The Curvy Waitress and the Billionaire French Count (He Wanted Me Pregnant!) by Victoria Wessex Read Free Book Online Page A

sinuous twist all the way down my spine until my ass wriggled against him. The idea of it, the idea that a man was actually doing that forbidden thing, shooting his seed right inside my unprotected body, made it ten times better. Lights danced in front of my eyes and I collapsed onto the bed, and for a moment I didn’t care at all.
    I felt him gently withdraw from me and then slide up beside me. He rolled me off the pillows and spooned me, pressing his body against my back from ankle to shoulder, nuzzling my neck. I lay there in utter bliss. I should have been terrified. Millions of determined little swimmers were at that very second rushing towards my waiting egg. And yet it didn’t seem bad, or scary. It seemed…good. In fact, there was a dark little twisting delight, somewhere deep inside me, at what we’d just done.
    Erard flopped onto his back, panting. I hadn’t realized how much effort he’d put into it—and probably neither had he, until he’d stopped. Now he was barely capable of moving.
    I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “I’m going to take a shower,” I told him. And then, I figured, we needed to sit down and have a proper talk about where this was going and the future and all that stuff. But a shower first.
    I searched the floor for my clothes, so that I could take them through to the bathroom with me. “Damnit,” I said to myself in English. “Where the hell are my panties?”
    “They’re behind you,” said Erard from the bed. “Hanging from the lampshade.”
    My world stopped.
    He’d said it in English.
    He saw my jaw drop and leaped off the bed, his hands outstretched towards me. “Wait! I can explain!” He was back in French again, but it was too late.
    “ Oh my God!” I whispered. “Oh my God! I’ve been so stupid. Of course you speak English. You’ve been conning me all along!”
    “No!” he said sharply. He hesitated. “Yes, I lied, but—“
    “Was Henri even your translator?” I howled. “Are you even a real count?”
    “I can explain!”
    But I was beyond listening. My eyes locked on the bed. “You knew!” I gasped. “You knew exactly what I was saying, didn’t you? You knew I wanted you to pull out!”
    I saw the guilt flicker in his eyes. I clapped a hand over my mouth in disbelief.
    “You wanted it!” he told me. “Tell me it didn’t feel great when I came inside you! If you’d really wanted me not to, you would have said something in French, and I would have stopped.”
    “I—Couldn’t think of anything!” I shouted. A little voice inside me nagged that he was right. Why had I suddenly forgotten every word of French, right at that crucial moment? Why hadn’t I just tapped his arm, or yelled “Stop!” Could it be that I’d wanted him to come inside me…and I’d just wanted an excuse to let him?
    I shook my head. That didn’t change anything. He’d still been lying to me all day. And that meant—
    My stomach lurched. “It was all just a trick, wasn’t it? All that stuff about liking my body!”
    “No!” He sounded horrified.
    I grabbed my skirt and t-shirt and pulled them on, without bra or panties. “This is all a routine, isn’t it? Find some girl, tell her what she wants to hear—“
    “ No! ”
    I grabbed my shoes. “I never want to see you again,” I told him and ran for the door. He jumped forward, but I was out into the corridor before he could stop me, and I knew he’d have to stop to put clothes on. I heard him calling my name, but I was already at the elevator, viciously stabbing the button, hot tears filling my eyes. As the doors closed and I began to descend, I put my hands to my face and sobbed.
     
    ***
     
    While we’d been in the hotel, the storm had finally broken. Rain was crashing to the ground as if the gods were emptying buckets just a few stories up. I blundered out of the hotel doors and was soaked to the skin before I’d gone six feet. Central Park was just across the street and I ran for it, dodging