Paradise: The Masters of The Order Novel Two

by Verne, Jillian

  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 th
e 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.”

  Isabella heard the lie in that word and stiffened as he continued, “Let’s just say your brother did not appreciate my gift.”

  “Teo knows about us? I mean, us, us!”

  She waved a hand between them as her eyes grew wider. When he nodded, they got so huge, he could see the full circle of brown in them. He wasn’t sure what would follow her shock. Tears? Anger? Shame? He didn’t want to see any of those emotions on her face.

  To his surprise, and delight, Isabella flipped a petulant hand through the air. “C’est la vie,” then shook her head with a smirk. “And how exactly are you still alive?”

  He couldn’t help but laugh at her expression when she said that. “Teo’s pretty scary, but we managed. You’re okay with him knowing?”

  “Not exactly,” she jacked up her chin, “but my brother doesn’t have anything to say about my sex life. I make the choices about my life and I choose you.”

  His Isabella was almost as hardheaded about controlling her own life as he was.

  “Don’t think he agrees with you there, angel. He doesn’t approve.”

  “Well that’s the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?

  “You know about Teo?” Part of him was a little shocked, but the bigger part of him should have known that Teo couldn’t hide something like that from Isabella.

  “Uh-huh, but we never actually talked about it. I think he feels as guilty as I do, I mean, did before I met you. He hasn’t been as lucky, I guess.”

  The comment triggered a mental barrage of questions about big Dom brother, but the slip in her words was more important. “Do or did, Isabella, which is it?”

  “Did, Jacques, did,” she said firmly, but something in her tone announced that her conscience wasn’t feeling as firm.

  His own words echoed through his mind. Perfect just the way you are.

  Did he truly believe that? Even though they’d ventured farther into the life together, he knew Isabella still harbored a lot of guilt. Before today, he’d thought his role was to help her shed the limitations of her upbringing. She was the one who should change. Now he realized that maybe the right answer wasn’t her shedding her past, rather him shedding his. Change was coming, only maybe it was him who would be changing.

  The salesman reentering the salon halted their pivotal conversation. “Madame, if I may.” He reached for Isabella’s hand.

  “No. Let me do that.” Jacques took the ring into his hand. It was spectacular. Its facets filled with sparkling light and fire, just like his Isabella. He slipped it onto the ring finger of her left hand. “Perfect together,” he said.

  Her eyes filled with tears.

  As her arms came around him, he made a silent vow. Nothing he did would ever snuff the joy he saw in those big brown eyes when she looked at her wedding ring. Whatever she needed, he would give. Whatever made her happy, he would be. Even if it was a traditional plain vanilla husband.

  *****

  “Well, Isabella Honora Rey Meszaros, what's it gonna be: angel or devil?”

  Isabella sat on the window bench while Jacques slept. The dawn’s light had yet to snuff the twinkle of Paris. In one hand, she held her wedding rings; in the other, the diamond choker. Jacques asked her to take some time and really think about what she wanted for their relationship going forward. The decision was too important for a semi-private discussion in a jewelry salon. He wanted her to be sure. And he wanted her, whatever she decided. He’d certainly proved that last night. Her body ached in all the right places and after a night like that, the afterglow she sported could light the entire city.

  They’d made love before, hundreds of times before, but nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to what they did to each other last night. Jacques’s original plan was to start with a romantic dinner at home, but the second they stepped foot into the dining room, well, old habits die hard. They started with dessert. Dinner followed and they’d already worked off all those calories but good.

  Jacques in the kitchen was fabulous; Jacques in the dining room, ab-so-lute-ly fa-bu-lous!

  As Isabella looked out over Paris, flashes of her life crowded her mind and dredged up all the old conflicts. The ones that birthed the angel and the devil who coexisted inside of her. Holding the hand of her abuelo as they walked to church on Sunday morning to listen to the priest’s guidance on how to live a moral life. Putting on her white dress-up gown and “marrying” Teo in front of her teddy bear while dreaming of her future as a good wife. Joaquim scooping her into his arms and dancing her around the living room while her feet dangled and he made her promise to always be a good girl. The warmth of traditional family dinners in their cramped kitchen and the chill of wondering if she would ever find that on her own. Crying as the entire familia took her to the airport to fly away from Spain and begin a new life in France. Her boyfriend from University smiling over her naked torso and licking his lips while her mind twisted with guilt and her body writhed with pleasure. Living with Craig and witnessing the pain caused when sexuality is dictated by words written thousands of years ago. Meeting Jacques and finally finding someone who made he
r feel safe enough to live her fantasies, then marrying him in front a real priest as if those fantasies belonged to another couple.

  “Alright, ladies. Let’s hear it,” Isabella said to no one and waited for the great debate to start playing in her head.

  Nothing happened. No words. No fighting. Only a deafening silence in her mind and the gentle hum of the avenue below in her ears. For her entire adult life, the Angel Isabella and the Devil Isabella had carried on a running commentary on her sex life and now that she faced the greatest conflict imaginable, they had nothing to say?

  “What the hell?” she said in the darkness, a little too loudly.

  Jacques groaned and rolled over.

  She thought about everything she’d been through since she met him and a lone voice echoed in her mind, You are perfect just the way you are.

  Was that Angel Isabella or Devil? She couldn’t tell.

  “Which me?” she asked herself and was answered with deafening silence. Her girls were really enjoying torturing her through this one. “Which one is perfect?” she demanded more urgently.

  As the words left her lips, the epiphany sang through her mind, There is only one woman. Isabella Honora Rey Meszaros is finally perfect.

  Being with Jacques wasn’t the culmination of her fantasies. Marrying him was. The conflict evaporated. The Angel Isabella and the Devil Isabella were no more. There was only Isabella and her sex god, dominant, miraculous husband, and together, they were perfect.

  She shot across the room and started jumping on the bed. “Wake up, Jacques. Wake up. Wake up.”

  “That better not be the woman who kept me up all night bouncing herself into more trouble than she can handle,” he growled.

  She kept jumping, laughing out loud and watching his black hair fly as his body bounced. A hand shot to her ankle. Before she could blink, she was pinned to the mattress by a hard, heavy and seriously sleep deprived blanket of male.

  “I know the answer, Jacques. I know it to the moon and back,” she giggled, remembering the first time he had her pinned like this.