The Ceo's Contracted Mistress
The Ceo’s Contracted Mistress Chapter 21

Bobbie g*****d as she and Olivier exited the kid’s bedroom and started to close the door.

“No!” Max screamed, “leave it open.”

She glared at Olivier, “I blame you. Two desserts? Two?”

“He’s a growing boy,” Olivier shrugged. At her scowl he gave a nod of acknowledgement, “I may have underestimated the impact calories had on his energy levels.”

“Mom,” Ollie whined, “he won’t stop talking.”

“Go to sleep!” Bobbie ordered and then walked away from the door. She looked to Olivier, “I have half a mind to put my headphones in, crank the music and leave you to watch over them until they fall asleep.”

Olivier had let the kids know during dinner they were going to meet their grandparents tomorrow and of course there had been a thousand questions, followed by a million more. Ollie had cried because she was scared, she would swear in front of them by mistake. Max was worried they wouldn’t like him because he wore glasses and did science experiments and Lark cried, they wouldn’t like her because Olivier wasn’t her dad. Grady had laughed and offered her up to Olivier for adoption, but only if he adopted him and Everly too. Prue begged him to take them all off her hands and then a second round of desserts were ordered because Olivier and his sweet tooth had started to panic, and he needed sugar. Overall, dinner had been chaos.

Bobbie had slid over closer to Riggs and Henri asking if they could protect her from the insanity and she had been immediately taken in as their younger sibling and the three of them had lovely grown-up conversations, mostly surrounding the kind of things “big Ollie” as Riggs was now calling him, liked to get into when he was younger. It had been fascinating conversation. He had been a terrible blend of Max’s genius and little Ollie’s temper and the stories were fantastic.

Now, they were in their rooms, the kids in bed but not asleep. Even after two stories, three glasses of water, two trips to pee and loads of snuggles and k****s, Max was wide-eyed staring at the ceiling. Ollie was terribly overtired and cranky and every word coming out of Max’s mouth were making her want to punch him. Bobbie’s nerves were now frazzled.

She watched as Olivier poured himself a bourbon and she walked to him, took the glass from him ignoring his raised eyebrow and sipped it. “You owe me.”

He chuckled at her words, “you’re beautiful when you’re tired and cranky.”

“Mm,” she lifted one finger around the tumbler and lifted the tumbler in his direction. He caught the subtle flip-off and laughed.

He lifted a remote and soft music started playing in the room.

“What the hell are you doing?” her eyes bulged, “no noise.”

“It’s soft jazz. It will soothe them to sleep.”

“It will rile them up.”

“Jazz is good for the soul.”

“You really are from New Orleans,” she scoffed at him as he reached out and pulled her into his arms.

“Dance with me,” he took the tumbler from her hand and sipped it before setting it on the bar top. “We’re awake and this is as close to making love as we’re going to get for the moment. Let me hold my fiancée.”

“Olivier,” she protested half-heartedly as he took one of her hands into his oversized palm and placed his other hand on her h*p. She touched his chest with her free hand and gave in, tilting her head back to look at him as he swayed her around the living room.

“You are so beautiful. Do you remember when I taught you to dance?”

“I do,” she smiled at the memory. “I remember there being far less clothing on.” She had been in a silk nighty and him in boxers, the night he had taught her to waltz with him. They had danced many nights after in the hotel suite.

“You always fit perfectly in my arms.” He repeated again the thought he’d been having for days.

She looked away from the intensity of his stare. It wasn’t hard to see he was as lost in memories as she was.

“What are we doing?” she whispered suddenly.

“Dancing,” he whispered in her ear, “I’m wooing my fiancée. Tell me you don’t love being in my arms and we can stop.”

She shook her head vehemently, “do you know why I’m a paralegal and not a lawyer?”

He seemed confused by her question, “no.”

“Because I suck at lying.”

He laughed aloud at her comment.

“It took Grady nearly two years to teach me a neutral face. He made me practice in a mirror.”

Olivier laughed at her words, “very funny.”

“I like dancing with you Olivier. I like being in your arms. The attraction from nine years ago still has hold of me.” Her fingers flexed against his chest as she spilled her truth, “I’m still dealing with my thoughts and my emotions and reconciling we are picking back up what was ending back then.” Her words were hushed but audible. She closed her eyes with the admission and focused on the soft sound of piano and saxophone in the background.

“Who says it was ending?”

“You said it yourself, the contract was ending.”

“The contract was ending. We weren’t.”

She flicked a startled gaze to his face to replace him serious with only a hint of a smile. “What?”

“Chérie, I had no intention of letting you leave me when I got home on the Sunday. I was going to get rid of the NDA and just have you with me. No contract. I wanted you to meet my parents. Do not be alarmed when my father says to you, he knew about you back then. I told him all about you at my sister’s wedding.”

“You did?” she was stupefied, her jaw hung open and he closed her mouth with a tender touch to her chin.

“I did,” he admitted with a wry smile, “chérie, you weren’t the only one feeling things back then.” As she opened her mouth to protest, he kissed her nose, “do not tell me you didn’t have feelings.”

She pursed her lips and dropped her forehead against his chest, “I did. I thought I was stupid for catching feelings on the job.”

He chuckled into her hair, “oh my love, you were not stupid. I hated the contract with every fibre of my being. I had made it so stringent we couldn’t take our relationship forward because as much as you were bound to not speak or reveal our relationship, neither could I. It was to protect you from me and the vultures who sometimes circle.”

“Oh,” she made a face. “So, in your mind, I was never a hooker?”

“No,” he laughed loudly, “every time you said such things back then, I thought it was simply your weird sense of humor. I thought you understood and were just making silly jokes. Did I compensate you for leaving your job to be at my beck and call? Absolutely. Did I pay you to f**k? No.”

“All this time,” she whispered sadly.

“All this time,” he echoed touching his forehead to hers.

He cupped her jaw and kissed her gently and sweetly on the lips before putting a k**s to her forehead, cheeks, and nose. The tempo of the music changed and suddenly he spun her away from him, twirling her under his arm and then dipping her deep.

The surprise made her giggle and his eyes lit up.

“We are being too serious,” he teased as he turned her around the living space. “Time to laugh, chérie. You are always beautiful, but you are most beautiful when you smile.” He spun her fast and then dipped her again over his thigh and she giggled loudly at his antics.

The tinkling of giggles caught their ear and they both looked sideways to the two kids watching from the doorway.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” Bobbie chastised, the smile never leaving her lips as Olivier shifted her upright.

“You’re having a dance party without us,” Ollie accused but her eyes were wide and bright, and her smile covered her face. “We want to dance.”

“One dance and then bed,” Olivier spoke over Bobbie’s initial protests. “Come!” he waved the kids in his direction. “I taught your maman to dance many years ago.”

“Can you teach me to dance, Papa?” Max asked excitedly. “I want to make girls spin like you just made maman spin.”

Bobbie lifted an eyebrow at Max’s phrasing. He’d called her mom or mommy his entire life. Two days with Olivier and he was becoming a proper Frenchman.

“You mean like this?” Olivier gripped Bobbie’s fingers and twirled her around him.

“Mom!” Ollie shrieked and clapped, “you never told us you could dance!”

“I lost my dance partner, but I got him back now,” she excused herself as she stood breathless clutched to Olivier’s chest. She pressed a k**s to his cheek when he smiled down at her comment. “I think you need to give our girl a twirl.”

For the next thirty minutes, the hotel suite was full of loud jazz music and laughter as the four of them danced around the room. Ollie standing on her father’s shoes as he taught her how to move her feet and Max standing on a coffee table, wanting only to make his mom spin around at his command. Olivier finally threw a slow song on and waltzed Ollie around in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, her legs wrapped around his waist. Bobbie copycatted his movements with Max in her arms and it wasn’t long before he winked and motioned Max had started to nod off. She motioned Ollie had drifted off as well.

Gently they carried them to their beds and tucked them in, Max half-heartedly protesting he was still awake, but the words were mumbled, and his eyes were closed as his head hit the pillow. Wrapping his arm over her shoulder, Olivier guided Bobbie out of the room and turned the music off.

“Time for bed for us I think.”

“Yes please,” she agreed, “I’m exhausted.”

“I hope not too exhausted?” he let his question hang in the air.

“Well,” she smirked as she tugged his hands in the direction of the bedroom they’d shared Saturday night, “I could be coerced to pay off a swear jar debt.”

“Yes!” he shouted and then looked over his shoulder in alarm in the direction of the kids’ room. They both waited, holding their breaths, to see if they heard any noise from the room and then raced to their bedroom, both laughing quietly. Olivier locked the door. “Just in case.”

“Good call,” Bobbie agreed with his action as she jumped onto the bed and flung herself backwards. She wiggled her fingers at him. “Feed me.”

“Feed you?” he chuckled as he pulled his dress shirt over his head, too impatient to mess with buttons. He watched as she shimmied out of her jeans and t-shirt on the bed, kicking them away. “What should I feed you?” His own pants and boxers followed her clothing.

“I’m feeling carnivorous.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully and he gave a shout of laughter.

“Meat it is,” he kneeled onto the bed and watched as she tucked a pillow behind her head, laying back in only her bra and panties. He paused and exhaled slowly, running his hand up and down the shaft he had exposed to her, watching her wet her lips, the tip of her tongue swirling around the fullness of her mouth. He moved to straddle her waist, his knees on either side of her chest. “Do you know how many nights I thought of you in this position? How many times I got myself off remembering how much you loved to lay just like this?”

“Hopefully as many times as I imagined you being atop me like this while I touched myself?” she countered with a naughty smirk.

“That mouth,” he sighed contentedly as he shifted his h**s towards her waiting lips.

Her hands clutched his thighs, her fingernails digging into the thick muscle as she closed her eyes in bliss while his member slid past her lips along her tongue. One hand in her hair, the other gripping the headboard, he steadied himself over her and began meticulously rocking his h**s toward her face. Bobbie felt the rounded head of his c**k slide against her uvula and gagged, holding his legs to keep him from pulling back. She wanted, no needed this. Him dominating her, his strength and power had always been a turn on for her and as he began to slowly go deeper and deeper into her mouth, she felt her body relaxing under his control.

His fingers were woven tight in her hair as he picked up momentum and she let her tongue curl around him, her lips holding him tight, sucking deeply on his thickness. Her fingers slid from his thighs to cradle his balls, stroking, and lightly squeezing the way he’d taught her to. Her fingers manipulated and played with him while he mouth-f****d her. She could taste the saltiness of his precum coating her gullet and she was lost in the emotions of giving this man pleasure. The hair of his thighs and calves pressed to her ribs scraped her skin and she writhed beneath his weight, needing more.

She gasped when his hand she had thought was gripping the headboard slipped behind him into her panties, replaceing her soaked slit. Her noise allowed him to thrust deeper into her throat and she gagged hard around him, his low laugh teasing and hot while he wiped away tears never stopping his h*p movement. His fingers were dipping in and out of her, sliding into her dampness and trailing through her dark curls to her clit, swirling over it to make her buck against him and then slipping back down.

He was torture and pleasure all rolled into one magnificent creature and she wanted it all. Her jaw started to ache from the punishing tempo he had started in her mouth, especially when his fingers moved from her hair into her mouth to hold her jaw open wider. Tears streamed down her face as he kept her mouth full of his hard shaft and her p***y full of his fingers.

Her o****m was building, and it was as if he knew intuitively, she was spinning towards the peak. His fingers twisted and plunged into her and just as she began to reach climax, he g*****d loudly and spilled his seed deep into her throat. She wretched around his c**k but clutched his legs to keep him from pulling away. Why, she had always loved this part so much, was foreign to her but sputtering and gagging on his o****m made her own o****m that much more intense and she arched under him, her body twisting violently as she came against his fingers.

Gently he eased himself from her mouth and rolled off the bed. She was gasping for air as she watched his naked a*s disappear into the bathroom and reappear with a damp cloth. He wiped her face off gently and pressed a k**s to her lips.

“I once wondered if perhaps I had exaggerated my memories,” he stroked her cheek gently, “I am so glad to know I did not. You are my wanton woman. I don’t know if I will ever get enough.”

She was barely breathing at his words, the thick saltiness of him still coating her tastebuds. His fingers were moving back towards her middle and she m****d as he lowered his head between her thighs. “Olivier.”

“One good deed,” he whispered naughtily.

She pulled at his hair, “no.”

“No?” he lifted his head in surprise. “You don’t want this?”

“No. I want you to f**k me. Hard, fast and make it count, mister. I need the feel of your hard c**k inside me.”

“You know I just came right?” he didn’t need to be told twice and was already back on the bed, his hands reaching to lift her lower half over him.

“Figure it out,” she taunted him, “or did you get old while we were apart? Do you need a rest period or a little pill?” He slapped her thigh at her words, and she giggled. She gave a pointed look at his e******n he was stroking as he draped her legs over his thighs, “looks like you got it figured out.”

“Chérie, my c**k has been hard for you for nine years straight. Even when I thought I hated you, you were the one haunting my dreams. It’s always been you. Your mouth, your breasts,” he reached up and squeezed them tightly, rubbing his thumb over her n*****s, “your cunt,” he nudged himself between her folds. “Look at me,” he commanded her and when their eyes met, he moved. “This,” he g*****d loudly as he shoved into her, “this is the stuff of my dreams.”

“f**k me, Olivier,” she panted as she dug her heels into the back of his thighs. “Last night knowing you were in the next bed over was bloody torture. I need you.” She m****d loudly as he slammed into her.

His tight grip on her h*p kept her from sliding up the bed away from him as he hammered himself into her. Her head tilted backwards, so far back she was almost face to face with the headboard behind her as he rammed her the way she needed. She felt pain and pleasure rolling through her and she clutched everything she could get a grip on, his wrists, the bedsheets, her own breasts, her movements frantic and desperate as he mercilessly gave her body what it craved. “Harder,” she cried out when he pinched her n*****s.

He suddenly withdrew from her, and she opened her mouth to protest he was yanking her off the bed, leaning her over it, kicking her legs open and shoving deep into her. “Chérie,” he grunted at her as he plowed into her, “we need to do a shopping trip. I’m going to get a toy to shove in here,” he shoved his finger into her a*s, and she jumped forward, but he slammed her back against him, “and I’m going to make you come so hard you can’t walk for a week.”

She bit her fists as he continued talking behind her, railing her, and ruining her body the way he had always done. He was describing all the things he wanted to do to her and as her o****m came crashing down around her, making her legs buckle, he simply held her up and kept going, f*****g her through the o****m.

Her hair was matted and sweaty and her body was slick and damp. Her comment about him being old laughable as he manipulated her into a quivering jumbled mess. He had her over the edge of the bed, on her back, against the wall and he’d even taken her outside and f****d her over the railing looking down at the city. He’d had her in every possible position and when she’d finally begged her surrender, he came hard inside her, his o****m hot and loud against her frail whispers.

He leaned over her shuddering body and bit her shoulder, “how’s that for an old man?”

“My old man,” she whispered sleepily. “I hope we didn’t wake the kids.”

“I’ll check on them in a bit.” He fell onto his back in the bed, “I got the schematics for your house this morning. Your bedroom is right across the hall from the kids. I asked my guys to replace a way to soundproof the room as much as possible. I need to hear my girl’s screams.”

She gave a weak mewling noise as he curled his hand under her shoulders and rolled her onto her side, trapping her under his thick thigh. He smelled sweaty and his skin was sticky, and she knew she was no better. Her hair was definitely tangled and unbrushable. She could get used to this.

“Olivier,” her eyes wouldn’t open she was so tired, “I missed you.” She admitted just before she fell asleep.

She missed the wide smile pulling his cheeks as he snuggled her closer into his arms.