Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two (14 page)

“That’s it, Isabella. Give yourself to me. Let me take you where you have waited so long to go.”

Pressure. Release. Pressure. Release. The sensations spiraled though her as the stimulation swept to her sex. His touch wasn’t really painful, but even if it was, she would never deny him. Her head lolled to the side as she gave herself over to it.

Jacques began to play with her more aggressively. To pinch her more sharply. Part of her couldn’t believe her reaction; the other part ached for more. She burrowed her face into his neck, straining to get nearer to him even as he tormented her.

“Perfect, Isabella. Absolutely perfect.”

Despite the painful touch, Jacques’s praise brought undeniable pleasure. The tight ache inside of her grew into something monstrous, a beast of need that threatened to consume her entirely. When his hands fell away, a low throb in her breasts continued to beat in time with her pounding heart.

Jacques moved around the chair and eased into a crouch between her knees. A single finger skimmed under the strap of her nightdress to gently guide it off her shoulder and expose one breast.

“So lovely, my morning Isabella. So full and lush.” He traced lazy circles around the exposed nipple, coating it with sticky wetness. “And so sweet.”

Cupping her, he kissed the soft skin before gently licking the honey off the tip. She put her hands on the back of his head.

“No, Isabella. No touching without permission. Keep your hands on your thighs.” The voice was sharp, sharper than it had ever been with her, and a frisson of fear ran through her.

She replaced her hands on her thighs and Jacques resumed licking her skin. She wanted to touch him, so badly, and struggled to keep her hands at rest. The mental game was an exquisite challenge.

“Your safe word is blue. If you use it, make sure you mean it, Isabella. I never give second chances. Say that word and everything ends. Everything. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Jacques.”

He bit down on the exposed nipple and she jerked away.

His reply was quick. “No. Never pull away from me. Try again.”

She eased forward and he bit the other nipple. Right through the nightgown. This time, harder than the last. She tensed and made a plaintive sound, but managed to stay still. Disappointing Jacques was not an option. She was rewarded with a growl and his lips suckling her gently, wetting the silk.

“I like this, Isabella. I could nibble on you all day.”

Opening his mouth, he began to suck, softly at first and then hard and harder until it was hard enough to force a moan.

A gentle kiss. A soft caress of his mouth. Then a sharp pull.

Pleasure. Pain. Pleasure again.

Jacques was blurring the line. The alternating sensations concentrated a ferocious need between her legs as if he was touching her there, but more than anything else, he was touching that secret, untouched place in her soul that lusted for the taboo of being mastered.

The erotic breast play continued, stoking her arousal, raising her anticipation, hotter and higher. When Jacques bit her again, she felt herself slide into the place where what should have hurt like hell became pure heaven. The walls of her sex clenched tight and a shuddering flash of tortured pleasure flared through her entire body.

Then Jacques kissed the place where he’d bitten her.
So much love and care, despite the harsh actions.
Isabella thought of the passion she’d seen between Nicolai Stavros and Julianne Giroux on the night she met Jacques and knew exactly what she’d give to have a passion like that.
I would give myself.

“Welcome to my world, Isabella.”

A feral moan rumbled up from her throat. Jacques had taken her right to the place where she’d yearned to go. The place where she could give herself over to a man. Without guilt. Without shame. The place where she could bask in the sublime completion of being understood, cared for and after a decade of waiting, satisfied.

His hands travelled slowly up her thighs at a speed that could only be described as prolonged torture and spread her legs wider. “Your desire and your sexual satisfaction belong to me now and you may never take something I am not ready to give.”

Fingers rested over her hips as his thumbs trailed light pressure along the line of her hip bones, intensifying the low ache inside of her. She fought the urge to shift her body and lure those decadent thumbs toward the begging ache they were creating.

As if he sensed her struggle, Jacques complimented the restraint. “Very nice, Isabella.”

When his knuckles rolled over the mound of her sex, her very wet sex, her body jerked as if he’d hit her.

“We’re getting this pretty dress all wet.”

Jacques's voice held the deep edge of masculine laughter, the kind that announced his confidence at having a woman within his power. She whimpered and couldn’t prevent her hips from pressing forward.

“No. No taking, my demanding angel.” She eased back and he added, “And no coming without permission.”

Jacques began working little circles right over her swollen nub, gently rubbing her through the silk. Round and round and round until she was straining not to squirm in the chair. The dampened fabric slipped beneath his fingertips and tickled over her thighs, spreading the sensation beyond his direct touch.

“Not ever. Not even in private.” He began fingering her mercilessly. “If you come without my permission, I will punish you, Isabella, and you will not like it if I do.”

Her body was on fire. Sweat trickled over her temples, down her cleavage, as her wicked lover kept her on the verge of orgasm like a maestro, expertly taking her to the precipice, then backing her away to leave her wanting, only to return and enflame her anew. She bit her lip, dug her fingernails into her legs and tapped her heel against the tile floor desperately torn between the desire for release and the need to obey.

“Do you want something from me, Isabella?” he finally asked and a flare of anger coursed through her.

Of course, I want something!
“Yes,” she answered simply.

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Jacques.
Ahh
.”

“Then ask me for what you want.”

So that was his game. He wanted to hear her beg.

She couldn’t. She might curse like her brothers, but saying what she wanted out loud when it came to sex. No.
Nunca
.
Imposible
.

Jacques used his finger to bring her close, then denied her once more, making her want to beg, but her Catholic lips were pressed tight.

“You wanted to negotiate, Isabella. So tell me what you want,” he prodded.

She could hear the amusement in his voice as he continued his wicked game.

More light pressure.

More swirling circles.

More denial.

Unbearable sensations raced through her as she teetered between heaven and hell. Her whole body tense, flushed, struggling. A flicker of guilt sparked then fizzled beneath the crushing need.

“Please, Jacques. I want to come, please let me come.” She was practically panting.

He didn’t. He commanded her instead.

“Stand up.”

“What? I thought you were going to…I mean, I was going to...”

A hand gripped her chin pulling her up in a harsh motion. “Who owns this body?”

The sharp tone was like a dart piercing through her aroused haze, making her desperate to hear the sound of his approval again.

“It belongs to you, Jacques,” she stuttered.

“Yes, it does,” he said with complete confidence, “and that means I can do whatever I want with it. If I want to hear you beg, you will. If I want you to come, you will. If I do not, you won’t. Total control. Do you understand now, Isabella?”

She wasn’t sure how to react. That was mean.

And bossy.

And controlling.

And so damn sexy.

“Yes, Jacques.”

10

Unexpected Things

Jacques could barely stand. His head was spinning and his dick felt like it was about to snap off. He couldn’t believe his reaction. Novices usually bored him, but not Isabella. She was unique in everything, so why not this?

What little doubt he had about her sexuality was completely gone. Isabella Rey was the real deal. So thoroughly submissive that the thought she might not be beautiful to him almost brought her to tears. The serenity that crossed her face when he put her hand on his erection was gloriously genuine and the acceptance when she overcame the struggle to contain her fire and fell under his control, simply sublime.

Does she realize that she smiled as I blindfolded her? Will she remember her first true surrender?

Most didn’t. Whether Isabella did or not, the draw to him would remain deep in her psyche, allowing him to take her farther and farther into his control.

Exactly where I want her to be.

He started slowly, looking for limits, and was surprised to find her biggest difficulty was dirty talk. He supposed he shouldn’t be. Repressed sexuality often rendered a normally expressive person mute and he could fix that for her. Otherwise, her trust in him made her delightfully receptive. She even enjoyed the harsh affection of his breast play.

At first, his determined Isabella was working hard to obey him and not pull away, but then came the magic. The moment when she crossed over and the pain became actual pleasure. Not because she was a masochist; she clearly wasn’t. Because she harbored a deep-seeded need to please her Master and that motivation was the most rare and precious kind. When he put his fingers to her sex and found her wonderfully, copiously wet, he knew for sure. She didn’t dance around or try to grind against his fingers. She sat completely still, breathless and aroused, and held herself for his pleasure.

Submissive to the core.

But Isabella’s nature wasn’t the real surprise. The real surprise came when that lovely voice, so shaky and imploring, asked whether she was supposed to call him “sir.” The answer was yes. Definitely yes. Everyone called him “sir,” the title more familiar than his own name. But with her, he wanted something different. With Isabella, he wanted to be Jacques. And not just for a few days.

Jacques looked down the gorgeous line of Isabella’s torso, over the soft flat of her belly to the lush curve of her hips. Her full breasts with their magnificent, swollen peaks rose and fell on heavy breath. She was splendidly shivery as she held herself for him and waited for his touch to bring her over the edge. He shouldn’t do this yet. It was too fast and she hadn’t earned it, but he was feeling generous this morning.

And I really want to see what Isabella looks like when she comes.

He brushed his finger under the strap holding up her nightdress, the one he just ruined. The delicate fabric fluttered to her feet. As he watched it fall, his world stopped, rotated back on its axis, only to begin again in slow motion. He shook his head, hard, and looked again. Ripping the blindfold off her eyes, he grabbed her shoulders.

“Isabella, what color is your hair?”

She was deep in that place in the mind where submissives go and she blinked dreamily at him. He stared at the black tresses and shook her a little harder.

“Isabella, what color is your hair?”

Her soft voice responded, “Red, Jacques. My hair is red.”

He fell to his knees unable to believe his eyes.

You will know her by the fire in her soul and her red hair.

He already felt the fire and there, at the apex of her thighs, was a marvelous puff of deep red hair.

Isabella Rey.

Isla Paradisíaca.

Island Paradise.

His paradise.

Kneeling at her feet in the kitchen, he knew.

I've finally found her
.

He laid a soft kiss on her belly and the fresh scent of her arousal washed over him. “Put your hands on me,
mon Paradis
.”

Gentle hands came to rest on his shoulders as he leaned in and ran his tongue along her creamy center. He swallowed the sweet ambrosia and licked her again. Isabella gasped, fingernails digging into his skin with the urgency of her need as her legs parted and her hips tilted forward in offering.

Jacques couldn’t believe the passion radiating from this untried masterpiece. It reeked out of every pore. Everything he did, every command, every touch, every kiss, sang through her, making her smolder with silent desire. Her body was designed for sexual pleasure; her heart crafted to respond naturally to being mastered. The fire in this woman wasn’t contained to her soul.

Isabella Rey was fire personified.

“You belong to me,
Paradis
. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, Jacques. Please.”

He felt her body quiver, the muscles of her thighs tremble, as he worked his tongue over and around her, suckling every succulent inch between her spread legs. When he nipped her, she responded to his wicked touch exactly the way he wanted, unfurling herself and slanting her body until his mouth fit her perfectly. He put his hands between the tops of her thighs and, using both thumbs, spread her lips to open her completely.

When he eased back to look, she showed no sign of being embarrassed at being so exposed. His angel may be quiet, but she wasn’t shy and made no effort to shield herself, rather went up onto her toes as if straining to reveal more. In reward, he flicked his tongue over the jutting pink nub as his fingers pushed into her hot silk. Her entire body clenched when he found that special spot on the inside and pressed. She struggled harder to maintain control.

Perfect. Absolutely, fucking perfect.
“Come for me,
Paradis
.”

Taking her between his lips, he began to suck until the desperate cry of her complete surrender filled the silence.

It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

*****

Is that singing?

Isabella heard a choir in her head as if the Angel Isabella had enlisted a posse of her angelic pals to join her in a joyful chant. She blinked open heavy lids.

Cabinets, chair legs.
How did I get onto the floor?

Her eyes rolled over her bare feet to her legs, up her naked body to the arms wrapped around her torso.

Jacques
.

She twisted her neck and looked at him over her shoulder. He was leaning against a cabinet with the countertop over his head, cradling her between his legs and smiling, the picture of contentment tangled around her with the two of them sprawled across the kitchen floor. Eyes closed, head tilted back, smiling and petting her skin. Her mind was frazzled. She couldn’t get a firm grasp on her post-orgasmic reality and Jacques didn’t seem to want to let her.

Phenomenal
.

There was no other word for that orgasm, if you could even call what Jacques just gave her an orgasm. It was more like a whole body explosion. Everything inside of her, absolutely everything, burst free into a skyrocketing bliss, so brilliant, that the world faded. She had no idea her body could do that.

So that’s what all the fuss is about.

When Isabella tried to move, warm hands stroked over her breasts, down her belly, silently lulling her body to relax into his. Jacques's touch was soothing, luxurious, inching lower with each pass and leaving no doubt what her deceptively sedate lover wanted. She wasn’t sure she would survive if she came again, but all she could do was lie against him, dazed, and let those magnificent hands touch her.

Jacques’s fingers tickled through her pubic hair, along the lines between her thighs, and her legs spread instinctively. When he found her slick center, her body bowed. The skin was still incredibly sensitive yet she opened, yielding to Jacques’s desire as if her life depended on it. He pushed into her and drew the fresh wetness over her folds.

“Did you enjoy your breakfast, Isabella?” he asked in a lazy voice that matched the lazy glide of his hand.

“If that’s your idea of breakfast, Jacques,
Dios mío
, what will you do at dinner?”

She wiggled against him and her bottom pressed into his very erect penis. Her body froze, but her heart rate shot into the stratosphere.

I came. Jacques didn’t.

She twisted, trying to sit up, and his arm tightened across her chest.

“No. Be still.”

Her body was weak and loose, unable to fight him and not really wanting to, but her mind was almost panicking.

“You didn’t climax, Jacques. I didn’t satisfy you.” Her voice was high.

“I’m fine.”

Jacques didn’t move or open his eyes. Only held her tight against his chest and pressed his fingers, slow and firm, into her moist channel. In and out. In and out. Despite her racing mind, her body began to flow with his hand.

But this is wrong.

In her experience, men took their satisfaction. If the woman was lucky enough to find hers while they did, great. If not, tough luck. Yet here Jacques sat, his erection announcing his need like a clanging gong, and she wasn’t allowed to touch him.

“Don’t you want me to touch you?” she whispered, a sense of rejection making her voice quiver.
Don’t you want me?

“As much as men hate to admit this, Isabella, we don’t die from not getting off.” As if he read her mind again, he added, “And I want you, make no mistake about that. But for now, I want the simple pleasure of touching you.” The voice sounded grateful.

Grateful for what? Blue balls
.

She squirmed, fighting her traitorous body’s willingness to succumb to that talented touch.

“You’re thinking too much, my fiery angel.”

“This doesn’t seem fair.”

“It isn’t about fair, Isabella. It’s about what I want and what I decide is best for you. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

So that's it. Jacques takes care of everybody, including hard-up, undersexed oncology nurses in desperate need of foot massage and orgasms.

“But you didn’t…”

“No buts. Total control, Isabella. This is what I want.”

“I want to take care of you,” she sighed.

“I know.”

He found that perfect spot and pressed, silencing her would-be protest. Leaning into her ear, he whispered, “Of course, I could bind you to make you lie still.”

Her body responded to his suggestion by squeezing tight around those decadent fingers.

“And you would like that, I see,” he chuckled.

Jacques found a rhythm with his stroking, sliding those seeking fingers over her sex, all slippery and swollen, and she melted into his chest.

What has he done to me?

This wasn’t who she was, some spoiled diva who indulged herself without a care for her lover. Isabella Rey took care of people. Yet here she was luxuriating in pleasure while her man was left wanting.

“Relax and let me take you away, my sweet Isabella.”

The voice, the touch, the care was so seductive, luring her away from herself and into a different world. Jacques's world. A place where she could disappear into pleasure, forget her cares, stop worrying about everything and everyone else. A place where she could let Jacques take control and just be. It was heaven on earth.

She moaned low in her throat, so tantalizingly close, so desperate to let Jacques take her where she wanted to go, but still holding back.

“Touching you is like touching paradise,” he said softly. “Let go,
Paradis
. Let go now.”

She felt her body loosen before the deep ache tightened and took her hard. She let go and called out his name as she came.

*****

Damn. No mistaking that sound.

Jerard shook his head as he turned away from the kitchen door. There would be no turning back now. Jacques took what he wanted and he obviously wanted Isabella.

I hope you know what you’re doing, angel.

*****

Copper eyes cast a wicked light. She felt his heat, the pressure of his cock pressing at her entrance, tempting her, teasing her with anticipation. Her body tensed, waiting, needing. His mouth curved in satisfaction as he pushed into…

Clap! Clap!

The dream shattered.

“Wake up, lazy girl. We got work to do.”

Swoosh.

Isabella opened her eyes to room suddenly flooded with light. Her hands shot up to protect her eyes. “¿
Qué? ¡Vete!
”

Andre strolled over to the bed and ripped off the duvet, tossing it over his head in a flourish of blue lame and black satin. “Someone’s got a date,” he sang as one red-tipped finger tapped her nose, “and if the pretty lady don’t hurry, she’s gonna get in a whole lotta trouble.”

The pretty lady growled and pulled the sheet over her body. Andre ripped that away too.

“You look like a crazy queen matador doing that,” she scowled.