Her favorite. How'd he know?
"I asked your father what variety you favored."
She frowned. Did he read minds, too? If he did, she was in big trouble. Maybe this was a gesture to lull her into a false sense of security, but she had to admit, maybe the presence of her beloved lavender roses was merely a gesture of kindness. Don't defend him, she told herself. Remember why you're here, to trade your body for your business. The flowers are to trick you into thinking he's human. Don't fall for it. She continued to inhale the magnificent scent and almost missed the tapping of feet clicking on the marble floor. A distant sound made its way to the front of the house, straight toward them.
What on earth?
She stood in stunned amazement as two of the most beautiful creatures she'd ever seen rounded a corner and barreled toward them with deliberate purpose, straight into Lyon's open arms.
"Well, good morning, ladies."
One blonde, the other a redhead, both with sleek bodies, almost knocked him over with their combined exuberance. Their love and devotion to Lyon was plain to see as they kissed and nuzzled him.
Isabella couldn't help but smile.
As she watched, the red and golden retrievers wrestled their master to the floor and playfully licked his scarred face, causing his expression to change to one of pure enjoyment. Lyon actually laughing? Impossible.
He drew up on his knees and accepted their displays of affection, while petting and embracing them. "Yes, yes, I missed you too, now get off me. We have company. This is Isabella."
As if they had understood, they turned to Isabella, side-by-side, waiting.
"The red head is Eugenia—the blonde, Ophelia." Lyon knelt between them and ran his hands through their shiny coats. "I rescued them from the pound, just hours from their inevitable demise. They'd been abused and abandoned. An associate of mine notified me of their predicament. Next thing I knew, they were in my car, and here they are. Don't be afraid."
Isabella laughed. "Afraid? Lyon, they're stunning. Eugenia and Ophelia, huh?"
"I'd been reading Shakespeare when I adopted them," he explained.
"My, aren't you gorgeous?"
And the animals were, despite Eugenia missing one eye and Ophelia's mangled left ear. As Isabella shook their paws and petted them, the dogs seemed to nod in agreement, enjoying the attention.
Lyon cleared his throat. "Go on, ladies. I'll be back to play with you later." The lithe, stately creatures, obviously enamored with their master, nuzzled Lyon's cheek then trotted away, their tails wagging furiously. He loved his animals. How would he treat her as a guest in his house? Would she be as 'well loved'?
"You saved their lives." Holding back tears, she managed the words on a whisper, watching the animals trot out of sight.
Lyon shrugged. "They were suffering and needed someone to take care of them." The way you took care of me when I needed someone. She turned to face Lyon and simply nodded, noting the loneliness she saw in those beautiful blue eyes. "Lyon, I . . . . " Before she could form the words, she found herself lifted into his arms and swept up a winding flight of stairs as if she weighed no more than a rose petal. His smile suddenly gone, he gazed down at her, and his damaged voice rumbled through his chest." Now we are utterly alone, Belle." Anticipation of surrendering to his power sizzled through her like a thousand volts of electricity. Her nipples ached. Her pussy throbbed. She said nothing, just savored the strength of his arms supporting her.
As Lyon carried her into an opulent suite of rooms decorated in varying shades of lavender, gold, and white, she gazed at crystal vases filled to overflowing. A floral chaos of every flower and hue imaginable created a feast for the eyes. Pink carnations, white calla and orange tiger lilies joined roses of unimaginable splendor. Isabella looked around her, stunned by the beauty and opulence of the living area. Lyon brought her through to a large bedroom, complete with a silk-curtained four-poster bed, antique bureaus, gilded chairs, and marble pedestals, every vacant space exploding with brilliant grandeur.
Lyon lowered her to a carpet so soft and so plush, her feet were lost within the suppleness. She inhaled the scent of floral heaven and drank in the splendor of the room and the arms that, a moment before, had engulfed her.
"Nothing to say? Or can I presume the rooms meet with your approval?"
"Stop mocking me. You know as well as I that this house is incredibly beautiful. And the roses . . . ." She stepped to a crystal bowl of tea roses ablaze in blush pinks, scarlet reds, and lemon yellows, and then turned to Lyon.
"Where in New York did you find this particular species?" He grabbed her hand and kissed each finger, never taking his gaze off her.
"Come, Isabella, and I'll show you."
* * * * *
Moments later, she found herself behind the house and staring in amazement at the scene before her.
"This is my garden."
Isabella couldn't believe the grandeur. "A garden? Lyon, a garden is a ten by ten square on the side of a tiny house. Her arms spread to encompass all her eyes could drink in. "This is a botanical paradise."
As far as the eye could see, colors burst in a sea of spectacular flora spread for acres. Aromatic scents created a celebration for the senses. Every flower in the house had been grown here on Lyon's property.
"You approve?"
She could only nod, as her attention remained on the sweet aromas and the ocean of color that stretched for miles.
"Can I sleep here instead of inside the house?"
His brows arched at her question.
"Nice try, Isabella, but you will sleep beside me, in my bed. And if you have a problem with that, you can leave right now."
"Can't blame a girl for trying, can you?"
He entwined their fingers together and said nothing as the tour continued. Butterflies created a myriad of shapes, sizes, and shades, fluttering then landing like feathers from bloom to bud, apparently content amidst the field of floral bounty.
"Lyon, this is almost too beautiful for words."
His gaze seemed to devour her. "Yes, almost."
The grounds wound into a circular maze, much like a European garden and just as magical and mysterious.
She extended a hand toward a blood red rose, cupped its bloom and brought it to her nose. "I don't think I've ever seen a rose this beautiful."
"Isabella, please feel free to peruse anything in or outside my home. Everything I own belongs to you for as long as you wish."
"Including you?" She turned from him, trying to center on the floral paradise before her.
"Yes, including me."
A thought formed that she gave a voice to. "You know, I never even asked if you were with someone."
Her body stiffened and her heart pounded. Please say no. Why was his answer important to her? Did she want him to say no because she couldn’t bear for him to belong to another woman? Or maybe I don’t want him to be with anyone but me?
"Do you think so little of me you'd think I would bring you to my home if I had someone else? No, there is no one, and hasn't been for a long time." He took her by the hand and guided her to one of the rose walls, portraying the most fragrant and magical blossoms of yellow roses she'd ever seen.
"Why aren't you married by now, with a family of your own?"
"Ah Belle, if you have to ask that, you really don’t know me at all." His English, mixed with a precise, yet tiny hint of Paris, sounded so classical and proper, not to mention, sexy as hell.
"Why don’t you enlighten me?"
For whatever reason, he changed the subject to her ex-fiancé. "First, please answer something for me. Did he love you the way you deserved to be loved? Did he give you pleasure? Did he know how to make you happy?"
"You already know the answers, so why ask? We were happy for a while, but David left and my life went on. End of story."
"The end of one story—the beginning of another." He continued to hold her hand and walk beside her. "I know you, Belle, and somehow I know you
were meant to be with me."
"I don't want you to know me, Lyon."
She turned from him and leaned forward to inhale the aroma of a deep lavender rose when a thorn pricked her finger, drawing a drop of blood. "Ouch." Tenderly, Lyon brought her injured finger to his lips, kissing the wound, taking the crimson bead into his mouth. He drew a pristine silk handkerchief from his back trouser pocket, and gently wrapped her finger within its folds. Leave it to Lyon to carry silk monogrammed hankies.
He picked the flower and broke off the thorns. "Careful, Belle, the most beautiful of roses have the sharpest thorns." He leaned to bring his mouth to her wrist, up her arm, and to her shoulder to nuzzle. Sliding his lips to her neck, he pulled her close.
"To protect them from predators," she said, leaning her head back to gain more from his mouth. Taking the rose from her, he slid the bloom down the length of her chest, across her breasts. Her moan was a silent plea in the stillness of the castle garden. Monarchs fluttered nearby, their orange and brown wings creating a feast for the eyes as Lyon seduced and taunted her, the rose his weapon of destruction. Isabella inhaled deeply of its erotic, succulent petals, as he continued his teasing. He kissed her hard and long, his tongue making a torturous journey in her mouth. Isabella burned, eyes closed, legs rubbery, she answered his kisses as if she were caught in a trance. His scent, his body, everything about the man proved primal and wild, and, at that moment, he eased her back against the high brick garden wall, never breaking the kiss.
Isabella shivered, even as the July sun shone down on them with unmerciful heat.
Then his hand found its way inside her jeans, and he pushed her legs apart. "Oh Belle, you're weeping for me." He slid a finger to her clit and rocked her. "Yes, darling, go over for me."
Her orgasm came quickly and she hung on to him for dear life. "Mmm." The soft murmur was all she could manage.
"That's it, love."
As the throbbing in her pussy faded, she opened her eyes. The same strange sensation of aloneness filled her again when Lyon stepped away.
"That is the desire I know is inside you." His sexy rasp sounded as void of emotion as if they were once again making the deal. "I want that desire unleashed on me, Isabella. I want you, hot, wet, and coming for me like a wild woman." Anger quickly replaced sated desire. "Glad I could oblige. I am, after all, bought and paid for, so I'm at your beck and call."
She dropped his handkerchief and the rose to the grass and turned away, hoping he wouldn't see her tears.
Chapter Five
What did he think to win with this situation?
What did he hope to gain? Surely, not her respect or her love. Maybe he just wanted her to feel nothing—like he did.
He felt nothing close to affection if he'd brought her here only to fuck her senseless for the next three days. Did he?
The questions haunted her mind as she stepped into the pentagon-shaped enclosed shower stall with glass doors. She turned on the water and stepped under the spray. She lathered her hair with the fragrant shampoo she found on a shelf. When she turned to rinse her hair, she saw Lyon standing on the other side of the glass, watching her, devouring her with his gaze. Naked from the waist up, his scarred, yet powerful chest rose and fell heavily.
Isabella could do nothing but stare back at him, water dripping from her wet hair and trickling down her breasts. Her nipples tingled as if he were touching and not merely gazing upon them. She gasped as he touched himself through his black worn jeans. His unblinking gaze started at the crown of her head and moved to rest on her breasts.
Her nipples tightened even more as he shoved his slacks down his legs. He wore no underwear and his cock stood out long and thick. He's magnificent. She licked her top lip, paralyzed as he opened the glass door and joined her. He possessed a beautiful body despite his scars. A flat, lean stomach housed a sprinkling of dark brown hair that fanned out on his chest, surrounding his flat quartersized nipples and trailed lower to his aroused shaft, where twin sacks hid high and tight behind his arousal. Scars marked his thighs and legs, but his wounds only enhanced his sexuality.
She tried hard to see Lyon only as a beast who had agreed to help her if she sold her body to him for the weekend. All thoughts went awry, though, as his soapy hands reached for and claimed her breasts.
"You are a rare beauty." Lyon circled each nipple with the scented soap as he slid one hand to her pussy. "Open your legs, now."
She obeyed without argument and welcomed his fingers into her wet channel. He washed and probed, his middle finger sliding up to rub her clit, making her moan.
"Come for me, now, Isabella. Spread your legs wider and come for me." She grabbed his shoulders for support as her cries of pleasure echoed off the tile walls.
"Good. Now turn around and face the tiles."
Again, all her thoughts of refusing or rebelling went out the window as the exquisite touch of his hands took over. She turned. He placed each of her palms on the tile while the warm water continued to beat down upon them. He spread her thighs with both hands and pushed his cock into her from behind.
"Ahh." Her voice disconnected from the rest of her. His cock slid in and out of her pussy, while his fingers teased and pinched her clit. "This is just a prelude of what will be happening between us this weekend, Isabella."
She couldn't speak or even nod. Now, his body and hands were all she wanted. She longed to explode from his lovemaking, to come and scream her fulfillment. Lyon turned her and lifted her high in his arms, while she wrapped her weak legs around him. He drove into her, again and again. Isabella felt as if she would faint. His touch was a superb prelude to what was about to happen. Sliding a slippery hand to her breasts, he expertly pinched each nipple, and then circled each areola in turn.
"I want to fuck you in every room and in any and all positions. In my arms, my bed, wherever I wish, you will be mine for the next two days." He pistoned his hips, pumping harder and faster, until she cried out from fulfillment. Lyon followed her over the cliff, his roars of completion echoing off the tiles.
They sank to the floor of the shower stall, bodies still entwined.
* * * * *
"We're going out to a dinner tonight. You'll wear the clothes I've placed on my bed. Furthermore, you will sleep nowhere but with me this weekend." After torrid sex in the shower, Lyon's strict demeanor was back in place.
"Should I thank you, my lord and master, or just bow at your feet?"
"Later. Be ready to leave in one hour."
She shrugged. "Or what?"
He surprised her by backing her into the wall. She could smell wine on his breath. His nostrils flared and his eyes darkened.
"Don't ever attempt to spar with me, Isabella. I know your weaknesses now." He rubbed a palm over one hard nipple and smiled. "Attempting to get a rise out of me will get you nowhere."
Then I'll just have to find your weaknesses.
Their eyes locked for a breath until Isabella broke his hold, turned and approached the bed. Her brow furrowed. "I don't see underwear."
"And you won't."
He'd lost his mind. "You're a beast."
"So I've been told." He lifted a swath of liquid crimson and presented it to her.
"I can't wear this." It's positively sinful, sexy, and seductive. He arched one brow and she could see it was no use arguing with him. She snatched the dress from his grasp. Round One to Lyon.
The column of deep scarlet was beaded from breast to ankle, slit to the knee, and fit like a second skin. Matching satin stilettos completed her erotic ensemble. Turning to look in the mirror, she stopped. In her reflection, she became aware of hungry eyes fixed upon her, like a beast in heat stalking its mate.
She looked different, her skin flushed, her breasts high and swollen, her nipples throbbing as they rubbed against the lining of the dress. For the moment, she experienced the essence of a kept woman, prisoner to a man whose sexual appetite seemed bottomless. If he snapped his fingers, she would abide by his wishes.
For the next two days, she would submit to his whims, sexual or otherwise. She piled her waist-length hair high on her head and bound the tresses with an antique, gem-encrusted comb Lyon had placed on her bureau.
Taking a deep, cleansing breath, yet unable to stop the myriad of sensations that flooded her naked breasts and pussy under the dress, she grabbed a tiny red clutch bag and lifted a scarlet rose from a nearby vase.
When she turned, he stepped out into the open. She couldn't help notice his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. He stood incredibly handsome in his black tux. His wild, ebony hair fell to his shoulders, and he reminded Isabella of a caged animal, ready to pounce, engorged with power. Her breath caught. Unleashed, what this man could do to her if she allowed her control to waver. She shuddered at the thought.
What control? Who am I kidding?
"You are truly breathtaking."
So are you. She nodded. "Thank you."
"I have something for you."
Isabella looked at the black velvet box he offered, as though he were holding a rattlesnake. "You don't have to ply me with jewelry. I'm here ready to serve my lord and master."
"I'm not amused by your sarcasm, Isabella. I just wish to add to your lovely dress. This doesn't compare with your beauty, but I'd like you to wear it. Please."
"I guess arguing will do me no good, will it?"
"You could try, but you'd be wasting your time."
Her breath caught as he opened the box to reveal a glittering diamond necklace, dripping with teardrop-shaped stones normally reserved for royalty.
"I'll wear them, but only for the dinner tonight."
"It's all I ask."
He stood behind her and touched her neck as he hooked the clasp, his warm fingers causing a shiver to race down her back. "Your beauty enhances the brilliance of the stones. Thank you for wearing it. Shall we go?"
She nodded. Goose bumps rose on her skin at his touch. His voice, a combination of silk on sand, sent adrenaline racing to her stomach, down to her pussy. She faced him with outstretched arms. "I guess I pass your inspection."
Surrender Page 3
