Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two

by Verne, Jillian

  As his erection softened in her mouth, the grip in her hair relaxed. “I must say, Mademoiselle Rey, your skills are impressive, but I believe you need a bit more instruction. Get up.”

  “The voice! Oh, no,” Angel whispered.

  “Oh, yes,” Devil hooted as Isabella stood.

  Robust hands, fast and fluid, encircled her waist, forcing her into a straddle over his knees, then grabbed her wrists and thrust them behind her back, locking them together in one iron fist. The other hand twined into her hair forcing her into a kiss that bordered on violent and left no doubt that Jacques's passion for her was limitless. Then he tore his lips away.

  “First rule of business, Mademoiselle Rey. Know your opponent’s weak spots. Well done,” he said breathing hard and followed up the compliment with a menacing growl. “Second rule, never underestimate an opponent who knows yours.”

  The fist at her back thrust her wrists higher between her shoulder blades as he dipped his index finger into the cups of her bra and pushed each one down. The underwire and folded fabric created a perfect prop, spilling the downy orbs over the top and leaving them woefully exposed to whatever her decadent boss had planned for them. No touching necessary, the threat of what Jacques might do alone sent a fine tremor thought her.

  “There’s this one.”

  His knuckles skimmed in light circles around her areola, the platinum cufflink glinting at his wrist as the simple rotation started the arousal swirling through her body. He chuckled, the haughty sound of a man imagining decadent things for a lover who would not deny him, and turned his attention to the other breast.

  “And this one.”

  He brought his finger directly to the tight point and flicked. And flicked and flicked and flicked until she couldn’t help but squirm. As soon as she did, he grabbed the hard nub and squeezed, the sharp pinch transforming the swirling arousal into a pulsating wave.

  “My kingdom for a pair of clamps,” he groaned, “but we’ll make do.”

  When he twisted his fingers, another wave pounded through her.

  “How about this one?”

  He yanked her head back, scraping teeth over the exposed column of her neck, along her collar bone to her shoulder and bit down. The whirlpool took her under. She may very well become the first woman to drown in a penthouse office twenty floors above Paris.

  He jerked her head up and flashed a puckish grin. “And one of my all-time favorites.”

  His finger trailed down her breast bone to her belly, in and out of her navel before skimming into her softness to draw the wetness out. Her lids drifted shut when he dragged her cream, ever so gently, over the ultimate weak spot.

  When his finger fell away, her eyes shot open.

  “You’re not paying attention, Mademoiselle Rey. Shall we try again? Keep your eyes on me. Always on me.”

  She stared into his copper eyes and he began to fondle her folds. A single fingertip skated over the sensitive, very slippery skin between her spread legs, but avoided the one spot that screamed for mercy.

  She waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  The glint in his eye said Jacques knew exactly what she was waiting for. She cried out when his lips curved into a merciless smile and he began to drill that finger in and out of her body with unhurried precision.

  “Stupid girl,” both bicker sisters groaned in unison as Jacques finger fucked her into oblivion.

  “How could I forget this one?”

  The finger in her slick channel probed deeper to find the ultimate weak spot’s first runner up. He pressed and stroked.

  Forget drowning. She was on fire. Her entire body nearly burst into flames. Burning. Sweating. Needing. She squirmed helplessly, quivering against the strong arm at her back until all she could do was beg.

  “Tenga misericordia. Por favor, Señor Meszaros.”

  “Begging for mercy in Spanish, Señora Rey. Qué bien. ¿Cómo puedo rechazar?”

  His thumb slid over her clit.

  But refuse he did.

  Slow, heavy drags. Up and over. Almost enough, but not quite. She thought what he’d done before was cruel. This was torture. Erotic torture. Suspending her on the knife’s edge between pain and pleasure.

  Pain as he denied her.

  Pleasure as he fulfilled her.

  And all she could do was pray for mercy.

  “Prayers won’t do you any good now,” Angel whispered.

  Devil must have passed out. The gnawing ache of arousal was so extreme, Isabella nearly did the same.

  “And what if I did this?”

  He began to tap his finger. She gasped and went rigid with the enormity of the focused contact. Each repetition sent a sharp dart of ecstasy into her core, but the staccato stimulation left her just shy of satisfaction.

  “So many weak spots, Mademoiselle Rey,” he said, “and so many fun ways to play with them.”

  Jacques angled her body away from his and his diabolical tongue swiped a circle around her areola.

  Madre de Misericordia. Is he going to begin again, repeat everything he just did with his tongue?

  She wanted to scream. Angel and Devil both did.

  “¡Por favor, Jacques!”

  “You want something, Mademoiselle Rey?”

  ¡Maldita sea! He was really making her work for this one. “Yes, Monsieur Meszaros. I want to come. For you. Please, I want to come.”

  “Well, I do suppose you’ve earned it, Mademoiselle Rey.”

  He spread her legs wider with his knees and began to stroke her with an aggressive rhythm. Perfecto. And there she went, toppling right over the edge. Stars flashed before her eyes as a wild, violent, all-consuming climax rocked her body so hard, it hurt.

  Sweet, sweet mercy.

  Jacques released her wrists and she collapsed boneless onto the couch next to him, struggling to breathe and unable to move.

  “Next time, Mademoiselle Rey, I suggest you run faster,” he said with a deep masculine chuckle as the last jolts of orgasm snapped through her prone body.

  She bent her knee to rub the front of her ankle over the very happy, definitely-not-a-cell-phone erection standing tall between his legs and cooed, “Whatever you say, Monsieur Meszaros. You’re the boss.”

  Distantly, she heard Angel’s sigh and Devil’s laughter.

  *****

  Isabella liked games.

  Which was a good thing because he liked them too. A lot. Together, they’d already invented a few truly spectacular varieties of their own. So why was he letting the twinge of doubt that he’d carried almost constantly since their time in Monaco chill his enthusiasm? He wanted this. She wanted this. Christ Almighty, she asked for this and he’d quite taken to giving his woman whatever she asked for, thank you very much.

  Jacques shook off the pussy routine and moved around the bed, fastening the suede cuffs to the bed posts. He’d had them made for Isabella. Suede because leather was too stiff. Silk laces because metal was too crude. Cobalt blue because the color would complement her radiant skin and erubescent hair.

  “Get real, Jacques,” he huffed to no one but himself as he looked at the restraints.

  Blue. The word that nearly ended his life. He’d chosen the color to keep himself focused on what he would lose if he messed up with Isabella again, a personal challenge to be different.

  But this scenario felt uncomfortably familiar.

  How far into his old ways could he venture before he was no longer different? What did that really mean anyway? He thought he knew, but the more time he spent with Isabella, the more confused he became.

  He dragged his hands through his hair trying to sort out his muddled thoughts. He wasn’t in his dungeon for one. Isabella knew he had one, even hinted around that he should take her there. Never. Not if Zeus came down from Mount Olympus and ordered him to, would he. Two, he wasn’t going to make demands. In fact, he was offering options and planned to remind Isabella that choosing none of them was as viable as
choosing all of them. Three, he was in love. Silly, storybook romance, head-over-heels in love.

  Even if Isabella never said it, he loved her and that was enough.

  The thought made him relax. He may be sailing unchartered waters with Isabella, but life was about adaptation. If he could adapt to living this unique life, a life where Isabella was integrated into every part of his, he could adapt his kink too. He rubbed his palms over his trousers as he sat on the end of the bed to wait.

  Isabella appeared in the doorway dressed in a sheer robe that covered every inch, but left nothing to the imagination. Her hair was loose, the way he preferred it. Hungry eyes devoured his as she sashayed over to the bed.

  Despite the spiking arousal at the mere sight of her entering their bedroom-turned-playroom, he asked, “Are you certain you’re ready for this, Isabella. We don’t have to do it if you’re unsure.”

  She slipped the robe off her shoulders and knelt at his feet. “I’m yours, Jacques, and I’m ready.”

  Okay, that was all it took to short-circuit his brain. He loved that Isabella did that. Loved it even more that he’d never once asked her to kneel and she did it so naturally, as if the gesture gave her comfort.

  After a few moments basking in her positioned so beautifully, he was ready. Good and truly ready. “Undress me.”

  Isabella opened her eyes and raised her head with a smile. It was a really good smile. The kind that held all the heat you wanted to see on a woman’s face. Full of love, yes, but also full of lust and the thought of everything she wanted her man to do to her. She looked utterly pleased with herself, at ease and excited as she undressed him.

  When he was naked, he pointed to the toys he’d arranged on the bed and sat. “Pick one.”

  Other than with hands, this was their first venture into pain play and he’d been sure to give her the choice between lesser intense options and something heavier. A very big part of him was hoping for heavier, but he wouldn’t dictate.

  Her hand shook as she reached out to touch what he’d set before her. Fingers ran over the smooth glass ball at the end of a glass wand. “Well this could be kind of interesting,” Isabella said in that low, husky voice that did magnificent things to his lower body.

  “It goes with this.” He removed a blindfold from its pouch and set it on the bed.

  She picked up the glass toy. “It’s heavy, but it looks pretty innocent. What do you do with it?”

  “I use my imagination.”

  In his hands, that “pretty innocent” looking toy offered hours and hours of fun alternatives and he suddenly wanted to explore each and every one. To tease. To penetrate. To make her come and cry and burn and shiver and moan. Ah God, he loved the way Isabella moaned.

  “Definitely another time, but this isn’t what I had in mind for tonight.” She laid the wand down on the bed and her hand moved to the Wartenberg wheel. She pressed the pad of her finger into one of the little spikes. “I’m not sure I want to have in mind what you might do with this, Jacques.”

  “Don’t be too sure, Isabella. I’m very good at…”

  “Everything,” she muttered, “but I know you’ll be very, very good with this.” Her fingers played through the soft fronds of the flogger as chocolate eyes filled with longing meandered down his arm to the hand resting on his knee. “Your hands, Jacques, they know how to thrill me. I want these hands to use this on my skin.” She raised his palm and pressed her lips to the center.

  Of all the toys on the bed, his expertise with the flogger was incontestable. He wasn’t being vain. It was true. He knew precisely how to make the leather kiss a woman with the perfect blend of pain and pleasure, but Isabella’s eyes hadn’t met his when she asked him to use it and the doubt churning in his gut compelled him to reassure her.

  Somewhere between his brain and his mouth the words scrambled into a jumbled mess. Trust me…if you can trust me…I know how to…I mean, how much…just tell me to stop and I will. I promise…I will stop this time. Good thing nothing came out of his mouth but a groan. Christ, he was pathetic.

  “Jacques?”

  “Hell, I’m sorry, Isabella.” He dropped his head into his hands. He may be a pussy, but at least he was an honest pussy. “I know I’m supposed to be together for you, but the lines are blurred in my head. I’m trying to be different, but I wanted you to choose the flogger. I was praying you would because I’ve wanted to take you there with it for weeks. I guess I’m not different, just the same guy with new hang ups.”

  “I don’t want you to be anything other than the man you are, Jacques. You said you want to be different, but in this, I don’t want different. I only want you. You’re mine and with you, I am perfect.”

  When he didn’t raise his head…smack…the flogger came down hard over his thigh. His breath hitched with the quick pain and his head shot up.

  Isabella raised the toy with a lascivious smile that stopped him short. “Oops. Guess now you’ll have to give me your worst, won’t you, bad boy?” Despite the Domme routine, the voice was a pure plea.

  He slipped into the role she wanted him to play, the role he needed to play, and dropped his voice to a more threatening tenor. “Au contraire, I plan to give you my best, Isabella. My very best.”

  She didn’t speak, but the lust that sparked in her eyes at the change in him spoke volumes. The peacefulness that flowed from her as he took control coursed through his blood like a potent aphrodisiac and the tension he’d been carrying for months evaporated. He eased the toy out of her now trembling hands and pulled her onto the bed.

  “Total control, Paradis. Lay back.”

  Her body became liquid as he fastened her wrists and ankles in the suede cuffs and tightened the laces, slowly, torturously slowly, given how he could feel Isabella literally vibrating with quelled anticipation.

  “Mine,” he growled as he ran his hands over her face, through her hair, across her torso, down her arms, legs, finger toes, possessing every inch of her. He laid the flogger across her stomach, setting aside her preference, and smiled down at his prone lover, knowing precisely what she desired: whatever he did.

  He didn’t have to be different. With Isabella, all he had to be was Jacques.

  “But will you ever learn, Paradis…”

  He picked up the wand and laid the cool glass over the heat of her sex. She gasped at the contact and his mouth closed over hers. He licked over her teeth, her tongue and the roof of her mouth, kissing her thoroughly. Easing back to whisper against her lips, he began working the toy into her gloriously slick vagina.

  “…a kiss should be slow.”

  18

  Bulgari, Barcelona and Brothers

  “Aye yi yi, Jacques. You have great taste, but I’m not sure you should let me out of the house wearing this.”

  Isabella raised her arms and twisted in front of the mirror, eyeing the white satin Calvin Klein gown and checking out her butt. Calvin certainly knew how to show off a girl’s curves. No undies under this baby, not that Jacques allowed her to wear them anyway.

  “What do you mean? You look exquisite.” He ran his hands from her ribs to her hips to highlight her shape and cupped her backside. “And your ass looks fabulous in this dress.”

  She’d thought Jacques might be telling tiny white lies when he complimented her figure, but after everything he’d done with, to and for her in the past few weeks, there was no denying that her man adored her curves.

  Even my thighs.

  “I have something that will make you even more stunning.”

  “Another gift, Jacques?” She swung her hand around a boudoir that could better be described as a mid-sized Parisian apartment. He’d already filled it with hundreds of things. Jacques was certainly a man of extremes and gave new definition to the word “shopaholic.” “Aren’t you afraid you might spoil me?”

  “I’m afraid you won’t spend the rest of your life allowing me to do just that, Isabella.”

  He slipped a choker around her neck. It wa
s heavy. Really, really heavy. Her breath caught as her eyes took in the piece. Huge bright white diamonds encircled her neck in an endless loop and a single teardrop ruby dangled between her collar bones. She ran a finger over one stone, so large she had to move the tip to touch the entire surface and started counting with her eyes.

  “Flawless diamonds for a flawless woman.”

  Well that was Jacques. Over the top in the most expensive way.

  “I had them add the pendant for tonight, but it can be removed so you can wear the necklace during the day.”

  “I’ll have to hire bodyguards,” she muttered, eyeing the necklace. It sat high and tight around her neck, very much like a…

  “Is this what I think it is, Jacques?”

  “If you think it is a symbol that you belong to me, then yes, Isabella. That’s exactly what it is.” He kissed her nape and met her eyes in the mirror.

  “Are you collaring me?”

  She honestly wasn’t sure what she would feel if he said yes. Their sex life did fit with a symbol like that, but everywhere else, they were equals or at least she thought they were.

  “You are not a dog, Isabella. A piece like this may suggest the nature of our relationship to those with the eyes to see it that way, but I put this necklace on you for my eyes only. A Bulgari choker, well, even that seems only a mildly appropriate expression of how I feel about having you in my life. Still, it will give me immense pleasure to see it grace your neck. Every time I look at it, I will be reminded that you are mine. I love you, Isabella.”

  How does a girl respond to that? She burst into tears and threw her arms around her man’s neck, holding as tightly as the band he’d put around hers. “If that’s what this necklace means to you, I will never take it off…” and I love you too, Jacques.

  She couldn’t finish the sentence out loud. Even though it was the truth. Even though she hated the pain in Jacques’s eyes at the silence that should have been filled with those beautiful words. She couldn’t say them. We can’t build a future based on secrets and lies, Isabella. If we don’t share everything, we will fail. Jacques had bared his soul and put his faith in a future with her and that was the problem. She couldn’t do the same.