Maison Plaisir (7 page)

After exiting the loop, they drove about an hour across the state line to Winnetka. Apparently, Hervé owned a house in one of the most prestigious neighbourhoods in the outskirts of Chicago. House was such an understatement. His place dwarfed her family mansion tenfold. Hervé’s guards greeted them by the front gate. She looked around with awe. Hervé’s mansion was exactly the place her mother and sisters had always wanted to live in.

For years, one of her mother’s chief complaints was that the family hadn’t been able to afford to live here because Arthur Beaumont had been too stupid managing his investments and selfishly died too soon, neglecting all of them. Of course, the blame would finally shift to Belle for being the bad omen in the family. Her father had committed suicide when she was only five years old. Sometimes, Belle wondered what she could possibly have done to drive her father to his untimely demise. She barely remembered her father, let alone being the sole cause of his death.

Belle clutched the hem of her dress as Hervé parked near the front steps of his mansion. She waited to see if the prospect of sleeping with Hervé would make her anxious like the night she’d agreed to spend with Armand. No. She didn’t feel nervous at all. Actually, she was looking forward to it.

God, what the hell is wrong with me? I’m acting like a nympho
.

Hervé stopped the car and watched her for a few beats before he decided to wrap an arm around her shoulder and find her lips. Belle tensed, and then melted in his arms. The kiss was sweet, yet scorching at the same time. Pure heat surged through her. Her nipples hardened. Panties dampened.

He traced her lips with the tip of his tongue. Sparks of pleasure fluttered beneath her skin. A low growl escaped from his throat. Hervé held her face. Her heart skipped a beat when his tongue slipped into the cavern of her mouth. He claimed her with feral force. A shock of tremors swept through her. The kiss was so mind-muddying that when Hervé parted his lips, Belle lolled in his arms like a drunkard. Her pussy felt heavy and aching. Every fibre of her being screamed with manic need. Need to be touched. Need to be fucked.

Belle didn’t recall how exactly she got from the car and into the mansion. But she remembered each step she took seemed like an arduous effort. Hervé squeezed her hand as he led her to the second floor, and into what seemed to be his bedroom. He didn’t bother to close the door either. The moment they were inside, he pulled her into his arms and wedged her between the bed and his hard body. He kissed her again. Long. Deep. Greedy. His fingers threaded through her hair. He found the hair clips and plucked them off, letting her hair fall onto her shoulders. The kissing didn’t falter as he removed her clothing.

Belle shivered with heat. Hervé broke the kiss just as he was about to remove her panties. His eyes blazed with fire. She heard the fabric tear. Her panties. He’d yanked them off brutally.

“Hey,” she managed to protest. “They’re new.”

“I’ll buy you new ones. Hell, I’ll buy you the whole store.” Hervé slid his hands on her buttocks and lifted her onto the bed.

Belle couldn’t help grinning. “The whole store?”

“For you, love, anything.” Hervé mauled her lips.

She tumbled down the bed as he assaulted her with more mind-muddying kisses. His hands were all over her. Those large, masculine hands that were surprisingly rough considering who he was, caressed her naked, fevered skin. He nipped her jawline. The hollow of her throat. Engulfed her earlobe and sucked it until she felt dizzy from the sensation. Her pussy clenched and more sexual liquid seeped from her centre.

His hand tightened around her breast. Fingers found her nipple. Plucked it, pinched and rolled it. Belle heaved between the kisses. Shots of liquid fire lanced through her sex. Hervé licked her lips as his hand found the source of her ache. The touch was gentle, but the impact sent her body burning.

“Love, you’re wet already.” His voice was a mixture of amusement and pleasure.

Belle gasped when he parted her curls and slipped a finger between her slick folds. He caressed along the puffy lips. Tickled. Teased. She clutched the collar of his shirt when Hervé pushed his finger inside her.

She mewled as the rings of her muscles enclosed the intruding finger. Hervé stroked deeper until the pad of his palm mashed against her vulva.

“I want to see you come.” His voice became huskier than usual. More throaty. “I’ve wanted to have you like this since the first time I saw you.” He rubbed her slowly at first, then quicker as he found a rhythm. Her pussy made a slick, wet sound. He pecked a satisfactory kiss on her lips. “Oh, love, look at you. So wet, hot and tight. I can’t wait to fuck you. But I want to see you come first.”

Belle gulped a lungful of air. Hervé curved his finger upwards and it hit a special spot that sent her mind reeling. “Shit!” She tensed. He barely rubbed her a dozen strokes when a hot, knife-sharp orgasm tore through her. She threw her head back, calling his name. Her spine kinked. Toes curled from pleasure.

Her breath was ragged when she swam back into reality. Hervé was watching her the whole time, looking utterly pleased.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “I love watching you come.”

His praise made her bubbly. Belle grabbed his hair and plastered a deep, starving kiss on his mouth. Hervé reciprocated, ambushing her with the same heat. “Take off my shirt,” he told her between the kisses.

Belle let go of his hair and worked on his buttons. Her fingers trembled as she undid the first button. The last wave of ecstasy had barely ebbed away, but the way Hervé kept stroking her pussy made new pleasure gather fast like an impending thunderstorm.

“Damn, love, you’re so fucking wet. I love it,” he cooed.

She pulled his shirt from his pants and ripped open the last button.

“My belt and my pants too.”

Belle unclasped his belt impatiently. His bulge was impressive. His strained cock felt so hard when she groped him. She unconsciously swallowed hard again. Heart skipped a beat. God. Hervé was enormous. She unbuttoned his pants and slid down his zipper. Snaking a hand between the openings of his pants, she felt him. His cock lurched at her very touch, pulsing under his briefs.

“Take it out,” Hervé croaked.

She didn’t need any encouragement. She had been curious like a fickle, little kitten. Belle crooked her fingers on his waistband and slid it down past his bulging erection. She craned her neck forward, peeking at his groin. Her heart did a tap dance. Hervé was as big as she felt earlier. Thick, almost alarmingly fat, with a huge tip. He wasn’t as long as Armand, but the lack of it was made up by his girth. Her head filled with dizzying thoughts.
God. Am I going to be able to…?

“Touch me,” he commanded.

Her hands flew to his cock before she fully comprehended his order. It almost felt liked an instinct. “Fuck,” she sighed. His cock felt hot in her hands. Hard and unsated. She squeezed him, marvelling at her newfound toy. Hervé’s breath stalled, a moan curling out from his throat. Belle swooped her palm along his length and brushed a thumb over his cockhead. He leaked precum. Wet, just like her.

“Fuck, Belle.” Hervé’s Adam’s apple bobbed. For a moment, he trembled. He withdrew his finger from her cunt. “Rub my head on your pussy. I want to feel you before I take you.”

Oh my.
Belle grabbed his shaft and pressed it to her groin. He was so hard it felt impossible for a moment. But he yielded. Her pussy contracted the moment their flesh made contact. Burst of heat spiralled up the length of her spine. More sexual liquid seeped from her.

Hervé held her face while she rubbed the blunt tip on her pussy lips, forcing her to look at him as she did his bidding. Belle felt drowned under his penetrating gaze. “Good. Keep the pace.” He let go of her hand and snaked his hand on her thighs. He stopped her for a moment. His fingers were on her sex, parting her nether lips. “Rub me again.”

She did it. The maddening sensation overcame her senses. That inner part of her body felt so sensitive. The friction, gentle as it was, sent a shiver of fire through her being. Her eyes flew wide in disbelief.

“Good?” he inquired.

Belle answered with a tiny nod.

“Fucking unbelievable.” Hervé grunted and shifted fully on top of her, bracing one arm next to her head. “Look at me when I fuck you. I want to see your pretty face when you come.” He lifted her left thigh for better access and positioned himself at her opening. He made an experimental thrust.

She gasped. The feminine panic blared underneath her mind.
He’s not going to fit. He’s too big. He’s…

Hervé growled and thrust.

He speared her open with his cock. Her cunt yielded and accepted him whole. That fat, thick cock plunged into her depths with one smooth stroke.

Belle was out of breath.

Hervé groaned. “So tight, love. So fucking tight.”

Belle panted. She felt as if she’d been split in half. After the brief initial pain passed, a surge of pleasure cocooned her. Hervé pulled slightly and thrust again as if he was looking for a deeper penetration. His balls slapped her perineum. His pubis ground against her clit. His shaft throbbed in her depths, so damnably hot and wickedly good.

He moved. Small pulls and thrusts, fucking her cautiously. Then he quickened his pace when he saw her panting in ecstasy. “Watch me when you come. I don’t want to miss anything.”

But I’m almost coming,
she thought deliriously. His generous girth had hit all her sensitive nerves in her vagina, including her G-spot. A few rubs and she was a goner. A wave of freak pleasure hit her and sent her reeling to oblivion, followed by a gushing warm flood from her pussy.

“Ah,” Hervé sighed happily. “I feel you. Love your juicy pussy.”

He pounded again and Belle clung to him, nails digging on his half-shed shirt. She was hit by a mini-climax every two-dozen strokes and soon she felt lightheaded.

Hervé fucked her relentlessly. After her sixth or seventh orgasm in a row, he gripped her hair and slammed a few-dozen strokes until Belle was claimed by the mother of all orgasms that made the world fade from her view. He kept pounding her until he finally tensed and jerked, ejaculating. Hervé shuddered. Warm liquid bathed her channel.

Belle was drifting to slumberland when he disengaged from her. His half-hard cock slipped out.

Hervé rose and sat up. He shrugged off his jacket. His shirt followed. Watching her sprawled, he smiled and patted the side of her thigh. “Don’t sleep, yet, love. That one was only an appetiser. I’m now ready for my main course.”

Main course… Oh, God
. Belle watched him muzzily.

He kissed her on the lips. “You certainly don’t think you can finish me in one setting, do you? Like I told you before, I love sex.”

Heat flushed her cheeks. This man was insatiable.

* * * *

Armand realised he’d been duped when he woke up this morning. He’d stirred in his own bed, feeling sluggish and with no recollection of the previous night. The last thing he remembered was having tea at Lucille’s. He recalled bumping into Pierre Vought, an old friend of the family, and then having a little chitchat. Everything went blurred from there. Keeping his eyes open was a chore.

It dawned on him he’d been knocked out with a sleeping potion. When he inquired with Jacques, his butler, he told him he was worried when the owner of Lucille’s and her servants hauled Armand home unconscious. The butler thought Armand was simply drunk and moved him to his bed to sleep it off. There was only one person who’d employ such a devious tactic to get Armand off his back. They were both chasing the same thing.

Hervé
.

His cousin had sabotaged his date with Belle. Fury wasn’t even close to describing what he was feeling right now. Armand wanted to choke Hervé and tear him limb from limb. Maybe feed whatever was left of him to wild dogs, too.

Armand stormed from his palace and through the barrier, into the human world. He had an idea where Hervé might be. Like Uncle Isaac, Hervé was fond of the human world and actually owned some residences. One was on the outskirts of Chicago.

He popped out of thin air in Hervé’s front yard, trying to catch his scent. Hervé’s place was plagued with silence. Armand strode to the front doors and sieved himself through them. Hervé was home, all right. Judging from his scent, Armand guessed his cousin was in his bedroom.

Armand paused when he caught Belle’s scent as well. His fury turned to rage. Clenching his fists, he leapt and materialised on the second floor. With a wave of his hand, he broke into Hervé’s room. What he saw in there made his blood boil. Belle was in Hervé’s bed and seemed naked underneath the coverlet, while his cousin leant next to her, stroking her hair, watching her sleeping.

Hervé turned his head in Armand’s direction. He narrowed his eyes. A heartbeat later, Hervé leapt from the bed and flew towards Armand, driving him out of the bedroom.

The doors snapped shut behind them. Armand’s back hit the wall of the corridor with Hervé’s hand planted on his neck.

His cousin hissed. “Do you want to wake her up, moron?”

Armand gritted his teeth. He threw Hervé with such force that his cousin flew across the hall and shattered the antique vase on the stand behind him. Armand charged to him with vehemence. Hervé recovered quickly and met his assault. His cousin deflected Armand’s blow, but Armand was able to grab Hervé’s collar at the very last second. They were both hurled out of the windows and into the garden. Glass and splinters flew everywhere.

Armand repelled Hervé’s clutch and landed on his feet. “I’m going to kick your ass, you son of a bitch. You know she’s mine.” He summoned his powers to levitate an angel statue and catapulted it at Hervé.

A tornado of seven-hundred-pound carved marble zoomed to Hervé. He dodged it easily. The statue hit the gazebo with a loud boom and broke into a dozen pieces.

“Careful who you call bitch. It happens to be the queen, remember?” Hervé sneered. He vanished and reappeared on the peak of the mansion’s roof.

The ground beneath Armand’s feet shook. He bounded upwards a moment before trees, bushes, fences and everything within twenty feet uprooted and stormed to where he was standing. He’d have been skewered had he reacted a tad late.