Never Have We Ever, page 4
“You want to be my wife?” He kissed her before she could answer. “You want me to become your husband?”
She sighed within his hold. Yet no matter how wide she stretched her legs, she still could not convince him to go for it. “We already signed the papers and said the vows in front of everyone, Monsieur Dubois.”
“That is circumstance. This is l’amour.”
“You’re saying we’re not really married yet?”
“I say I make you my wife now.”
He did.
His breath was heavy upon her lips as he fucked her as hard as his body allowed. After two rounds of sex and enough orgasms to kill lesser women, Valeska was more than pliable. Whatever he wanted. When he wanted it. André met utterly no resistance every time his cock plunged deep inside of her and stimulated the parts of her even she barely knew about. This is what I wanted, but I never thought I would get it! His mouth crushed hers. His tongue danced inside of her mouth. His cock burrowed inside of her, pinning her to the bed and making her claw his chest, his shoulders, and the breadth of his naked back. God! I can’t take it! Valeska could come whenever she wanted, but until her husband joined her, she couldn’t finish. The longer this went on, the more he swelled with every thrust.
“Je jouis.” André said it over and over, one of the few things Valeska immediately understood. “Je t’aime et je jouis…”
She knew how fickle men could be in bed. They loved her when they were coming. In the morning, things might be different.
Even with her husband.
He pinned her down when he came, his roar of release taming her quicker than his orgasm did. Not that she ignored it. How could she, when her body was overcome with warmth and the need to hold him even closer. As Valeska’s nails dug into his shoulders, he dug into her and shared what he claimed really made her his wife.
Valeska had to agree it made a good statement. Her elated senses sent shocks of pleasure to her curling toes and gaping mouth.
“Ah, my God.” André spent the last of his strength uttering those words. One moment he was fucking his wife with all his might, and the next he was still, although he refused to abandon her again. “Tres beau.”
“You think?” Valeska didn’t want to laugh the first time her husband lay with her like this, but she couldn’t help it. “Beautiful?”
“Because it is with you.”
“Your wife.”
“Just you.”
Valeska had no idea how to take his flirtations. Sometimes he sounded like he had always been in love with her, but that could’ve been the classic French romanticism. There’s no way… he just thinks I’m hot. André might be infatuated with her now, but come two years’ time, he might be ready to move on and give his first wife her consolation package. Valeska had to steel herself for that possibility. Don’t fall in love with him. Not for real. Disappointment would claim her as easily as he did.
“Are you all right?”
She sighed. “Oui.”
André traced her lips with his thumb. “Your accent is getting better.”
“I have a good teacher.”
“Try to say je jouis. It means…”
“I think I know what it means.”
“Can you say it?”
Valeska blushed. “Jay… jooey?”
“Ah, you are so close.”
“You need to give me a reason to say it.”
André carefully dislodged himself from her. She was too tired to immediately close her legs, and felt the effect immediately. “I am tired, but perhaps in an hour I can.”
Valeska raised her eyebrows. “Are you serious?”
“We should wash up. How about a bath, Madame Dubois?”
Okay, so maybe she would fall in love with him a little. Not too much, though. Just in case.
Chapter 4
From the moment Valeska Dubois stepped through the door to her Parisian townhouse, she was in full-blown Queen Marie Antoinette mode. Or at least liable to get her head chopped off if any of the French servants decided to revolt against her.
Yet she had an amicable relationship with them, especially the ones who could speak English. Because nothing sent Valeska over the edge faster than returning from her thrice-weekly French tutoring only to be lost when her servants spoke to her in their native language.
Three years of intensive French tutoring and I still don’t know shit. Valeska stared blankly at the head maid Celeste, a thirty-something woman with enough proper training to work in the main Dubois manor. But Valeska’s mother-in-law had “gifted” the servant as a first anniversary present, citing Valeska’s need to have more ladylike friends her age.
Did she send a German-speaking servant? Nooooo. Of course not.
“This arrangement is all wrong,” Valeska announced as she swept through the dining room. “You know André hates irises. Get rid of it. Everything must be perfect before he gets home.”
Celeste relayed the orders in French to the rest of the staff. A young man darted out of the townhouse to get a new floral arrangement from the neighborhood florist. I hate being such a queen bitch, but today is such a big day… André was coming home from his business trip to Melbourne. The other side of the fucking world! It wasn’t bad enough the man often traveled all around Europe. He often stopped in Asia, Oceania, and the damned Americas. That’s what Valeska signed up for when she married the only son of one of France’s biggest investment families. The Dubois clan would never make international news for their antics, but they were hotshots in the banking and insurance worlds. When André wasn’t in Hong Kong overseeing a CEO’s assets, he was in New York City inspecting the vaults at Tiffany’s. His trips were often slammed back to back. It wasn’t unusual for two weeks to go by before Valeska saw her husband again.
He sent her letters, though. Oh, and he called her, of course, but the letters were from another universe.
The latest one awaited her on her desk in the master suite. Celeste had kindly placed it in a conspicuous spot and placed one of Valeska’s favorite Swiss chocolates next to it. Such a ritual of eating chocolate and perusing her husband’s French letters would have to wait today, however. Not only could Valeska barely make out a damned thing her husband wrote on the stationary, but she had to get ready for their intimate dinner that night.
It was their second anniversary. André had originally planned to be home from Melbourne the day before so they could go to the opera and dinner for their anniversary, but a storm had kept them grounded in Australia. Only now was the private Dubois plane landing at the airport outside of Paris.
André would be too tired to do anything but have a nice dinner at home, but Valeska would make sure it was the nicest dinner he ever fucking had, complete with the best champagne reserves and a live violinist playing in the other room. She didn’t want anyone else in the dining room while they ate and caught up. Because there was much to discuss.
The grace period was over.
For two years Valeska had acclimated to the title of Madame Dubois. She had moved to Paris full-time, although she took monthly trips to her family’s Austrian estates. She managed André’s home and attempted to cultivate a social life worthy of a Parisian lady. Except Valeska had never managed to fit in with the local gossip queens and their snobbery. Every stereotype about the French – especially the wealthy Parisians – was true, as far as her humble Austrian viewpoint was concerned. They often chastised her rough, Germanic accent and her inability to latch onto any Romance language. Those who deigned to be seen with her only did so because of the Dubois name. The closest thing Valeska had to a friend was Celeste and country-based madams who liked to make fun of the Parisian mentality.
Nothing lambasted her anxiety more than knowing her husband continued to fancy other women, however.
André was a terrible romantic, and while that extended to his wife, it did not bring her comfort when he openly flirted with other women in front of her. Parisians told her that was the French way, but could a young wife who was infatuated with her handsome husband truly feel comfortable with him kissing prettier women on the cheek and whispering whatever the fuck he always said into their ears?
The grace period is over tonight. He’ll want to open our marriage. I know it.
He probably was already having covetous affairs around the globe. The man spent so much time abroad, that he could have ten girlfriends and Valeska would never be the wiser. They could be escorts for all she knew. Guess I’ll find out if I ever get a STD. She slammed her makeup down on her vanity and tried to not give herself a stroke with these anxious thoughts.
“Madame!” Celeste cried from the hallway. “Monsieur Dubois has arrived!”
Valeska hurried to finish her makeup and readjust the dress she bought for their anniversary dinner – a midnight lavender wrap-dress with enough cosmic sparkles to remind any man of the night they married. Maybe, if I look my best every time he comes home, I will remind him that I am the best woman for him. She kept an impeccable home and had never embarrassed his family – accented gaffes aside. To her credit, André’s mother always played them off as part of her Germanic charm. A novelty, as opposed to a liability.
“Tres délicieux!” Valeska steeled herself on the staircase the moment she heard her husband’s voice in the dining room. The aroma of venison and rosemary potatoes filled the air. Their personal chef had outdone himself yet again. “Merci beucoup, Celeste.”
Valeska couldn’t understand what else her husband said to the maid. Celeste smiled at her mistress before leaving the married pair in the dining room. When Valeska reached her husband, it was with the usual level of unrestrained desire she usually felt around him.
For all the passion he showed other people, André gave her double. That much Valeska could admit.
“Ah!” She was dipped over a dining chair and kissed with the last of a travel-haggard man’s strength. Valeska popped up again only to brace herself against the chair. Her hair had become mussed in the process. “Welcome home?”
“I must be home, because my beautiful wife is here.”
His English was better than usual. Not strange, considering he had spent a week in Melbourne. Before that? I think it was Tokyo. André didn’t speak a word of Japanese, so they must’ve conversed in English. The man spoke so much English for his work that it wasn’t difficult for him to switch to it around his wife. Which, unfortunately, did not help her French practice. Thus far, the only sizable amount of French Valeska fluently learned were basic commands to the servants and how to announce how hard she was about to come during sex.
“Why are you blushing? Is it hot in Paris recently?”
Valeska couldn’t bear to look her husband in the face after that. She insisted they sit down and have dinner, which gave André plenty of time to regale her with tales of his trip and present her with the souvenir he procured in Melbourne.
“It’s kangaroo jerky,” he announced, placing the small bag in his wife’s hand. The venison had barely begun to cool when another stack of meat came into her life. “I sampled it. Delicious. You’ll love it.”
“Danke.” Valeska handed it to Celeste the next time she entered the room with more drinks. “I hope you enjoy the dinner. I planned it for our anniversary.”
André lifted his glass of champagne for a toast. “Oui, oui, to two happy years.”
Valeska paused before clinking her glass against his. “Have they been happy for you?”
“Of course?” André removed his suit jacket. His dress shirt was wrinkled from travel, and his tie askew, but he looked as handsome as the day of their wedding. Valeska could no longer count how many times she had seen her husband naked, but every time he kissed her – clothes on or off – she felt like a silly girl again. Damn her for catching feelings in an arranged marriage. It was going to make his insistence that they open things up to other lovers all the more unbearable. “I am a happy man. Good home, good career, and a great wife. Why? Are you not happy, Madame Dubois?”
Valeska picked at her dinner. Not even the seasoned vegetables called to her, and they were usually her favorite. “Yes. I am mostly happy. Especially when you are home.”
André had to look at her twice. “I’m so sorry. I am not home enough. I must work hard for my family.”
“I know.”
“My father doesn’t understand that I need to be home with my wife. I tell him that we are still getting to know each other, but he doesn’t understand why it’s important. He acts like you are a… how do you say… ornament.”
Valeska didn’t respond. She knew what her place in the family was, as far as the Dubois clan was concerned. Her in-laws saw her as a home-minder and grandchildren handler first and foremost. The primary Madame Dubois, when she stopped in to visit with Valeska a week ago, did not hold back her opinion that it was time for her daughter-in-law to be with child. “You young women have so many medications these days, but you should stop taking them. If you need money for treatments, ask. It is not shameful.” Valeska had never been so embarrassed around her mother-in-law before.
The sad thing? She wanted children. Sometimes it was all she could think about, especially when she sat in her lonely townhouse, unable to understand a single thing her servants said. Did she want to have a child with André if their marriage went in a direction she couldn’t bear?
“I hope you don’t think I am a mere ornament.”
“Non, bien sur que non.”
Valeska was pretty sure that meant Of course not!
“Why? Do I make you feel that you are not beyond a mere ornament?”
It was too difficult to look at him. Valeska would rather stare at her venison and the half-drunk champagne that begged her to finish it. “I worry…”
André leaned in closer, his gentle knuckles brushing her hair from her cheek. Why do you have to be so considerate when I worry? It only served to make that tear really fall. “Why do you worry? Is it something wrong with Paris? Because I am gone so much?”
“Many things, I suppose.” This was not how Valeska wanted to celebrate their two years of marriage. I wanted food and romance. Even better if we could have both at the same time. “French is so difficult for me to understand. My accent is not better even after moving to Paris.”
“Who says? I have noticed incredible improvement. I can’t tell you apart from a Parisian woman.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“Ah, well…” André didn’t try to hide his embarrassment. “It has improved. Don’t think it hasn’t.” He wrapped his arm around the back of her chair. “I have an idea. For one of my gifts to you, I will hire you a German lady-in-waiting. Like a real princess deserves.”
Valeska blushed again. “Oh, stop. Celeste is more than capable of helping me run this house.”
“I don’t mean a maid. I mean a professional friend, because a princess should have her court.”
“That’s so…” Romantically archaic? That sounded weird to say in English. There was a perfectly good German word, but it was ten syllables long and would go right over André’s blond head. “I cannot ask you to do that.”
“Even better. Tomorrow, you will call your mother in Vienna and tell her to recommend you some suitable colleagues. We will fly the best candidate out here to live with you while I am gone. My wife will not be alienated while I am gone.”
“André…” Valeska wouldn’t disagree that it sounded like a wonderful idea, but it was so excessive! What kind of sensitive girl was she if she needed a lady-in-waiting? Even if they cut costs by claiming it would be a good experience for a young Austrian woman looking to become more cultured, it sounded like the kind of thing that would raise her in-laws’ ire.
“I worry too, Leska.” Where did this serious tone come from? He shouldn’t sound so serious on their anniversary, let alone after traveling for so long! “If my wife is so lonely while I am gone that she runs out of thoughts about me, then my heart is black.”
“What?”
“Ah… forget I said anything.”
André had such a faraway look on his countenance that Valeska likewise retreated into her own thoughts. Maybe he’s not with other women… maybe he really does love me… They had exchanged I love yous many times since marrying, but how was Valeska to know if they were real or hollow?
“Besides!” André’s hand was on her thigh, inching up beneath her skirt and testing the heat of her skin. It’s the first time he’s truly touched me in weeks. Has he been as true as I have been? “Perhaps we find a nice Austrian woman who can also be a nanny, non?”
“A nanny?”
“Yes, it is what I will tell my mother. We have hired an Austrian nanny whom is also your companion. To help you raise our children.”
Valeska finally raised her eyes to meet her husband’s gaze. “I suppose that’s one of many things we should discuss two years into our marriage.”
“You want les enfants, oui?”
Damnit! If Valeska didn’t stop blushing, she would embarrass herself beyond what was acceptable in these situations!
André pulled his hand out of her skirt and snatched her fingers off the table. “Two years means the grace period is fin. You and I, we will start a new phase of our marriage.”
“I thought grace period meant we would be exclusive and then discuss otherwise.”
André’s eyes widened. “You say that you want to have another man?”
“No! Why? Are there… other women?”
His hand tightened around hers. “When I think of the best woman to have a marriage and children with, I still think of Madame Dubois.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do not say things I do not mean.”
“You want to have children with me?”
“I want to have children and make you the happiest Madame Dubois in the history of my family. We can trace our lineage back to the 1400s, you know. That is many happy Dubois.”
“If you really want to make me happy, you could try being home a little more often.”
“I will speak with my father. If he knows that we are trying to have children and that I need to be a good father myself, maybe he will be more lenient on my duties. He will understand. There are duties to a wife, he always says.”
