Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two (25 page)

“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 was 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.

Would it be ten weeks? Ten months? Ten years? Her future was uncertain. Jacques would never abandon her if she told him the truth. She knew that as surely as she knew her own name, but she had to take life one day at a time. Dr. Boucher said the first six months were critical. After that, the chance of a recurrence was slim. She had to wait, keep a little distance between them.

Just in case.

*****

“Please, Jacques. Just one hint.”

Isabella had been nagging him through the entire ride. With any other woman, he would have been mad, furious actually, but with Isabella…well, it was Isabella. He wanted to earn her trust, not presume it, and that took time. But seriously, enough with the inquisition.

He leaned over and kissed her, hard and thoroughly. His intent was to quell the verbal assault. The result was an immediate urge to give his woman anything her heart desired. Her effect on him, still a stunner, but
c’est la vie
. He sank deeper, loving the way she kissed. So restrained on the surface yet so passionate underneath. So full of fire.

Et vie avec Isabella est le paradis
.

When he eased back, she kept her eyes closed, her breathing deep and even. Then the side of her mouth tipped up in a gentle curve and she opened one eye. “One itty-bitty hint. Please.”

He clenched his hands into fists to resist the urge to drag her across his lap and warm that beautiful backside with his palm. “Just sit back and enjoy the surprise.”

Her bottom lip thrust forward and she rolled her big brown eyes at him. “Oh, pooh, Jacques. I hate surprises.”

He loved the pout too, but she was pushing it. He looked her square in the eye and lowered his voice. “You’re new at this, Isabella, so I’ll be patient with you. To an extent.”

Her gaze dropped with a visible shiver. Oh, he love, love, loved that. His cock shot to attention and his surprise almost spilled out of his mouth. He clamped his lips together.
Good lord, what she does to me
. Years as a Dominant and his exquisite novice made him struggle not to cave to her every whim. But he’d waited a lifetime for this moment. No way he would spoil it. And he knew, despite her poohing, that Isabella adored surprises.

She managed a glorious silence for the remainder of the ride, but when the driver opened the door next to Darion’s G550, she started yammering again.

Literally.

There were syllables and a lot of inflection, but what was coming out of her mouth wasn’t language. It was a mixture of Spanish, French, English and utter shock. Still, he got the gist. And it was time to let her in on the first part of the surprise.

“We’re going to dinner at Arzak.”

“
Mon Dieu
, Jacques.
Vamos a Barcelona
. I can’t believe it.”

“You might want to pick a language before we land, Isabella,” he teased. “Any one will do.” He slipped his arm around her to escort her to the stairs. “My only worry is the length of the flight. An hour and a half doesn’t seem long enough.”

“For what?” she asked, breathless and blinking.

He ignored the question. “I suppose we can start on the flight there and finish on the way back,” he continued. “Don’t worry, angel, I’ve got everything on board to keep you strapped in, nice and tight.” He ran a hand over the curve of her backside and whispered, “Welcome to the Mile High Club.”

“Oh, Jacques.” She grinned the sexiest damn grin he’d ever seen cross a woman’s face and pressed her satin-clad bottom into his palm as she stepped up.

*****

“Who’s the kinky rock star now, darlin’?” Sabin drawled into Isabella’s ear as the waiters served their first course.

They were seated in the private dining room at Arzak, watching the world renowned owner, Juan Mari Arzak, prepare a feast of her favorite foods. Well, that explained why Patricia had cornered her in the ladies room earlier in the week. Odd to discuss food there, she’d thought, but Jacques must have put Patricia up to it and there was no denying Patricia when Jacques put her up to something.

Sneaky. Very sneaky.

Isabella returned her focus to Sabin, who was leering at her with those cornflower blue eyes. “What do you mean?”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You know I’m staying in Paris. So why wasn’t I on Darion’s jet with you and Jacques, hmmm?”

Heat ran across her skin thinking about the reason. The plane sat on the tarmac for an hour after landing while Jacques and she continued to enjoy the perks of private flight. A girl could get used to that. She looked across the table and the heat was replaced by a hint of embarrassment. Sabin wasn’t on the flight, nor were Nicolai or Julianne or Darion LeClair and he owned the damn jet.

“Really, Isabella. You’re joining the Order. You’ve got stop with the Catholic school girl routine.”

The Order. That was the reason for the party. Jacques brought her to Barcelona early to celebrate her with his closest friends and introduce her to Darion LeClair.
The
Darion LeClair. Wait until she told Craig. Darion was, in a word, the sexiest, most elegant, sophisticated, handsome, cultured, exotic, intimidating piece of male perfection she’d ever laid eyes on. Jacques was still her perfect man, but,
Dios mío
, Darion and Sabin and Nicolai were very close seconds.

Jacques made the request that she be admitted to the Order to Darion. On his knees. That kind of scared her, but Jacques said the Order followed strict protocols and this was one of them. Nicolai and Julianne grinned at her the entire time like she was the kitten under Jacques’s Christmas tree. And of course, Sabin winked at her. The guy really was a big, very big, little boy.

When the formal part was over, Jacques handed her a letter from Jerard. She tucked it into her handbag without reading a single word. She would need a bottle of wine and several boxes of tissues to get through Jerard’s words. Then came a deluge of hugs and kisses. That felt like home.

And now, back to flirting with Sabin. Catholic school girl routine?
She’d show him a Catholic school girl routine. “Catholic school girls never kiss and tell.” Isabella ran her eyes over him and dropped her voice to sexy tease. “Can you imagine it, Sabin? I used to wear a white cotton blouse. They make them for boys so it always stretched so tight.” She put her elbows on the arm of his chair and leaned over to emphasize the obvious.

Sabin’s eyes landed precisely where expected and stayed there.

“And the tiny grey and red plaid skirt. One good breeze and the world got a peek at my panties…
heavy sigh
…when I remembered to wear them.”

“Sweet Jesus.” Sabin raised his hand and looked away. “Jacques, you are the luckiest bastard on the planet.”

“Don’t I know it,” Jacques answered in a proud voice.

Without taking her doe eyes off Sabin, Isabella called across the table. “I think we should let Sabin fly back to Paris with us, Jacques.” Then leaned in very close to Sabin’s ear and added, “If you bring your paddle, professor, I’ll bring my knee socks and stilettos.”

The look that flashed across Sabin’s eyes almost made her jump into Jacques’s lap. “Oh, sweet lady, you’re gonna fit in with us just fine.”

She cleared her throat and switched to a more serious, make that safer, topic. “I’m really honored that Jacques asked me to join the Order. And I’m sorry I disrespected the group with that comment about rock stars.”

“No need to apologize for the truth, Isabella. We know what we are, but the Order is more than that. We will take good care of you. I promise.”

She looked into those blue stunners and it hit her. The Order may be into power exchange and promiscuity, but this group had honor. All of them. Old fashioned, protective, love of women honor. It was a weird combination. Wonderful too. The kind of thing that made a woman like her feel cherished. Safe.

“You really care about me, don’t you, Sabin?”

“Of course I do, Isabella. We all do. Look at Jacques. Look at how happy you’ve made him. He loves you and because he does, I do too. Although, I probably would have fallen head over boots in love with you if I’d met you first. You’re not only the prettiest little girl, you’re awesome. I really respect you. James and Jacques prattle on about your work for the Foundation endlessly. It’s not easy to impress men like that.”

Men like Jacques and James. How about men like you?

Jacques told her all about Sabin. The wicked intelligence, the personal crusade to save the world from oil despite the threat to his own safety, the innate savvy about people, all people from high to low, that made him successful in, well, everything. Isabella respected the hell out of him too and had a pretty good idea how to show it within the Order.

“Can I ask you for something?”

“Name it and it’s yours.”

She suddenly felt uncomfortable. “You said that before.”

“And I meant it. Ask,” Sabin said, shifting forward and staring directly into her eyes.

“Jacques and I, well, we kind of had a little separation after Monaco. He’s still beating himself up over what happened even though it wasn’t entirely his fault.”

Sabin raised a hand to cut her off. “It was entirely his fault, Isabella. Safe words are sacrosanct. I swear nothing like that will ever happen to you again.”

“He told you? The whole thing?”

“Damn right he did. We take our honor code very seriously. He paid his penance.”

Isabella remembered Jacques’s words about the Order punishing members who break the honor code.
Dios mío, Sabin did that to Jacques. Because of me
. She looked at Sabin with new eyes. What she saw now made her sit up straight. Sabin Timonen was a lot more than a flirt. Intelligent, fearless, honorable, commanding, he was a very powerful man. It radiated off him in waves. A trickle of fear, along with rush of sympathy for Jacques, crept in.