Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two (24 page)

She heard the words come out of her mouth and wanted to say them, but still couldn’t believe that she did. Couldn’t believe that she wanted this. That she liked this.

Maldita sea, that I love this.

“Your wish is my command, Isabella,” he whispered, the intimacy in his voice telling her he understood and began again.

Light smacks at first, each followed by a soothing hand that spread the fire across her skin. Giving her time to let the anticipation rise. Time to let the pain to flow into her core and transform into an aching pleasure. Time to make her eager to feel that hand hit her again. Each time it did, the delicious vulnerability of being mastered spiked. Each time, another limitation in her mind fell away. Each time, the searing pain was joined by a tingle between her thighs. As her body loosened, the blows progressed into something sublime.

Jacques guided her along until the arousal overtook everything. Her entire being focused on the supernal feel of her man. The roughness of the hands that held her, the crisp starch of his shirt as his arm brushed against her side, the silken feel of the wool pants under her ribs, the rising heat and hissing breaths he drew as the spanking grew more physical. It all swirled together and centered in her nipples and her rapidly swelling clit, bringing her frighteningly close to a soul-shattering orgasm.

“Alright, so the whole thing feels…” Angel moaned as Jacques hit her again, “…amazing, but it isn’t normal.”

“Normal is for wimps,” Devil moaned back.

Jacques’s fingers slipped between her thighs to discover her not-so-secret wetness and the bicker sisters fell silent.

“You never disappoint,
Mademoiselle
Rey. You’re going to slide right off my lap, you’re so wet. You know what to do next.”

Oh, yes, she did and she was more than ready to do it. She eased off his lap, her entire body awash with a decadent, aching fire and went to her knees between his legs. A simple blow job wasn’t enough to match what she felt. Dirty. Hot. Shameless. She wanted to give Jacques the performance of a lifetime. Reaching behind her head, she removed the clip that held her hair in a conservative twist, knowing exactly what the sight of her red locks flowing over his thighs as her head bobbed between them would do to her man.

“Straight to hell, Isabella, you’re going straight to hell,” Angel scolded.

“And coming the entire way there,” Devil added with a sexy laugh.

She put her hands on his knees and arched her spine, throwing her head back, rolling her shoulders and neck so the hair would flow wildly around her and all over him. Jacques hissed at the wanton display designed specifically for his pleasure and the satisfaction of hearing that sound sent her entire body writhing more eagerly through the erotic dance.

When she was satisfied that she’d titillated him enough, she swept the thick mane to one side and leaned in. Keeping her eyes locked on his, she released his belt and lowered his zipper. Parting the wool, she took his stiff rod into her hand and opened pouty lips over his jutting erection to exhale hot breath over the tip.

“Good gracious, what are you doing, Isabella Honora Rey!!!” Angel shouted.

“Making her Master beg for it, you idiot. Pay attention," Devil ordered.

Shimmering copper eyes watched as her tongue reached out toward the weeping tip, swirled around it, then dragged along his shaft to his balls. Jacques shifted forward slightly and she did it again. The luxurious feel of his skin, hot and velvety smooth, only emboldened her more.

She squeezed her fingers around him, making him strain in her tight grasp, and smiled coyly. “May I suck your cock now,
Monsieur
Meszaros? Please.”

“Eighteen years of Catholic education down the drain. Gone. Wasted. Useless,” Angel huffed.

“What? She asked politely,” Devil said, ever so innocently.

Jacques drew a hard breath and slipped one hand up the back of her neck into her loose hair. He pulled hard to jerk her head back. “Put that mouth on me, dirty girl, and suck it all the way to the back of your throat,” he demanded before releasing the tight fist entwined in her hair.

Not so fast, lover.

She flicked a gaze of pure, aroused challenge at him through her lashes and pressed the tip of her tongue into the shallow indentation at the top. Then gave it a little wiggle for good measure. Jacques cursed and his head fell back on a moan.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Angel screeched and Devil started singing, “Isla made Angel cur-urse, Isla made Angel cur-urse.”

Her tongue teased around the head, along the ridge at the bottom and back over the tip before her smiling lips surrounded him. Her mouth moved up, down, over his long shaft, taking him in slow, torturous increments. Encouraging hands massaged her scalp as she devoured him, one deliberate inch at a time. The luxurious feel of his silken heat between her lips made her struggle to maintain the enticing but far from satisfying pace.

When she couldn’t stand it anymore herself, she let him pop free of her mouth and fisted his engorged penis, so thick and slippery between her fingers. Jacques liked it rough and she definitely wasn’t feeling gentle. Parting the tails of his shirt, she suckled the perfection of his ridged abdomen as she pumped her fist over his ever more rigid erection. The other hand slipped inside his pants to squeeze his balls.

Red hair framed the whole show.

Jacques groaned and she felt the sound rumble up from deep within his body. She loved the obscenely sexy sound of her man’s pleasure. Loved the heady feeling of having him within her power. She tightened her fist and pressed her thumb down hard over the tip.

“Quiet,
Monsieur
Meszaros, or someone will hear you and open that door,” she parroted his warning with a dirty grin.

That did it. Brutal hands gripped both sides of her head and forced her down. She opened her mouth and he thrust hard into her. Her lips stretched wide around him. The harsh invasion made her gag and she hadn’t even taken half his length. He eased back. She relaxed her throat and he entered her willing mouth again, each time pushing a little farther into her.

When she was fully pliant, his hands loosened and he allowed her to take control of the movement. She started with a slow rhythm until she was sure she could take all of him without gagging, then began to move over his shaft with more demand.

Jacques threw his head back against the sofa, his entire body bowing with ecstasy. The ragged sounds grinding out of him pulled something wild from her depths. She ripped her mouth away.

“No holding back allowed,
Monsieur
Meszaros. Give it to me,” she demanded, then sucked him all the way in again with so much force that her cheeks hollowed around him.

She felt the release roll over him as he rode out the orgasm deep in her throat, jerking against her mouth. She swallowed the first hot spurt and eased back so the warm jets would pump onto her tongue. To prolong his pleasure, she met each erotic spasm with another fierce suck and dug her fingernails into his spread thighs. Devouring every drop, greedily taking his essence from him and torturing him through a hard climax.

When he was spent, he didn’t allow her to move. Hands on the back of her head kept her face pressed tight against his groin. She relished her Dominant’s intimacy. The feel of his fingers stroking her hair. The rhythm of his sated breath. The heat of his skin. The musky scent of his sweat. His rich masculine taste on her tongue. The rightness of submitting to his unique love.

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.”