Futile Resistance Ch. 11

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"I don't expect you to forget that, French. It's impossible for me to forget it, too. When you told me all about your childhood it made me so angry that whoever your father was would leave you at the mercy of your mother. I still really can't believe that that heinous individual is none other than my father's best friend."

He was quiet for a minute, thinking of the past, of all the happy occasions the Hursts and Conals had shared. They weren't real to him anymore, though. Hurst was a fraud, had been keeping a terrible secret from all of them. He had had an ongoing affair with French's mother, but had never had contact with his daughter. He had to have known that Marcheline was a selfish woman and that she would be an equally selfish mother. But he hadn't cared. He hadn't cared that he was betraying his wife and their three children, his closest friends or, worst of all, his daughter.

"Listen, I'll tell you just what I told Hurst.You are my family. I loved Paddy," he said, "But, now that I know exactly who and what he is, I want nothing to do with him."

French's mind had gotten hung up back where he said he had talked to Hurst.

"You talked to Hurst about me?" she asked tentatively, wringing her hands nervously.

"Yeah. I told him I knew everything. He tried to deny it at first. Then he tried to justify what he did in the most reprehensible way. I told him he was a liar, a hypocrite and a pretty sorry excuse for a human being."

"You did?!" alarm tinged her voice.

"Yeah, I did. I found out, too, that he and your mother never stopped seeing each other," he said quietly, not sure how French would take the news.

"What?! You can't be serious... Maman always spoke of him so angrily. How could she be sleeping with him after what he did to us?"

"I am serious. I'm sorry if that hurts you. He told me that they had reached an 'understanding', a financial understanding from what I could tell. But he is oddly infatuated, almost obsessed, with your mother. When he talked about her, the look on his face was sort of dreamy and besotted. It was pretty creepy."

"This is unreal," French walked away from him. She felt betrayed all over again. Her mother had been seeing Hurst for all these years? A woman didn't have an affair for some thirty years and not develop some sort of feeling for her paramour. In typical fashion, her mother had put her own desires, her own feelings, before those of her daughter. She had known that, as a child, French had longed for her father. Instead of making sure that Hurst did the right thing or doing the right thing herself, Marcheline had sided with her lover, the deadbeat dad.

"I'm so tired of being hurt by my mother," she said sadly.

"I know, baby, and I'm so sorry she hurt you again. If you don't mind, can we talk about Marcheline a little later? Right now, I want you to know that I told Paddy to stay out of our lives, French. If I never set eyes on him again, it will be too soon. You don't have to worry about seeing him. You won't. And if you do, I'll be there."

"But... What will your parents think? Do they know about Hurst and me?"

"No, I haven't told them yet; we can tell them together. I can only guess at what they'll think, but I'm pretty sure that they'll side with us. When I called them to tell them I was coming here to bring you home after an argument, Mom wished me luck and told me how much she liked you and how she hoped to get to know you better. She dropped a very unsubtle hint about hoping to even out the family on a more permanent basis – a little more estrogen to balance out all the testosterone," he finished, referencing that his mother had raised two very masculine, mischievous sons who were the image of their father in looks and personality.

"I don't know that my dad will be able to just end his friendship with Hurst. They've been best friends their entire lives. I know he'll be as hurt by this as I was; so will Mom. I don't know how this will all shake out," he said thoughtfully.

"This affects Pam and their kids, too. It could get pretty messy if everyone finds out. But I know that Mom, Dad and Brian really like you; they think you're perfect for me. That's not going to change just because of what Paddy has done. It's not your fault and I'm sure that if it comes to it, you'll be the choice they make, French."

French didn't know what to say. No one had ever come to her defense before; no one had ever been on her side. For Aidan to have said that she was his family now elated her and made her feel scared at the same time. She didn't really know how to be a part of a family, day in and day out. She had spent time over the years with Marie-Josée, Tante Josephine and Uncle Bertrand in Martinique, of course, but that had been for only a few days or weeks at a time. With Aidan and the rest of the Conals, she was dealing with the rest of her life as a member of a family, every day, every night. It was almost overwhelming.

Aidan sensed that she was pulling away from him emotionally and gripped her shoulders, shook her a little.

"Hey, it's going to be fine, baby, don't worry. Trust me."

She looked at him, saw the sincerity and the love in his eyes, knew that she had to take the leap. It was now or never.

"I'm really scared, Aidan. I've never done this before."

"I haven't either, but I feel like I have to. No matter how hard you've tried to push me away, I haven't been able to let you go," he sounded chagrined to admit it.

"I'm glad," she said tearily. "I have to tell you something."

"Oh no, not again," he deadpanned.

French punched his shoulder playfully. She took a deep breath.Here goes nothing, she thought. "Um. Aidan, I think I... I think I'm in love with you," she finished in a rush.

"Youthink you're in love with me?" he asked in mock outrage, "After all this, you're still not sure?"

He began to tickle her, went straight for the sides of her waist where he knew she was most sensitive. She giggled and squirmed, trying to get away from him. She ran away from him toward the bedroom. He cornered her between the bed and the wall, then picked her up and dropped her lightly on the bed. He pounced on top of her and continued to tickle her, giving her raspberries on her neck whenever he got an opening.

Gradually, the tenor of their embrace changed. He did more caressing than tickling and the raspberries he'd given her neck became kisses. French looped her arms around his neck, brought his head down and sipped from his lips. They kissed lazily, taking their time, relaxed and content.

Aidan finally pulled away, "You think you love me?" he asked, serious this time.

French looked at him, feeling soft and warm inside. "I know I do. I love you."

The words rolled off her tongue easily this time and she felt good to have finally said them. Aidan kissed her leisurely, rolling onto his back so she was on top of him. He wrapped her tight in his arms, filled with contentment at the knowledge that they had the rest of their lives ahead of them. Relief burst through him. He'd finally won her! She had finally said the words and said them first. Deep down, he had known how she felt about him, but he had also known that she needed proof from him that he wasn't going to run out on her or use her. She had been fragile, skittish as an abused pup. He'd taken a few risks along the way, calling her on the carpet for her fearful behavior and pushing her past her comfort zones, but in the long run it had paid off.Finally, there are no obstacles in our way, he thought joyfully. But then he remembered...

He broke their kiss and cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Um, remember when I said earlier that we'd discuss Marcheline later?"

"Yes, why?"

"Well, I think I should tell you that I met her back in Boston."

"You met her? Oh, shit! I forgot she was coming! Oh, my God! Was she furious with me?" French jumped off the bed in a panic.

"Not at first..." Aidan hedged.

"Oh, my God! I can't believe I forgot about her! I was just so upset about the fight we had and I just completely forgot. How could I do that? Fuck, fuck,fuck!" she finished with feeling.

"Relax. I don't think it's that big of a deal. She was sitting on your stoop, wrapped up in a big fur coat and hat, when I stopped by. We got Mrs. H to open your apartment with your spare key."

"Thank God!" came her heartfelt reply, relief evident in her tone, "so she's OK?"

Aidan thought French's relief that her mother was safe and sound was a littletoo heartfelt. Marcheline didn't deserve to be protected and cared for by French. But that was French. On some level, even though she knew it was completely irrational, she wanted her mother's approval. She had been doing Marcheline's bidding for so long, waiting for that magical day when she would receive her mother's unconditional love, that she found the habit hard to break. The anxiety she felt at the moment was a byproduct of an ongoing cycle of behavior.

Displeasing Marcheline, and she was always displeased about something, had meant that French would be held hostage emotionally. Marcheline had dangled absolution for various 'sins' in front of French like a carrot in front of a balky horse, telling her that if she did this or that to atone for said sin, she would receive a reward. In the end, she had never come through with the promised treat, whether it was attending one of her daughter's recitals or buying her something she wanted. Therewere times when she would do something special with or for her daughter, but only to keep hope alive in her young heart that someday her mother would be happy with her and to ensure that her daughter was easily manipulated. There had been no child as easily manipulated as love-starved French.

"Don't thank God just yet..."

"What do you mean?" The anxiety was back.

"We had a little tête-à-tête that didn't exactly work to the finish in Marcheline's favor."

"What do you mean?"I'm starting to repeat myself, she thought,say something else!!

"I put her in your guest room and left her there when I went to see Hurst. When I came back, the whole place reeked of smoke and I had already told her you wouldn't like it if she smoked inside."

"She doesn't care what I like or don't like; she always does just exactly what she wants."

"She was also digging around in your closet, piling the nicer stuff on the bed. I, ah, assume she meant to, um, appropriate them for her own use. So, I kicked her out. Made her go to a hotel until you got home."

"Oh, God! That must have been awful for you!"

"Actually, it felt kind of good. I have to say – your mother's tough to take... and that's putting it mildly," Aidan told her with a frown.

"I know. You have to be careful what you say to her. You're lucky she didn't go off on you. She can get really ugly when she wants to!" she dropped onto the bed next to where he still lay.

"She was plenty ugly, trust me. But, since I'm not afraid of her and couldn't care less what she thinks, I told her exactly what I felt like telling her. I'd seen enough of her obnoxious behavior to have a better idea what it must have been like for you to live with her. I couldn't let her get away with disrespecting you and she won't get a chance to do it again. She can either respect your – our – wishes if she comes to visit or she won't set foot in any place we call home."

"Oh, Aidan... Thank you for that," her eyes and voice softened as she looked at him, gratitude and love shining in her eyes. He made her feel safe for the for the first time in her life. "I'm sorry you had to deal with her. I had hoped that I'd get a chance to sort of finesse your first meeting with her, but with everything else... I forgot."

"It's ok. Besides, I probably made things worse for you when you get back," he told her ruefully. "You should have seen the way she looked at me when I made her carry her own bags downstairs!"

French squealed and punched his arm. "You didnot make her carry her own bags?!"

"I did. Well – just the little ones. I practically killed myself carrying all her stuff upstairs; I wasn't about to lug it all down again by myself!"

"Oh my God, what did she do?" French asked with horrified curiosity.

"She was all superior and puffed up; terribly indignant, with her delicate little nostrils flared like I reeked of dog-shit or something. She swept into the Taj® hotel like she owned the place, swanning past the valet and doorman like they weren't even there."

French collapsed next to him on the bed, shaking with laughter. "Now I'm convinced. You really did meet my mother. You described her to a T! God, I would have paid money to see you two go at it!"

"Don't worry. I'm sure there'll be other opportunities. A lifetime of them," he promised her as he reached for her.

They stripped each other's clothes off without ceremony. Their mouths and bodies fused together, their hands roamed. French pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him. She knelt, hovering above him on all fours, and dipped her head to kiss him. His hands covered her breasts, fondled her nipples. He reached around her, cupped her ass, tried to pull her more fully atop him, but she resisted.

"Not yet," she told him.

She took his lips again, licking greedily into the warm cavern of his mouth. His hands roved her body, igniting her passion. She trailed kisses onto his neck, sucking and biting. Working downward, she gave the same attention to his nipples. Touching them in turn, lightly with her hands first, then with her teeth and tongue. She sucked hard, drawing them into her mouth and flicking her tongue roughly over them. She knew how much he liked that.

She moved further down, ran her soft hands over his chest, just grazing his hardened, sensitive nipples. The contrast between the rough treatment she had given them and the soft caress she now favored them with had Aidan holding his breath in anticipation, wondering which sensation he would feel next. She smoothed her hands down over his muscled abdomen, following them with her mouth, sometimes just brushing her lips over the surface of his skin; at other places, she nipped him or licked him or sucked.

She moved further down the bed, pushed his legs apart. Kneeling in the vee they formed, she stroked the tendon that joined thigh to torso, the warmth of her hands on that sensitive cord causing him to shiver. She bent and sucked where her hands had just been. The scent of him was concentrated there and it was purely masculine. She lingered, inhaled the heady essence of him.

His cock twitched when she exhaled, her hot breath washing over him. Its length had already formed a thick, hard curve along his stomach. She cupped his scrotum in her warm palm, then bent and ran her tongue all around it. Aidan's legs stiffened and his fingers, which had previously been lightly stroking her hair, tightened at the sensation of her tongue on his balls.

French moaned, reveling in the knowledge of the obvious pleasure she gave him, sending vibrations through the thin skin of his sac to his testicles. He wanted her to take him into her mouth, but at the same time, he didn't. He wanted her to go on loving him, touching him, like this forever.

Suddenly, French removed her mouth and hands from his body altogether. His eyes flew open to find her kneeling upright between his legs, her arms crossed under her very incredible breasts. Her head was cocked to the side and she was apparently expecting him to say something.

"Well?" she prodded.

"Well what? Why'd you stop, baby?"

"Don't you have something to say to me?"

Aidan's mind was completely blank.Did he have something to say to her? He couldn't remember.

"Ummm. That felt really good? Please don't stop?" he asked her, panting slightly.

"Oh, you! That's not what I mean and you know it," she said indignantly, punching him high on his leg.

"Hey, careful with the merchandise! I'm sorry, baby, but I have no idea what I'm supposed to remember right now. Except 'that felt good; please don't stop'," he joked.

"Your response to what I said earlier," French said shyly, not meeting his eyes. "You know... that I love you."

"Oh, that. Haven't I already showed you in a million ways that I do? I mean, geez, give a guy some credit for dealing with that mother of yours!"

"Aidan, I'm warning you! You better just say it."

"Baby, I love you."

"Finally! I love you, too," she grinned like the proverbial cat that got the cream.

"Now... can we please get back to 'that feels good; please don't stop'?" he asked her with a waggle of his brows.

French laughed and clobbered him with a pillow.

***** THE END *****

Thanks to everyone who read and voted for my first story ever! I greatly appreciate the feedback and encouragement you've given me along the way. Knowing that you enjoyed reading about French and Aidan (and were waiting for the next chapter) helped me plod along when I had no idea where they were headed next! Best Regards ~ Quint

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17 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousabout 6 years ago
SUPERIOR

Finally!! Superior writing that a woman can appreciate reading!! Maybe some men will learn much from this and please the women in their lives...which will please the men in THEIR lives...and everybody will be happier for it!!

No, this can't be your first! What will I read next? You are unbelievable!!!! Never stop writing!! You'll be published before you know it! Just tell us under what name! PLEASE!

AnonymousAnonymousabout 8 years ago

Your writing is a great mix of drama without being stupid, humor and hot sex!! Great story, well done!!

RakaanRakaanover 10 years ago
Fantastic, but DAMNIT!

Why would you end it THERE!? Right before we find out the familiy's reaction to the truth of Hurst, to French and everything! It's like, reading an epic book only to find out the last chapter containing the conclusion was cut out. Don't leave us hanging man! D:

AnonymousAnonymousover 11 years ago
WOW!!!!

what a great story

willerileywillerileyabout 12 years ago
Excellent!

Fabulous characters, emotional content and conflict.

Keep writing you have a wonderful, full, 3D way of writing.

You obviously read books. There was a beginning, middle and end. I didn't want the ending to come.

Brava!

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