Chapter 24: Sweeter Than Peaches Pt2
Vivienne sat up, her body trembling like it had been drained of everything. Her hair stuck to her skin, her lips dry, her chest rising and falling as if she had just run across the entire estate. She wanted to breathe, to rest, to escape. But when she glanced at him, André was sitting calmly at the edge of the bed, his hand on her ankle, his lips pressing soft, deliberate kisses against it.
Her ankle.
Vivienne stared at him in disbelief. Out of all the places in the world, this bastard chooses my ankle. Who the fuck kisses ankles?
Her mind raced. She needed to get out. She couldn’t stay here one more second or she’d lose her sanity. She whispered, almost too softly, "I think it’s time I leave. Madame asked me to wash the draperies in the lounge in the west wing this morning."
That was it. Her excuse. Perfect.
She pushed herself off the bed, her legs shaky but determined, and began walking toward the door. Freedom was right there. But then—of course—his hand grabbed hers.
André’s fingers locked around her wrist, warm and unyielding.
"You can’t go," he said, voice low and sweet, like a gentle lover.
Vivienne froze, her insides screaming. Please let me leave for fuck’s sake. You already sucked the life out of my pussy, what else do you want, you monster?
She pulled back hard, glaring. "If I don’t go, I’ll be fired." Her voice cracked slightly, but she meant it.
André smiled. A calm, almost amused smile that made her want to slap him. "I already spoke to Madame Lefevre. You won’t be doing anything today. You’ll be with me. All day."
The words all day slithered out of his mouth like poison.
Vivienne’s heart sank. Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. Now I get to stay with him all day. Oh joy. Somebody kill me. I’d rather wrestle a wild boar.
Before her mind could even complete the thought, he was tugging at her clothes.
Vivienne’s eyes widened. What the fuck is happening? He doesn’t even let me breathe?
Her mind screamed. It’s not like I love washing draperies, but right now I’d happily wash a thousand. I’d scrub each thread with my own teeth if it meant escaping this nightmare.
But then his lips touched her neck.
Slow. Gentle. Soft.
Her legs went weak instantly. She cursed herself silently. Damn it. Not again.
Before she could fight, he lifted her off her feet effortlessly, like she weighed nothing at all. She wriggled, hissing, "Put me down!" but her voice had no power behind it.
He carried her back to the bed and set her down carefully, like she was some fragile doll.
Her eyes scanned him quickly. That was when she noticed.
He had only taken off his shirt.
Just the shirt.
Her stomach twisted. What kind of sick tease is this? Why only the shirt? What the fuck is this half-naked drama?
André sat down beside her, calm as ever. His lips pressed to her skin, moving slowly across her stomach, her chest, her breasts.
Vivienne clenched her teeth.
He sucked her skin softly, leaving small wet circles. He kissed each breast, his tongue sliding against her nipples before sucking them with agonizing slowness.
Vivienne’s mind went wild. What is seriously wrong with this fucking bastard? May the gods strike him dead. May lightning fry his smug ass right now.
But her body betrayed her.
A moan slipped out of her throat.
Her lips parted. Her chest arched toward him.
André’s eyes darkened with satisfaction. He heard her. He knew.
So he slowed down even more.
His kisses dragged painfully slow across her body, his tongue tracing her curves, his hands moving softly, lazily, as if he had all the time in the world.
Vivienne wanted to scream. She wanted to claw his face off. Please let me die. Just kill me instead. Why is my body doing this to me? Why am I moaning for this asshole?
But the sounds escaped her anyway, breathy, desperate.
Her fists clenched the sheets. Her body shivered. Tears pricked at her eyes.
Finally, she cried.
André paused. He leaned close to her ear and whispered with that sweet, infuriating tone, "You taste sweeter than peaches."
Vivienne froze.
Sweeter than peaches? Really? Did this man just say that with a straight face?
She wanted to choke him. To gag him. To bury him alive. Sweeter than peaches? What kind of cheap line is that? I hope he trips and smashes his head on the bedpost.
But before she could spit an insult, his hand slipped between her thighs.
His fingers slid inside her, slow and deliberate, curling in just the right way that made her head fall back instantly.
Her moan echoed loudly in the room, shameful and uncontrollable.
He kissed her again and again, moving from her breasts to her stomach to her neck, his fingers still working inside her.
Vivienne screamed at herself in her head. Push him away. Stop enjoying this. Stop it now. He’s evil. He’s a monster. Don’t give him what he wants.
But her body betrayed her again.
She moaned louder. Her hips moved against his hand. She couldn’t stop.
She hated herself. She hated him more. But God, he was so good.
She couldn’t hold it anymore.
With all her strength, she shoved him back.
André fell onto the bed, his eyes wide for a moment. He stared at her breathing hard, her chest heaving, her eyes teary, her face flushed.
He looked almost annoyed. "Will you give up?" he thought. "Are you going to blow everything just like that?"
He leaned back on the pillows, his tone dripping with boredom. "How boring. Seems like you aren’t as I thought. How disappointing."
Vivienne’s heart pounded. Something inside her snapped.
Before he could even say a thing, she leaned forward and crashed her lips against his.
The kiss was violent, desperate, messy. Her tongue forced its way into his mouth, biting his lip, tugging at him like she wanted to eat him alive.
André’s eyes widened in shock. For the first time, she caught him off guard.
But then his hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer, and he groaned softly against her lips.
Vivienne kissed him harder, moaning into his mouth, biting him like he was both her lover and her enemy.
Her hands moved quickly, yanking at his trousers, removing his belt, tearing fabric without care. She didn’t care if she ruined everything.
She straddled his lap, grinding down on him, her breathing heavy and uneven.
André’s lips curved into a smile against her mouth. That smug, arrogant smile again.
"This," he thought, "is a lot more fun than I expected."
Vivienne smirked against his lips, biting down hard before pulling away just slightly.
Fine. Since you want me that bad, I’ll play your game. I’ll make you so obsessed with me you’ll give me the horse yourself. You’ll beg for me. You’ll worship me. And I’ll make you choke on it.
Her kisses slowed.
Painfully slow.
She dragged her lips against his, torturing him, pulling back each time just when he leaned in for more.
André groaned. His breath grew uneven, his hands squeezing her hips tighter.
Vivienne smiled wickedly. Inside, she thought, Yes. Suffer, you bastard. Suffer for me. I’ll drive you insane.
But on the outside, her voice was soft, almost tender. "My Lord," she whispered like a sweet lover, "I want you so much."
André’ smirked. He knew she was lying. Of course he did. But he was enjoying it.
Because that was their game.
Two lunatics. Two liars. Two bodies craving each other so much they couldn’t stop.
Her kisses deepened again, slow and hard, each one like a punishment and a blessing at the same time.
His hands slid up her back, his lips desperate now.
And she kissed him like she would devour him whole.