And wanting to leave the library. Posthaste.
Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to quash the desire to know what it would be like to submit to him in the way he suggested and experience the heightened pleasure he promised. To lose herself in this man who so reminded her of Luc. Her body was screaming, SAY YES!
But you don’t know him. Don’t know his identity. And she wasn’t reckless anymore. She had a child now who had no one but his mother in this world to care and provide for him. She’d stopped trusting men with influence after Vittry and Roch were through with her. When one had tried to murder her and the other had so grossly deceived and manipulated her, she’d learned it prudent to distrust the male aristocracy.
There were three things she’d never risk again: Her life, her freedom, and her free will.
It was one thing to meet Lord Seductive in the library—especially after making certain to inform Nicole where she’d be. But to allow herself to be bound, rendered that vulnerable, simply because a stranger told her he was trustworthy, was far too careless, regardless of the amount of money being offered. Words were empty.
Especially from the mouths of powerful men.
She hadn’t even brought Yves and Serge with her tonight, Nicole’s largest servants who normally accompanied her to her carnal encounters. Yet even having them nearby wouldn’t have been enough for her to surrender to such a request from this stranger.
No matter how hard the bud between her legs pulsed, no matter how eager she was for more decadent delights from him or how intrigued by his wicked game, she managed to drag the words she needed to say up her throat. And out of her mouth.
“I can’t…”
She slipped off the table and onto her feet before he could react, then stepped away from him, putting distance between them.
And hating it.
He didn’t make a move to hinder her retreat in any way. Instead, he placed his hands on his hips, and his smiled turned rueful. With a nod, he said, “I understand.”
For some reason, that sank her spirits. She was wishing for…what? A protest and compromise of some sort?
A withdrawal of his condition to bind her altogether?
She’d have to be completely blind to miss that impressive part of his male anatomy that was still solid and erect and straining inside his breeches. Was he just going to let her walk away when he wanted her as strongly as she wanted him? This couldn’t be just a sex game to him. Could it? There had to be more to his sexual practice then he was saying.
And she couldn’t help wonder what.
Isabelle held his gaze, unsure what more to say. Willing him to somehow change his mind. The fact that he hadn’t attempted to coerce her, as some men of his standing might have—as Roch certainly would have when he was this aroused—made her want to stay with him even more.
But not tied up and defenseless.
Silence saturated the air. His expression was unreadable, and she wished she knew what he was thinking. The quiet grew to the point of awkwardness.
You can’t continue to stand here and stare at him. Bid him adieu and leave, Isabelle.
Instead, entirely different words escaped past her lips. “I-I would stay…if you were to withdraw your condition.” She immediately cringed. That sounded pathetically desperate.
His smile didn’t change. “It’s how I want you. It’s how I fuck,” he said.
Her knees practically buckled at his blunt language. From this man’s lips alone, it had the most stunning effect on her libido.
“It is wicked,” he continued, with a lopsided smile on that tempting mouth. “It is also entirely intense and delicious. And you should try it—with me.” His words, the timbre of his voice, and his heated gaze fixed her to the spot.
A triple blow to her defenses.
Dear God. If you don’t leave right now, you run the risk of succumbing to his allure. And end up trussed up like a goose.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, then unstuck her feet from the floor and turned to go, her body rioting against her actions.
When she reached the door, she heard him call out, “Juliette.”
Her insides danced with joy. She turned around, managing to keep her smile from showing. Everything inside her hoped he’d changed his mind and removed his condition.
“Yes?”
“Are you going back to Vannod?” he asked.
Not exactly what she thought she’d hear. “Perhaps.” In truth, the answer was yes. She’d given up a small fortune by turning down Lord Seductive’s sexual proposition. She wouldn’t turn down Vannod’s sum too.
He approached and stopped before her, his chiseled form now towering above her. No man on this side of the stars should be this gorgeous. She wanted to lean in and wrap her arms around him. Just to feel that strong, solid chest against her and his muscular arms about her—a longing she hadn’t had for a male in years.
“He can’t give you the pleasure I can,” he said.
Oh, she didn’t doubt that for a moment.
She’d never felt the intense pull to Vannod as she did to this aristo. Though, I doubt Vannod harbors a penchant for tying women up during physical encounters. From the extensive information Nicole had given her about the duc, he was just like her last lover.
Safe. Conventional.
Tolerable.
And for those times when it was more of a chore than others, she need only conjure up Luc de Moutier in her mind.
“My lord, it would be wrong of me to discuss one man’s sexual prowess with another.”
He placed his hands on his hips again and tilted his head, quietly studying her. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, unsure what to do at the moment.
Then he swore under his breath. “I don’t make exceptions. I don’t withdraw my condition of sexual bondage.”
Really? “Never?”
“Not ever. That is…until tonight. With you.” Tossing the cravat he’d had in his hand carelessly to the floor, he clasped her shoulders and pressed her back against the door. There was nothing threatening in the way in which he did it. There was just enough sensual command in the action to spark a fresh flare of arousal in her belly.
He released her, then he flattened his palms against the door at either side of her head. His mouth was so close to her own. She held her breath, unsure what he would do.
“Easy. There is no need to tense up. I’ll abide by your wishes. There will be no kissing—on the lips—though not ever tasting that beautiful mouth is going to be one of the greatest regrets of my life. It takes trust to allow someone to bind you. I’m going to earn your trust, chère. If you are willing, I’m going to give you a sampling of what I can offer—with no binding.”
Every fiber of her being reveled in his words. “A…A sampling? As in a small taste?” Oh yes, please!
Lord Seductive then gave her a purely male knee-weakening grin. “I don’t do anything in small measures. So, tell me, ma belle, does your next orgasm belong to me?”
Chapter Four
Merde. What the hell did you just agree to?
Luc couldn’t believe the unprecedented promise he’d made just to have this woman. His need for this one female had eclipsed all reason.
And had him completely discarding a sexual practice he’d normally never forgo.
But he was on fire for her, desire scorching through his body. And the pressure in his stiff prick was driving him out of his mind.
Leaning on one hand, he ran the fingers of his other over the gentle swells of her breasts, gingerly following the contour of her scooped neckline. He heard her catch her breath, and she arched into his touch, purely involuntary reactions she couldn’t help.
Dieu, he liked that. As much as he liked her quickened breaths. And by God, she was affecting his own.
He had enough experience to know that a small part of her was curious about being bound for pleasure—even with her reservations. He was intent on gaining her trust and her permission. In fact, he in
tended to have this highly responsive woman eager and begging to be bound for him. In time. The notion that he’d be the man to initiate this sensuous woman into this particular carnal practice sent a hot pulse down his cock.
As for now, he was going to relish every moment of his erotic dream come to life with the closest version of Isabelle he’d ever seen. In all likelihood, being with the real Isabelle might have been much the same way. No matter how much she’d professed to desire him in her journals, it might have taken some gentle persuasion to have her accede to having her wrists and ankles bound for sex.
“What’s your answer, Juliette? Is your next orgasm mine?”
She licked her lips, the small act torturing him. How he wanted to lick, bite, and kiss those lips. More than anything. Easy… One step at a time… She was uncommonly antsy for someone of her trade. Truly, she was uncommon on so many peculiar levels for such a sought-after, highly paid paramour.
She gave him a quick shaky nod. It was so adorably earnest and awkward, he was forced to suppress his smile. Another peculiar behavior.
And for some reason, he liked that too.
She cleared her throat, then attempted to reaffirm her response. “Yes,” she said, trying to sound collected. Yet it slipped past her lips so sensually breathless.
Jésus, she was refreshingly different. Not at all what he expected her to be when he’d pursued her. And she wasn’t as blasé about sex as he might have believed. Nothing about this felt like a paid encounter at all, despite the staggering sum he was paying to have her.
“Well then, since we’ve discussed all terms and conditions and I have your permission to proceed…” He pressed both palms to the door again and moved in a little closer. Her sweet derrière gave an impatient little squirm. Another spurt of pre-come wept from the crest of his cock. “Open your bodice for me.” He couldn’t help notice her nipples were pebbled and straining for his attention.
And Lord knows he was famished for their taste on his tongue.
Her hand yanked loose the ribbon between her breasts in an instant. Next, the fastenings with hungry haste. Tugging at her clothing and stays, her fingers fumbled for a moment, until finally reaching her chemise.
She paused and looked up at him, her breaths shorter and sharper and matching his own.
“Go on,” he urged, wanting to tear the clothes off her lovely form with a ferocity he’d never felt before.
She pulled her chemise down, slipping the fabric beneath her breasts, and gazed up at him, expectant. Waiting for his next move.
Before him were the most mouthwatering tits he had ever seen. A feral need rolled through him and practically shifted the ground beneath his feet.
“Arms above your head.” The words slipped out sharper than he intended. For the first time ever, he was having a difficult time moderating himself.
By the flicker in her eyes, it was clear his request struck her as odd. After a moment’s hesitation, she slid her arms up between his hands still pressing against the door, stretching her arms up above her head.
Those perfect little peaks of her breasts lifted up to him a fraction farther. His cock jerked hungrily.
Grasping her wrists in his hands, he pinned them against the door with intensity. She gave a little start.
Luc lowered his head, his mouth hovering over one taut nipple. “It’s all right, Juliette. Just relax. I’ll let go any time you say. Instantly. But for now, I’m going to suck these nipples the way they’re aching to be sucked.”
Luc flicked the tender little teat with his tongue. She jumped with a soft cry.
He smiled. “Ultrasensitive nipples. Perfect…” As perfect as the rest of her.
*****
Isabelle squirmed against the door again, unable to keep her hips still. Her nipples weren’t normally this sensitive. There wasn’t anything about her body that was acting normally.
There wasn’t anything about this encounter that was remotely normal for her.
She was pinned against a door by a masked stranger—and she should demand he release her wrists, but she didn’t want to.
He had her wild for him beyond all comprehension.
Pulling her wrists together in one hand, he cupped her breast with his other, his fingers capturing her taut nipple. And he gave it a pinch, holding it until it began to lightly throb, applying perfect pressure, sending spine-melting sensations pulsing from her breast. And echoing in her sex. She arched hard toward him, her senses swamped, sultry sounds emanating from her throat that sounded nothing like her own. He continued his sweet torture on the sensitive tip, plying it with tender twists and tugs. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, he sucked her other nipple into the heat of his mouth.
Her head fell back against the door, her lips parted in a silent cry. The finesse of his fingers coupled with the silky pull of his mouth had her writhing and mewling and straining against her restrained wrists, lost to a level of lust she hadn’t known she could reach.
“Please…” she panted. She was practically incoherent.
Suddenly, his mouth and fingers were gone. She snapped her eyes open, instantly distressed by his cessation. She found him smiling.
“Please what, Juliette? Please let me come? Do you want to come for me?”
How is that not obvious? “Yes!” He was teasing her. He knew exactly what she craved. She was seriously contemplating freeing her wrists so she could punch him. “Hurry!” She never made demands during sex. A courtesan always deferred to her lover’s pace. But she was ready to jump out of her skin. She wasn’t in the proper frame of mind to contemplate the error of her utterance.
By his grin, he didn’t look as though he was interested in complying. “Not until I hear you tell me from those lovely lips what you desire.”
Truly? Did he jest? He was as overwrought as she! Why was he wasting time with chatter? Isabelle dragged in a ragged breath, determined to move matters along. Good Lord, she’d recite the Greek alphabet if it meant he’d get on with it. “I want to…” Isabelle paused, realizing this was the first man who had ever asked her to voice her desires—in or out of the boudoir. How she wished she knew who this unique man was. “I want your hands on me. Your… Your mouth too. I want to come for you. Very much. Right now.”
His smile softened. He leaned in and, in her ear, said, “I like your answer. And I want to give you what you want. Very much. Right now.” She could barely focus on his words. Not when his free hand was at last back under her skirts. And moving toward the apex of her thighs.
More moisture pooled between her legs.
“Open your legs wider,” he murmured in her ear, widening her stance with the nudge of his foot. His hand slipped past the slit of her drawers, and he plunged his fingers inside her. A whimper quivered up her throat, her hips thrusting forward—pure reflex—driving his fingers in deeper. She closed her eyes. She didn’t know how many fingers he had buried in her. She didn’t care. Not when she was consumed with an exquisite stretching sensation inside her sex. And the sense of fullness she craved. Of their own volition, her inner muscles clenched, giving him an unintentional squeeze.
A groaned rumbled from his chest. Softly, he swore. “That’s right. Bear down just like that. Squeeze my fingers again.” Her body responded to his command with another contraction of her vaginal walls, without her willing it. Or being able to stop it.
“That’s it. You’re going to milk my cock just like that once I’ve made you come, aren’t you? You have the softest…” He withdrew his fingers with a slow, decadent drag. “The wettest…” He sank them back in deeply, “…snuggest little cunt. Perfect to drive a man wild.” He stroked her sex again and again. The friction was glorious.
She needed more. Had to have more.
Or lose her mind.
“Most men pay little mind during sex to that sweet spot inside a woman’s sheath,” he said, his fingers still pumping in and out of her with masterful skill. Maddeningly holding her on the edge of her precipice
. “But not I.” She had no idea what spot inside her he was talking about. All she knew for certain was the fierce need for a release. “If you have not experienced it before, Juliette, it can be intense when rubbed just the right way. It takes a few moments to get used to the erotic sensation. Are you ready for it?”
She was beyond the point of no return. “Yes… Do it!” From his words, what resonated with her were precisely two—intense and rubbed. That was exactly what she needed. To have him rub her intensely. Faster. NOW.
Curling his buried fingers, he gave her short quick strokes over the “sweet spot.” A sharp sensation shot through her core and vibrated up her spine. She cried out, jumping up onto the balls of her feet, the intensity taking her by surprise despite his warning. Milking a fresh gush of juices from her sex.
He tightened his hold on her wrists and struck up a steady rhythm. She tried to squirm away. The sensations were more powerful than she’d ever experienced.
“Easy, now… Don’t fight it,” he soothed in her ear, coaxing her along. “Ride through the sensations. Let it keep building…”
She was writhing and moaning, never so unbridled. She felt herself climbing higher and higher to a plateau she’d never been before with sensations that were so acute and engulfing.
“I love how you’re soaking my hand. Your every reaction is so damned sensuous. I’m going to make you come right now. Then you’re going to take my cock and let me fuck you until you come again.”
More words!
She was on the brink. He was holding her on the edge, her orgasm blooming, then receding. Teetering back and forth. She nodded, no objection to his plan. Speaking was no longer within the scope of her ability.
He suddenly increased the pressure of his strokes, his fingers stroking harder and faster than before. She cried out as ecstasy exploded through her senses. Shuddering pleasure flooding her body. Her feminine walls contracting around his fingers in wild, uncontrollable clenches.
He yanked away his hand, tore her drawers from her body, and opened his breeches with the same impatient intensity, then lifted her. Without a moment’s hesitation, he drove into her quivering core, pinning her to the door. Snatching the air from her lungs.
Three Reckless Wishes Page 5
