster, harder,” I begged, needing to feel him completely fill me.

We soon found our own joint rhythm and we moved in unison. Then he alternated the rhythm slow and fast, until I could feel my orgasm building. As if he had known my body forever, he expertly brought me to the edge of reason. He continued to increase the tempo. Just as well he was fit! When I was ready, he increased the pace yet more and together we shouted in triumph before his body collapsed on mine.

We lay there, drowsily content for a few moments, but then I had to move; crikey, he was heavy. I lay with my head on his chest, deeply content. I’d never experienced sex like that before. I wanted to do it all over again. What on earth had happened to me? I knew if I got half a chance, I’d be back for more. But would I get that chance? Had I screwed it up by being too easy? I really hoped not.