Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two (29 page)

20

My Angel, My Devil, Myself

Jacques promised her an encore: a full church wedding and a fantasy reception in Spain for their family and friends, but the first order of business for her tycoon was the dress. They walked from the basilica directly to the bridal boutique.

“I want a princess dress. I know it’s not very sophisticated, but I’ve dreamed of my wedding dress since I was a little girl,” Isabella said in the giggly voice of that little girl.

Jacques turned to the three saleswomen he’d solicited to help them and barked, “Well, you heard the lady. Make her into a princess.”

The women started bustling in unison and a mere ten minutes later, a virtual sea of fairy tale dresses appeared in the salon. Jacques paraded in front of them, rejecting a few on his own and pointing to the ones she rejected until they were left alone with three beyond-any-dream-she’d-ever-had princess gowns.

“We should have them design an original based on these,” he said as he examined the beading on one of the dresses.

“That will take too long and anyway, they’re all gorgeous. Let’s pick one. Which is your favorite, Jacques?”

“Oh, no you don’t, Mrs. Meszaros. It’s your wedding dress. The only selection I’ll make today is over there.” He pointed to the sofa across the room as he poured a glass of champagne and held it out to her.

“How did that get there?” she asked, taking the flute from him.

“You were distracted,” he said around a laugh.

Laid across the velvet were an ivory corset with satiny ties and muted lace, matching panties, garters and hose. Pretty, old fashioned and expensive-looking. Exactly the sort of high class slut wear her man preferred. On the floor sat an equally slutty pair of satin stilettos with crystal encrusted heals. Knowing Jacques, the crystals were probably diamonds.

“Women fantasize about the dress. Men fantasize about what’s underneath it.” His low, commanding voice whispered close to her ear, “You can wear the panties while the saleswomen are with you. After that, they’re mine.”

She bit her lip on a grin, eyeing the gorgeous ensemble. One of the best things about Jacques? The sexy fare he lavished on her. They both adored the intimate seduction of knowing what was hidden beneath, but the unwanted shroud of reserve wrapped around her at the thought of the refined saleswomen awaiting Jacques’s call to tend to her.

“You’re not serious. I can’t wear
that
in front of strangers.” She flashed her most imploring eyes, knowing full well that her plea was futile.

“I’m not asking, Isabella. Put it on.” When she lifted the lingerie, he added, “And because I had to ask twice, I’m going to add little pearl nipple clips for our wedding day.”

He swatted her bottom to get her feet moving. She almost tripped as she went to change. When she stepped from behind the screen in her sexy new underwear, the heated approval in Jacques’s expression stopped her on her heels.

His hands were on her before she could take a second step. With an arm around her waist, he brought her body into his. The hard bones of the corset bit into her stomach, the bare skin of her legs brushed against the wool of his trousers, her breasts pressed against his starched cotton shirt, and a bolt of lust shot through her blood.

One hand pulled her closer as the other tugged, making quick work of the pins that were holding her hair up. Seconds later, it was tumbling down her back in a riot of red waves. His fingers tightened in it and he jerked her head back, his lips hovering over her exposed throat.

“Ask for it,” he whispered gruffly.

She made a noise of hesitation and his breath huffed against her nape. Then his mouth was pressing there, his tongue flicking softly against the tender skin as the barely there butterfly brush dipped to the rise of her breast.

He eased back to peel the cup of the corset down, letting the perfumed air of the salon whisper across her nipple. It puckered for the coming kiss and she gasped at the forbidden pleasure when he sucked it into his mouth. His fingers slipped into her panties and she whimpered, still resisting him as they dipped inside.

“Christ.” His head fell against her chest as his hand slid deeper. “So wet for me, Isabella. Always. Your lips may not ask, but your body begs.”

And then they were moving. Arms and legs clung to him as he turned and brought them down onto the couch. He stopped, frozen as he stared down at her lying beneath him, his chest rising and falling with short, excited breaths, his eyes luxuriating in the red locks spread out all around her, and his expression changed. He was no less turned on, but he looked somehow softer.

“Mine.” He pressed a hand to her quivering belly and let it coast over the corset, between her breasts, to her jaw as he moved over her.

She fell into to the awe in those liquid fire eyes and rolled her hips, rocking against her husband’s erection.

¡Dios mío, mi esposo!

That face, that body, that MAN was hers.
¡El Mio!
And she wanted every ounce of him. She flashed a greedy smile as her hand glided between them to pull down the zipper on his suit pants. Seeking fingers slid under silk boxers to curl around that long, hard piece of him.

“Mine,” she parroted the word and watched his eyes close, heard his breath stutter. “I want you to fuck me.” She gave a little lick at his lips that made his eyes shoot back open, blazing down at her. “Please.”

With a growl, Jacques shucked his pants a little lower, then wrapped his hand around hers so they could both guide his cock between her legs. The sound of female voices drifted through the closed doors, but who cared? She was making love to her husband.

Her hands shot around his waist to grasp his ass as he slid slowly into her body. She squeezed, urging him to go deeper. Which he did, with pleasure, but he was being gentle and gentle wasn’t cutting it.

The command rose in her throat, shaken loose from the primal recesses of her mind. “Harder, Jacques. Fuck me harder.” She’d never asked for it with more demand.

Urgent fingernails dug into his backside, a ferocious bite to spur him on as she shoved her hips up to slam his erection home. Pleasure coiled tight in her as his cock kissed her so deep and she threw her head up, grinding her teeth into his collarbone to rip away the last of his reserve.

Never one to displease, Jacques began to thrust delicious strokes into her. What he was doing to her insides, the sight of him straining above her, the struggle for silence against the ferocity of their joining, shredded every inhibition. Her hands found his hair and she pulled, felt him wince at the sudden, strident pain, and arched into him, her body begging for the reaction that was sure to follow.

With a growl that sent threatening vibrations rumbling against her belly, he eased back, then rammed into her with the full force of his body.

Goooaaaal! Scored by none other than the indomitable Mrs. Meszaros!

The sound of their excited pants and the wet, carnal noise of sex echoed loud. Orgasm caught her and flung her writhing underneath him while he danced inside of her. She blew apart, screaming his name triumphantly as she came.

“Yes, Jacques! Fuck me. Yes, yes, fuck me, yes.”

Her sex pulsed around him so forcefully that she milked him into his own orgasm. His body tensed as it shot through him, making his hips jerk in and out with the earth shattering spasms. She clenched him tight in her unyielding clasp to prolong the overpowering release until he groaned and collapsed heavily on top of her.

Marital sex. Best. Sex. Ever.

Isabella stroked her hands against his perfect backside before gliding them up his perfect back to hold her perfect man close.

Jacques turned his head against her neck and pressed a tender kiss there. “If I’d known marriage would have this effect on you, Mrs. Meszaros, I would have asked sooner,” he murmured on a shuddering breath.

She sighed and ran her fingernails through his hair. “Well, you’re mine now, Mr. Meszaros. I guess you’ll have to get used to the new me.”

*****

“Where are we going now?” Isabella giggled as Jacques pulled her along the crowded street.

Would she ever learn?

He stopped, didn’t speak, only slipped his hands into that wonderful mane to gently guide her lips to his.

She pulled back. “Jacques, we’re in public.”

“I know,” he said, ignoring the rote resistance and moving her toward him with more force. “And what did I tell you about being embarrassed with me? Hmmm?”

Isabella mewled at the public display, but didn’t pull away. His hands snaked down to grip her backside as he stepped up the punishing intensity of the kiss, yearning to break her resistance and hear the soft sigh of her surrender. Hell, he was yearning for her attack him like she’d done in the bridal salon, but that was a bit much on a public street, even for him. When she softened, he broke the seal of his lips and took her hand to guide her along. He could feel her curiosity burning, but those sexy lips stayed closed.

When they reached the second stop on their impromptu wedding tour, the proprietor greeted them and grinned in anticipation at seeing Jacques on his doorstep with a lady. Jacques grinned in anticipation of their next stop.

“
Bonsoir
,
Monsieur
Meszaros.”

“
Bonsoir
,
Monsieur
LeCavalier.”

Monsieur
LeCavalier guided them into two plush chairs sitting next to a single glass case in the center of the small wood-paneled salon. Inside lay a tasteful sampling of glittering jewelry. He waved a hand over the case. “Something for your lovely lady?”

“My lovely wife,” Jacques replied.

“Ah, I see.” The experienced salesman smiled with a glance at Isabella's left hand. He bowed before disappearing into a back room where his true wares were hidden.

Monsieur
LeCavalier was the private jeweler for several of his brothers in the Order and resoundingly lauded for his custom creations. Whatever the imagination could dream up came to life in his talented hands and Jacques’s peers could certainly afford to dream. He thought of the pearl nipple clips he’d promised Isabella in the bridal salon, but for the moment, they’d stick with something traditional.

Jacques leaned toward Isabella who had obviously figured out the purpose of stop two and was purring like a kitten awaiting a bowl of cream. The analogy made him even more anxious for stop three.
Damn, my wife is a sexy minx
.

“I should have done this before, Isabella, but what’s happened today has taken me by surprise. I’m a bit off my game.”

“Me too,” she muttered without taking her eyes off the gems in front of them.

Monsieur
LeCavalier returned holding a long leather box. He opened the lid to reveal a selection of unset diamonds.

Jacques perused the offering, his fingers skimming over the stones until he stopped on the largest emerald cut diamond. “This one.”

“You’re spoiling me, Jacques.”

The sheer delight on Isabella’s face said that she didn’t want him to stop and he didn’t plan to. “I’ve yet to begin spoiling you, Mrs. Meszaros,” he said, then pointed to two other triangular diamonds that were almost as large. “With these on the sides.”

Isabella’s mouth dropped open.

“Excellent selection,
monsieur
. Flawless and perfectly matched. You have exquisite taste.”

“I do,” Jacques said with a quick glance in Isabella’s direction.

“Allow me a moment to retrieve a temporary setting that will show you how the finished piece will look. It can be delivered in a few hours if you approve,” he said and stepped away again. “Platinum, I presume.”

Jacques nodded. “With matching bands.”

When LeCavalier was gone, Isabella looked at him and exhaled the words, “Wedding rings.”

“A proper expression that you are mine.”

He put his hands on her throat, letting his fingertips trail over the diamond necklace. It was truly exquisite, whatever its symbolism, and he felt a sadness wash through him at the thought of taking it off her lovely neck. When his fingers reached for the clasp, her hands came up to grip his wrists.

“What do you mean by that? A proper expression.” Her eyes said she had a pretty good idea what he meant and didn’t agree.

“I want to give you what you deserve, but I don’t think this…” he traced a finger over the choker, “…sends the correct message anymore.”

“Why not?”

“You’re my wife, Isabella.” He would never tire of saying that.

“I am,” she moved his hands away, “and I’m something else too, bad boy.” She winked at him. “I don’t want marriage to change that.”

His thoughts bumped against his skull. “Neither do I, but, well, this is…” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

“Then why do you want to take it from me?”

He shrugged. He didn’t want to, any more than he wanted their relationship to change after today. “I had a,” he cleared his throat, “
chat
with Teo in Barcelona.”