Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two (31 page)

Paradise. Total fucking paradise.

He felt the tension build in his balls. As they pulled up and his dick began to spasm with the rising stream of a fabulous release, her fist shot around his cock in a merciless vice. Her thumb pressed hard into the indentation at the top, stopping the orgasm short and shoving the fire back down into his throbbing balls. His entire body bowed with the pain of her denial.

She tsked, “No without permission, my love.”

He groaned loud, kicking his head back, and pulled hard against the restraints.

Isabella didn’t move or speak. He looked up through his aroused haze to meet panicked eyes. She may be on board with playing this game, but she wasn’t a true top and his reaction scared her.

“It’s fine, baby. It’s great. You’re doing just fine.”

She gave a shaky nod, but didn’t move, not a single inch, her eyes begging for direction. He felt himself relax as he slipped into a more familiar role and dropped his voice to a more commanding tenor. “Let me inside your body,
Paradis
.”

With the encouragement, she eased over him and sheathed him in her ready heat. He savored every gasp of pleasure, each sigh that poured from her lips as she rode him with delicious abandon. When he felt his orgasm looming again, he stilled beneath her, wanting this to last for as long as possible, and top or bottom, no way he would let go before she found satisfaction.

She was so close. He felt the quickening of her body, her walls clenching tighter around him. Her breathing ratcheted up and she became more frantic, grinding and writhing on top of him as she sought release. Deeper, faster, until her features blurred in his vision with the effort to himself hold back. All she had to do was say the word and he would erupt like a volcano inside of her.

His hands clenched into tight fists, every muscle tensed and his teeth ground together so tight that his jaw locked, but he held on. Relief washed over him when Isabella started to moan.

But the sound wasn’t the sound of pleasure. It was the sound of desperation. He shook his head to regain his focus and his eyes fixed on the choker at her neck blazing against her sweat-soaked skin as she strained above him. Every doubt he’d harbored about putting that symbol of his possession on her disappeared. Isabella was right. The necklace was a perfect symbol of who she was. His, so thoroughly his, that even with reversed rolls, she needed his command.

“Perfect together, Isabella, we’ll come together,” he whispered and rocked up, thrusting his hips higher as she thrust down.

That was all it took. She went liquid around him, bathing him in her sweetness, and he exploded within her. They jerked and moaned with each other until he finally went limp against the mattress with her body sprawled boneless on top of his.

He wanted to wrap his arms around her, but he was bound.
Forget the game
. He needed to wrap his arms around her. She hadn’t attached the cuffs properly and he slipped his wrists free with ease. No objection as his
Paradis
snuggled into the embrace. He pulled the sheet over them to keep her from getting a chill.

When their breathing returned to normal, she eased to his side and wiggled in until every contour of her body found its home against his. He closed his eyes and let the rightness of her lying next to him, sated and happy and in love, flow through him. He began to drift off.

“Well that was different,” she said in a sleepy voice.

He turned his head and kissed her hair. “Different good or different bad?”

“Good, but I don’t think I’m suited to be the Domme. It’s exhausting. I was tense the entire time worrying about you. It’s much more fun letting you worry about me. Is that selfish?”

“No, Isabella. It’s the way I prefer it too.”

She began to fiddle with the wedding band on his finger as silence filled the bedroom. Something was weighing on her mind, but sleep was weighing on him.

“Something on your mind, angel?”

“Does this bother you?” she asked.

“It tickles a little, but no. It doesn’t bother me.”

“Not me playing with your ring, silly. Your ring. Does it bother you to wear it?”

“Not following, Isabella,” he murmured.

“Well given your, um, preferences, I thought maybe a mark of possession like this might not suit you.”

The words snapped him out of his sleepy haze. “Is that how you see this ring? Your mark of possession on me.”

“Please don’t be mad.”

Mad. That was the farthest thing from his mind. He was blown away. “I’m not mad, Isabella. That’s the most beautiful thought. I never thought about it before. I guess because I never thought I would be married. Now that we are, I will always think of this ring that way. Thank you, my beautiful wife, for honoring me with your mark of possession.”

He felt his words sing through her, making her happy.

And hot.

She pressed her chest into his ribs and began to run her hand over his torso.

“Trying to top me again, are we?” he asked in the voice that would make her even hotter.

His coquette wrapped her leg over his thigh and rubbed just enough to let him feel her wetness. “Whatever makes you think I would do a thing like that?” she purred in her sexy, sultry midnight voice as her hand slipped beneath the sheet and started fiddling again.

In a single, fluid motion, he rolled her over, pulled her arms taut above her head and pinned her body beneath him. He grinned down at her lying exactly where they both preferred her to be.

“Hands, my fiery angel. What are we going to do about those naughty hands?” he tsked, then kissed her breathless while he slipped her wrists into the cuffs still attached to the bedpost.

Guess married life means no more sleep
.

Not that he would ever complain.

21

The Wedding Gift

Jacques looked up from the computer screen, scanned her once, then again as Isabella walked into his office.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asked with an appreciative leer.

“It’s a surprise.” Isabella leaned over the desk to enhance his view, letting the sexed-up body language and the low-cut red dress work their magic.

“Love the dress, Isabella.” He reached for her hand, wrapping his long fingers around hers to pull her closer, but his voice was apologetic. “And I love that you’re always trying to spoil me, but I can’t rearrange my schedule. Not today. Sabin called this morning and damn near ordered me to clear the deck. Another crisis in New Mexico. Our Korean backers are threatening to pull their financing. We have a crash session all afternoon to deal with…”

“No, you don’t,” she sang.

Rueful eyes ran over her cleavage. “Sadly, I do. If it’s as bad as Sabin implied, I won’t be home until after midnight.”

Jacques rarely made it home before midnight. The man worked so hard, but work was the last thing on his agenda for today. She leaned in and laid a kiss on his lips. He didn’t resist and slipped his tongue exactly where she wanted it.

Before the kiss got too heated, he pulled back. “I’m sorry,
Paradis
. I promise to make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to meet with Sabin,” she cooed, flashing the same look he always gave her when she resisted one of his naughty suggestions.

“From your lips to God’s ears,” he murmured as his tongue licked over them, “but I do.”

“I spoke to Sabin,” she managed before the seduction of what Jacques was doing to her mouth overtook her plan to seduce him.

“Mmm?” Jacques’s eyes drifted closed as that wicked tongue traced the border of her lips.

“He told me to tell you something.”

One suspicious eye opened.

“Have fun.” She gave him an innocent shrug and a coy smile, adding, “I had to make sure your schedule was clear. For the rest of today, you’re all mine.”

“I’m yours for the rest of eternity,” he said with the same coy smile. “No crisis?”

“Nope,” she replied with a playfully patronizing shake of the head.

“No Sabin, no Koreans this afternoon?”

She shook her head again slowly.

Then a glint of understanding flashed in his eyes. “Are you kidnapping me, Mrs. Meszaros?”

“I thought I should return the favor.” She nipped his lip to lure him away from any lingering thoughts of work.

Lust filled his gaze as Jacques got fully on board with whatever she had planned for his gloriously unscheduled afternoon. “You and that cowboy together are a dangerous pair. Very sneaky, Isabella, and very naughty.”

The way Jacques said the words announced that he was contemplating his own brand of danger for their afternoon and a low ache of anticipation squeezed in her belly. Talk about encouraging a girl to be naughty.

His hands moved over her shoulders and began to circle down to her breasts.

She stood abruptly. “Sneaky yourself. Come on. We have to go.”

She tugged him into a stand and started backing them toward the door before Jacques laid her over his desk and they both forgot all about
her
plan for his afternoon.

“What’s my surprise?” he purred without a trace of innocence.

“You’ll see,” she said with a smile that told him her tingling lips were sealed and took a step back.

“Then lead on, my Spanish seductress. Lead on.”

For someone who liked control, Jacques certainly seemed to enjoy giving it to her almost as much as she enjoyed taking it. She led him out of the building into the waiting limousine, struggling to resist his skillful attempts to seduce her secret out of her. He kept it up throughout the entire ride, but she wasn’t budging. What she had planned was too important. And too intimidating to put into words. If she did, she might chicken out.
Gracias a Dios
, the traffic was light or she wouldn’t have made it to their destination without spilling every scintillating bean.

Sabin wasn’t the only one willing to get into the game of seducing her man. Nicolai agreed to her sexy scheme with more playful enthusiasm than her playful cowboy.

Who knew?

Jacques’s cousin was fast becoming one of her favorite people. No one loved Jacques as much as Nicolai did, with the possible exception of her. The look of unadulterated delight on his face when Jacques announced that they were married belonged in a Shakespearean sonnet. And it was hilarious to see Jacques dressed down so completely at having done it without inviting Nicolai, but they would fix that. Everyone would be at their wedding in Barcelona. Unless Nicolai and Julianne eloped, however, there was no stopping Nicolai’s brooding at Jacques having beaten him to the altar.

Nicolai agreed to what she asked with a single caveat. “If we do this, Isabella, you must allow me the freedom to discover your true essence. I want to see inside your soul and immortalize what I find there in the art we create together.”

Immortalize. That was the pivotal word. Nicolai would immortalize her for Jacques, leave him with the eternal image of his wife, young, healthy and in love. Jacques may hate her for her lack of hope, but he would hate her more for leaving him with nothing but shadowed memories of time spent waiting for…she shook her head to free herself from the sad trail of her thoughts.

She wanted to believe in the angel like Jacques did, but time had whittled away the magic of the moment they’d shared on the steps of Sacré Cœur Basilica. She’d looked into too many haunted faces not to recognize the looming demon: the false hope of the words “cancer survivor.” She wouldn’t taint her time with Jacques, however long their forever might turn out to be, so she didn’t express her fears to him. If she left him, he would have happy memories.

And this.

When they arrived, Isabella allowed Jacques to open the door of Nicolai’s gallery and guide her through it. He may have let her lead him here, but forget being hardcore, her man was chivalrous to the marrow. If she’d touched that handle, he would have gone apoplectic.

Memories of the night they reunited filled her mind as she stepped over the threshold. They’d come so far since then. It wasn’t about total control anymore. It was a back and forth, a shifting tide, a balance that satisfied both of their natures, but still allowed them to reach places together they never would alone. Where they were going today was a place she knew Jacques wanted to take her, but wouldn’t until she showed him just how committed to their lifestyle she truly was.

As soon as they entered the gallery, Nicolai stepped out of his office, locked eyes with her as if Jacques wasn’t in the room and grinned. No mistaking that kind of grin. Jacques’s cousin didn’t say a single word and the sexual tension in the room skyrocketed.

“Exquisite Isabella,” Nicolai said in a low, smooth voice and kissed her hand.

She swayed on her heels. Grace, elegance and incredible talent, all wrapped in the most unbelievably stunning package.
Dios mío
, could this man be any more sexy?

“Come with me.”

Ah, sí
. Add that commanding aura and sexy becomes
¡Muy, muy, muy sexy!

Nicolai led her by the hand to the stairs leading down to his studio. Jacques followed. When they reached the bottom, she fished around in her purse to find the ticket she’d stolen from Jacques’s desk drawer and handed it to Jacques. Her breath picked up as he read it.

Auction Item Number One: A Portrait by Nicolai Stavros. Awarded to Jacques Meszaros. 750,000€.

So did his.

“My wedding gift to you,” she said with a mischievous wink and turned to face Nicolai.

Nicolai held out his hand to take the ticket from Jacques. “You okay with this, cousin?” he asked.

He’d told her he would. Nicolai needed Jacques’s consent before anything more could happen. Within the Order, protocol was king. No one was allowed to touch another man’s woman without permission. To do so would be an insult and punishable as a breach of their honor code. Jacques may want the Order to protect her, but code aside, she’d show anyone who harmed her husband what “punishable” really meant.

Jacques took a firm grip on her shoulders from behind. She could feel the tension, and the arousal, as he began to truly grasp what was happening. “Only if you’re sure, Isabella?” he said very close to her ear.

She leaned back into the warmth of the hard body behind her. “I’m sure, Jacques. I want Nicolai to expose the woman I’ve become because of you. The real me for all the world to see.”

Jacques kissed her nape. “Thank you, Isabella. I adore your bravery.”

Bravery?
That didn’t seem to be the right word for an experience like this. She glanced at Nicolai and swallowed hard. Or maybe it was. No way this would be a nice sit-in-a-chair-tilt-your-head kind of photography session and she knew it. Nicolai’s work was high art and pure sex.

Keeping one hand on her shoulder, Jacques tugged the zipper of her dress and began to draw it down her back. His fingers slipped the fabric off her shoulders, taking the lacy straps of her bra down with it. The dress fell to her feet. Her breath hitched as he gripped her forearms, holding them at her hips.

“Step out,” Nicolai said.

The reality of what was about to happen hit her and she couldn’t move. She breathed in through the nose, out through the mouth and again trying to muster her courage. She’d taken several leaps of faith since meeting Jacques and each time she’d found more of herself. She wanted to take this leap too, but her feet were frozen as if that white floor was solid ice.

“Do you trust me, Isabella?” Nicolai asked as his earlier command hung in the air.

"Yes, I do," she managed, but didn't move.

Jacques gave her arms a little squeeze for support. Her hands clenched into tight fists as she stepped aside. Nicolai reached out to unsnap the clasp between her breasts and gently guided the cups of her bra away to expose her completely. He smiled again, silent and threatening as he put her bra into his pant pocket. The look in his eyes was so inviting, so seductive as his gaze trailed over her naked skin.

Aye yi yi. Nicolai is really good at this.

She glanced over her shoulder to gauge Jacques’s reaction.

“You are my whole life, Isabella,” Jacques said with unmistakable pride in his voice, “and I trust my cousin with my life.”

Jacques loved Nicolai, trusted him implicitly. She could too. She leaned back into Jacques’s chest and let her body loosen beneath Nicolai’s perusal.

“I’m ready, Nicolai” she gasped in full surrender to the scene.

“Thank you, Isabella,” he answered in a voice so gentle it was barely a whisper.

“You belong to him now,
Paradis
.” Jacques said next to her earlobe as his hands dropped away and he stepped back. “Take her, Nico. She is yours.”

Jesucristo
. Forget being an artist, Nicolai was a Master of the Order, her Dom, and she, his submissive. She almost ran, but thoughts of retreat were in vain. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t tear her eyes from the pools of cerulean blue that seemed to be hypnotizing her. Nicolai’s eyes were otherworldly, the color of them unreal. Deep. Captivating. Unfathomable. Like the sea. And those ocean eyes were splashing over her body like water against a piece of sculpture.

Then a devilish sparkle lit Nicolai’s face, making him look younger but no less intimidating as he spoke to Jacques. “I’m going to suspend her in a beautiful tie. Your angel bound in red.”

His voice was smooth, utterly confident as he asked her, “Have you ever been tied, Isabella?”

She couldn’t answer, only flick her eyes to the large metal ring that hung from the ceiling and the long red ropes laid out beneath it. Nicolai hadn’t said exactly what would happen during their time together in his studio, only that if she gave him her trust, he would take good care of her.

“I asked a question, Isabella.” Nicolai’s words, although matter-of-fact, held an undeniable, quiet authority that somehow encouraged her trust.

“No, Nicolai. I’ve never been tied.”

“I would like you to call me ‘sir’ while you’re with me,” he responded.

She really wanted to look at Jacques, but she was too intimidated to turn away from Nicolai.

“Yes, sir.” Addressing Nicolai like that made her acutely aware that he was not Jacques and a new sense of nervous anticipation swept through her.

Nicolai stroked his fingers lightly over her cheek and his lips curled, threatening a smile. “You’re afraid, Isabella.”

The expression told her that he enjoyed her fear and that made her more afraid, but there was something else in those clear blue eyes.

“There’s a sexual goddess in you, Isabella, lurking just beneath this gorgeous exterior. Do me the honor of introducing me to her. It is her I want to photograph.”

Do me the honor
. Nicolai was honored that she would pose for him? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? After all, he was the world-renowned artist.