Three Reckless Wishes

by Lila DiPasqua

  She was every bit the extraordinary beauty he imagined Isabelle would have been.

  Before him was his fantasy come to life.

  Christ. Not just his. She was every man’s fantasy come true. He fully understood the clamoring Marc said she caused, why every man of means threw riches at her—just for a moment like this.

  Yet again, he found himself unable to hold back a smile. He’d made this beautiful woman a promise—and he couldn’t wait to fulfill it. He was going to see to it that she did indeed enjoy every moment. He was going to show her the extent of his gratitude and the depth of his desire for her.

  One stunning climax at a time.

  *****

  Isabelle watched as he approached, all that tall, strong, masculine beauty coming her way.

  Anticipation gripped her.

  The way he moved was riveting. With the confidence of a man who knew just how to take a woman to ecstasy and back. Her sex was already slick. The bud between her legs had begun to pulse. This man incited her breathing, ignited her blood. She’d stopped believing she’d ever find anyone who could set her on fire this way. Her long-dormant body was fully awake and starved for what he offered. It was completely ludicrous, but she was actually battling the urge to launch herself at him.

  Clearly, she was even lonelier than she realized if a stranger in a mask could discompose her this way.

  Lonely or not, you are going to experience true passion.

  For once, she wasn’t going to have to close her eyes and force herself to pretend she was with Luc de Moutier just to get through the experience. This man made it easy. Everything about him made her want this encounter.

  Her seductive lord stopped before her, his body all but touching hers. Her heart was thundering so loudly, she feared he’d hear it.

  She wanted him so badly… For goodness sake, compose yourself.

  Leaning in, he reached behind her—his arm brushing her waist—and closed the door. She felt the sensation right through her clothing.

  The lock clicked into place.

  He straightened and smiled down at her. “I’m so very pleased you’re here.”

  Dear God. His voice was low and oh so sultry. She gazed at his enticing mouth and for a moment couldn’t help ponder how he’d taste—the thought taking her by surprise.

  She had certain rules, ones she never broke during her carnal encounters. One of which was no kissing.

  The only act of intimacy that wasn’t for sale.

  The only act that hadn’t been tainted by Juliette and her occupation. Or by the things that had happened to her before she became Juliette. Roch had disliked the act of kissing, and thankfully, she’d never been forced to endure it with him.

  If truth be told, neither Isabelle—nor Juliette—had ever experienced a real kiss.

  During sex, she knew how to detach and put on an engaging performance. But a kiss was different. Designed to be romantic. And, perhaps, ridiculous though it was, she wanted to experience it with a man—someone significant—who truly deserved that level of intimacy from her. Whether he’d ever know it or not.

  “Juliette?”

  His voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she realized she hadn’t responded to his welcome.

  “I’m glad you’re pleased, my lord,” she said. “But there is something that would please me.”

  His beautiful smile returned. “Do tell, and allow me to fulfill your wishes.”

  She flinched at the word wishes. From her experience, only dreadful things came of making wishes. Long ago, she’d made three. Every one of them came true.

  And had leveled her life.

  “It would please me to know whom I have the pleasure of speaking to.” Somehow, she managed to utter the sentence without sounding as breathless as she felt.

  His disarming smile never wavered. He surprised her by taking her hand in his. It was strong and warm, and she liked the feel of it enveloping hers—far more than she would have ever expected.

  He led her to the center of the room, then stopped abruptly. In one swift movement, he gripped her hips, picked her up, and set her bottom down on the large ebony-and-gold side table against the wall.

  Her eyes widened.

  Lord Seductive braced his hands against the side table on either side of her knees and gazed into her eyes. She had to quash the urge to squirm.

  Dipping his head, he brushed his mouth over her bare shoulder ever so lightly. She lost her breath. The sensations rippled down to the tips of her breasts. She tightly gripped the edge of the table with both hands. He trailed his lips up her neck—a slow, silky stroke—all the way to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. Pressing a hot, knee-weakening kiss there.

  She barely caught the mewl that shot up her throat.

  “No,” he whispered in her ear before pulling back, his face mere inches from hers. Her quickened breaths mingling with his.

  She blinked. “No?” Try as she might, she couldn’t make out the color of his eyes given the shadow his mask cast and the limited light from the hearth on the other side of the room.

  “Identities stay hidden until midnight. Those are the rules at any masque. Masks are not removed until then.” His smile graced his sensuous mouth once more.

  “My lord, you know who I am. You could tell me your name without revealing your face.”

  He placed his hands on her knees over her gown. Her heart skipped a beat. She immediately knew what he was about to do. “This desire between us and this moment are perfect. Let’s not change a thing.” He spread her legs apart.

  Her sex responded with a warm gush. Isabelle dug her nails into the edge of the table, acutely aware of the void between her legs and the ache to be filled.

  The likes of which she’d never experienced before.

  He stepped between her legs. “All you need to know about me at the moment is that I’m the man who’s going to make you come—several times—before we leave this room.” He gripped her hips and yanked her close. His solid shaft coming in sudden contact with the sensitized bud between her legs. A soft cry shot up her throat. Her hands flew to his shoulders and held on, her breaths ragged. He was applying perfect pressure where she needed it most.

  He rolled his hips, the friction exquisite. She closed her eyes, unable to contain her moan. Her clit was throbbing hard against him now.

  His hot mouth was back against her neck. She tilted her head, giving him complete access. After so many empty encounters, she reveled in this.

  In this moment of real passion.

  The kind she could lose herself in.

  Anxieties that plagued her every waking moment—for her son and herself—melted away. Lost to the glorious sensations coursing through her body. It didn’t matter who this man was anymore. Or that the attraction to him had been triggered by an old girlhood infatuation. All that mattered to her right now was the pleasure saturating her senses. She’d stumbled upon a small miracle; she’d found someone who had a magic touch, a man able to do what no other ever had. To pull her out of reality.

  Into sexual oblivion.

  Temporary as this was, she couldn’t be more grateful.

  “What say you, Juliette? Shall we begin?” he murmured in her ear and gently bit her lobe. She whimpered.

  Good Lord, hadn’t they commenced already? You’ve let this get away from you before addressing essential preliminaries. Focus! This wasn’t just an amorous encounter between lovers.

  She squeezed his strong shoulders and forced herself to push him away.

  His head shot up, and for a moment, she thought he’d flinched at her touch before dismissing it as absurd.

  Grasping her wrists, he pulled her hands from his shoulders, placed a kiss on one wrist, then held them. “What is the matter, chère?” Gone was his beguiling smile. Confusion, or perhaps it was concern, was etched on his brow.

  “Since you know who I am…then you must know there’s a…” The usual words caught in her throat this time. She forced them out. “Th
ere is a fee for this.” How she hated this part. Blatantly selling herself. Never more so than with this particular man.

  A slight smile tugged at the corner of his appealing mouth. “Name your price, beautiful Juliette. Whatever it is, you are worth it.”

  God, how she wanted him. More than anything. Desperate for some friction—any relief from the torment between her legs—she squirmed against his delicious hard bulge wedged against her. The jolt of sensations snatched the breath from her lungs.

  Without thought, a price tumbled from her mouth on a pant. She realized immediately that what she’d asked for was almost twice what Vannod had offered.

  What any man had offered.

  She wanted to kick herself.

  You’ve just asked for an exorbitant amount. Despite his words, he was going to walk away for certain now! Her body railed against the mere thought.

  “Agreed,” he said, without hesitation. She couldn’t have been more astounded. “Is that it? Or is there more you wish to discuss?” His voice was tinged with urgency. Hearing it only heightened her hunger.

  “A couple more things. Are you married?” Foolishly, she’d let this go further than normal before knowing the answer to that all too important question. She didn’t engage in sex with a married man—no matter how it limited her pool of income. Or how much she desired the man before her. She’d end this now if he had a wife. Isabelle held her breath, praying he’d say no.

  “I am not married. Never have been.”

  Joy welled inside her. “Lastly…”

  “Yes?” She could tell even by that one word that he was becoming impatient.

  “No kissing.” It was amazing just how much regret she felt voicing that sentence to this man.

  He went silent for a moment, and she could tell she’d surprised him. Then his lips quirked in what looked suspiciously like amusement. He placed her hands down on the edge of the table where she’d gripped it before. “Keep your hands here,” he said. Before she could respond to his odd request, he cupped her breast.

  She went stock-still.

  “Now then, you are going to have to be much more specific, Juliette. Where am I not permitted to kiss you?” He stroked his thumb over her nipple. “Here?” He repeated his caress again.

  And again.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. The sensations were rippling into her core. The ache between her legs becoming unbearable.

  “No… I mean, yes,” she said. “Right there is…fine.” His strokes were melting her mind.

  He slipped his other hand beneath her gown, his fingers grazing along her inner thigh, getting closer and closer to her needy clit. Every fiber of her being willed him forward.

  “What about here?” He scored a finger along the slit of her caleçons. She practically jumped right off the table at the merest touch of her ultrasensitive bud.

  “Well, sweet Juliette?” She could hear the smile in his voice. He was enjoying this. She was dying. “You’re going to have to give me an answer, ma belle.”

  She licked her lips. He knew full well where she didn’t want to be kissed. She’d play this his way, if she didn’t first expire on the spot from lust. “Yes…there… There is fine, too… I meant on the—” He cupped her sex. Her thoughts scattered.

  “On the lips?” he supplied, sliding his hand inside the slit of her drawers. He began massaging her slick folds with delicious deftness. With a whimper, she slumped back against the wall, arching for more.

  “Y…Yes…lips… ”

  *****

  Luc couldn’t take his eyes off the sensuous woman before him. He continued to stroke her, giving her enough stimulation to keep her keen. But not enough to let her come. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, and her cheeks were pink. The way she was coming undone for him was so fucking inflaming.

  If he’d been fascinated by her before, he was even more so now. He’d spent years as an unrepentant rake before his family’s disgrace. More than one courtesan had favored him with a gratis tumble or two, just to boast they’d been with a member of the then preeminent Moutier family. Particularly the youngest son of Charles de Moutier, Marquis de Blainville. Luc’s once wild, unbridled reputation both in and out of the boudoir had always garnered him his share of women.

  And he’d never met a courtesan who refused married men. Or a kiss.

  Anywhere.

  It would be a lie if he told her he wasn’t disappointed. Especially when she had such a seductive mouth. He really wanted to find out why, what her motivation was behind her intriguing rules. But it was going to have to wait. At the moment, he was enjoying what he was doing far too much. She was so luscious. Her sex so hot, wet, and silky soft, already primed for the taking. And given how hard and heavy his cock felt, he knew he was in for a powerful orgasm with this woman.

  As spine melting a climax as he was about to give her—if—he hoped—she’d be willing to abide by his one rule during sex.

  She arched hard, trying to grind her engorged little clit against his palm. Famished for some friction. He easily evaded her efforts without ceasing his caresses to the rest of her slick sex.

  With his free hand, he captured her pebbled nipple through her gown and gave it a playful pinch. She bit her bottom lip and gave him a mew she couldn’t contain. Jésus-Christ, everything she did made him want to fuck her.

  If she wouldn’t let him taste her mouth, he was going to taste the rest of her. Every last sweet inch—starting with those delectable little nipples that were straining so hard for him inside her chemise.

  He dipped his head and in her ear said, “I’m going to open your gown, and then these pretty nipples are mine.”

  She shivered with excitement. It reverberated through him all the way down to the tip of his prick, making him seep some spunk.

  Mentally, he swore. He was picking up the bloody pace. Get the preliminaries over and done with. “But before we go any further, I have a rule too.” Needing her undivided attention, he reluctantly released her nipple and withdrew his hand from her inviting cunt.

  Her eyes flew open, soft pants continuing to slip ever so sensually past her lips. She met his gaze, clearly distressed at his cessation of their sexual play. Yet there was also curiosity in her eyes. And that pleased him more than she could ever know.

  You have her attention now. Out with it. He untied his cravat, slipped it from his neck, and held it out before her. “You’ll be bound while I take you.”

  He caught the surprise in her dark eyes. She glanced at the cravat in his hand, then back at him. “Bound?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  For many reasons… “For pleasure. Yours and mine. It heightens the encounter.” Not exactly the whole truth, but all he was prepared to say. While there was nothing sweeter than a woman’s complete surrender—bound with a silk scarf or cravat—he liked that kind of control. He needed it. And he valued every woman who’d placed their trust in him during sex and ceded it to him. In truth, he valued each and every pleasurable moment he’d ever had in his life. It helped combat the dark ones. Not to mention that having her hands rendered incapable of touching his back, even by accident, allowed him to relax and simply relish the experience. And kept the memories at bay.

  She stared at him, incredulous.

  “Think of it as merely a sex game. One where we both win. One I’ll make certain you enjoy,” he added. For a fleeting moment, he was mildly surprised that as a courtesan, if she hadn’t participated in such sexual practices, she hadn’t at least heard of it. Gatherings of debauchery among the aristocracy occurred frequently. And there were no shortage of courtesans present at them. Yet, oddly, she seemed to be hearing of the concept for the first time. He’d discovered it years ago while attending his first such party at the Vicomte d’Inville’s château—the entertainment purely carnal, with every type of decadent diversion to suit all sexual tastes.

  From the mild to the depraved.

  Whippings were not Luc’s taste,
not on either end of the whip. In no way could he ever associate sexual pleasure with a lashing. He’d endured the lash more times than he’d ever allowed himself to remember. He’d practically raced from the room as a wave of white-hot anger surged inside him at the first sight of it back then. But the carnal play he’d observed that involved erotic bondage…well, that was entirely different.

  That had become the most liberating, sublime diversion he’d ever known.

  He wasn’t the only one who indulged in such sexual play. But he was probably the only man who never took a woman unless she was bound.

  Luc saw her pull her gaze from the cravat in his hand and move it to the door of the library. Fuck. She was contemplating a departure from the room. Perhaps a hasty one at that.

  He immediately stepped back, giving her more room, not wanting to scare her into believing she was trapped. Or that he’d force this on her.

  His body instantly balked at the loss of contact from her soft form.

  Luc dragged in a breath and let it out slowly, trying to master his desire, his blood pounding in his veins. It didn’t help that his sac was so tight and full, he wanted to howl in frustration.

  Yet, no matter how badly he wanted her, if she was going to submit to him this way, it had to be of her own free will. He’d only ever had two women refuse. He’d walked away, respecting their wishes. Both times.

  “Juliette, you are free to leave, if you wish.” Don’t go… “But if you stay, I swear, you won’t regret your trust in me. This is about mutual pleasure. I’ll make you come harder than you’ve ever come before.”

  *****

  Isabelle’s head was spinning. Her body feverish. She warred between wanting to yield to his startling—highly provocative—request.