Date: April 8, 1995
Location: Private estate on Loch Lomond, Scotland
Actress: Sophie Marceau
Alexander's Status: co-financed Braveheart; negotiating IP rights for The Matrix and expanding AEG's European distribution arm. Net worth surging.
Actress's Status: Just finished filming Braveheart—her first major English-language role. Known in France, but unknown in Hollywood. At a career threshold—eager but unsure.
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The Scottish twilight bled gold across the surface of Loch Lomond. Mist rose like sighs from the hills, curling around the edges of a sprawling Georgian estate that Alexander Kaine had claimed for the season—a fortress of solitude while post-production on Braveheart reached its final stretch.
Inside, the drawing room glowed with candlelight. Sophie Marceau stood at the arched window, silhouetted in a dark cashmere coat, her breath fogging the glass. Her profile—half-illuminated, half-lost to shadow—was as ethereal as the queen she had just portrayed.
Alexander poured two glasses of 1982 Margaux.
"You look like someone deciding whether or not to cross a border," he said.
She turned, surprised but not startled. Her English still carried the warmth of French vowels. "Maybe I am."
He handed her the glass. She took it, then looked at him with the dry, deliberate grace of a woman raised on Sartre and Godard.
"I read the latest cut," he said. "You stole the third act. Mel doesn't even know it."
A small, wicked smile danced across her lips. "So I've become the villain?"
"No," Alexander said. "You became the myth."
Sophie stepped closer, toeing the edge of a Persian rug. "You financed this madness. You trusted him. Why?"
Alexander's green eyes glittered in the candlelight. "Because Mel fights like a starving man. And I bet on hunger."
She sipped her wine. "And what about me?"
"I bet on instinct too," he said. "You stepped onto set like you'd already lived the role. You don't just act, Sophie. You… echo."
She tilted her head, that familiar blend of curiosity and skepticism. "You say things that feel like riddles. Do all American billionaires talk like oracles?"
"Well most sound like selfobsesed idiots." he replied. "That includes me too, I'm just... aware."
That earned a laugh—low and unexpected. She set the glass down.
"I still don't know if I made the right choice," she said, almost to herself. "Hollywood, English dialogue, big men with fake swords shouting in mud."
Alexander walked to the window, his presence as gravitational as ever. He didn't touch her, but the air between them shifted.
"You made the right choice," he said. "You're not running from France. You're building something bigger. You just don't see it yet."
She studied him now. Not the mogul, not the financier. The man behind the green eyes. "You talk like you've already seen the future."
"I have."
"And?" she asked.
"You're going to make Hollywood fall in love with tragedy again."
For a long moment, neither spoke. The candles flickered. The loch breathed against the shore.
She exhaled. "They say you don't sleep."
"I sleep," he said. "Just not at night."
Sophie smiled slowly. "Then what do you do?"
"I think. I plan. I remember the world before it knew me."
There was a pause. Not tense—electric.
Then she asked, "And what will you remember about tonight?"
He didn't blink. "The way you looked right now, not knowing you're already a star."
Her eyes softened. She stepped forward, closing the final distance between them.
Outside, a cold wind rippled the loch. Inside, the fire crackled.
She touched his lapel, then whispered, "Take me somewhere I won't doubt myself."
He kissed her once—slow, certain.
And then they disappeared down the hall, into the private wing of the estate, where doors were soundproof.
Sophie Marceau and Alexander.
Sophie and Alexander's lips met in a kiss that was slow and certain, a promise of what was to come. He led her down the hall, his hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards the private wing of the estate. The doors clicked shut behind them, sealing them off from the world, leaving only the crackling of the fire and the soft moans that began to escape Sophie's lips.
Alexander turned her to face him, his hands roaming over her body, taking in every curve, every soft inch of her. "You're a vision," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "A fucking masterpiece."
Sophie smiled, her eyes heavy with desire. "Then why don't you admire your art?" she whispered, her voice a sultry invitation.
He obliged, his hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, making them harden beneath the thin fabric of her dress. She gasped, her head falling back, her body arching into his touch. "Yes," she moaned. "Just like that."
His hands moved lower, tracing the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips, the roundness of her ass. He gripped her cheeks, pulling her against him, letting her feel his hardness. "Your body is fucking perfect, Sophie," he growled. "Every fucking curve, every inch of you."
She moaned, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling his head down to her neck, urging him to kiss her, to bite her, to mark her. He complied, his lips and teeth exploring her sensitive skin, making her gasp and moan.
He turned her around, his hands on her hips, pressing her against him, letting her feel how hard he was for her. She ground against him, her ass jiggling slightly with the movement, driving him wild. "Fuck, Sophie," he groaned. "You're driving me crazy."
She smiled over her shoulder at him, a wicked, sensual smile. "Then take me," she whispered. "Take what you want."
He growled, his hands moving to the zipper of her dress, pulling it down slowly, teasing her, making her wait. The dress fell to the floor, pooling at her feet, leaving her in nothing but her heels and a thin, lacy thong. He stepped back, taking in the sight of her, his eyes roaming over her curves, her soft skin, her perfect ass.
"Turn around," he commanded, his voice hoarse with desire. "Let me see that beautiful body of yours."
Sophie turned, her eyes never leaving his, her body on full display for him. He growled, his cock throbbing at the sight of her. He stepped forward, his hands on her hips, pulling her against him. He leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a fierce, passionate kiss.
His hands moved lower, cupping her ass, squeezing, kneading, making her moan into his mouth. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, her collarbone, her chest, until he reached her breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking, biting, making her cry out.
His hands moved to her pussy, his fingers tracing the lace of her thong, making her shiver with anticipation. He hooked his fingers into the lace, pulling it aside, exposing her pink, glistening pussy. He growled, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles, making her moan and writhe against him.
"Alexander," she gasped, her body trembling with desire. "Please, I need you inside me."
He smiled against her skin, his fingers continuing their delicious torture. "Not yet," he murmured. "I want to taste you first."
He dropped to his knees, his hands gripping her ass, his tongue licking a path up her inner thigh. She shivered, her body anticipating his touch, his taste. He reached her pussy, his tongue running up her slit, tasting her, making her cry out.
He began to feast on her, his tongue licking, sucking, exploring every inch of her. He sucked her clit into his mouth, his fingers entering her, curling up, hitting that sweet spot that made her see stars. She moaned, her body trembling, her orgasm building.
"Alexander," she gasped, her body tensing. "I'm close. So close."
He continued his onslaught, his fingers and tongue working in tandem, bringing her to the edge of ecstasy. She cried out, her body shaking, her pussy clenching around his fingers as her orgasm crashed over her, leaving her a trembling, boneless mess.
He stood up, his lips capturing hers, letting her taste herself on him. She moaned, her body pressing against his, urging him on. He picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, her arms around his neck, and carried her to the bed, laying her down gently.
He positioned himself at her entrance, his cock hard and ready. He entered her slowly, inch by inch, letting her feel every bit of him. She moaned, her body arching, urging him deeper. He obliged, his hips meeting hers, their bodies joining completely.
He began to move, his hips thrusting against hers, his cock driving into her deeper and deeper. She moaned, her body moving with his, meeting his thrusts, her breasts bouncing with the force of his movements. He leaned down, his lips capturing hers, his tongue exploring her mouth, matching the rhythm of his hips.
"You feel so good, Sophie," he groaned. "So fucking tight and wet."
She moaned, her body trembling, her orgasm building again. "Harder," she gasped. "Fuck me harder, Alexander. I can take it."
He growled, his body tensing, his hips moving faster, his cock driving into her deeper and deeper. He reached between them, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in fast, tight circles, matching the pace of his hips. She cried out, her body tensing, her muscles coiling tight as her orgasm hit her, her pussy clenching around his cock, milking it.
He groaned, his body tensing, his cock pulsing, filling her with his hot, thick seed.
As they lay there, their breaths slowly returning to normal, Alexander propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at Sophie with a mix of awe and satisfaction. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from their kisses, and her hair was a wild mess spread across the pillow. She looked absolutely fucking radiant.
"You're breathtaking, Sophie," he murmured, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her stomach, making her shiver. "Every inch of you is perfect."
She smiled up at him, her eyes shining with a mix of satisfaction and lingering desire. "You too," she replied, her voice a husky whisper. She reached up, her fingers running through his hair, pulling him down for another kiss.
He obliged, his lips meeting hers in a slow, sensual kiss that deepened quickly, their tongues exploring, tasting, re-igniting the fire between them. Sophie moaned into his mouth, her body arching against him, urging him on.
Alexander's hands roamed her body, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples, making her gasp and moan. He moved lower, his hands gripping her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down her neck, her collarbone, her chest, until he reached her breasts. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking, biting, making her cry out.
"Alexander," she gasped, her body writhing beneath him. "More. I need more."
He smiled against her skin, his hands moving to her ass, squeezing, kneading, making her moan. He flipped her onto her stomach, his body covering hers, his hard cock pressing against her ass. She wiggled against him, a sensual, inviting movement that made him growl.
He reached into the drawer of the bedside table, pulling out a small bottle of lube. Sophie looked over her shoulder at him, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "You planning on using that?" she asked, her voice a sultry invitation.
He nodded, a slow, sexy smile spreading across his face. "I want to take you every way I can, Sophie. And I want you to enjoy every second of it."
She shivered with anticipation, her body already responding to his words, her pussy growing wet again. He poured some lube onto his fingers, warming it before he touched her. He reached between her legs, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles, making her moan and push back against his hand.
"That's it," he murmured. "Get nice and wet for me."
He moved his fingers lower, tracing her pussy lips, dipping inside, coating his fingers in her juices. He pulled his fingers out, moving them up to her ass, circling her tight hole, applying gentle pressure, teasing her, making her beg for it.
"Alexander," she gasped, pushing back against his fingers. "Please. I need it."
He smiled, his fingers pushing into her ass, slowly, carefully, giving her time to adjust. She moaned, her body tensing, her muscles clenching around his fingers. He moved them in and out, scissoring them, stretching her, preparing her for his cock.
"Fuck, Sophie," he groaned. "Your ass is so fucking tight."
She moaned, her body pushing back against his fingers, urging him on. "I'm ready," she gasped. "I need your cock, Alexander. Please."
He growled, his cock throbbing with anticipation. He positioned himself at her entrance, his hands gripping her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh. He pushed into her slowly, inch by inch, giving her time to adjust to his size, his length.
Sophie moaned, her face pressed into the mattress, her body tense, her ass clenching around his cock. "Yes," she gasped. "More. Give me more."
He obliged, his hips moving slowly at first, then picking up speed, his cock driving into her deeper and deeper. He leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back, his teeth nipping at her ear, his breath hot on her neck.
"Your ass feels amazing," he growled. "So fucking tight and hot."
Sophie moaned, her body moving with his, meeting his thrusts, her hands gripping the sheets, her knuckles white. He reached around, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts, making her cry out, her body tensing, her orgasm building.
"Alexander," she gasped. "I'm close. So close."
He continued his onslaught, his hips moving faster, his cock driving into her deeper and deeper, his fingers rubbing her clit in tight, fast circles. She cried out, her body tensing, her muscles coiling tight as her orgasm hit her, her ass clenching around his cock, milking it.
He groaned, his body tensing, his cock pulsing, filling her ass with his hot, thick seed. He collapsed on top of her, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths coming in ragged gasps, their hearts pounding in sync.
They lay there for a moment, their bodies entwined, their minds blissfully empty, cum oozes out both of Sophie Marceau's holes.