"Ah, bien..." Philippe struggled to overcome his bemusement. "Since I was not asked to pay any fees, I suppose it was you?"

  Charlee-Mae's face broke into a wide smile. "I knew it!"

  That was the last reaction he had expected, and Philippe gave up trying to understand things on his own. "You are not...furious?"

  Charlee-Mae laughed, and Philippe started to wonder if he had stumbled into another alternate universe.

  "I might have lost my memories of the past two weeks," his wife told him with a wrinkle of her nose, "but it doesn't mean I no longer know myself." She shot him a chiding look. "Duh."

  Philippe didn't know whether to feel amused or disgruntled. No one had ever said 'duh' to him, but considering that his wife had every right to say a lot worse—-

  Duh was good, Philippe decided privately, and a lot better than words like 'damn' and 'douchebag'.

  "Ever since Charlotte got the S.A.F.E. men down the aisle," Charlee-Mae was now telling him, "I've been so, so tempted to sign up with her agency."

  This was news to Philippe, but it was not enough reason to lower his guard. Hell hath no fury like a woman lied to, or so the saying more or less went.

  "I've honestly lost count of the times I decided to go for it, only to back out at the very last minute because of pride. Or more like vanity. I was worried that if people were to find out I chose to become a mail-order bride, they'd think of me as this old and desperate thirty-something chick and lose all respect—-"

  "Charlee-Mae?"

  She immediately stopped talking. Philippe had probably called her that before, but this was the first time she remembered him doing it, and she loved how he made her name sound so...French.

  "Vous pouvez répéter?"

  Charlee-Mae's accent was still terrible, but for once Philippe had too many things in his mind to let it affect his libido. "Charlee-Mae," he began.

  Butterflies started to flutter around the edges of her stomach. "One more time, please?"

  Philippe felt as if he had suddenly lost track of their conversation. "One more time what?"

  "My name."

  "Ah...Charlee-Mae?"

  His wife's entire face lit up, and Philippe, who had been meaning to ask if she truly was not angry, realized at that moment he already had his answer right there. And although he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth—-

  "Why aren't you furious?"

  Charlee-Mae looked at him oddly. "Uh...duh."

  Philippe's lips pressed together to keep himself from smiling. 'Duh' was very, very good.

  "Why would you think I was furious?"

  "Because I lied to you."

  "Oh, that."

  Philippe had never heard a woman dismiss a lie so easily.

  "I'm sure Dr. Manolis told you to avoid doing anything that could upset me," Charlee-Mae said wryly, "and that's why you didn't tell me the truth."

  "He did indeed," Philippe said slowly, "but..."

  "It's not like it was that hard to figure out, you know. You've been so careful with your replies every time we talk. You were super protective of me, and I found it very sweet."

  "Je vois..."

  "Oh no."

  He stiffened.

  "I can already tell..."

  Philippe's unease returned.

  "You're another overthinker like Charlotte," Charlee-Mae teased.

  Philippe's head was starting to ache. Just when he started to think he was out of the woods, Charlee-Mae would say something that made him feel like he was walking on the edge of a cliff, but just as he started thinking worst-case scenarios, she would say something to ease his worries.

  LOOKING AT HER, AND seeing her amber eyes once again filled with mischief, Philippe heard himself ask, "Are we truly good, ma femme? You truly do not care—-"

  "That we started as a mail-order marriage, but ended up falling in love along the way?" Her lips curved in the prettiest smile, and Philippe forced himself to smile back even as her words made him feel like someone had just walked over his grave.

  "It was really, really sweet of you to try and hide the truth."

  Philippe knew this was his last chance to make things right and come clean.

  "And I think that deserves a reward, so..."

  "Charlee-Mae—-"

  "Don't you think it's time to make a woman out of me?"

  Putain de bordel de merde.

  And then his wife knelt down.

  "But first..."

  She reached for the buttons of his trousers, and Philippe's fists clenched against his sides. His conscience told him it wasn't right to let Charlee-Mae do this when he had yet to tell her about—-

  FUCK!

  His trousers were now pooled around his ankles, and his wife's fingers were stroking gently over the bulge of his arousal.

  "What a huge package you have..." Charlee-Mae only meant to tease, but when her words made her husband growl, the rawness of the sound made her entire body burn, and she suddenly had the most pressing need to see—-

  Oh my Lord!

  After tugging his boxers down his legs, she found herself directly at eye level with Philippe's cock, which was definitely, absolutely, and wonderfully...huge. She wasn't even sure she could wrap her fingers completely around—-oh.

  Charlee-Mae couldn't help but stare in awe.

  He really was huge, and just as she suspected, he really was too thick for her to fully hold, and when she thought about how long he was...

  Philippe saw his wife gulp, and all he could think about was what she would gulp on next, and fuck, fuck, fuck—-

  Her amber eyes were now looking up to his, and the helpless desire he saw in her gaze destroyed whatever control and conscience he had left inside of him.

  "Tu es très énorme, monsieur."

  The whispered words, and oh fuck, that accent of hers which was still as shitty as it was lust-inducing - both were the last straw, and he could no longer stop himself from gently cupping her nape until he was slowly guiding her mouth to the swollen and slightly wet head of his arousal.

  Aaaaah.

  His eyes squeezed shut as the warm, moist heaven that was his wife's mouth took him in, slowly and tentatively at first, but because of the steady pressure that he was exerting as he continued to guide her movement, the rest of his cock gradually made it past her lips...

  And then he was completely in, and he felt his wife slowly start to suck on his cock.

  "Charlee-Mae, mon Dieu..."

  The sound of her husband's lust-roughened groan made Charlee-Mae want to moan herself, but with her mouth completely stuffed, all she could do was reach up to gently squeeze his balls while sucking harder on his cock, which was hotter, harder, and bigger than she could ever imagine.

  It made her dizzy with pleasure, knowing that this unbelievably enormous cock was all hers and hers alone, and when her husband slowly started to move, the realization that something she had once secretly dreamed of—-

  The man she loved was now fucking her mouth—-

  Aaaah.

  All she could suddenly think about was doing anything and everything she could to pleasure her husband. To suck and lick him endlessly. Caress his balls. And when she heard him growling her name and felt him try to pull out—-

  No!

  Her hands tightened around the muscled cheeks of his ass, and she sucked his cock as hard as she could—-

  "Putain!"

  His hand on her neck tightened a fraction, and then he was groaning, his cum shooting out of his cock. It tasted hot, salty, and very much him, and all she could do was close her eyes as she drank and swallowed everything in.

  Philippe carefully pulled out of his wife's mouth before drawing her gently up to her feet. Amber eyes looked up to him, and his chest clenched at the tenderness he saw in his wife's gaze.

  "Mon coeur..."

  He had used the endearment before. Just once. But now, he knew once was still more than enough, and that he should not have spoken such words before until he had meant them...like now.

  His mother was right, after all.

  A hopeless romantic he seemed to fucking be as well, having fallen in love with the wife who was only supposed to be his tool for revenge.

  Chapter Eight

  Charlee-Mae's heart started thudding against her chest when her husband suddenly walked away...to check if their door was locked. It wasn't (oh my), but it was now, and by the time Philippe walked back to her side, the butterflies in her stomach had already started flying around like they had completely lost their minds...and they went even crazier when Philippe locked his gaze with hers just as he started removing the rest of his clothing.

  Oh...my...Lord.

  He was naked in mere moments, and Charlee-Mae's throat went dry. Philippe had always been gorgeous, but he was more so now, with every muscular inch of him exposed. The light sprinkling of hair on his chest made her fingers itch, and they itched even more as her gaze trailed down and she saw his fully aroused cock visibly throbbing with need.

  Philippe started walking towards her, and her heart nearly leapt out of her chest when he started unbuttoning her clothes. It also took only moments to have her naked, and when she saw the way her husband was staring so hungrily at her breasts—-

  She cupped her tits, and he groaned.

  "Please," she whispered.

  And she had no need to say anything else, with Philippe already bending his head to suckle her breast even as he lifted her up in his arms.

  The feel of his mouth on her nipple had her throwing her head back with a moan, and all she could do was wrap her limbs around him as he carried her back to bed. His mouth continued to suckle on her breast as he laid her down, and she could only whimper and buckle as she felt him position himself between her legs.

  He felt incredibly big and hard, and his mouth sweet and fierce at the same time as he moved on to suckle her other breast. It just felt so, so good, having his mouth sucking on her nipple, and she could only cry out when that same mouth moved all the way down—-

  Aaah!

  She would've flown off the bed if not for his fingers clamping around her thighs to hold her down, and Charlee-Mae could only whimper as Philippe slowly ran his tongue against her swollen folds.

  "I cannot get enough of your taste, mon ceour."

  His whispered words had her buckling, but since it was also at that moment Philippe had chosen to drive his fingers inside of her—-

  Oh God!

  Charlee-Mae felt like she was losing her mind as Philippe's fingers went deep in her pussy, just as his mouth latched on to her clit. His fingers started to move, and her hips rose and fell in a seemingly frantic attempt to keep up with the pace of his thrusts.

  And it was fast.

  His fingers were plunging in and out of her pussy so, so fast it was making her struggle to catch her breath.

  "Philippe, oh God..."

  But what was truly making her go crazy was his mouth on her clit, his tongue teasing, circling, and lashing against the nub of flesh, and just when she felt like she could no longer take it—-

  Her husband nipped her clit ever so lightly with his teeth, and that was all it took, with Charlee-Mae gasping as she started to cum.

  Oh my Lord!

  Her orgasm turned her whole world upside down, and as wave after wave of pleasure pounded her body, she vaguely felt Philippe moving back and taking hold of her legs to spread them open, wider and wider oh God, until—-

  "Philippe!"

  She could only whisper his name in shock as he entered her without warning, his cock driving hard and fast into her still-quivering pussy until it completely broke past her hymen.

  She saw his jaw clench as he looked down at where their bodies were joined—-

  "You're bleeding, mon coeur."

  The words had her pussy tightening around his cock, and Philippe groaned.

  "You are so tight..."

  Her inner muscles reacted to his words, and Philippe's features became strained.

  "I need to move, ma femme."

  Charlee-Mae could only manage a nod, and as soon as she did, oh Lord—-

  She moaned, and then she moaned again, with Philippe having started to move, and the feel of his cock pulling out and thrusting back inside of her—-

  "C'est magnifique," she whispered unthinkingly, and to her surprise, her husband suddenly cursed under his breath.

  "Philippe?"

  "You shouldn't have said that," he growled.

  She wanted to ask what he meant, but she could no longer do so with Philippe suddenly kneeling up just as his fingers curled around her ankles. The next thing she knew, he was holding her legs wide open in the air—-

  "I'll try to be gentle," her husband said hoarsely.

  Try?

  Did he just say try——OH MY LORD!

  He pulled out and rammed back into her, and no, oh God, this was not gentle, not gentle at all, but it was just, ah, just so, so good that all she could do was pant and hold on to the edges of the bed—-

  God, he was pounding into her so, so fast, and so, so hard, and oh God, she could feel it again, she could feel it building hotter and hotter and hotter—-

  Until something inside of her imploded, and Charlee-Mae cried out as her body shattered. It was her second orgasm in just under an hour, and as her body shuddered and shuddered, Philippe was still thrusting in and out of her pussy, his movements wilder and less controlled. Just seeing him so beautifully aroused, and knowing that it was all because of her, was enough to give her orgasm new life, and as another wave of pleasure threatened to carry her away, she heard herself whisper, "Je t'aime, mon bébé."

  While the words completely caught Philippe off guard, and her French accent did him in, it was the look in his wife's eyes that made him careen off the edge, and as he felt himself explode inside of her and fill her insides with his cum—-

  He, too, could not stop himself from saying the truth.

  "Je t'aime, ma moitié."

  The words might seem too soon to be spoken for others, but he didn't give a damn. He had not gotten to where he was by doubting himself, and his gut told him what his heart had probably known from the start.

  He loved her.

  He loved his wife from the first moment he saw her, and he would not let anything or anyone take her away.

  It was Philippe's last thought as he held his wife and rolled them over so she could sleep atop him, and it was also his first thought when he woke to the sound of his phone ringing, and he saw Greta's name once again popping up on the screen.

  Chapter Nine

  Greta's call was answered on the fourth ring, and since Philippe had always been the type to answer or reject a call by the first ring, the fact that he hadn't now spoke volumes.

  "Bonjour, Greta."

  This, at least, was normal. Philippe had always been formal over the phone, and this hadn't changed when she became his lover. Even so, something still felt different, and this worried and angered her. Any change could only be attributed to his fat American wife, but because she also knew better than to start off with a rant—-

  "Bonjour, mon chéri," Greta cooed. "I've been calling you since last night."

  "I'm sorry I missed it."

  "And I tried calling you this morning, too."

  "I was occupied."

  "By something or someone?"

  The words were out before she could stop herself, and she was made to pay the price when Philippe answered her in a tone that was distinctly stiff.

  "It is unlike you to be snide."

  Actually, she had always been snide, but another thing she had known better not to do was to show him this side of hers. Unlike his older brother, Philippe was not and would never be the type to suffer her bitchiness simply because he enjoyed having her in bed. It was why, even though she had always found Philippe more attractive, Greta had chosen to set her cap for Pierre. Not only had the latter been easier to manipulate, but Pierre, being the older and more favored brother, would've meant Greta enjoying a greater share of the DeRose fortune.

  Life would have been so much easier if Pierre hadn't drunk himself to an early grave, but since there was no way to change the past—-

  "Please don't be mad, darling. I've just been missing you quite a lot."

  Philippe was starting to realize that it wouldn't be easy to break things off with Greta. Although he had made it clear from the start that their relationship was merely based on mutual benefits, he also hadn't made the effort to discourage Greta when she started acting more possessive.

  "You know I'm not one to be emotional, but I didn’t realize it would be this hard, living with the fact that you're married to someone else."

  And now, he was suffering the consequences.

  "I know your mother's been to see her, and since I'm sure Sandra loves your new wife just because she's not me..." Greta waited for Philippe to tell her that she had nothing to worry about. But he did not. And her temper, which she would be the first to admit had a much shorter fuse compared to most, began to boil.

  "It would be nice," she said sharply, "if you could say something—-" A beeping sound cut her off, and Greta bit back a curse. Merde!

  "I'm sorry, Greta, but I have Damian on the other end—-"

  "I don't mind being put on hold." Since Damian owned Foxtown, and everything played second fiddle to business for Philippe, it would be pointless to ask him not to answer the call.

  "This might take a while, and I wouldn't want you to waste your time waiting."

  The coolness of Philippe's tone made Greta quickly change tactics. "Je suis désolée, mon chéri." If she let their call end on a bad note, she might end up pushing him into his wife's arms. "I do not mean to take so much of your time. Will you call me back tonight at least?"

  "I'll do my best."

  Greta nearly swore in anger, but she managed to calm herself down and instead made a kissing sound over the phone. "Don't be a stranger, mon chéri, or my pussy will start meowing. It also misses you, you know."

  Philippe knew what Greta was expecting, and what was most likely to happen if he failed to say what she wanted to hear. But while he knew words need not translate to action—-

 

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