Page 5 of A Royally Fake French Menage (Rippton U Creatives #3)

I tipped my head down, freeing one arm to stretch out across the back of the seat.

Genie pressed into my side, making it all too easy to graze my knuckles over the arch of her shoulders, back and forth over sweet, lightly floral scented skin.

A handful of hours together, and I swear I’m already addicted to her.

Perhaps she was better at this than I gave her credit for.

Or maybe I was just that out of practice. America had made me soft.

One of her pink nailed hands dropped to the buttons that she hadn’t touched yet just above my waist. Okay, so not that soft.

“Maybe we should start with a good fuck.” Otherwise, I’d never be able to think once she was in the house where I last?—

I squeezed my eyes shut at the memory of too many hands on my body, stroking and playing in all the ways that I loved most. The mere memory of his touch, his orchestrated night left me close to disgracing myself in the Bugatti’s backseat. My eyes opened to find her watching me curiously.

"I think you're doing things in reverse, Barclay.” Her tone was reproving but not without a dollop of humor.

"Probably." I squeezed her gently, trying not to inhale her scent that went straight to my head. Either one. "You’re so soft. "

The driver’s eyes flickered across to meet mine in the rear view mirror.

I instantly had no love for the man’s hard smile, or the knowledge I’d probably already tripped myself up in front of my stepmother’s favorite spy.

At least, the one she fucked this week in order to gain the knowledge that she thought would get her the closest to my coveted bank account.

That little indiscretion would cost me a pretty bribe before I even stepped foot on the estate.

My damn estate.

Because she lived there under the guise that all was well while I let her board for free.

And all because an empty seat was a powerless seat.

Not that I had the time nor the inclination to wield what I had right now, which was why I opted to enroll at Rippton.

My father’s death gave me the perfect excuse to run away from the responsibilities I’d shirked and a place to hide my pretentious stamped behind instead of attending some Swiss Alps private college with a pack of princesses.

At least at Rippton I vied for attention or not with a different variety of royalty.

Genie gave a little shimmy, rubbing that perfectly soft skin right up against me in a flurry of evidence. “I am the daughter of a cosmetics giant.”

"I think it might be more than that." I pressed my forehead lightly to hers. "My family is—" I closed my mouth, trying to find the right words to convey the mess she was about to step into while not alerting the spy in our midst to my preferred sort of bitching.

"As judgmental and horrific as mine?” She grinned up at me.

I huffed a laugh and tweaked her nose for the hell of it. “You're a breath of fresh air, Genie.”

"Only if you rub my bottle."

I groaned. "That was terrible. Can I beg no more genie jokes for the trip?"

"No way." She definitely wiggled her shoulders against me that time, along with some of her more natural assets. "They’re my favorite. And they make people really uncomfortable. A girl’s gotta have goals, and all."

“The Americanisms really have taken in. Your mother must love that.”

The one-shouldered shrug I was getting to know was her reply. “As long as I do her bidding, she doesn’t much care.”

A bark left me before I could school my features. Letting a sensual smile at all the things I’d do with my new little toy for the weekend stretch my features, I leaned my head against the buttery leather of the backseat and pulled her onto my lap. "You're such a little hell brat, aren't you?"

"Am I?" She returned to fiddling with the remnants of my necktie again.

“I prefer the image of a kitten, playing around on a fluffy blanket, and shredding all the things that she just hates that day.” She stretched against me and scraped her short nails none too gently along my torso to prove her point.

Four of them, actually, that I swore I’d bear the marks of when I’d change later. Not that I minded all that much.

“Maybe we should keep that for when we’re…" I wanted to say, in the bedroom , but despite her wonderful brand of flirting, I didn't want to presume. “Alone?” I offered instead, all too conscious of the driver’s eye on her and not the road. Suddenly I wanted Genie to myself, and only myself.

Her lips pressed to my ear. "When you’re balls deep to the hilt inside my pretty little pussy?

" Her breath tickled the sensitive flesh at my throat, and I released a breathy little moan without realizing the sound came from me for a moment.

“That’s what you meant, right, Barclay? Or do you say it differently? "

I know a man who would.

But I’d banished him from my thoughts when I ran from the house last time, and left him behind, along with half of my heart, or maybe a decent part of my soul.

Bringing the armor back was only a part of my penance.

The rest would be paid in dealing with my mother’s weeping.

I was certain I could bemoan the halls at some point.

But right now, the pretty little thing on my lap deserved my attention.

And when in Rome…

Or at least the French countryside.

"Something like that." I’d love to lay you out, pleat that pretty skirt to your waist, and lap at your cunt until your cream for me, little kitten. But I didn’t know if that would be what she needed to hear…

Or if my suggestion would come across as an invitation.

Recovering my sanity in time—just—I slid my hand over her waist and brushed the top of her ass with my thumbs.

"Shall we make a rendezvous for my room, or yours?"

Hazel eyes glowed up at me, all luminous and glowing and perfection. "Are you setting expectations early, Barclay?"

“I’m certainly not wasting any more time.

I’ve wanted you for longer than just a weekend's dalliance, mon petit chou. ” I grazed my lips across her cheek to her ear, loving the way she arched naturally in my hands at the barest touch.

“But the driver is a hell of a perv. I’m not above sharing, but he’s not my type. ”

Fuck, this trip would be tough enough without a pretty little thing waiting for a good fuck between bouts in my stepmother’s salon.

" Barclay. " Genie made an exasperated sound and sat back.

I dropped my hands, already missing the warmth of her as she slithered back into her own seat and returned to my pensive study of her. "What was that?"

She raised both my eyebrows. "You're asking me? Barclay, you’re bored.

You're so bored you asked me to go out on a date with you and you and can't even do it right.

You. Know. Better." Genie punctuated each word with a finger jab into my chest. "And look down. You must be worse off than I imagined."

She glanced pointedly down to where her demure, powder blue knee length skirt had ridden up her bare thighs to give me a tantalizing view of her naked pussy.

I could smell her from here. How the hell had I missed that?

Maybe she was right, and a little British ennui numbed my senses. Or perhaps I was just numb all over.

She hasn't said no to my teasing before, and I took the chance she offered.

"Come back here." I crooked a finger at her, my heart pounding at the thought of a second chance at her.

Offering a tantalizing half smile she came, crawling daintily across the small space and wagging her ass in a mouthwatering tease as she crossed my lap and lay down with her pert ass, barely covered by her ruched skirt, right in my lap.

“Ohhh, so maybe you’re not so bored after all.” She crooked her legs so her midnight blue pumps waved about at my head height and shot me a coquettish look over her shoulder.

This weekend might be fun after all.

“Do you consider this appropriate behavior?” I added a sudden sharp tone to my voice, placing a firm hand right over her ass, feeling how bare she was through the filmy material.

Christ, I wanted to grip her the pert globes of her ass, squeeze her tight and watch her mewl and yelp. But not just yet. Soon.

“No, sir,” she whispered back breathily.

Color stained her cheeks, but she didn’t break her gaze.

I didn’t dare raise my eyes to find the driver’s face in the rear view mirror in case I fished out his tie with my hand and choked him with it.

He could watch or not, but his odds of having a job tomorrow diminished by the second. “Wh– What are you going to do?”

“Do?” I stared down at her, loving the way she tensed, confused, over my lap, that she could feel how hard her little role play made me. “Why, nothing, my dear. Relax until we arrive. You can sit up then.”

She swallowed, her lips parted in a pretty, strawberry heart shape. The tip of her tongue peeks out to trace a small ‘o’ shape the perfect size for?—

Fucking tease.

“Yes, sir,” she murmured demurely, facing the car door like an obedient little plaything. Her back arched a little, lifting her hips away from mine and easing the pressure on my cock.

The pervy driver was back again, watching me instead of the road.

I risked it and met his hard eyes with a furious glare of my own as I pressed my hand over Genie’s pert buttocks, pushing her down so she ground against me.

Pleasure shot through me as I edged us both, prepared to take us to insanity and back with the slightest touch.

The snarl on the other man's lips said everything I needed to know. He wasn’t getting action tonight if I didn’t.

I suspected there were cameras hidden in the car and Genie deserved much more than to star in her own porn show for my mother’s viewing late this evening with her slimy sidepiece for hire.

The softest sigh left my little kitten’s lips.

For the rest of the trip we didn’t speak.

I held her there silently, teasing the ever loving fuck out of both of us as I stroked her hair and back.

I prayed we’d get a moment together shortly after we arrived to put an end to the endless throb in my cock.

But lonely nights listening to the endless fucking in the Kingsman house left me the King of Edging, and I wasn’t about to embarrass myself any time soon.

At least, I didn’t plan on it. Not that I would've minded, under the right set of circumstances.

But that was the reason I hadn't asked her out, right? Fooling around with Genie Lockwood didn’t affect my day to day my choices.

In fact, I'd stayed away from her for exactly that reason.

I screwed things up with my ex, Elisse, in a full blown saga of its own, and I didn't want Jeannie to just be another girl in a long line of meaningless American college conquests.

Let's put the fake right back in my French fake chateau date.

Because if I didn't hold to my guns, this weekend would go to hell faster than a priest in the dockside brothel.

The problem was, I liked the girl arched over my lap, panting softly as she tried not to writhe, suffering so prettily for me. We’d already played around a little too much for this weekend to return to being a pure fake date after all.