Page 41 of Bought and Enjoyed

“Come here,” I said, gesturing for them to approach. They shuffled forward hesitantly, exchanging wary glances. I could see the muscles in their jaws working as they clenched their teeth, bracing for whatever punishment they imagined was coming.

“You’re right, you know,” I said softly, my eyes flickering between them. “Alice is… different.”

Leo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, while Tomas tilted his head curiously. Even Hervé, who had been pretending to busy himself with arranging massage oils, paused to listen.

“Different how?” Leo ventured, his natural curiosity overcoming his caution.

I closed my eyes for a moment, picturing Alice’s face. The way her cheeks flushed when I praised her, the defiant spark in her eyes just before she submitted to my will. The soft curve of her lips, the delicate arch of her neck. When I opened my eyes again, I found all three men watching me intently.

“She’s intelligent,” I began, my voice taking on a warmth I rarely allowed others to hear. “Not just book-smart, thoughshe certainly is that. She has a quick wit, a sharp mind. She challenges me in ways I didn’t expect.”

Leo glanced at the other two, then back at me.

“It’s… serious, then?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“It may be,” I told them.

Alice

I sat in the seminar room, my wavy chestnut hair pulled back in a messy bun. The soft fabric of my skirt brushed against my thighs, a constant reminder of the plug nestled in my sensitive bottom. I shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a position that didn’t send jolts of sensation through my body with every movement. The cool wood of the chair pressed against my bare skin, Lucas’ command to forgo panties echoing in my mind.

Professor Durand’s voice droned on about the social hierarchy of fourteenth-century peasant communities, but I found it nearly impossible to focus. Lucas Moreau had shattered my usual determined concentration, replacing it with an acute awareness of every sensation in my body. The plug seemed to throb in time with my heartbeat, a constant reminder of my submission to the man who kept me.

I bit my lip, desperately trying to keep my expression neutral as another wave of arousal washed over me. My thighs clenched involuntarily, and I had to stifle a gasp as the movement caused the plug to shift inside me. Heat flooded my cheeks as I imaginedwhat my classmates would think if they knew what was hidden beneath my demure exterior.

A sudden movement to my left caught my attention. Louise Montreuil, one of my fellow students, was staring at me intently, her dark eyes narrowed in concentration. Her sleek bob framed her angular face, giving her a sharp, sophisticated look that always made me feel slightly frumpy in comparison.

Professor Durand called forla pause—the mid-seminar break. As I reached into my bag for the end of a baguette I’d brought for a snack, I saw that Louise’s eyes had remained fixed on me.

I tried to avoid that dark gaze as I pulled out my piece of beloved, perfect Parisian bread, but I could feel her eyes boring into me. The crackle of the paper bag seemed deafening in the quiet room as students began to file out for the break. I took a small bite, the usually delicious bread tasting like sawdust in my dry mouth.

“So.” Louise’s crisp voice cut through the air, making me jump slightly. “You’re the one.”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet her piercing gaze. “I’m sorry?” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

Louise’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. “Don’t play coy, Alice. I saw the photos inLe Parisienthis morning. You and Lucas Moreau, looking quite cozy for the cameras.”

Heat flooded my cheeks as I recalled the encounter with the paparazzi. I shifted in my seat, acutely aware of the plug inside me, a secret reminder of just how ‘cozy’ Lucas and I had become.

“It’s not… We’re not…” I stammered, unsure how to explain my complicated relationship with Lucas.

Louise leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Listen, I know it must be exciting. A famous footballer, all that money and attention. But trust me, you’re making a huge mistake.”

I blinked, taken aback by her blunt assessment. “What do you mean?”

Louise’s dark eyes flashed with an odd mixture of emotions—concern and disdain somehow keeping company in a single glance. She leaned in closer, her sleek bob swinging forward as she lowered her voice. “Alice, you can’t be serious. Everyone knows that of all the chauvinistic male athletes out there, Lucas Moreau is the worst.”

I felt my cheeks flush, a prickle of defensiveness rising in my chest. “That’s not true,” I protested weakly, even as I realized how little I actually knew about Lucas’ public persona. Football news was hard to come by in America, and I’d been far more focused on my studies than on following European sports stars.

Louise’s perfectly arched eyebrow rose skeptically. “Oh? And I suppose you know him so well after what, a few days?” She shook her head, her voice taking on a tone of exasperated concern. “He’s well known for his archaic views on gender roles. The man practically thinks women should be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”

I squirmed in my seat, the plug shifting inside me as I moved. The physical reminder of my submission to Lucas sent a confusing mixture of arousal and shame coursing through me. “That’s not fair,” I argued, my voice sounding weak even to my own ears. “Lucas is… he’s…” I trailed off, unsure how to defend a man I was still getting to know.

Louise’s lips curled into a sneer. “He’s what? Charming? Handsome?” She switched to English to drive her point home. “Drrrreamy?”

She reached into her bag and pulled out her sleek smartphone, its glossy screen reflecting the fluorescent lights of the seminar room. With quick, decisive movements, she tapped and swiped until she found what she was looking for.

“Here,” she said, thrusting the phone in front of my face. “Read this and tell me again how ‘unfair’ I’m being.”

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