No one will see. This alleyway is a dead end and it’s not overlooked. If anyone does come along I will hear their footsteps in advance and all they’ll find is two people having a quiet talk.
But she doesn’t need to know that.
I grip her silky inner thigh with my hand. “Tough. Little girls who tease, they usually end up on their knees or over knees, but seeing as you were so keen to flaunt yourself to me, this seems like a more fitting punishment, doesn’t it?”
The surprise in her eyes is so fucking sweet, that alone could make my dick hard. Added to that the feel of her legs and the dampness that has gathered between them while she’s sat, horny and knickerless at the bar, means I’m throbbing with a need I haven’t felt so strongly in a long time. Oh, the things I’m going to do to you, minette, just you wait. But for now, you need to be taught who’s in charge.
“You’re the one who’ll get his name in the paper,” she points out, lips parted, breathing rapidly. “The headline will read Frederic d’Estang and unknown woman caught in alleyway tryst.”
“No, it will read Frederic d’Estang and British agent’s daughter caught in alleyway tryst. Now stop wriggling and be a good girl for daddy. I want to touch your pussy.” My fingers find hot wetness. Mon Dieu. She’s so slick, so turned on. Instantly her body unclenches and her head falls back as I rub her most tender parts.
“How will they know it’s me?” she whispers, her eyes closed.
“Because I’ll tell them.” I slide the blade of my forefinger along her clit, back and forth. She comes up on her toes with a gasp and her eyes open, and they’re bewildered and hazy with arousal. She’s so sensitive to my touch. “That’s it, minette. Open your legs a little more.”
All pretense of resisting me is gone and she walks her feet open, moving her hands up to my shoulders and holding on to me for dear life. I delve deeper, my finger sliding into the tightness of her, just an inch deep, and then out again back to her clit. I rub back and forth, watching her watch me. I can tell she’s wondering if this is the moment I’m going to drive my finger all the way into her, or this, but I make her wait. Make her guess.
“How do you like getting fingered in an alleyway in Paris?” In answer she bites her lip and nods, beyond words. I slowly sink a finger into her, and merde, she’s tight. Her nails dig into my shoulders, and I immediately pull out and give her pussy a spank. It makes a lovely wet sound, and she yelps and a little flash of pain and surprise crosses her expression.
“No clawing me, minette,” I growl.
Instantly her fingers relax and she looks contrite. “Yes, Frederic.”
“Yes who?”
“Yes, daddy.” Her eyes search mine, needful, penitent, and it’s all I can do not to turn her around so she’s braced against the door and fuck her, hard and swift and greedy, one hand clamped over her mouth while I whisper in her ear what a slut she’ll be for me.
But all in good time.
I return to my leisurely exploration of her, pushing deeper with each slide of my fingers, stretching her, rubbing the spot deep inside her where it feels best, but briefly, very briefly. Keeping her guessing. Keeping her needy. “How do you like getting finger-fucked in an alleyway by daddy?” And when I say this she whimpers and arches against me, her pussy clenching hard around my fingers, not quite coming yet but close, which is far better than anything she could have said in response. Just a short time ago she was a prickly, unhappy young woman moldering in the English countryside. Now she’s panting in my arms, looking at me like I’m her whole world. I crook my fingers inside her in a come here motion and she moans. A red blush has appeared across her cheeks and chest. How many fantasies could I draw out of this girl and bring to life while she looks at me just like she is now, like I’m the only thing in the world that she knows or cares about?
This fantasy, though, showing her what I can make her do for me in an alleyway if she teases and provokes me—this is all mine. “You see what happens when you test me, when you flaunt yourself at me and think you can get away with it? Anyone coming by will see what a slutty little girl you are. And you are, aren’t you?”
Whimpering, she nods. “Yes, daddy.”
The look on her face is almost my undoing. She’s so eager, so pliant, and even better is the fact that she’s never looked at anyone the way she’s looking at me now. I’m the one who discovered these secret desires within her and coaxed them from her lips. I’m the one she’s chosen to trust, to confide in. She’s put herself completely into my hands. A possessive thrill runs through me. Mine. All mine.
I keep up the motion with my fingers, harder and stronger until I can feel her burning up in my arms, her eyes holding mine with an expression that begs for mercy and for more at the same time. She will have more from me, but never mercy. “That’s it, come for me, little one,” I whisper against her mouth. I bear down on that slick, swollen spot deep inside her.
“Oh god!” Her pussy clamps like a vise around my fingers as she comes, her head tipping back and her mouth opening wide. She’s a yeller with me, even though she was silent by herself. I cover her mouth with my other hand just in time, muffling her cries. One hand giving pleasure and one hand constraining, capturing. The perfect expression of my desire for her.
When her orgasm finally releases her she looks back at me, cheeks pink and eyes hazy. Oh, good girl. Very good girl. But I’m not ready to show her how pleased I am with her yet. Evie has a lesson to learn. She’s giggling as I withdraw my fingers, weak, happy giggles, and she smooths her hands down my chest, watching their path.
I capture her chin and force it up. “Now, what did we learn?”
Oblivious to my severe tone, she wraps her arms around my neck and presses her face against my throat, her chest heaving against mine as she tries to catch her breath. “That you make me feel wonderful.”
My heart expands in my chest and for a moment I can’t speak. She’s come with a man and she feels wonderful. There are no tears, no unhappiness, no doubts. I remember her words to me the other day when I asked her what she thought about submitting to me. It’s like that fantasy I told you about. It feels good, but it’s best left as something imaginary. I know she feels it too: The reality is far better than the fantasy.
Lesson first, I remind myself, indulgence later.
I loosen her arms around my neck and look down at her, stern. “No. We learned that if you test my limits I’m going to test yours back, twice as hard. If you push me you’ll find you run out of ground long before I do.”
Her face settles into contrition and she says meekly, “Yes, daddy.”
Finally, I smile, and pull her into my arms, enjoying the warmth of her sleek body, pliant from coming. “Bonne fille. Come here.” She buries her face in my neck and holds me fiercely. It’s one of my favorite sensations, being clung to, for its own sake and because it means I’ve done my job properly. She feels satiated, and safe in my arms.
“Frederic?” she whispers, her face still buried against me.