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“I changed my mind.”
“Just like that.”
“Yeah. Just like that.”
“I see.”
“No, Zoe. You don’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I pull over at the outlook point and park. “Get out.”
Her eyes grow large. “What?”
“Get out of the car.”
“You’re leaving me here?”
“Did I say I was leaving you here?”
She looks around the unbuilt area, and then up the deserted road. No doubt escape is at the forefront of her mind. It probably will be for a while still to come. She’ll dream about it like recovered addicts dream about drugs and ex-smokers dream about cigarettes. A turning point will come when her dreams will evolve around staying and building a nest for herself.
Giving me an uncertain glance, she grips the handle and opens the door. She steps into the somber day, her hair blowing in every direction.
I shut down the engine and get out. “Walk to the edge.”
She turns her face toward the cliff. When she looks back at me, her face is pale with fear. “Are you going to make me jump?”
“No.” I move around the car, closer to her. “Go.”
She gives me a pleading look. “I don’t want to.”
“Go, Zoe.” She needs to learn to trust me, even when she’s frightened.
She walks to the edge, carefully peering down. A frown mars her features. “What is that?”
“What does it look like?”
“A picnic?”
I take her hand. “Come. There’s a path this way.”
She pulls free. Her voice is angry. “You scared me. You could’ve just told me why we stopped here.”
“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.”
“I thought…”
“I was going to kill you?”
“Yes,” she whispers.
“I’ve told you before. I’m not going to kill you.”
“How do I know you won’t change your mind?”
“You don’t.”
Her chest rises with a deep breath. “Is this one of your lessons?”
“Yes.”
Her beautiful eyes are filled with apprehension. “What am I supposed to learn from this?”
“To do something when I tell you to.”
She scoffs. “Blind obedience?”
“As long as you do as you’re told, I’ll watch out for you.” I take back her hand. “Now come.”
We climb down the path to the small beach below. It’s private, part of our territory. I was going to take her for the best bouillabaisse in town until I called to make a reservation and found out my uncle and father were lunching there. The picnic is improvised, a stab at fulfilling her romantic needs, but right now there’s nothing romantic about the way I feel. Volatile is more like it.
When we reach the beach, Zoe pulls her hand free and walks to the edge of the water. She stares out over the ocean, a small, lonely, sad figure, and something stirs in my chest. I pop the cork of the champagne and pour her a glass.
“Come here,” I say.
She turns away from the water and sits down on the blanket. I hand her the champagne, and then prepare a plate of cheese, charcuterie, and baguette.
“Hungry?” I ask as I put the plate between us.
“A little.”
“Eat up.”
I let her eat and drink, filling her glass twice while only having one myself. I’m driving, but that’s not why I’m pumping her full of champagne. I’m getting her drunk. I need her uninhibited.
“That’s enough for me,” she says when I offer her another piece of Brie.
Setting the food aside, I push her down.
“What are you doing, Maxime?”
I straddle her legs. “Having my dessert.”
“Here?” she cries out.
“Wherever I want.”
“What if someone—”
Her words cut off when I push up her coat and unfasten her pants. I pull them down her hips with her underwear and flip her around.
There’s a tremor in her voice. “Maxime.”
I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her to her knees. She looks at me from over her shoulder, her pretty face tense, but it’s only until I bury my fingers in the tight flesh of her globes and drag my tongue over her pussy. The frown on her brow evens out as she pinches her eyes shut. I repeat the action, this time spearing my tongue through her folds. Her lips part. The tension in her pretty features turns to desire. She’s not complaining about the location any longer. All thoughts of our unsuitable spot have vanished from her mind, courtesy of a small dose of lust and three glasses of expensive French champagne.
She moans when I sink my tongue deeper. I don’t waste time. I suck her clit and work a finger inside her wet heat, getting harder as I remember exactly how tightly her inexperienced pussy grips my cock. She comes with a cry, her back arching and her fingers burying in the blanket.
My pants are unzipped and my cock free before her orgasm is over. I take a condom from my pocket and make quick work of sheathing my cock. She’s wet. She’s ready. Gripping her hips, I push in carefully. Her moans are loud. She’s tight and warm, gripping me like a fist. I can go harder on her because of the alcohol. Her body is supple and relaxed. She pushes back, taking me deeper, and I slam all the way home. Her cry makes me even harder. It makes me take her with punishing strokes. Twisting her long hair around a fist, I use it like a rein, pulling her head up and to the side until she faces me. I want to see the ecstasy on her face as I fuck her into oblivion.
