The way he’d felt about Juliette from the beginning.
The way Juliette could see the things only Isabelle saw about him—in a way that was different from everyone else.
My God. He’d been Isabelle’s lover all this time.
And at this very moment, Isabelle Laurent was on his bed. Isabelle was constrained in his silk scarves. Isabelle was all his for the taking.
“Luc… Please… I want you.”
He had to swallow hard. He was so overcome with emotion, he couldn’t speak.
Journal passages he’d reread during the many days and nights he’d spent longing for her echoed in his head.
…Down to my very marrow, I feel there is a connection between us. One destined in the stars. If he would simply notice me, touch me, he would feel it too…
He had felt it. There had been a connection from the very start. This woman was born to be his. There was no one, absolutely no one in the world, who was more in tune with him than this beauty.
And there wasn’t a single woman he knew better, understood more, wanted more on every human level than this one woman.
.…I want to know the feel of his skin, the taste of his kiss. I want to indulge in all the carnal delights he favors. I want to surrender to his every wicked desire.
He raked a hand through his hair and took in a breath, trying to quell the feelings and questions whirling inside his head and heart.
Bloody hell. His hands were shaking. He’d faced countless battles in the King’s navy and while privateering. Fought duels before that. Even sat in prison awaiting his execution.
And never once had his hands shaken. Not ever.
He could have truly lost her, having no idea how she managed to survive as he realized that the man Juliette mentioned, the one who had tried to kill her, was none other than that fucking devil Leon de Vittry. He’d never been more grateful of anything as he was that Leon had failed to take her life.
“Luc?” she called out to him again, her tone growing earnest. Her arousal escalating with anticipation. Those gorgeous tits rose and fell a little faster now. Her breaths came a little more raw and rapid. And his eager cock swelled to painful proportions.
…I want to surrender to his every wicked desire…
Dieu, he wanted to fuck her—his Isabelle—a dozen different ways.
Stripping off the rest of his clothing, he then sank a knee on the bed beside her, helped her onto her back, then placed her arms above her head once more.
“I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever wanted. And more.” Now wasn’t the time to discuss the revelations he’d just uncovered—despite the million questions he had. It was time to relish this moment, this experience—with Isabelle.
Seigneur Dieu, this is Isabelle Laurent…
Snagging the remaining scarves from the end of the bed, he looped two through the binding on her wrist and tied each to one of the posts at the head of his bed, rendering her arms motionless.
She tested the bindings, trying to move her captive arms, but they held fast, not allowing her to lower them or move them from side to side. He grazed his fingertips over her taut nipple, wanting to keep her focused on pleasure. The softest, most sensuous little moan escaped from her parted lips.
His cock seeped more spunk.
She squirmed and squeezed her legs together. And he knew that sign. A damned well excellent sign. She was trying to apply pressure between her legs.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Are you squeezing your legs together?” he asked the obvious. “Because if you are improvising—”
“No!” She relaxed her legs immediately.
Beautiful Isabelle. So sensual. And an adorable little liar. “I don’t believe you,” he said, stroking his hand over her silky belly. It quivered under his touch. He stopped just before her sex. “And I haven’t decided if there is going to be consequences for your infraction. I do, however, think we should address that sweet clit of yours…”
“Yes, to that last bit! I have no idea what you said before it.” She strained a little against her bindings. Trying to reach his hand to rub against it. Desperate for some friction.
“Entirely too willful.” He chuckled. Merde. How this woman could make his cock pulse in anticipation… “There most definitely is going to be some consequences for your unyielding behavior, ma belle.” This was Isabelle—the woman of his dreams. And fantasies. After spending a lifetime fighting and struggling against discord and darkness, what he had with her came easily. And felt right. “I see we’re going to have to do something to keep you still.” He grasped her ankle. Lifting her leg over him, he situated himself between her spread thighs, then slipped a scarf under her leg and tied it above her left knee. He repeated the same thing with another scarf around the right knee, taking a moment to caress the little scar there with a smile. He’d never adored a scar more. “Now, just relax,” he soothed as he bent her parted knees, then pressed them back toward her and again tied the end of each of the scarves to one of the bedposts at the head of his bed, securing her bent knees back.
Her sex was open for his viewing pleasure. Pink and glistening with her juices. This wasn’t a dream come true or a double fantasy—having not only Isabelle, but having her bound as well.
It was, in fact, nothing short of a miracle.
And here he thought they didn’t exist. At least not for him.
“Do you know you have the prettiest cunt?” He scored his fingers down the soft folds of her slick sex. She didn’t squirm this time. Instead, another luscious moan escaped her throat as she sank her teeth into her bottom lip. A hot bolt of fire lanced through his groin.
Jésus, he loved her sensuous responses.
“Are the scarves too tight? Are you comfortable?” he asked, massaging her sex, plying it with soft strokes up, then down, and up once more to her clit, spreading her essence over every gorgeous pink inch. Caressing the swollen little bud between his fingers, giving it just enough sensation on either side of the engorged nub to keep her hungry.
Her head lolled to one side, her short, quick breaths louder now. She was lost to the pleasure flooding her sex and didn’t respond to his question.
He slid his fingers into her soft feminine core. Locating that ultrasensitive spot inside her sheath easily, he curled his fingers and gave it two quick strong strokes. She arched hard with a cry. He leaned down, and, keeping a light pressure on that sweet spot inside her vaginal walls, he sucked her clit into his mouth, enjoying the little whimper she made. Her sheath squeezed around his fingers and released.
More pre-come seeped from his sex.
He pulled his mouth away reluctantly, her delicious taste on his tongue. “I’m going to need an answer. Are the scarves hurting you?”
“No. Hurry. I’m dying…”
He smiled. “No, you’re not. You are just terribly impatient.” Without removing his hand from inside her, he lay down between her legs, crushing his cock against the mattress, alleviating some of his discomfort. His fingers continued to tantalize that erogenous area inside her sheath. “Learn to savor… You’re not going to come until I tell you.” He dipped his head and trailed hot kisses along her inner thigh, from her knee, slowly making his way back to her gorgeous cunt.
She squirmed and strained hard against her bindings, arching to him. It was the most sensual sight imaginable. He brought his mouth down on her silky sex, lapping up her juices, swirling his tongue around her clit. Then he lightly bit it.
Making her buck, screaming his name.
He gave the sensitized bud another soft suck and felt it pulsing between his lips, knowing he had it throbbing with need now. The scarves no longer mattered to her. She no longer cared or even thought about them—that much was obvious. She was blindfolded. Bound. Her body so beautiful to behold. She writhed against the binding, arching for him. Wordlessly pleading.
In complete carnal surrender as he drove her to the edge of orgasm and pulled her back again and again.
/>
And yet even as his cock pulsed in time with his wild heart, and his sac was so full of come, one of the most powerful passages from her journal whispered through him.
He is the man I know I will always love…
Ten words that leveled him and melted his hardened heart. Every. Single. Time. These weren’t the thoughts he normally had during sex, before or after it. He wanted to burn up the day and night with her. More than that, he wanted to take a risk with her, in a way he’d never risked himself before.
Fuck, he had to claim her, to make her his—the way she’d claimed him.
He eased his fingers out of her and rose to his knees. She instantly balked at the loss of his hand.
“No!”
Luc stroked his slick hand down the length of his cock, coating it with her juices, then lowered himself onto her soft form and yanked off her blindfold, suddenly wanting her to see the man who was taking her to ecstasy and back.
Beautiful dark almond-shaped eyes stared back at him. The feral hunger shining in their depths matched his own.
“Easy,” he said, resting on his elbows. Then he wedged the crest of his cock against her opening. She gasped. He brushed his mouth against hers and murmured, “Say my name.”
“Luc.” It rushed out on a pant, warming his lips.
He pressed his prick into her, feeding her an inch of his length. The head of his shaft was engulfed in the wet, warm squeeze of her soft sex. And he was lost to her. Overcome with emotions. Emotions he couldn’t deny anymore. Emotions he knew were the very same as those regaled by poets.
He was in love with this woman. Deeply. Madly. Who knew how long?
And he kissed her. A deep short kiss. Isabelle… “Say it again. Say my name.”
“Luc…”
He claimed her mouth, this time driving his tongue past her lips, as he fed her another inch of his cock. Then another. And another.
“You are mine…” He plunged his whole length in, muffling her cry with his mouth.
Fisting the sheets, he groaned long and hard. He was so large and thick at the moment, making her feel tighter than before. He drove into her snug little sheath again. And again. With each solid thrust, one word repeated in his head.
Isabelle .
Isabelle.
Isabelle.
Spiking his fever. He possessed Isabelle’s mouth. Possessed Isabelle’s sex.
Filling all her senses with him.
She kissed him, matching his intensity. Her tight grip on his prick was eroding away his sanity. The bliss coursing through his body was blinding. His cock ached for release. His entire body clamored for him to let go. And the tiny flutters and little clenches of her vaginal walls, telling him she was on the edge of orgasm, were melting his bloody mind.
He was practically delirious with desire. Going on sexual instincts alone. Knowing he couldn’t hold back much longer in this state.
Not when this was Isabelle.
“You’re going to come for me. Right. Now,” he rasped in her ear, shifting his angle slightly, making perfect contact with her clit with each downward stroke. Knowing the reaction he’d get.
And she gave it to him. Immediately. Screaming in pleasure, she surged up against him, sucking his cock in a fraction farther. Her climax slamming into them both.
He clenched his teeth and buried his face into her neck, her slick walls contracting wildly around his plunging prick, milking his cock. He held on to the final fragments of his control. The stunning sensations were sublime. More than he could bear.
A powerful ecstasy exploded through his senses.
Semen barreled down his cock. He yanked himself out just in the nick of time, then crushed her to him as he poured out everything he had in one hot blast of come after another. The draining sensation was a glorious relief that went on until the final shuddering drop.
It took a moment or two before he could collect his faculties and realize that his languid body was crushing her under his weight. Pressing his palms down on the mattress, he pushed himself up onto his knees. And looked at her. Her eyes shone warmly at him, and there was a small smile on her face.
The smile of a woman who’d been well satisfied.
And he couldn’t be happier that he’d been the one to put that smile on those lips.
Both their abdomens were coated with the aftermath of his release. Leaning over her, he gave her a quick kiss. “Give me but a moment and I’ll untie you.” He rose from the bed, forcing his legs to walk across the room to the water basin. He washed himself quickly, returned with a clean, wet cloth, and sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.
Now that the fog of lust, and the shock of who this woman really was, had ebbed, questions began to assail his mind anew.
*****
Isabelle started at the first swipe of the cool cloth. Her entire body felt overly sensitive. Drained. Yet, a sense of joy welled inside her chest.
Niggling thoughts of Pierrette threatened to invade. She pushed them away, desperate to hold on to this moment of deep contentment for as long as she could. Isabelle closed her eyes, allowing herself to enjoy the gentle swipes of the cloth over her belly, not caring a whit about the scarves bound to her limbs. Nor her body’s unabashed position. He always knew just how to touch her, in any circumstance. And after what had just happened between them, he clearly knew her body better than she did.
“Are you all right?” he asked, giving her belly another swipe of the cloth.
She was about to respond when suddenly, the cool, wet cloth pressed against her sex. She jumped away, a reflexive reaction, but the bindings didn’t allow her to get far. He pressed a hand down on her pelvis, gently pushing her bottom back onto the bed.
“I know you’re still sensitive. Try to be still. Allow me to finish.” He gently stroked the cloth over her sex again. She squeezed her eyes shut, bit down on her lip, curling her toes, trying to keep from wiggling. She swallowed down the mewls that surged up her throat at each stroke of the cloth over her oversensitized flesh. He gave her a final swipe, then the cloth was gone and his hands were working at the ties on her leg.
She opened her eyes and watched him at his task, her gaze tracing over his handsome profile. The scarf whispered against her skin as he pulled it off and stretched out her leg on the bed. He turned to the scarf around her other thigh and made quick work of that one too, lowering her other leg onto the bed.
He was quiet. And she didn’t know what to make of it. Couldn’t decipher anything from his features. He rose and untied the scarves around each of the bedposts that secured her arms above her head. Again, without a word. What had happened between them had been so intense and wonderful. Was he somehow displeased?
The edge of the mattress sank once more as he seated himself beside her and lowered her bound wrists from above her head to rest on her belly, then untied the final scarf.
Tossing it to the floor with the others.
He grasped her wrists in his warm, strong hands and began to knead them. “How are your arms and legs? Are they sore?”
She sat up, wanting to get closer to him. Unable to stop herself. “No. They’re fine. I’m fine. More than fine.” She smiled. “I loved what you did. All of it.”
A hint of a smile appeared on his perfect lips. He captured her chin, and she let herself sink into his light green eyes. “Would this be something you’re willing to explore further?”
“God, yes…” The words tumbled out of her mouth. She mentally flinched, meaning to be more urbane. But the aftereffects of Lord Seductive were powerful. He’d promised to make her come harder than she ever had. And he’d succeeded. The nerve endings throughout her body still hummed from the sheer impact he’d had on her system. And it was clearly muddling her mind.
His lips twitched with amusement. “I’m pleased to hear that. I loved doing it to you. With you.” Then he kissed her. A thrill quivered down her spine. She parted her lips for him, inviting him into her mouth. He seized the invitation, his tongue
swirling around hers, slow. Deliberate. Delicious.
Oh, how could she get enough of his mouth? His taste? Him? The feel of his lips melded with hers. She hadn’t meant to kiss him when she’d walked through the front door of his hôtel today. The carriage ride to Luc’s home had been a blur. Haunted by her conversation with Pierrette, she’d been angry and distraught over the leverage Pierrette had over her. And over concerns for Nicole and her family. Of losing any hope of ever seeing Sabine again.
Moreover, of having reality sharply reinforced—that Luc wasn’t hers to have and hold—regardless of Pierrette’s marriage plans for her daughter.
She hadn’t missed the black carriage that had followed her from the duchesse’s city mansion to Luc’s home.
The moment she’d stepped into his hôtel and saw Luc standing in the vestibule, looking as beautiful as always, pulling at her heart, she threw herself into his arms and into a kiss.
Even when she knew better than to do anything that would make herself emotionally vulnerable to him.
Letting Luc be the first man she kissed was wrong. And a dream come true. He had no idea how monumental the kiss was to her. This man’s arms were a refuge she shouldn’t allow herself. He wasn’t his brother who’d married her sister, a commoner. Luc was different. He’d said as much. And everyone knew he was looking for a highborn bride. He was more heaven than she was entitled to by birth and circumstance. But none of that diminished how badly she wanted him—in ways she couldn’t have him.
She’d thrown herself into the kiss, then and now.
He lifted his head, breaking their kiss far earlier than she wanted, and simply gazed into her eyes. Once again, she was having trouble reading his expression, deciphering his thoughts. His features were schooled. He was behaving differently.
“Is there something amiss, Luc? You are somewhat…remote. Pensive.”
He slipped his fingers beneath her chin once more. “I suppose I am. What transpired just now between us was so good. Better than good. Incredible. And I hope I have demonstrated that you can trust me—with more than just your body.”
Her chest constricted. Knowing she couldn’t tell him what she’d wanted to reveal today, she was forced to stay quiet. And it hurt so much.
Three Reckless Wishes (Fiery Tales Book 10) Page 22