Isabel's Seduction

by Jillian Eaton

  “Come here,” he said, beckoning her to approach with the crook of one finger. There was no question in his tone, nor did there need to be. Isabel belonged to him completely. He was her master. And she would do as he commanded…

  The tiny soles of her feet sank soundlessly into the Persian rug that covered the stone floor as she walked towards him, her shadow rippling across the bookshelves lining the walls. She stopped, her head demurely bent, her eyes downcast as she awaited her next order.

  Seeing her like this…knowing she was his to do with what he willed…took every ounce of Marcus’ considerable self-control not to grab her wrists, shove her back against the nearest wall, and fill himself to the hilt inside of her wet, tight little cunt.

  “Closer,” he rasped.

  She shuffled forward another a few inches and he caught a glimpse of her bright, cerulean gaze as she peered up at him beneath a fringe of thick, sable lashes.

  Fuck, he was aching for her.

  Throbbing for her.

  “Kneel,” he commanded, his cock jerking with anticipation as she slowly lowered herself onto her knees. Gathering her silky hair in his hands, he forced her to lift her head ever-so-slightly as he spread his thighs apart. “Now open your mouth…”

  Marcus awoke with his cock in his fist, hand furiously pumping up and down the length of his swollen shaft as his cum erupted in a sticky stream of white across his black silk sheets.

  “Fuck me,” he groaned as his head fell back onto his pillow and he stared up at the vaulted ceiling. A dream? It had all been a fucking wet dream?

  What was he, thirteen-years-old?

  Disgusted with himself and the dreams he was incapable of controlling, Marcus rolled out of bed and went into the adjoining bathroom. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror before he turned on the shower. He looked like hell, he decided as he turned his face from side to side and skimmed a hand across the dark bristle clinging to his chin and jaw. Which was little to no surprise, seeing as he was in hell.

  How many more times would he wake to find himself coming into his own fist?

  If the gypsy who had cursed him had her way, an eternity.

  Unless…

  Unless Isabel came to him of her own free will and it turned out she really was the woman he’d been waiting for. The woman he was fated to be with. The only woman who could finally break the centuries old curse and save him from the damned fate that had befallen his father, and his father before him, and his father before him…

  Marcus stepped into the shower. As hot water sluiced over his tense muscles he braced his hands against the Italian tile and bent his head, dark hair tumbling into his eyes as he shook his head from side to side in a desperate attempt to clear away the dark whispers of madness he felt drawing closer with every passing day. Madness that would only get worse, turning him into more beast than man as the years went on and on, dragging him down into a hell of his own making.

  “But not yet,” he said fiercely as he lifted his head. “You can’t have me yet, you fucking gypsy bitch. I still have time left.”

  Admittedly not much, but some time – even eight days’ worth – was better than none. And given that Marcus was not a man who liked leaving his fate up to chance, he’d done everything he could to ensure that his life did not end as his father’s had.

  Including leaving a very special invitation on Isabel Price’s doorstep.

  The rules – at least what he’d been able to make of them after countless hours spent poring over his family’s history – stated very clearly that the one woman who was meant for him, the one who could break the curse and free him from his damned fate, had to come to him of her own volition. It had to be her choice to give herself up willingly.

  He couldn’t kidnap her.

  Couldn’t force her.

  Couldn’t take her.

  But, Marcus thought, a dark, humorless smile curving his mouth as he emerged from the shower and draped a towel low over his hips, the rules never said anything about bribing her…

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “I can’t believe I am actually doing this.” Consulting the MapQuest directions I’d used my landlord’s computer to print out (with the vague promise of ‘making it worth his while’ sometime in the future), I turned right and then left, getting further and further outside of town with every mile.

  According to the directions, the address I was trying to find should have been up on the left but the only thing I could see – aside from a future that involved being hogtied to a bed and having a dildo shoved up my ass – was an empty field.

  Biting my lip, I slowly pulled Eden’s car over to the side of the road (my trusty little Volkswagen was currently in storage courtesy of two flat tires I couldn’t afford to replace) and let the engine idle as I leaned out the window and squinted against the harsh glare of the sun.

  I didn’t know what I had been expecting – a limo? Marcus on a gleaming white horse? A creepy mansion tucked way back in the woods? – but I’d definitely been expecting more than…this.

  A big field with nothing in it except for a few cornstalks?

  Seriously?

  “Fuck this,” I muttered as I rolled up my window. I really should have known better. No doubt the whole thing had been one big prank; a sucky ass way for some bored billionaire to get his kicks. I bet the check wasn’t even real. Or a stop payment had been issued on it the second after it was written. Had I honestly believed I’d finally caught a break? That somehow, someway, the world was giving me a little something back in exchange for all the shit it had dealt me?

  Stupid.

  I was so stupid.

  And now I was going to be late for work.

  I started to turn up the volume on the radio as I threw the car in drive – nothing like a little T Swift to make the pain of never-ending disappointment go away – when I heard it. A faint humming, getting louder and louder and louder…

  “What the hell,” I breathed.

  Without warning, a black and silver helicopter swooped in low over the far tree line and circled the field, kicking up a cloud of dust and grass in its wake. The sound was deafening as it drew closer, and I closed my hands over my ears and shrank down in my seat in a vain attempt to block out the noise.

  From this distance it was impossible to guess who was driving the helicopter, but if I was to bet fifty grand I’d put every single dollar on Marcus Montgomery.

  The man certainly did know how to make an entrance.

  When the helicopter touched down in the middle of the field the blades continued to spin, albeit at a slower pace. My hair whipped back from my face in a frenzy of red curls as I tentatively opened the driver’s side door. Keeping my gaze on the field, I fished blindly inside my purse, snagged my sunglasses, and popped them on just as Marcus – his tall, muscular body impossible to mistake for anyone else’s – emerged from inside the helicopter and dropped to the ground.

  He straightened up slowly, dark hair blowing into his eyes as he slanted a hand low over his brow and scanned the road. I could tell when he saw me because he went absolutely still for the span of three heartbeats before he started walking towards me, looking very James Bond in his leather jacket and aviator sunglasses.

  In a moment of blush-inducing clarity I remembered the last time we’d been together. How he’d pushed me back against his fancy sports car...his mouth hot and heavy on mine...his hand shoved down into my lace panties...his fingers thrusting inside me…

  “Isabel.” He had to raise his voice to a near shout to be heard above the helicopter’s spinning blades. “You came.”

  Oh yes I did.

  Perching a hand on my hip, I went for cool nonchalance despite the color in my cheeks. I couldn’t see his smoky gray eyes behind the dark lenses of the aviators, but I felt them on me, the heat of his gaze so intense it burned. I’d always been able to more or less hold my own with men. All except for this one. I would never admit it out loud, but Marcus intimidated me. Maybe
it was his muscular build. Even with four inch heels on I still had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. Or maybe it was his money or the fact that I knew next to nothing about him and yet here I was, ready to sign my life over for the next seven days. His very presence exuded power. Power I wasn’t quite sure how to handle.

  Most men’s weaknesses were easy to spot if you knew where to look. If the guy was an arrogant asshole chances were he had a small dick. Possessive equaled serious mommy issues. Cool and aloof almost always translated to bad in bed. But if Marcus had any weaknesses, I couldn’t find them.

  He was confident instead of arrogant. Demanding instead of possessive. Brooding instead of aloof. And so handsome it should have been a sin. The man was a walking, talking example of masculine perfection. Minus the whole ‘come be my sex slave for a week’ thing he had going on.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?” I asked.

  “I never had any doubt.”

  “So what’s the deal anyways?” My gaze darted over his shoulder. I was still struggling to come to terms with the fact that he’d arrived in a freakin’ helicopter. I mean, who did that? Sexy billionaire’s with a kink fetish, that’s who. “You seriously want me to - to do what? Stay with you for seven days? And obey your every command?”

  “Yes.”

  To call Marcus Montgomery a man of few words would have been an understatement. The guy could have made the damn sphinx look like a chatterbox.

  “And if I don’t?” I asked. Now that he was really here I had no intention of letting the fifty grand slip through my fingers, but it wouldn’t have hurt to see him sweat a little. He was just so damn sure of himself. I wanted to see him flinch, if only to know for certain that he was capable of feeling human emotion.

  I really should have saved my breath.

  “You are free to walk away until the moment you step inside my house.”

  “Oh yeah? And what happens then?” I ran a hand through my hair, brushing it away from my face as I did my best I-Am-A-Total-Badass-Bitch impression. “You chop me up into little pieces and feed me to your pack of Dobermans?”

  His full, sensuous lips curved in a cold, calculating smile that sent a shiver of alarm racing down my spine. “And then you belong to me. For the span of seven days, you are mine. I will own you, Isabel, like I own the club I fucked you in.” Without warning he extended both arms, trapping me against the car door. I held my ground. I even managed to lift my chin, although my legs were shaking and my throat had gone dry as a bone. I was literally weak-kneed. No man had ever made me weak-kneed before. And Marcus hadn’t even kissed me yet! What the hell was I getting myself into?

  He lowered his head. Skimmed his mouth across my jaw. Tugged ever-so-slightly on my earlobe, drawing it between his teeth and suckling it with his tongue.

  Dear God.

  “What do you think about that?” he whispered.

  “Will - will you hurt me?” I managed to gasp.

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation. “But I have a feeling you’re going to enjoy it.”

  I had a feeling I was too.

  There was a certain element of fear where Marcus Montgomery was concerned. Only an idiot would have been stupid enough not to be a little bit afraid of him, and despite my questionable life choices I wasn’t an idiot. The man was dangerous with a capital D. But he was also unlike any other man I’d ever met before. A man with exquisite self-control. A man without any hint of morality. A man who took what he wanted without question.

  And right now, for whatever reason, what he wanted...was me.

  Releasing my earlobe he stepped back. A dark brow lifted above the sharp edge of his sunglasses. “Well? What will it be? I am not a patient man, Isabel.”

  No shit, Sherlock.

  “Okay.” I took a deep breath and even managed something that vaguely resembled a smile despite the erratic beating of my heart. Beneath the light cotton fabric of my green tank top my nipples were hard and I could feel a warm, sticky wetness coating the crotch of my panties. I was so aroused I was all but quivering with need, and Marcus had barely touched me. What would happen when we were alone in his bedroom? Suddenly, despite all the tiny warning bells flashing in the back of my mind, I couldn’t wait to find out. “I’ll do it. Seven days for fifty thousand dollars.”

  “Excellent.” The smirking curve of his lips revealed he’d never doubted what my answer would be for a second. Of course, coming to the field in the first place kind of had been a dead giveaway. Why would I bother showing up if I did not have every intention of going with him?

  “So how do we do this?” Again I glanced at the helicopter. If Marcus thought I was getting in that flying death contraption he had another thing coming. My fear of heights was so absolute I had a never even stepped foot on an airplane. Not that I would have been able to afford a ticket even if I wanted to fly, but still. There was no way I was going to willingly climb into a helicopter.

  If Marcus wanted me in there, he was going to have to drag me kicking and screaming, fifty grand (and my self-respect) be damned.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Ten minutes later I was watching the ground fall away beneath me. The world tilted sharply on its axis as the helicopter skimmed over the tree line and lifted up into the clear blue sky. It was actual smooth, much smoother than I had been anticipating, but my stomach – which was currently resting somewhere in the vicinity of my throat – didn’t give a damn. I sat miserably hunched over my knees as I tried to convince the ham and cheese bagel I’d managed to snag for breakfast with the few dollars I had left in my purse to stay where it belonged.

  Please don’t let me throw up all over a billionaire’s fancy helicopter.

  Please don’t let me throw up all over a billionaire’s fancy helicopter.

  Please don’t let me throw up all over a billionaire’s fancy helicopter.

  Marcus glanced at me from the pilot’s seat. He had on a black headset with a tiny microphone attached, and when he spoke his voice came directly into the matching headset he’d tucked carefully over my ears before more or less dragging me kicking and screaming onto the helicopter.

  “You’re looking a little green, Isabel.”

  A little green? I was pretty sure if I looked in a mirror I would have put Kermit the Frog to shame.

  “Eyes on the sky,” I said tersely even as I kept my gaze pinned to the floor. There was no way I was looking out the window. No way. Marcus had said our deal would start when I stepped into his house and the last time I checked he didn’t live in his helicopter, which meant I didn’t have to start obeying his every command until my feet touched the ground again.

  If my feet touched the ground again.

  As another wave of sickening dizziness overcame me I moaned pitifully and sank lower in my seat. If there had been room, I would have curled up on to the floor in a tiny ball, but the interior of the helicopter was fairly compact. It was built for speed, Marcus had informed me, a devilish grin tugging at one corner of his mouth as he’d pushed me into the cockpit, his hand lingering on the curve of my ass a good ten seconds longer than necessary.

  Subtle my...fuck buddy? casual acquaintance? temporary master?...was not.

  “I didn’t realize your fear of heights was quite this severe,” he said, a note of censure in his tone as if it was my fault I was almost comatose with terror.

  “I told you I’ve never flown before,” I said, tilting my head and glaring at him through a curtain of tousled red hair. And you’re the one who chose not to listen. Jerk.

  “So you did,” he agreed to my surprise. “Let’s see what we can do about alleviating your fear. Flying is one of the safest modes of travel, after all. Not to mention damn convenient when you have your own helicopter.”

  “What do you mean, alleviating me of - oh,” I gasped as his hand snaked between us and slid up the inside of my thigh. The weather was a little cool for shorts but I’d worn them anyways, wanting to show off my toned legs, and Marcus had no problem reachi
ng the red panties I had paired with a silky black bra.

  All it took was a few clever glides of his thumb up and down my sensitive clit to make me wet. My mind may have been occupied by the thought of crashing and burning, but my body had a whole other definition of what it meant to crash and burn. Without consciously meaning to I scooted to the edge of my seat and dropped my left leg to the side, splaying my thighs like some kind of wanton helicopter slut.

  I heard Marcus’ growl of appreciation. I couldn’t see him. My eyes were pinched shut, my head thrashing from side to side as his fingers continued to sweep along the silken crotch of my panties, teasing, teasing, but never quite touching the soft, quivering flesh beneath. This went on for minutes, although it felt like hours. Again and again he skimmed his thumb across my clit, increasing the pressure with every pass until…

  “Oh my God!” I cried as he suddenly slipped beneath the red silk and shoved two fingers inside of me, thrusting them to the hilt. I was so wet they slid in easily. My hips arched off the seat, hands clenching the armrests as I was savagely brought to the brink of orgasm at eight thousand feet. So close...so close...

  A mewl of protest escaped my lips when he abruptly withdrew his fingers, leaving me aching and empty. My lashes fluttered, and I opened my eyes to see Marcus staring straight at me, his piercing gray eyes dark with lust and something else. Something...animalistic.

  “Open your mouth,” he demanded. “Now.”

  I didn’t think to disobey. I was too consumed with need, too fraught with desire, too desperate to come to dare question what he was asking me to do.

  I tasted the sweet, tangy bitterness of myself as Marcus slipped his fingers between my lips and pressed them onto my tongue.

  “Suck,” he said softly.

  Grabbing his thick wrist, I eagerly heeded his demand, taking his long fingers as deep into my mouth as I could manage. I squeezed my thighs together, shamelessly rubbing my ass against the leather seat as I took Marcus’ fingers deeper and deeper into my throat. Desperate to fill myself, I shoved my own hand under the tight waist of my shorts, sighing with pleasure as I touched the slick wetness of my aching flesh.