by Zoe Blake
The first warm swipe of his tongue felt like a kiss from the devil.
The ice cubes had melted, leaving my pussy feeling cold and tight. Each touch from his tongue was heavenly fire. The tip flicked and teased my clit. I moaned as I drove my fingers into the thick waves of his hair, holding him closer. My head fell back, the extremes of hot and cold driving me wild as every nerve point in my body fired.
The lights of Paris danced and flickered across my half-closed eyes as the violin strains of ‘Drive’ by the Cars seeped into my consciousness. On some level I knew that meant the musician must be aware and could even see what was going on… but I didn’t care. My universe centered around Richard and what his mouth was doing.
Slamming my palms against the window, I cried out as an orgasm so intense it was almost painful racked my body.
As my knees gave out, Richard rose off his knees and caught me. With me lifted high in his arms, we returned to the table. This time I was on his lap.
Richard held the flute of champagne to my lips. I took a long sip and choked a little on the bubbles as they tickled the back of my throat and my nose.
My cheeks flamed when two servers approached with our first course. As I looked at Richard, I saw the side of his mouth quirk up. He tapped the end of my nose.
Reading my mind, he said, “Do you honestly think I would allow anyone to witness the ethereal beauty of you in the middle of an orgasm?”
I relaxed back into his arms at the reassurance.
Picking up a small silver appetizer fork, Richard continued, “Now hearing one of your magnificent orgasms, that’s a different story.”
Gasping, I playfully hit his shoulder. “Richard!”
He held a morsel up to my lips.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered suggestively.
Running my closed lips along the tines of the fork, the bite of food was both salty and sweet. Covering my mouth with my fingertips, I asked while still chewing, “That is so good. What is it?”
“The dish is called sarcive. It’s thinly sliced pork belly cooked in honey and spices served with a coriander puree,” answered Richard as he popped a bite into his mouth.
“It’s delicious.”
“I’m glad you like it. The food tonight is from a little restaurant in The Batignolles neighborhood called Le Faham. They specialize in flavors from the island of Reunion.”
“Reunion? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”
“It’s a small island near Madagascar in the Indian Ocean. It’s pleasant, though I prefer my islands a little more remote and isolated.”
Shaking my head, I laughed. “Only you would think a tiny island in the middle of the Indian Ocean was not isolated enough from civilization.”
Richard just smiled.
After feeding me a few more bites, I reluctantly returned to my own seat for the next course. It was a delicate white fish with carrots and bittersweet ginger over crispy white rice.
Richard made another suggestive remark about the ginger, which made my cheeks flame.
As they prepared the table for dessert, I looked out at the twinkling city lights. I imagined all those millions of people below, going about their lives. For some this was home, for others a once-in-a-lifetime romantic trip. Some were probably deliriously happy, others terribly depressed. So many different lives. So many different stories and yet, not one of them came close to the drama, excitement, and pure craziness of our love story.
I returned my gaze to Richard. The hard lines of his jaw and brow were softened in the candlelight. Still, his eyes glowed a dark sapphire, the color of the deep ocean. He was just as unfathomable. Just when I thought I had him… had us… figured out, a squall would appear and wash away everything I thought I knew.
Where was all this leading?
Was a happy ending even possible for us?
Two people addicted to the twisted adrenaline rush of pain and lust.
A roller coaster racing to the top of a vicious drop…
A server interrupted my pensive thoughts as he placed a small charcoal-colored bowl in front of me.
“This is a Chocolate Vibrato with a crunchy meringue and lemongrass tea with an Assam berry sorbet,” he said, rolling his consonants in heavily accented English.
Richard swiped a spoon through the sorbet and held it to my lips. As the tart sweetness melted onto my tongue, he divulged, “Eat up. My next game is about to begin.”
Chapter 16
Lizzie
Just like that… the roller coaster tipped over the top and tumbled down the track into the darkness… only to climb up the very next rise.
I heard a minor commotion on the other side of the apartment door just as we rose from the table. A server immediately approached Richard with something dark draped over his arms. As we got closer, I realized they were furs.
Selecting the top one, Richard held the coat up as I pushed my arms through before he draped it over my shoulders.
As he shrugged into his own fur coat, I stroked my hand down the luxurious softness. Looking up at him in wonder, he winked at me. “It’s chilly outside on the parapet,” he offered as he stepped closer and placed a finger under my chin. “I don’t want my little one to feel cold ever again.”
Understanding his double meaning, I lowered my eyes and nodded.
Message received.
I’m pretty sure the violinist played ‘Heaven’ by Julia Michaels just as we stepped out into the night.
Falling for him… was like falling from grace.
I suspected the violinist knew something I didn’t… or perhaps I did but just didn’t want to face it.
The heights were dizzying as the wind whipped around us. As I snuggled closer inside my fur, I could see what had caused the commotion. Surrounding the iron railing were numerous women. Their backs were turned to us as they faced out to the city. All I could tell was they were all dressed in the same black cocktail dress with their hair pulled back into a severe bun at the napes of their necks.
Without even acknowledging the women, Richard led me to a secluded spot overlooking the manicured grounds of the Champ de Mars.
“Richard, who are those…”
“Never mind them. Look at me.”
I had to crane my head back, he was so tall and imposing.
Richard stroked his hand over my hair before resting it against my neck. His thumb rubbed along my collarbone. An oddly threatening caress.
“From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew I had to make you mine. I’m not sure how to explain it. There was something about your beauty and innocence that captured my heart, and now I cannot imagine my life without you.”
Oh, my God.
Richard stepped closer, so our bodies touched, his dominating presence looming large over me.
“You’re mine, Elizabeth, and it’s no longer good enough for me to know that… I need the world to know it. I need them to know you are my wife, my duchess, my own,” he growled as he leaned down to claim my mouth in a violent kiss.
The force of his body caused me to take several steps back. I could feel the press of the iron railing against my lower back. A frisson of fear raced over me as I realized that with just a little more pressure, his kiss could send me over the edge, dropping me to my death.
These violent delights have violent ends.
His lips bruised mine as his tongue took possession. We both tasted of dark chocolate and wine. When he finally relented, I could barely catch my breath. The world spun.
Placing his arm through mine, he led me back to where the women were still standing, as still as statues. Then, by some silent cue, they slowly turned, one by one.
Each of the women wore a mask that covered their complete face except for their lips. In their outstretched arms, they held a purple velvet pillow on which rested a stunning engagement ring. I quickly realized the jewel color of each of their masks coordinated with the jewel in the ring.
Diamonds.
Emeralds.<
br />
Sapphires.
Both platinum and gold settings.
Each at least ten carats and in every shape imaginable: emerald, princess, marquis, round, pear.
As I looked closer, I could see a signature stitched in gold on each pillow: Mouawad.
As in Mouawad Jewelers, jeweler to the royalty of Europe and just about every major celebrity. Although I confess, I mostly knew them as the designer of the over-the-top magnificent Victoria Secret diamond bra each year.
“Select whichever one you want, my love. They are all your ring size.”
“Richard…” I breathed, unable to say more.
We slowly circled the parapet as one by one the women turned to display their dazzling selection. When I commented I was afraid to touch any of the rings in case they fell to the ground through the metal grating, Richard chuckled and pointed out that they had sewn each ring to the pillow with a gold thread just in case.
Stopping at the one I liked best, I looked up at Richard sheepishly. “Are you sure I can select any one I want?”
“Any one you want.”
I pointed to the pillow. A man I hadn’t noticed before stepped forward with a small pair of silver scissors and snipped the gold thread before handing the ring to Richard. The center jewel was a massive pear-shaped blue sapphire, which reminded me of the midnight blue of Richard’s eyes. On each side of the center jewel were three large pear-shaped white diamonds giving the entire ring the impression of an intense starburst.
My hand looked so tiny and pale as it rested on his palm. Richard slipped the ring I had chosen onto my finger.
Leaning down, he whispered, “You’re all mine now.”
The same man clapped his hands three times. From some hidden door appeared three additional men also dressed all in black.
The original man cleared his throat. “If I may first offer my congratulations, miss.”
Feeling a little dazed and overwhelmed, I could only smile in return as I snuggled closer into the protection of Richard’s side. He placed a reassuring arm on my shoulders.
“May I also say, excellent choice, the Majestic Suite is one of my personal favorites,” he crooned. “Now may I present to you the rest of the suite?” He clapped again, and the men stepped forward.
My mouth dropped open.
The first man was holding the largest, most stunning diamond necklace I had ever seen in my life. Suspended from the center of the brilliant necklace was a massive blue sapphire that would put the Hope diamond to shame. It was surrounded by smaller, if only by comparison, pear-shaped diamonds in a floral pattern.
Richard took the necklace from the man’s grasp and clasped it around my neck. It felt cold and heavy as the centerpiece jewel nestled between my breasts.
The man droned on. “Set in eighteen-karat white gold, these are a spectacular selection of diamonds and sapphires totaling only slightly less than two hundred seventy-four carats for the entire suite…”
The second man stepped forward and held out a matching bracelet to Richard.
Lifting my arm, I could only stare in wonder as he clasped it around my small wrist. It fit perfectly.
“Richard, what is all this?”
“My darling, every duchess has a wedding suite of diamonds,” he answered, amused.
Brushing my hair aside, he carefully fastened the pear-shaped drop earrings to my lobes.
Everything about this moment was something out of a fairytale or movie.
Richard stroked my cheek. “I love you, my sweet little bird.”
“I love you too,” I replied softly.
It wasn’t until much later, after the surprise and euphoria of the moment had slightly worn off, that I realized he had never actually asked me to marry him. In true Richard fashion, he had decreed I would be his wife and I had obeyed.
King captures pawn.
Game over.
Chapter 17
Lizzie
London. One week later.
My life was… complicated.
It was inevitable that the press would find out about our engagement. One of the world’s most eligible bachelors was off the market. What I hadn’t been prepared for was the feeding frenzy that followed. My life and background splashed across the internet and newspapers. Countless paparazzi tailing my every move. And of course, Jane agreeing to do interviews as my closest friend, giving romantic details about my relationship with Richard. Curiously, she rarely got any of the details correct, and yet Richard seemed pleased whenever he saw a video or article with her name. It was as if she was acting as a counteragent to anything unsavory that might come out. I also noticed she carefully avoided any mention of my time on his estate.
As crazy as it sounded, I was now longing for that time again. Where I lived in a protected cocoon of daily strolls around the garden, horseback rides into the country, lazy afternoons spent reading in the conservatory and elegant dinners with pretty dresses and jewels. My wanting to go back to that time only reinforced my belief that it was me, not Richard, who had started the game and then went in so deeply I’d gotten… lost for a little while.
My guilt over accusing him of manipulating me and playing some kind of evil game with my mind and body kept me in check during all the hectic wedding plans that swirled about me. Whenever I felt trapped or indecisive, I reminded myself it was Richard who loved me and protected me and always had my best interests at heart. It was me who twisted and confused his love into something dark and wrong. I would never question him or his motives again.
Especially not now, when he was so eager to keep me safe.
The announcement of our upcoming wedding had also brought out a troubling number of death threats and hate mail from all over the world. Most of it was from poor delusional people who were mostly harmless. The problem was it made it that much more difficult trying to learn who had threatened me with the dead bird and bloody feather. The suspect pool went from a handful of people to thousands overnight.
Richard worked tirelessly to narrow it down. There was no clear shot of the mysterious maid. Apparently, she had seemed to know where the cameras were and just when to tilt her head to avoid being captured on film. So, for now it was a dead end.
My fear over Richard reviewing the security tapes and learning I had stolen a mobile turned out to be unfounded… just like the rest of my fears about him. Two mornings after we returned from Paris, as I was adding birdseed to Dior and Coco’s dish, Richard strolled into the room and placed a new cell phone on the table nearest to me.
“Apparently you have been wanting one,” was all he said before kissing me on the forehead and leaving for a meeting.
Sure, it was one of those children’s phones that had a GPS system that could not be disabled and only allowed for a limited number of phone numbers and highly restricted internet searches, but Richard explained it was for my safety since these phones were harder to hack. Since he owned several technology companies, of course I believed him. Why wouldn’t I?
You would have thought a high-level dignitary or perhaps some huge celebrity was arriving the way I rolled up to a meeting with my dressmaker.
Richard insisted on two security cars flanking my driver and car at all times. After arriving, I waited somewhat impatiently in the back seat of the BMW X5 Security Plus, which was just a fancy way of saying big fucking scary armored car. I overheard one of the security guards say it was actually bulletproof against an AK-47.
I kept my hands folded in my lap, remembering all too well the severe punishment I had received from Richard two days ago when he had learned I had opened my own car door and stepped out onto the street before the all-clear. Shifting in my seat, I swore I could still feel the welts from his belt.
Normal Richard was incredibly intense… high-alert, worried-about-my-safety Richard was in another orbit, over-the-top intense. Last night over dinner, I had teased about him resorting to having me locked away in a tower on some island in the middle of the ocean. He hadn’t laughed.
In fact, he had just stared at me in a rather unsettling way before he changed the subject.
Finally, the door opened.
The flashes blinded me. Fucking paparazzi. Richard told me to ignore them, but he wasn’t the subject of their fascination.
Lizzie!
Lizzie!
Sweetie, over here!
Here!
Oi! Oi!
Lowering my head, I tried to make my way into the shop.
Hey! Lizzie!
Oi! Is it true you’re a gold digger?
Hey, gold digger!
Whore!
Without thinking, I turned to give them both middle fingers. “Fuck you,” I yelled before ducking through the open door.
The moment I did it, I regretted it. If Richard found out he would be furious. He specifically has told me not to engage or give them anything to comment on. Didn’t the middle finger mean something different in England? Didn’t they flash the peace sign as their middle finger or something like that? Maybe I would get lucky and they wouldn’t see the gesture for what it was.
Wishful thinking.
“Lady Elizabeth, welcome!”
“It’s just Elizabeth here, Maxine.”
Maxine pretended to zip her lips shut, then gave me a wink.
Casting an uneasy glance around the elegant boutique, I nervously looked to see if anyone else was observing our conversation. Maxine was one of the few people who Richard allowed to visit me while on the estate. She was a genius with a needle and had brought many of my Victorian dress designs to stunning life, but that didn’t mean I wanted the details of Richard’s and my little game to leak to the press.
“I have had all four of my seamstresses working round the clock since we got Richard’s message, chéri. We already have it patterned out in muslin for you to try on.”
“So soon? There is no rush. We haven’t even started planning the wedding.”
“My dear, with Richard there is always a rush,” said Maxine as she fluttered her hand in the air dramatically.
