Aftercare

Sinead glowered at Marc even though he met her with a towel as she stepped out of his shower. The fact that it was a wonderfully fluffy towel, and her body felt like it was floating after everything that had happened even if she hadn’t gotten fucked, made it a little harder for her to maintain the expression.

But she was determined to let Marc know how she felt about things.

Primarily that he still hadn’t put his fucking cock in her, but a close second that he’d spirited Felicity away while leaving Sinead tied up. She hadn’t seen a single inch of the woman with the warm, welcoming voice and the mouth that could do fucking wonders.

“How are you feeling?” Marc asked her after he’d bundled her up on the towel that felt like it might have been more expensive than any piece of clothing in her wardrobe back home. How was it that soft?

The truth was, Sinead felt fucking amazing.

“Pissed off,” she lied.

Marc just chuckled, and she hated that he could see through her like that. Him and his fucking aftercare. Once Felicity was gone, he’d kept the blindfold on Sinead but had freed her from the spreader bar and the handcuffs. Then he’d broken out some sort of massage oil and massaged her entire body, making her fucking melt in a completely different way than Felicity had, before picking her up and bringing her to the shower. She’d only been freed of the blindfold once she was standing in the big shower stall, and Marc had taken the time to wash all her sweat and the massage oil from her before he left her to give her a few minutes to gather herself.

“What are you most ‘pissed off’ about, ma petite rebelle?” he asked.

“Felicity.”

“That she joined us?”

Sinead knew she should have been pissed about that. Marc had basically tricked her into a threesome. It was a lowdown, dirty tactic. If he was her boyfriend, or if her ex-husband had tried that shit, she’d be fuming.

But Marc wasn’t her boyfriend or her husband. He was her… Dominant. And she was his submissive. And she’d agreed to the game he was playing with her.

And fuck Felicity had played her like a fine instrument. Even while the curvy woman had been moaning in Sinead’s ear as she got totally pounded by Marc.

“No,” Sinead grunted. “That you fucking disappeared her before I could meet her.”

Marc chuckled softly, drying her with the towel that was made of clouds. “I promise, Detective, that you will eventually meet Felicity. But it was more fun this way.”

“‘Fun,’” Sinead deadpanned, her voice making the air quotes clear.

“For me,” Marc admitted. “Now, come.” He hung up the towel and offered her his hand, and she sighed before taking it and letting him lead her out of the bathroom, down the stairs from his bedroom, to the main floor where she found that his living room space in the open concept area had a half dozen candles lit, cozy looking blankets on the floor between the couches and chairs, and a silver platter tray on the coffee table. He had a red wine already poured into glasses, and fucking chocolate covered strawberries.

“You know you’re supposed to seduce me before the sex, right?” Sinead snorted as she sat down on the blankets, leaning back against the foot of the couch.

Marc handed her one of the glasses of wine. “This is much more fun,” he said.

“‘Fun,’” she repeated her deadpan joke from upstairs.

That was when she realised that Marc was wearing a pair of briefs as he sat down, and she was still naked. “Uh, excuse me,” she said, gesturing at the briefs. “I think you might be a little overdressed.”

Marc flashed her the fucking smile. “Detective, I would like to point out that the female form is much more visually appealing when it comes to casual nudity than the male form. We have dangling bits.”

That made Sinead snort, covering her mouth with the back of her hand for a second to stop from laughing further, and then taking a sip of her wine. “Mmmm,” she groaned. It was fucking good. Which probably meant he’d paid way more than she would have for it.

“Take a bite of our snack first, then a sip,” Marc suggested, doing so himself.

Sinead felt like, if she hadn’t had who knows how many orgasms upstairs, the combo of the wine, strawberries and chocolate could have pushed her over the edge.

“You’re a real fucking bastard, you know?” she mumbled, leaning back and stretching without a care that she was putting a show on for him. Or maybe caring a bit too much. She wasn’t even sure of how she was still feeling.

“Perhaps you should find something else to call me?” Marc chuckled. “I’m not in love with being called a ‘fucking bastard’ or ‘French fuck.’”

Sinead smirked, raising an eyebrow at him. “I’ll consider it,” she said. “Now, what’s all this about?”

“Why, ma petite rebelle,” Marc said. “The case! What else would we talk about when we’ve already taken care of sex, food and wine?”

Breakthebar erotica is powered by Patreon, where early chapters are released ahead for all of my series. Le Francais is a Commissioned Work. PM if interested in helping fund the series, or if you are looking to commission a story of your own!