Free Heirs Book Two: American Lady by Elleby Harper Page B
Authors: Elleby Harper
pin her to a stop, her heartbeat and
breathing accelerating in alarm as he approached.
“Come here, baby, I’ve missed you.” His arms
enclosed her, pulling her towards his chest. She gagged, breathing
in stale smoke from his clothes.
“I’ve been cooped up for twenty-four hours
in a flying sardine can with nothing to do except smoke and drink
and eat and think about screwing you.” His mouth descended on hers,
forcing her head into the crook of his arm where she couldn’t
resist responding to his demanding, dominating tongue. Feeling
slightly sick at her body’s intense reaction, she kept her eyes
closed as Alex raised his head to look appraisingly at her. Could
he see the passionate torrent, undammed by Jean-Luc’s torrid
lovemaking, that now thrummed insistently through her body, craving
release?
Holding her with one arm, he used the other
hand to flick her bathrobe open, revealing her tight, boyish
breasts and the flattest of taut stomachs. He twirled an enticingly
raised nipple, then placed his palm flat against her chest and
dragged it slowly down until it rested on her still damp patch of
black curls. His fingers curved downwards and he jabbed two fingers
inside her. She gasped and her eyes flew open.
“Let’s do this, Nikki. Paddy says it’s time
we started baby-making. Nothing is going to raise my profile more
as VP than to become a daddy while I’m in office.” His undulating
fingers were still moving tantalizingly inside her. Unwillingly,
her breath and heartbeat quickened as exquisite sensations
fireworked through her body.
“Alex, stop. We can’t do this,” she gasped,
rebelling at the thought of making love to Alex in the same bed
that had only recently been vacated by Jean-Luc. Her own intense
desires for both men confused her. She needed time to grasp
everything that had happened overnight, to absorb these new
sensations that her body was proving itself capable of. On top of
all that, her mind was tormented with the question of whether or
not she still loved Alex.
“Yes we can,” he insisted, now dragging her
towards the bed.
“Wait! What about Felicity?” Her resistance
was futile as he lifted her easily onto the bed.
He pulled his shirt over his head and
dropped it on the carpet. “I’ve given her the day off. What an
intensely annoying woman she is. She wouldn’t stop rabbiting on
about some missing chauffeur. The only way I could get her to shut
up was to say I’d look into it later.” He unbuckled his belt and
slid off his suit pants and boxers, grinning lasciviously at her.
“Right now, we’re going to make a baby.”
* * *
Duly obedient, Nikki had managed to give
birth to Charley just nine months later. Charley was a replica of
Nikki – from her eye color to her body shape there was very little
evidence of Alex or the Cassidys. Nikki had been relieved to see
there was no suggestion of Jean-Luc either. In the early years
there had been moments when she wondered, like when Charley picked
up speaking French so easily.
But as the memory of that night dimmed and
got stuffed further and further into her subconscious basement,
those uncertainties faded. She hadn’t wondered about Charley’s
paternity for many years. Now Charley had virtually punched her in
the face with a piece of information that curdled her vodka
breakfast – Charley and Maixent were born less than twelve days
apart.
She had deliberately not tracked Leigh
through the news once she’d returned to the States and she had been
so caught up in her own pregnancy and navigating Washington
politics as the new VP’s wife during 1957 that she had no idea when
Maixent was born.
She dropped her head into her hands and
sobbed despairingly for several minutes. She had hoped her
engagement to Lorenzo and the financial prop offered by Paddy would
shore up the crises tumbling into her life like a swarm of Black
Friday shoppers elbowing each other out of the way to be the first
to strip her secrets bare,
breathing accelerating in alarm as he approached.
“Come here, baby, I’ve missed you.” His arms
enclosed her, pulling her towards his chest. She gagged, breathing
in stale smoke from his clothes.
“I’ve been cooped up for twenty-four hours
in a flying sardine can with nothing to do except smoke and drink
and eat and think about screwing you.” His mouth descended on hers,
forcing her head into the crook of his arm where she couldn’t
resist responding to his demanding, dominating tongue. Feeling
slightly sick at her body’s intense reaction, she kept her eyes
closed as Alex raised his head to look appraisingly at her. Could
he see the passionate torrent, undammed by Jean-Luc’s torrid
lovemaking, that now thrummed insistently through her body, craving
release?
Holding her with one arm, he used the other
hand to flick her bathrobe open, revealing her tight, boyish
breasts and the flattest of taut stomachs. He twirled an enticingly
raised nipple, then placed his palm flat against her chest and
dragged it slowly down until it rested on her still damp patch of
black curls. His fingers curved downwards and he jabbed two fingers
inside her. She gasped and her eyes flew open.
“Let’s do this, Nikki. Paddy says it’s time
we started baby-making. Nothing is going to raise my profile more
as VP than to become a daddy while I’m in office.” His undulating
fingers were still moving tantalizingly inside her. Unwillingly,
her breath and heartbeat quickened as exquisite sensations
fireworked through her body.
“Alex, stop. We can’t do this,” she gasped,
rebelling at the thought of making love to Alex in the same bed
that had only recently been vacated by Jean-Luc. Her own intense
desires for both men confused her. She needed time to grasp
everything that had happened overnight, to absorb these new
sensations that her body was proving itself capable of. On top of
all that, her mind was tormented with the question of whether or
not she still loved Alex.
“Yes we can,” he insisted, now dragging her
towards the bed.
“Wait! What about Felicity?” Her resistance
was futile as he lifted her easily onto the bed.
He pulled his shirt over his head and
dropped it on the carpet. “I’ve given her the day off. What an
intensely annoying woman she is. She wouldn’t stop rabbiting on
about some missing chauffeur. The only way I could get her to shut
up was to say I’d look into it later.” He unbuckled his belt and
slid off his suit pants and boxers, grinning lasciviously at her.
“Right now, we’re going to make a baby.”
* * *
Duly obedient, Nikki had managed to give
birth to Charley just nine months later. Charley was a replica of
Nikki – from her eye color to her body shape there was very little
evidence of Alex or the Cassidys. Nikki had been relieved to see
there was no suggestion of Jean-Luc either. In the early years
there had been moments when she wondered, like when Charley picked
up speaking French so easily.
But as the memory of that night dimmed and
got stuffed further and further into her subconscious basement,
those uncertainties faded. She hadn’t wondered about Charley’s
paternity for many years. Now Charley had virtually punched her in
the face with a piece of information that curdled her vodka
breakfast – Charley and Maixent were born less than twelve days
apart.
She had deliberately not tracked Leigh
through the news once she’d returned to the States and she had been
so caught up in her own pregnancy and navigating Washington
politics as the new VP’s wife during 1957 that she had no idea when
Maixent was born.
She dropped her head into her hands and
sobbed despairingly for several minutes. She had hoped her
engagement to Lorenzo and the financial prop offered by Paddy would
shore up the crises tumbling into her life like a swarm of Black
Friday shoppers elbowing each other out of the way to be the first
to strip her secrets bare,