Her bare bottom in his hands, her spread knees at his hips, he buried his face in her shoulder and began hammering into her, tilting her hips just right, making constant contact with the bud between her legs with his every solid thrust. Her hands now free, she gripped his shoulders and simply held on. God, he was so big. And so deep. Plunging his whole length into her with one stunning thrust after another.
Then she felt it. The ripples of another hot wave of rapture mountaining by the moment. He rode her with blinding abandon as a second orgasm slammed into her. She surged hard against him, threw her arms around him, and screamed into his shoulder. He grunted but didn’t relent on the pace or force of his thrusts, his shaft ramming her through the renewed contractions of her slick walls. She could hear his ragged breaths. She could feel his muscles were taut. Driving into her on and on until the delicious spasms inside her sex ebbed.
With a sharp groan, he suddenly reared back, jerking his cock from her core. Burying his face in her hair, he roared out his pleasure long and hard, his warm semen hitting her hip and thigh.
Isabelle tightened her arms around him. Feelings of euphoria hummed in her veins. She allowed herself to bask in the afterglow of one of the most powerful experiences she’d ever had.
She hadn’t felt this good for a very long time.
That constant knot of worry that plagued her stomach was still notably missing. Her entire body was awash with a sense of peace she’d forgotten existed.
Gently, he lowered her feet to the floor. Her arms fell away from around his neck, and she slumped heavily against the door, not trusting the strength of her legs at the moment. Holding up her gown, he stepped back and met her gaze.
“Are you all right?” he asked with the touching concern of an attentive lover—as this man was.
“Yes.” She was far better than all right.
By the smile that returned to his handsome face, she knew her answer pleased him. He stooped, picked up her torn drawers, then wiped her hip and thigh clean before cleaning himself and adjusting his clothing. Her gown fell back down into place.
His care in the aftermath only added to his appeal.
This aristo was forever surprising her.
She exerted the effort required to readjust her own clothing and closed her bodice.
He walked over to the hearth. “I’m sorry about this,” he said, indicating the balled-up drawers in his hand, and then tossed it directly into the flickering fire. “I’ll buy you new caleçons.”
She felt so light, she could float off the floor. And she was smiling. A rare genuine big brilliant smile. “No matter.” The loss of a single pair of drawers was a small price to pay for the soul-satisfying encounter she’d just had with him.
Pushing off the wall, she forced her legs to move forward and stopped before him. “Where did you learn that?” she couldn’t help but ask. From her experience, his sexual skills were not common.
His beautiful smile grew ever so slightly. “Learn what?”
She laughed. “You’re teasing, of course. Or perhaps you’re shamelessly looking for a compliment on your carnal skills?”
“Perhaps.”
She laughed again, unable to muster any real dismay at his cheekiness. “It would seem you can add humility to your repertoire,” she teased.
It was his turn to laugh. “It would suffice to hear from your beautiful lips—lips that tragically I don’t get to kiss—that you were well pleased.”
“My lord, were I any more pleased, my heart might have stopped.”
He leaned in and placed a soft kiss just below her ear, his mask against hers. “Mine too.” Her stomach fluttered. He pulled back and gazed into her eyes. She could see his eyes better now that they were near the light of the fire—they were light in color. But still not well enough to detect their true hue. “Believe it or not,” he added, “I was once a roué.”
She shook her head with a grin. “Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but you’ve just participated in a clandestine encounter with a courtesan. One might not believe your claim at self-reform.”
He chuckled quietly. “Despite how it appears.” He stroked the back of his fingers down her cheek. A long silky caress that reverberated down to her toes. “I have changed. I used to be very different. With a quick temper.”
She raised her brows. “Should I be afraid?” That comment unsettled her.
“No. Never. My altercations have been with men of my peers. I’d never harm a woman. And the last woman on this side of the stars I’d ever harm is one who is as intoxicating as you.”
Once again, he’d complimented her. If only he didn’t look so sincere and wasn’t so impossibly charming when he said it. And foolishly, like some sort of inexperienced adolescent in the bloom of her first love, her insides danced. Dear Lord, you ought to be far more urbane about all this by now. Especially compliments uttered by a self-admitted libertine.
“This night was a disaster. That is, until I met you. You, Juliette Carre, have made this evening exceptional. You have no idea how out of the ordinary this night has been for me.”
Out of the ordinary for him? If only he knew how out of the ordinary this night had been for her.
“This hasn’t been a typical evening for me either, my lord. I don’t engage in amorous encounters masked. And I usually know the name and identity of my lover.” Enough was enough. It had to be midnight. At least close to it. She was going to learn who her disarming aristo—master of the carnal arts—was right now.
She could hardly wait any longer.
“I think the time to be rid of these masks is long overdue.” Yanking off her demi-mask, she then tossed it carelessly to the floor. She still couldn’t stop smiling at him. “Your turn.”
The smile he’d been sporting suddenly faded as he stared back at her. For a moment, hers faded too, and she didn’t know what to make of his sudden sobering. At last, he spoke. “Jésus, I knew you were beautiful, but I never imagined you were this breathtaking.”
Her smile brightened anew. “I’m pleased you approve, Lord Seductive.”
His brows shot up above his mask. “Did you call me Lord Seductive?”
“Since I don’t know your name, I don’t know what else to call you—and it’s fitting.”
He laughed again. And she adored the sound of it. “Juliette, you are the one who has seduced me. And you’ve had me at a full cock-stand from the moment I set eyes on you. Not to mention that my arousal for you has sorely tested the stitching on my breeches.”
She crossed her arms and tried to affect a stern expression, but amusement over his banter was making her lips twitch.
“My Lord Seductive, you should be more concerned about the stitching of that demi-mask, for in moments, I am going to tear it off you—if you do not remove it yourself.”
That only inspired a very large grin from him. He snaked an arm around her, pulled her to him, her breasts coming in quick contact with his muscled chest. Dipping his head, he brought his mouth to her ear. “Tearing things off me? Hmm… I’ve never had a woman do that. But since your caleçons are presently burning in the fireplace, in this instance, that sounds only fair. It also sounds far too appealing to pass up,” he murmured, then lightly bit her earlobe. Making her shiver.
Straightening, and still with his handsome grin, he released her and placed his hands on his hips. “Go on. Remove my mask.”
She couldn’t believe he’d quickened her pulse with a mere love bite.
Oh, she was definitely removing this aristo’s mask straightaway. Reaching up, she pulled it off in one quick movement.
Isabelle froze.
So did her blood.
She stared up at him, suddenly feeling as though someone had delivered a blow to her belly. She knew just who was standing before her. Had memorized the very distinct shade of those incredibly captivating light green eyes long ago. She didn’t need to hear the next words from his mouth.
In fact, she barely heard him over the sudden r
inging in her ears when he said, “My name is Luc de Moutier, Marquis de Fontenay.”
A single word thundered inside her head over and over again. No. No. No. No. NO-O-O! But a strangled squeak was all that shot up her throat and out her mouth. She needed space. Air. Time to think. Spinning around, she made to flee. But she stepped on the hem of her gown. And landed on the floor with a hard thud, her palms and knees slamming against the wood.
She winced. His demi-mask, still in her hand, snapping in two with her fall.
“Dieu, Juliette, are you all right?”
She knew he was about to help her up off the floor of the library. Isabelle shot to her feet and bolted out the first door she saw before he could touch her.
Cold water splashed against her heated face and chest. She gasped, realizing she was standing in the courtyard.
In a downpour!
Oh God! Could this evening be any more disastrous? Her clothes and hair were already drenched. Her palms and knees hurt.
And she’d made a complete fool of herself—from her unceremonious fall to the floor, to her dash from the room. Straight into a rainstorm.
Oh yes, and let’s not forget the best part of all, Isabelle: You just had unbridled sex with your sister’s brother-in-law!
And charged him a fee!
Of course he reminded you of Luc de Moutier. He IS Luc de Moutier. You idiot!
She was desperate to get away from him. Her mind awhirl. Her heart in her throat.
Luc de Moutier… The Luc de Moutier!
Scanning about, she saw no way to leave except back through the same door she’d just exited. Or the doors on the other side of the courtyard that led to the ballroom—and every guest in attendance at the masque.
She was trapped. Soaking wet.
Utterly mortified on so many levels.
“Umm… Juliette?” His voice came from the doorway. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, wishing she would magically vanish into thin air. “Are you aware you are standing in the rain, chère?”
Mentally, she cringed. Some of her curls that had been so precisely arranged had already flopped onto her forehead.
“Yes, of course I am,” she said, managing to sound blasé about the humiliating situation. Just then, a soggy plume drooped down from the top of her head and stuck to her nose. With as much elegance as she could muster, she peeled it away. Her earlier decision to add the extra plumes in her coiffure to match her demi-mask had proven to be a bad idea.
“And the reason for that is…?” he prompted.
“I adore the rain.” Brilliant answer. Couldn’t you think of anything more half-witted to say? She must look like a drowned rat, standing in an empty courtyard, her back against the stone wall of the Comtesse de Grandville’s home as rain poured down on her. Her sodden curls and plumes a soggy mess.
How was she going to get out of this predicament?
And without everyone in attendance this night seeing her in this condition?
She’d be a laughingstock. Nicole would be a laughingstock by association. The gossipmongers’ tongues would wag forever about it.
“I’ll admit I’ve had various reactions from women upon seeing my face, chère, but this is…well, rather a first.” She couldn’t tell if there was amusement in his tone. “Is this because of who I am?”
YES! She swallowed hard. A lump had formed in her throat. And, much to her horror, she felt tears sting her eyes.
Don’t cry!
Quickly, she blinked them back. This wasn’t just any man she’d sold herself to. This man had always been significant to her—from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him at her father’s theater when she was fifteen and he seventeen. He was the man of all her girlhood dreams. With all her many losses, thoughts of him had always been a light in the darkness. Of all the dreams she’d had of him, of meeting him for the first time, to what it would be like to be his and share physical intimacies with him—this was not what she’d imagined.
Not a paid encounter.
Never as a courtesan.
And most certainly never, ever as a mother forced to sell her body so that she and her son could survive.
“Juliette, come in out of the rain. You’ll catch your death.”
Relying on her acting skills, she smiled one of her far-too-common, inauthentic smiles and gazed out at the courtyard, still avoiding eye contact. “Nonsense. It’s refreshing. And good for you.”
Good Lord. Refreshing and good for you?
What were the chances that the ground would give way and swallow her up?
“I believe I’ll stay out here awhile. Please feel free to rejoin the masque.” Go away!
“You’re not fooling me for a moment, you know,” he said. “I understand exactly why you’re behaving this way.” His statement was uttered with such conviction, it made her snap her head in his direction. One of her plumes smacked her in the cheek and stuck to it.
“Oh?” She peeled it off her face. It was impossible for him to know the reason behind her reaction, no matter how poorly she was commanding the situation.
“By the way you’re behaving, it’s obvious you’ve heard of me. You’ve been made privy to the ugly gossip about what happened to my family, and you are leery to be in my company now that you know I’m a Moutier. But I can assure you, I am no traitor to the Crown. Never have been. And His Majesty is in agreement with that now. He has fully pardoned the House of Moutier and reverted title, funds, and lands. I spent years in the King’s navy in loyal service to the Crown before I was dishonorably dismissed and falsely arrested. And after my release from prison, God knows I could have turned against the King. But instead, I continued to serve His Majesty in the only capacity I could—as a privateer for the realm. I may not have many friends here tonight. In fact, I believe the sum total is our hostess, her brother, and hopefully you—but there will be no royal repercussion in associating with me. I can guarantee it. And as to the rest of society—they will align themselves with the King’s renewed perspective of my family soon enough.”
A swell of compassion tightened in her chest. His words resonated with her. Luc had been through significant hardship too. Yet he couldn’t be more mistaken in his assessment of her flight from him.
Before she could attempt to formulate a response, she heard the library door open and close. Then a female voice called out her name.
“Juliette?” Isabelle’s stomach dropped. She knew Nicole’s voice when she heard it. “Are you in here?”
Briefly, she closed her eyes. Her humiliation this night knew no limits. Having her refined friend see her in this sorry state only added to her mortification.
She responded reluctantly. “Yes.”
Rapid footsteps drew closer to the doorway Luc filled with his muscled form.
“Good evening, my lord,” she heard Nicole say from within the library.
Well, at least Nicole had managed to draw Luc’s attention to the woman addressing him.
And away from the fool standing in the rain.
He was frowning now, clearly dismayed by the sudden intrusion. Nonetheless, he returned with a polite “Good evening.”
Nicole’s head then peeked out from the doorway’s wooden frame. “Ah, there you are, darling.” Ludicrously, she was speaking to her as though Isabelle were in the garden on a sunny summer’s day. Completely ignoring the shambles her appearance was in.
How in the world had Nicole entered the library with the door locked? Flashes of her intense encounter with Luc flitted through her mind and the answer became clear. They must have somehow unlocked it during their vigorous passion play.
Over her shoulder, Nicole said, “Please forgive me, my lord, but I must speak to my dear friend.” Turning to Isabelle, she continued. “Darling, I have our cloaks.” Isabelle’s gaze dropped to the material draped over Nicole’s arm. Her spirits suddenly soared, as a way out with no one seeing the state she was in had just appeared. Thanks to Nicole. “Would you be so kind as to escort me bac
k home? I have the most unbearable headache.”
She wanted to throw her arms around Nicole and kiss her. She was willing to wager that Nicole had no such ailment plaguing her. Somehow, she’d realized Isabelle was in a terrible bind—and was saving her from her imbecilic predicament. Yet again, Nicole had her gratitude.
“Yes, of course,” she readily agreed. Nicole and Luc stepped back to allow her to reenter the library. She could feel the heat of his gaze as she stopped just past the threshold and reached to take her cloak from Nicole’s extended hand.
“Allow me, ladies.” Luc took both cloaks and aided Nicole first. “Madame, I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. I pray your headache dissipates soon.”
Nicole gave him a nod and a murmur of thanks.
Then he came up behind Isabelle. She tensed. Heat emanated from his strong, sculpted form right through her soggy gown. She braced for his potent touch. He slipped the cloak onto her shoulders. His warm fingers brushed against her cool wet skin. A hot pulse vibrated through her.
“Thank you for a most wonderful evening, Juliette,” he said softly near her ear. His sensuous male voice was as wickedly sultry as before.
Leave! Leave! Leave! Before anything else goes awry. She managed the words “thank you” and “good evening,” threw on her hood, and walked briskly to the door of the library, despite her gown, weighted with water, feeling as heavy as lead.
She was out the door with Nicole in an instant and making a hastened trip across the vestibule. Ignoring the pull back to the library and his magical touch.
*****
Luc stared at the closed door of the library.
Glancing down near his feet, he saw his broken mask lying beside a small puddle of rainwater that had dripped off Juliette’s dress.
The door suddenly burst open, giving him a start. To his surprise, Juliette was standing there, her hand on the latch.
“There is no fee!” she blurted, then disappeared as quickly as she’d appeared.
Three Reckless Wishes (Fiery Tales Book 10) Page 6
