The Ambassador and Me: an unlikely love story (The Ambassador Trilogy Book 1) by Mia Villano
Authors: Mia Villano
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comfortable with.” He looked over at me.
I grabbed his hand and pushed it up my thigh further. He swerved in and out of traffic when his fingers touched the bare, wet skin under my dress.
“Does that feel like I’m doing something I’m uncomfortable with?
He seemed to step on the gas while he left his fingers touching my sex. I wanted him to slip one of his fingers into me, yet he let them sit there not moving. The intensity of this tease was insane.
Once we were about ten minutes out of town we pulled up to a guarded gate and the guard waved to Fabrice and let him into a long driveway that led to a mammoth house.
“How do you live in such a huge place alone?” The last time I was at his house was the night of the gala. It didn’t look this big that night, but I was nervous and there were a lot of people everywhere. Tonight it looked massive.
“Can you believe this is over 20,000 square feet? It has twelve bathrooms. This place is full of people in and out. I feel like I have moved to a bed and breakfast. My living quarters are upstairs. Most Ambassadors come over with a wife, kids, and other family members. It’s me and my cat I brought. My driver stays in the guest house out back. I have a chef on hand when I need it.”
While his fingers lightly sat on my wet cunt, I took in the immense home. Before my interview, I read about this house. It was a 1910 Tudor revival mansion in Kalorama. This had been the official house of the French Ambassador since 1936. It was popular for hosting numerous parties and events in its massive rooms, like the gala.
He pulled the BMW into a circular driveway, sat there, and looked at me. His hand didn’t move from my cunt. I was becoming wetter with anticipation.
“Are you still okay with us being here?” he asked.
I looked over at him and his long legs in the driver seat. His hand rested on the steering wheel and I knew what I wanted to do. His scent was everywhere inside the car.
“I’m more than okay” I whispered.
He took his hand off me and licked his fingers.
“You are going to taste so good.” Holy fuck. What was I in for? It was all I could do to walk out of the car. I had a hard time walking in my heels. He came around and opened the door for me, grabbed my hand, and helped me out.
We walked toward the back of the house; he put in some long security code and went upstairs to his residence.
“I expected French music to be playing when you walked in.” I smiled at him.
“It will be soon, Isabella.” He winked at me. The living quarters were as sexy as he was. It looked like a Restoration Hardware catalog showroom. I loved how he chose to decorate. On the entry wall was a huge, vintage map of Paris. The black hardwood floors were beautiful and shiny. The furniture was masculine and expensive.
“Come with me to the kitchen and we can have a glass of wine.” The sound of him saying “come” set me on fire. I watched as Fabrice slipped out of his jacket and took off his watch and bracelet.
“I prefer to have vodka over ice. That’s if you have it?” I wasn’t into wine.
“Vodka? You don’t look like a vodka drinker.” He smiled at me as he walked behind his huge granite counter top.
“I don’t look like a girl about to have sex with an Ambassador either.” I smiled shyly.
He laughed a hearty, throaty laugh and threw his head back.
“My brothers always drink vodka. I prefer it.”
“I understand. I will have a vodka as well.” He took out two tumblers, filled them with ice, and poured Empire Rockefeller and I noticed it was imported from France. With a slight shake in my hand, I reached for the glass and a swallowed as much as I could. The burn went down my throat and into my chest.
“Very good.” It calmed my nerves and vodka lowered my inhibitions. That was until his beautiful blue eyes bore into me. He broke the stare and the silence.
“To tonight, beautiful Isabella.” He drank his in one gulp.
I stood against the wall in
I grabbed his hand and pushed it up my thigh further. He swerved in and out of traffic when his fingers touched the bare, wet skin under my dress.
“Does that feel like I’m doing something I’m uncomfortable with?
He seemed to step on the gas while he left his fingers touching my sex. I wanted him to slip one of his fingers into me, yet he let them sit there not moving. The intensity of this tease was insane.
Once we were about ten minutes out of town we pulled up to a guarded gate and the guard waved to Fabrice and let him into a long driveway that led to a mammoth house.
“How do you live in such a huge place alone?” The last time I was at his house was the night of the gala. It didn’t look this big that night, but I was nervous and there were a lot of people everywhere. Tonight it looked massive.
“Can you believe this is over 20,000 square feet? It has twelve bathrooms. This place is full of people in and out. I feel like I have moved to a bed and breakfast. My living quarters are upstairs. Most Ambassadors come over with a wife, kids, and other family members. It’s me and my cat I brought. My driver stays in the guest house out back. I have a chef on hand when I need it.”
While his fingers lightly sat on my wet cunt, I took in the immense home. Before my interview, I read about this house. It was a 1910 Tudor revival mansion in Kalorama. This had been the official house of the French Ambassador since 1936. It was popular for hosting numerous parties and events in its massive rooms, like the gala.
He pulled the BMW into a circular driveway, sat there, and looked at me. His hand didn’t move from my cunt. I was becoming wetter with anticipation.
“Are you still okay with us being here?” he asked.
I looked over at him and his long legs in the driver seat. His hand rested on the steering wheel and I knew what I wanted to do. His scent was everywhere inside the car.
“I’m more than okay” I whispered.
He took his hand off me and licked his fingers.
“You are going to taste so good.” Holy fuck. What was I in for? It was all I could do to walk out of the car. I had a hard time walking in my heels. He came around and opened the door for me, grabbed my hand, and helped me out.
We walked toward the back of the house; he put in some long security code and went upstairs to his residence.
“I expected French music to be playing when you walked in.” I smiled at him.
“It will be soon, Isabella.” He winked at me. The living quarters were as sexy as he was. It looked like a Restoration Hardware catalog showroom. I loved how he chose to decorate. On the entry wall was a huge, vintage map of Paris. The black hardwood floors were beautiful and shiny. The furniture was masculine and expensive.
“Come with me to the kitchen and we can have a glass of wine.” The sound of him saying “come” set me on fire. I watched as Fabrice slipped out of his jacket and took off his watch and bracelet.
“I prefer to have vodka over ice. That’s if you have it?” I wasn’t into wine.
“Vodka? You don’t look like a vodka drinker.” He smiled at me as he walked behind his huge granite counter top.
“I don’t look like a girl about to have sex with an Ambassador either.” I smiled shyly.
He laughed a hearty, throaty laugh and threw his head back.
“My brothers always drink vodka. I prefer it.”
“I understand. I will have a vodka as well.” He took out two tumblers, filled them with ice, and poured Empire Rockefeller and I noticed it was imported from France. With a slight shake in my hand, I reached for the glass and a swallowed as much as I could. The burn went down my throat and into my chest.
“Very good.” It calmed my nerves and vodka lowered my inhibitions. That was until his beautiful blue eyes bore into me. He broke the stare and the silence.
“To tonight, beautiful Isabella.” He drank his in one gulp.
I stood against the wall in
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