Re-Preparing for a Secretive Date

Looking into the mirror, Sinead let out a long, slow breath before she started to reapply her lipstick. She could hear Marc outside of the washroom, in his closet, getting dressed.

The mission had been accomplished, mostly. Despite giving Marc a fairly heavy blowjob, most of her makeup hadn’t got messed up in any way. Lipstick was tough not to get at least a little worn off though, and her hair needed a bit of work to get back to where it had been beforehand. To be fair, she wasn’t sure if her hair being mussed was from giving or receiving though.

Marc had made her cum so hard she’d felt it in her toes. She wasn’t even exactly sure how that had happened. He hadn’t done anything revelatory in the cunnilingus department. He didn’t have any special moves as far as she could tell. He didn’t introduce any new toys or anything. He just… ate her out, and she came like she’d gotten the best fuck of her life.

But then, when had he not made her come like that?

After that sort of orgasm, she hadn’t wanted to hold back on the blowjob. Not like that first time when she’d started and tried to punish him for leveraging her wants on the case. She already knew that doing that was pointless; she wanted his dick in her mouth. She wanted to feel the power of making him moan and groan, of knowing that his focus was on her. That she was making him feel things that couldn’t be controlled because he was so controlled.

Marc hadn’t exactly held back, either. He hadn’t shoved his cock into her throat or anything. He didn’t even make her gag. But Sinead had spent about half the time in command of the blowjob, working every little skill with her lips and tongue that she could think of, and the other half he’d - well, he’d fucked her face. Gently, sure, but he’d been in command. Thrusting between her lips. Driving his cock against her tongue.

And she’d enjoyed it.

That was the strangest part, as she looked at herself in the mirror. She’d never been the kind of woman who had an oral fixation and loved the idea of giving a blowjob. She’d done them, sometimes happily, but she’d never looked at a cock she’d just made pop with the taste of cum in her mouth and thought, ‘I wish I could do that again. Right now.’

“Almost finished, ma petite rebelle?” Marc asked as he came into the washroom. He stood right next to her at the sink counter and placed his hand on her bare ass. She hadn’t even put the lingerie panties back on yet. The thing was, he didn’t slap her ass. Her ex would have done that, back when they’d been getting along. A playful smack that would make her smirk at him in the mirror, and him smirk back.

Marc’s hand just rested on her butt, firm and… possessive.

Fuck, that’s a bit much, Sinead thought as she felt her legs quiver. She wasn’t livestock to be owned. Marc didn’t own her. But for some reason, the idea that he felt possessive was hot as hell.

“Nearly,” Sinead said, putting her lipstick back in her purse and standing up, running her fingers through her hair. “Where are we going, Marc?”

He smiled that fucking smile of his. “I think you will appreciate the surprise, Detective.”

His hand was still on her ass. Not groping, not moving, just resting. It was infuriating. Do something with it! She wanted to say. Squeeze it. Slap it. Play with the buttplug, for fuck’s sake. That was the point of it, right? To tease her?

Well, Sinead felt thoroughly teased. He’d given her a great orgasm and she wanted more.

But he didn’t do any of that. He just stood with his hip resting against the counter and his hand on her ass and watched her do her hair. Sinead could feel herself blushing at the oddly intimate feeling - had her ex-husband ever just… watched her? She could see the look in his eyes in the mirror. It was a weird mixture of pride, and caring, and hunger.

“Done,” Sinead said.

“Bien,” Marc nodded. “You look lovely.”

He let go of her ass and took her hand, leading her back into the bedroom. While she’d been in there he’d lain out her clothes on the bed - the green panties, the faux-leather pants, the billowy blouse, even her shoes. For some reason that little thing made her heart skip a beat. Another strangely intimate gesture.

Sinead got dressed as Marc watched her. Getting the pants on was a little bit of a show for him as she got them over her ass and hips, and he smiled seeing her bounce on the balls of her feet a few times. Once she was dressed Marc approached her, looking down into her eyes, and she thought he was going to kiss her.

Instead, he used a couple of fingers to adjust a strand of hair that had fallen out of place while she’d been getting dressed. “Parfait,” he said softly and winked at her. “Come. We should be leaving. Ça ne se fait pas d'être en retard.”

Leaving the loft apartment didn’t take long, and Marc was always the gentleman opening his car door for her. Once they were on the road, Sinead took a breath and then decided to take a risk. She reached over and put her hand on Marc’s leg. She wanted…. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, but after noticing him doing all those intimate things she wanted to do something like that back. She just wasn’t sure what her goal was.

Marc glanced at her with a little raise of his eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Then they were at a red light and he took one hand off the steering wheel and put it on her thigh, high up and holding the inside with his fingers. She didn’t say anything about how it made her pussy tingle. He let go when the green light came on, and she pulled her hand back as well, digging her thumbnail into her forefinger.

God, I’m acting like a fucking schoolgirl, she thought to herself.

“What are we doing here?” Sinead asked when Marc pulled them onto a very familiar street.

“We’re attending a card game,” Marc said with one of those smiles of his. “Ready to go undercover with me again, Detective?”

Sinead raised both her eyebrows as they pulled up in front of Victor Berisha’s warehouse near the port. The one she’d been staking out with Jules earlier that week.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Sinead said.

<U>Translations</U>
- “Ça ne se fait pas d'être en retard.” = “It’s not appropriate to show up late.”

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