Page 11 of A Royally Fake French Menage
I stopped at the corner of the hallway that led to my wing of the house. “You’re not jealous?”
She laughed, a musical sound that wound its way through the scarred holes in my soul. “No, Barclay. Why should I? It’s fake,remember?” Genie turned in a circle, frowning at the plethora of doors that all appeared the same and down an identical hallway branching off the first. “Is it this way?” She pointed down the hall.
“Not like it was when I offered,” I muttered. “Third on the left,” I called out as a broad, strong hand slipped around my waist from behind, pulling me into an empty study reserved for my private use.
I yanked at the too-tight collar of my shirt as Jacques shut the door and flicked the lock, a hungry expression on his face.
“I’ve missed you, my lord,” he whispered, stalking forward.
His hands framed my face and his mouth crashed down. My ex-lovers kiss was violent and dominating as I remembered. A large hand gripped my thickening cock through my trousers as he worked me hard. Guilt bombarded me. For the first time ever I had to drown the urge to push out of Jacques’s arms and run after Genie.
Fake. It’s all fake.
Every second of it.
Nothing about this is real. He wants a job. He wants a raise. He wants–
Me.
Lie, lie, lie.
Ah, fuck it.
Another thing I drowned in as Jacques’s hand slid inside my slacks and pumped me roughly enough that I was ready to spill seconds later.
It doesn’t matter.
She approves.
A deep groan built in my throat. Jacques’s mouth found mine again as he grabbed a wad of tissues and stuffed them inside my pants seconds before I disgraced myself. I sagged in his arms with a groan I felt to the tingling curve of my emptied ball sack.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, nuzzling my throat as he cleaned me tenderly, and dropped to his knees.
The sight of him below me was too much, and my cock hardened again at his siren call.
I shouldn't?—
She doesn’t care?—
And with Jacques’s eyes on mine as he took the head of my cock between his lips, cleaning and sucking me at once. I let all thought of Genie, my guilt, and everything else dissipate as I sank into the pure pleasure of the sort of worship only this man could give who knew every secret and every desire I possessed.
The man I’d left behind and shattered his heart so long ago.
The man who knelt for me now.
And as I laced my hands through the dominant valet’s hair, working myself against his throat as I moaned, I knew I had to both trust him, and not. Because I’d broken his heart and run from him once before.
And Jacques never forgot.
Or forgave.
CHAPTER FIVE
JACQUES
Ipretended not to care about the girl that the man I loved had brought home with him for the first time in nearly three years. I pretended not to care about the girl he hadn’t fucked in the back of his stepmother’s car, though it had been a close thing from how both of them clung to each other as they escaped Monique’s talons at the top of the house’s steps.
And I pretended not to care about the way Barclay’s hands clawed needily at my hair as he came in my mouth. My lord pulled me onto his cock with the sort of strangled sigh that told me he hadn’t been taking care of himself the way I made him promise the day he left La Borde. The day of his father’s funeral when I made him promise that he would take care of himself when I wasn’t there to do it for him.
