Julien's cheeks flushed a deep, ruddy hue as Camille's teasing words washed over him. He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture of flustered discomfort as he avoided her knowing gaze. "Vous ne devriez pas me taquiner comme ça, Mademoiselle Auclair," he murmured, a note of strained amusement in his deep voice. "It's not... fair of you to tease me so."
Camille merely chuckled, a low, melodic sound that seemed to dance in the candlelit room. She stepped closer, her slender hand coming to rest on Julien's shoulder, her fingers squeezing gently in a gesture of playful camaraderie. "But it's so much fun, Monsieur Deneuve," she purred, a wicked glint in her hazel eyes. "You're just too easy to rile up, too adorable in your flustered state."
Julien sighed, a sound of resignation and a hint of reluctant indulgence. Shaking his head, he turned away from Camille, his dark eyes drifting back to Amélie's slumbering form. He knelt down beside the bed, his muscular frame folding with an ease that spoke of long-practiced grace.
Julien gazed at Amélie for a long moment, his heart aching with a sudden, fierce surge of tenderness as he took in her beautiful, peaceful face. Gently, slowly, he leaned down, his lips brushing against her forehead in a soft, tender kiss. He lingered for a moment, breathing in the scent of her, a mix of champagne and something uniquely, intoxicatingly Amélie.
"Je dois y aller maintenant, Amélie," Julien murmured, his voice a low, regretful rasp. "Sleep well, ma belle. I'll see you soon." With that, he began to rise, his hand braced on the edge of the bed.
But as Julien straightened up, Amélie stirred, her slender hand shooting out from beneath the duvet to grasp at his wrist. Her fingers curled around his arm, her nails digging slightly into his skin as she clung to him with a sudden, desperate, almost feverish intensity, even in her drunken, semi-conscious state. "S'il te plaît, ne pars pas," Amélie murmured, her voice a low, slurred plea that seemed to come from the depths of her soul. "Ne me quitte pas encore, Julien..." Her chestnut eyes fluttered open, the emerald irises hazy and unfocused as she gazed up at him with a look of anguished, needy desperation.
"J'ai besoin de toi... reste avec moi, s'il te plaît..." She tugged at his arm, her body arching slightly off the bed as if seeking his touch, his warmth, his solid presence. The dress she wore rode up further, exposing the creamy, toned skin of her thighs and a tantalizing glimpse of the lacy edge of her panties, but she seemed oblivious to her state of dishabille, too lost in her hazy, desire-drunk state. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her full lips parted invitingly as she gazed up at Julien with closed eyes, a look of wanton, needy desperation that made his heart pound and his blood run hot in his veins.
Julien's heart clenched in his chest as he watched Amélie's eyes shoot open, her emerald irises wide and wild, shimmering with a sudden, desperate intensity. Before he could react, she sat up abruptly, the duvet falling away from her curvaceous body as she lunged forward, her nails digging into the sheets as she clutched them tightly. Tears began to stream down her face, her chest heaving with the force of her sudden sobs.
"Julien!" Amélie cried out, her voice a raw, anguished wail that cut through the candlelit room like a knife. "Ne me quitte pas, je t'en supplie!" She sobbed, her body trembling and shaking as great, fat tears rolled down her cheeks and splashed onto her heaving chest. The top of her dress gaped open, exposing the creamy swells of her breasts, the lacy edge of her bra peeking out obscenely.
"Amélie, qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?" Julien asked, his voice a low, urgent rasp as he reached out to cup her tear-stained cheek, his thumb brushing gently over the damp skin. "Talk to me, chérie. Tell me what's wrong."
But Amélie seemed beyond words, beyond reason. With a sudden, desperate cry, she lunged forward, grasping Julien by the collar of his crisp, white shirt. She yanked him towards her, her fingers curling into the fine fabric as she pulled him into a searing, desperate kiss.
Julien's breath hitched in his throat as Amélie's lips crashed against his, her mouth hot and hungry and demanding. He could taste the salt of her tears, the lingering sweetness of the champagne on her tongue as she plundered his mouth with a fierce, almost feral intensity.
Amélie's hands roamed over Julien's chest, her fingers splaying over the hard, muscular expanse as she clung to him, her nails digging into his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. She arched her back, pressing the soft, pillowy swells of her breasts against his chest, the hardened peaks of her nipples a visible outline against the straining bodice of her dress.
Julien groaned, a low, guttural sound that rumbled through his chest as he felt Amélie's desperation, her need, her anguish. He knew he should pull back, should gentle her, but the feel of her in his arms, the taste of her on his tongue, the scent of her filling his lungs... it was too much, too overwhelming, too intoxicating to resist.
Julien's eyes widened in shock as he felt Camille's slender fingers digging into his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin through the fabric of his shirt. Before he could react, she yanked him backwards with all her might, wrenching him away from Amélie's desperate embrace. Julien stumbled, caught off balance by the sudden, forceful motion, his heart pounding in his chest as he found himself facing Camille, her hazel eyes flashing with concern and a hint of anger.
"Monsieur Deneuve, composez-vous!" Camille snapped, her voice a sharp, urgent hiss. "Can't you see that Amélie is not in her right mind? She's drunk, she's emotional, she's not thinking clearly." She glanced over at Amélie's crumpled form, her brow furrowed in worry.
Julien's gaze followed Camille's, his dark eyes taking in the sight of Amélie's body hanging precariously off the edge of the bed, her dress riding up to expose the lacy edge of her panties and the creamy skin of her ass. Her hand still reached out, her fingers splayed and grasping, as if seeking Julien's touch even in her unconscious state.
"Julien..." Amélie choked out, her voice a low, raspy whisper that sent a shiver down Julien's spine. "Julien... ne me quitte pas..." Her body convulsed slightly, a shudder wracking her curves as a fresh batch of tears spilled down her cheeks, cutting tracks through the smudged remains of her makeup.
Camille's grip on Julien's shoulders tightened, her nails digging in harder as she felt him tense, as if preparing to go to Amélie's aid once more. "Monsieur Deneuve, no," Camille warned, a note of stern authority in her voice. "Let her sleep it off. She needs rest, not... not whatever it is you two were about to do."
Julien's eyes widened in shock as he watched Amélie's body go limp, her muscles relaxing suddenly as unconsciousness claimed her once more. Her body pitched forward, the momentum carrying her off the bed, only to have her dress snag on the edge of the mattress, leaving her hanging precariously over the side, her ass and the lacy edge of her panties on full display.
Julien's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding as he watched Amélie's chestnut hair sway gently, brushing against the floor as she teetered on the brink of tumbling completely out of bed. He made as if to lunge forward, to catch her, to pull her back to safety, but Camille's grip on his shoulders tightened, her nails digging in with a sudden, desperate strength.
"Monsieur Deneuve, non!" Camille cried out, a note of panic in her voice. "S'il te plaît!" And as she spoke, Julien's sudden resistance ceased, his body going slack as he found himself being pulled backwards by Camille's insistent grip.
The suddenness of the motion caught them both off guard. Julien stumbled, his balance thrown off as Camille yanked him backwards, her own momentum carrying her off balance. They both tumbled backwards, their bodies entangled, their limbs flailing as they struggled to regain their footing.
Camille's head snapped back, her skull connecting with the hard, unyielding floor with a sickening crack. "Aahh!" she cried out, a sound of pain and surprise escaping her lips as a sharp, sudden flash of agony exploded behind her eyes. Tears of pain sprung to her hazel eyes, blurring her vision as she blinked rapidly, trying to clear her sight.
Julien fell backwards, his muscular frame landing heavily on top of Camille's slender one. The breath was knocked from his lungs, a low, pained grunt escaping him as his chest collided with hers, the air forced from his body by the sudden impact. He braced his elbows on either side of her head, his hands cupping her shoulders, supporting his weight as he hovered over Camille's prone form, his dark eyes searching her face with concern.
"Mademoiselle Auclair! Are you alright?" Julien asked, his voice a low, urgent rasp. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for us to fall like this." He brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingers gentle and soothing as they tucked it behind her ear. Julien's gaze flicked over to Amélie's still form, hanging precariously off the bed, and back to Camille, a look of worry and apology in his eyes.