Page 7 of A Royally Fake French Menage
“Is that so?” I caught her exploring fingers in a loose cage, stopping her motions before we ended up fucking like a pair of ferals in the back of my stepmother’s car. "Do you know me that well?"
Despite crushing on the girl for the past full semester, I’d barely spoken to her outside one drunken—and brief—bump and grind at a Kingsman party earlier in the year. I couldn’t remember the end of the song, or even what played that night.
"Not enough. Not yet." Genie licked her lips as she toyed with my fingers. Her touch remained light, still teasing, though the slightest tremble beneath promised me that this encounter had higher stakes for her than she let on as she laced ours together.
I tipped my head down, freeing one arm to stretch out across the back of the seat. Genie pressed into my side, making it all too easy to graze my knuckles over the arch of her shoulders, back and forth over sweet, lightly floral scented skin.A handful of hours together, and I swear I’m already addicted to her.Perhaps she was better at this than I gave her credit for.
Or maybe I was just that out of practice. America had made me soft.
One of her pink nailed hands dropped to the buttons that she hadn’t touched yet just above my waist.Okay, so not that soft.
“Maybe we should start with a good fuck.” Otherwise, I’d never be able to think once she was in the house where I last?—
I squeezed my eyes shut at the memory of too many hands on my body, stroking and playing in all the ways that I loved most. The mere memory ofhistouch, his orchestrated night left me close to disgracing myself in the Bugatti’s backseat. My eyes opened to find her watching me curiously.
"I think you're doing things in reverse, Barclay.” Her tone was reproving but not without a dollop of humor.
"Probably." I squeezed her gently, trying not to inhale her scent that went straight to my head. Either one. "You’re so soft. "
The driver’s eyes flickered across to meet mine in the rear view mirror. I instantly had no love for the man’s hard smile, or the knowledge I’d probably already tripped myself up in front of my stepmother’s favorite spy. At least, the one she fucked this week in order to gain the knowledge that she thought would get her the closest to my coveted bank account. That little indiscretion would cost me a pretty bribe before I even stepped foot on the estate.
Mydamn estate.
Becauseshelived there under the guise thatall was wellwhile I let her board for free. And all because an empty seat was a powerless seat. Not that I had the time nor the inclination to wield what I had right now, which was why I opted to enroll at Rippton. My father’s death gave me the perfect excuse to run away from the responsibilities I’d shirked and a place to hide my pretentious stamped behind instead of attending some Swiss Alps private college with a pack of princesses. At least at Rippton I vied for attention or not with a different variety of royalty.
Genie gave a little shimmy, rubbing that perfectly soft skin right up against me in a flurry of evidence. “I am the daughter of a cosmetics giant.”
"I think it might be more than that." I pressed my forehead lightly to hers. "My family is—" I closed my mouth, trying to find the right words to convey the mess she was about to step into while not alerting the spy in our midst to my preferred sort of bitching.
"As judgmental and horrific as mine?” She grinned up at me.
I huffed a laugh and tweaked her nose for the hell of it. “You're a breath of fresh air, Genie.”
"Only if you rub my bottle."
I groaned. "That was terrible. Can I beg no more genie jokes for the trip?"
"No way." She definitely wiggled her shoulders against me that time, along with some of her more natural assets. "They’re my favorite. And they make peoplereallyuncomfortable. A girl’s gotta have goals, and all."
“The Americanisms really have taken in. Your mother must love that.”
The one-shouldered shrug I was getting to know was her reply. “As long as I do her bidding, she doesn’t much care.”
A bark left me before I could school my features. Letting a sensual smile at all the things I’d do with my new littletoyfor the weekend stretch my features, I leaned my head against the buttery leather of the backseat and pulled her onto my lap. "You're such a little hell brat, aren't you?"
"Am I?" She returned to fiddling with the remnants of my necktie again. “I prefer the image of a kitten, playing around on a fluffy blanket, and shredding all the things that she just hates that day.” She stretched against me and scraped her short nails none too gently along my torso to prove her point.
Four of them, actually, that I swore I’d bear the marks of when I’d change later. Not that I minded all that much.
“Maybe we should keep that for when we’re…" I wanted to say,in the bedroom, but despite her wonderful brand of flirting, I didn't want to presume. “Alone?” I offered instead, all too conscious of the driver’s eye on her and not the road. Suddenly I wanted Genie to myself, and only myself.
Her lips pressed to my ear. "When you’re balls deep to the hilt inside my pretty little pussy?" Her breath tickled the sensitive flesh at my throat, and I released a breathy little moan without realizing the sound came from me for a moment. “That’s what you meant, right, Barclay? Or do you say it differently?"
I know a man who would.
But I’d banished him from my thoughts when I ran from the house last time, and left him behind, along with half of my heart, or maybe a decent part of my soul. Bringing the armor back was only a part of my penance. The rest would be paid in dealing with my mother’s weeping. I was certain I could bemoan the halls at some point. But right now, the pretty little thing on my lap deserved my attention.
And when in Rome…
