Le Français Pt. 04

Sinead scooped her keys out of the pocket of her jacket, taking a moment to unhook her car key from the carabiner she kept them all on. She handed it over. "I left most of my things in your apartment," she said.

"I'll have it all returned," Marc said. Then he let go of her thigh and took her hand, raising it to his lips so he could kiss her knuckles. "It really was a lovely little adventure, Sinead."

He got out of the car and crossed around, opening the door and helping her out. She expected him to at least make a move to kiss her, but he didn't. Instead, he just flashed around that fucking smile some more. "Good night, Detective. Until next time."

"Good night, Marc," Sinead finally said and turned to head up into her building.

"Sinead," Marc called to her when she was at the door.

She turned and looked back to him, half expecting him to be standing there with his cock out on a public street, demanding she come and suck it. It wasn't and he didn't, but she was a little disturbed to have a flash of imagination of her doing just that.

"Next time I see you, I expect you to be wearing that special accessory," he said. "And I'll ask to see it."

Sinead, flushed, didn't respond and just went into her building.

She managed to make it into the elevator, and then up to her apartment. As she locked the door behind her she closed her eyes and took a breath, then quickly got out of the heels he'd given her and shucked off her jacket. Then, unable to wait long enough to get into her bedroom, she flopped onto her couch and pulled the dress up over her waist and buried her fingers in her pussy.

"Fuuuck, Marc," she groaned, hating that his name slipped through her lips. She could feel the buttplug between her cheeks. She didn't need to be wearing it anymore. He wasn't there. But she didn't pull it out. Didn't care.

Three fingers deep, she groaned as her first orgasm rolled through her quickly, her hips bucking up wantingcock and only getting fingers.

"Fuck, Marc!" Sinead growled as she panted. She hated him. Hated herself for wanting him. Hated that he'd left her wanting him because he had to know what he'd been doing.

I can't call him again, Sinead told herself as she started sawing her fingers into herself again.This was the last time.

Chapter 25

Marc had to take a moment to step back and appreciate his work.

Felicity's ass was striped with red from the very soft caning and she couldn't stay completely still. It was also glistening from the oil he'd massaged into her skin. She was lying out on the bed, a double layer of towels down under her to keep the oil from making a mess as well as dealing with any of her leaking juices. Her legs were deliciously bare except for the spreader bar keeping her ankles a solid three feet apart. She was wearing a black corset, and the eyering on the back had a rope tied from it to her blonde ponytail, keeping her head craned back. Her arms were also crossed and tied behind her back so she couldn't move, and she was panting desperately - not because of fear or out of difficulty of breathing, but because she was trying not to come.

Marc stepped forward again and adjusted the magic wand vibrator between her legs, nuzzling it up against her slick pussy lips a little more firmly.

"Thank you, sir," she sobbed. Her legs and ass were twitching and her fingers were flexing as she fought to maintain her control.

With a smile, Marc swung a leg over her to straddle her and leaned down, nibbling softly on her upper ear. She was still wearing the sexy drop earrings he'd presented her with earlier that night before they went to dinner at a charity function he'd been obliged to attend. They looked gorgeous on her, as most things did, and she'd been very happy with them.

Knowing Felicity, she'd be as pleased with the picture of her ass he'd taken with its red and white stripes.

"Are you ready,ma petite fée?" Marc asked her softly, whispering in her ear.

"I am ready for my Master's orders," she whispered, her neck clenching from her effort.

"When I enter you," Marc whispered with a smile.

"Yes, sir," she acknowledged, quivering with need.

She was already lubed up and delightfully slick. Marc adjusted his cock, hotdogging it between her meaty and full ass cheeks, getting it slightly lubed up with the oil, then he pried Felicity's cheeks apart and placed his cock at her anal ring. It was just a little gaped, perfectly prepared for him. She'd worn the larger buttplug through dinner, the one that they used when he was going to take her ass instead of the smaller, decorative one she knew he just liked to know she was wearing for him. After years of similar games, they both knew each other intimately - how well the plug prepared her, how much a certain brand or type of lube would help, and what sort of horny state she was in.

Marc pressed forward, and she pressed her ass back at him, and his cock slipped into it after only a moment of pressure. He grunted softly, grinning and pleased, and then groaned as Felicity's ass clamped hard as she followed his directions and came. It was a big one, not that he hadn't expected that after almost an hour of teasing and punishment games. Felicity only took the cane on her ass or tits, she hated it anywhere else on her body. She also hated the feather he'd used to tickle her softly, but it was a love/hate relationship. The bondage turned her on. The oil did as well.

They knew how to push each other's buttons. Marc knew how to play her like a finely tuned instrument. Felicity knew exactly what Marc liked and how to submit to him, and to only give him real responses to his activity and never fake them. They were a perfect symbiosis.

Marc pushed deeper into her ass as the first wave of his blonde escort's orgasm came down, and then he started to fuck her vigorously. He could feel the soft vibrations caused by the magic wand still clamped between Felicity's thighs working through her, and the warmth of her abused ass on his thighs. Her mewling moans and sobs of release were magical. Her fingers were grasping, and Marc let his hands find hers and held them as he drilled into her.

"Thank you, Master! Thank you, dear! Ooooh, fuck, sir. Oh my... oooh, hahahaha!" She broke into delirious laughter as her body rocked through more orgasms. It was hard to say whether it was one continuous one or she'd gone multi-orgasmic; he'd seen both with her before. Her asshole was clenching hard but he could still thrust into her, and he grunted as he plumbed her depths.

There was something about fucking a woman's ass that just did it for him. It was one of his earliest deal breakers when he'd been dating around before settling into a routine with Felicity. If a woman didn't do anal, she just wasn't going to be for him no matter what other compatibilities they had.

Felicity loved getting her ass fucked by Marc. Perfect symbiosis.

"I'm going to come in this beautiful hole," Marc grunted, pulling out of her ass fully and watching it wink and remain stretched for a long moment.

"Yes, please, dear," Felicity panted, still twitching from the overload of sensations. "Make me your little ass slut cumwhore, Master. Fill my hole, sir. Ooooh, fuck!"

Marc fucked back into her again, all the way, then pulled all the way out again, watching her asshole wink. It was a brutal sort of fucking that most women couldn't handle because it was punishing to the anal ring - porn made it look more common than it should have. Felicity, when she was this turned on, could handle it though. She let out heavy huffs on every entrance until finally, as Marc pulled out again and stroked his cock with the head resting on the edge of her stretched anus, she moaned when she felt the gooey warmth of his cum filling her hole.

Later, once the bonds were gone, the towels were in the hamper and she was squeaky clean from Marc tenderly washing her in the shower, she moaned more softly.

Marc was rubbing aloe vera into her ass cheeks, which were still a little inflamed from the cane strikes. Even a firm tap with the thin cane could leave a welt, and he never wanted Felicity to leave without being taken care of properly.

"Thank you, dear," she groaned, looking back at him over her shoulder as she rested her head on her arms, lying on the bed.

"Tout le plaisir est pour moi, ma petite fée," Marc said softly, leaning down and kissing her between her shoulder blades.

"Mmmm," Felicity moaned softly. Then she took a big breath and let it out slowly. "So. Tell me about your little fox hunt."

"You're interested?" Marc asked with a small smile.

"Of course I am," she said. "I'm sharing your attention with a vixen cop, how could I not be interested?"

"Touche," Marc said.

"So, have you fucked her yet?"

"No," Marc said. "It's too soon for that."

She hummed a soft chuckle.

"Qu'y-a-t-il?"

"Nothing, dear," Felicity said. "I'm just waiting for you to realise how silly that sounds. 'Too early.'" She shook her head as she grinned. "If that woman came back here after the first time, she wants you."

"She thinks she does," Marc said. "But I do not think she is ready yet. Not for what I would want to do with her. Or to her. We'll see."

Chapter 26

"What are you doing on Saturday night?" Jules asked.

Sinead had her cell phone pinned between her cheek and her shoulder as she shuffled papers at her desk, a pen loosely held between her lips like a cigarette. She knew she looked a bit of a mess - she hadn't washed her hair in a few days and it was pulled back into a rough ponytail, and her rushed makeup wasn't doing her any favours. The problem was that chasing the little leads she'd gained during her 'undercover night out' with Marc had been hectic. Things moved quickly in the underworld sometimes, and if Sinead was going to get any use out of the risk she'd taken without going back to Marc, she needed to do itnow.

"I don't know," Sinead muttered to her friend. "Working, probably?"

"On a Saturday night?" Jules asked. "Did your hours- wait, you're not still doing unpaid overtime, are you?"

"...." Sinead felt a bit of shame and didn't want to answer. That silent pause was more than enough for Jules to read her though.

"When was the last time you took a night off and had some fun, bitch?" Jules demanded.

Sinead's mind immediately flashed to sitting with Marc in one of the fanciest restaurants in the city. Dressed up to the nines, her hair and nails professionally done. She still had the dress hanging by itself in her closet. It was the single nicest piece of clothing she owned and she didn't know what to do with it. The jewellery had gotten mixed in with her various other accessories, but every time she looked at the small box she kept them in they stood out like they didn't belong with the rest.

"A while," she said. She didn't have to say 'a week,' because she'd been working that night so it didn't count.

"Well, you're not working Saturday," Jules said. "I know a guy. He's a month out of a serious relationship and hewasn't the problem, so he's not ready for something serious but he's fun and charming and I think you too would be good for each other."

"If he's so good-"

"It's my cousin, Sinead," Jules said. "So no, I can't date him instead."

"Oh," Sinead sighed.

"Saturday. He'll pick you up," Jules said. "Dress up nice. Feel pretty. Let him buy you dinner."

"A blind date, though?" Sinead asked. "Can't you at least tell me his name, or his social media accounts so I can snoop?"

"No," Jules said. "Because then you'll convince yourself you should work instead. Saturday. You are going on this date."

"Fine," Sinead muttered. "I'll go on the date."

- - - - - - - -

"I've received a meeting request that isn't associated with a contact, Mr Fornier," Jillian said from the doorway of Marc's office. She was slender, dirty-blonde, and the kind of pretty that would distract most of the various clients who stepped onto Marc's floor looking to hire his services. She was also an excellent lead secretary for his division despite her youth, which made her a total package when it came to his professional needs. "The name associated was a 'Victor.'"

"Ah, Victor," Marc said, leaning back in his chair and tapping a finger on his lips thoughtfully. "Please do, Jillian. But push it back. Late next week sometime, I think."

"Actually, Mr Fornier, he's waiting down the hall," she said, pursing her lips just slightly. It was enough to tell Marc that she was unimpressed by whatever line that Victor had used on her, but that the man hadn't pressed his advances into something unbecoming.

"Mmm," Marc hummed. "That changes things then, doesn't it? Alright, keep him waiting for ten minutes then bring him back here."

Jillian nodded and went to step back out of his doorway, but Marc held up a hand. "Actually, Jillian," he said. "Do me a favour and send an email to Astrid asking if she could call me later today. I'll have some work for her to do. Actually, scratch the email. Send her a gift.Une bouteille de parfum, I think. And purchase one for yourself as well."

With a warm smile, Jillian nodded again. "Gladly, Mr Fornier."

Marc had ten minutes to make sure everything was set just right for a meeting with a scheming little scumbag like Berisha, but it didn't take him too long to get his office just right. Shift some documents out of view, shift othersinto view so he could peek and see things with big financial numbers even if the papers themselves were meaningless. Then Marc loosened his tie and used his fingers to change the neat, tight way he wore his hair into something a little more rakish. Less banker, more stock trader. He also swapped out his watch for a flashier one and affected a pinky ring to match it.

By the time he was finished adjusting himself and his office, he still had time to finish reading the report he'd been skimming through before Jillian returned with Victor in tow.

"Victor," Marc said, standing up with a grin and coming around from behind his desk to meet the man with a firm handshake. "It's good to see you.Désolé for keeping you waiting. Money doesn't sleep, eh?"

"I was in the neighbourhood and thought I'd drop in," Victor said with a chuckle, his eyes quickly scanning around the office and taking in the neat, aristocratic layout and decor of the room. Marc thought the man's pupils almost turned into dollar signs. "Sorry to interrupt your day. This shouldn't take long though."

"Non, non," Marc said. "No problem at all, my friend. Please, come, sit. Were you offered refreshment?"

"Yes, I'm good," Victor said, flashing a grin at Jillian. Marc gestured and, out of sight of Victor, gave her a little wink. Jillian nodded and backed away, heading to her desk.

"So tell me, is this purely a social call, or can I help you with something?" Marc asked as he sat down across from Victor in the comfortable chairs at the back corner of his office.

"A little of this, a little of that," Victor said, leaning forward. "I'll admit, I looked you up. You do interesting work. There are whole business articles about you."

"Ah, those," Marc said, waving them off even though he was actually quite proud of most of them. "All work and no play, as they say."

"Hmmm, too true," Victor grinned. "So, here's the thing. I work with some... quiet clientele, you could say. Folks with large operations, lots of money changing hands. Sometimes things get a little chaotic, and get mixed up, and I try to connect them with people who can help. Right now, my own finances could use a little bit of the microscope treatment; between investments and real estate and holdings and cash transfers, well, it's gotten a little messy. I was thinking that maybe if I see how you work, I'd be comfortable with adding you to my contact list to forward to some of my bigger clients."

Marc nodded, a smile on his lips but internally rolling his eyes. This was too easy and almost insulting. He dealt with Fortune 500 companies. Mergers that had touched the billions of dollars. Acquisitions and hostile takeovers that changed industries, at times. And Victor Berisha wanted him to try out for the chance to work with his criminal clientele.

"Sounds interesting," Marc said with a smile. "Tell me more."

Chapter 27

Sinead glanced down at her plate again, then back up at Connor.

"So you're a cop, huh?" her date asked.

"A detective," Sinead corrected him. "Like your cousin."

"Right, right," he nodded. "So have you ever shot anyone?"

Sinead had dolled herself up. After her phone call with Jules, her best friend and former partner had laid into her on an almost hourly basis to make sure Sinead wouldn't back out, so she'd decided that if she was going to do this blind date thing she would do it right. She used the tips that the hairdresser Marc had hired had given her. She'd made sure her nails with the sexy silver French tips had been in good condition. She'd tried on a dozen outfits before settling on a green dress that played well with her hair, then matched it with her leather coat and some gold jewellery.

She'd felt wrong when she'd considered wearing the stuff that Marc had bought her. Like she needed to... not keep it sacred or anything, but separate from this. Whatever this was going to be.

Connor had picked her up in his BMW. He was a surgeon, half-Japanese and sporting a chiselled jaw and wicked smile that likely would have cemented a happy end to their night then and there if she wasn't thinking of Marc's fucking smile. Before they made it to the restaurant she got the story on him - he just got out of a three-year relationship with another doctor, and she'd cheated on him with an admin at the hospital, it had been messy but he was trying to move on.

Not exactly the teasing, suave way that Marc directed conversation.

And there was nothing wrong with the Cheesecake Factory for a first, slightly casual first date. In almost any other circumstance, she would have been thrilled for an easy night out of carbs and sugar packed into tasty dishes. Fuck, sheloved the Cheesecake Factory and had ordered it on delivery more than once.

But...

That night at George, and the wine, and the food. The smell of each dish even as it was just being walked by her to another table. The ambience, and the glamour. Marc, sitting across the table in his perfectly fitted suit, with that fucking smile, teasing her and encouraging her to eavesdrop on her target.

Fuck Marc.

"I have," Sinead said, spearing her fork into the mess of delicious, carby noodles on her plate and twirling it to get a nice mouthful. "Is that a problem?"

"Well, no," Connor said. "I mean, as a surgeon I abhor violence, but I can understand why it's necessary for the police. I'd rather Canada leaned more towards the British way of things than the Americans, though."

"You mean we should walk around with billy clubs as our only standard defensive armament? You want us to stop people with knives and guns with sticks?"

He frowned, clearly realising he'd stepped his foot in something he hadn't seen coming. "I guess that makes sense," he said. "Still, it's my job to repair the holes people put in each other. You can't blame me for wishing it didn't need to be."

"Wishes don't make reality," Sinead said. What she really wanted to do was point out the time his cousin had gotten jumped by three tweakers while she was a street cop and the only reason she hadn't gotten beaten bloody, or worse, was that she'd had her gun.

Sinead took a sip of her wine, trying to wash out the memory from her mind, and pursed her lips.

It was... OK.

Fuck, I'm being such a bitch, she thought to herself.Fuck Marc.