Masterpiece (The Masters of The Order Book 1)

by Verne, Jillian

  “You please me beyond words, Beauty.”

  He brushed kisses on her cheek and neck as fingers skated over her flawless body. Her breathing became more urgent. He watched the heavy rise and fall of her breasts over her shoulder. Full and lush. The luster of the pearls paled in comparison to her radiant skin. The natural pink hue of her nipples tempted his eyes. He clutched her neck, pinning her head against his shoulder, and tickled a fingertip, ever so lightly, over one magnificent peak.

  Soft feminine noises urged him on.

  “Tell me, Beauty, shall I be gentle with you or would you prefer something more?”

  She curved her back and pressed her breast more firmly into his hand, offering the taut point without hesitation. He accepted her unspoken invitation and intensified the touch, pinching the nub between his thumb and forefinger in a tight press. He felt the sharp clench of her body as the sensation spiraled through her. Her thigh muscles tensed and released into a subtle roll of her hip as the stimulation swept to her sex.

  My quiet Beauty thrills to his harsh affection.

  Her unmistakable response lured him farther into the scene. He concentrated erotic torment on her nipples until they were swollen and darkened to a ferociously enticing shade of pink. Her head lulled to the side and her face burrowed into his neck as she strained to get nearer to him, even as he hurt her. His eyes devoured the beckoning color. His soul devoured her aroused eagerness to take his pain.

  In return, he offered his reward. “Soar for me.”

  A single finger slid between her legs and she exploded like a firecracker for him, sparkling and glorious.

  The craving for Julianne surged deeper into his blood when he felt her silken folds drenched with the cream of complete arousal. He knew Julianne was not accustomed to being touched intimately, yet she responded with a mind-boggling mixture of stark, sensual pleasure and unadulterated invitation. Her courage was inspiring. Her submission was just hot.

  “You challenge my self-control,” he rasped against the racing pulse at her throat. “Soon, so soon, I will take you home and you will be entirely mine. I will open you to a whole new world of pleasure. Until then, let us indulge a small taste.”

  Greedy arms locked around her petite frame. More kisses on her shoulders and neck, building in demand. Desperate hands swept over her moist skin with ferocious intent. Every breath became more like a pant until ecstatic moans of pleasure echoed loud.

  Pleasure, so much fucking pleasure.

  He dipped his head and devoured her mouth, taking possession of her with his kiss and feasting on her submission. Her tongue met his with her own fierce need, revealing so much of what she hid deep inside.

  Innocent or not, Julianne’s inner goddess was wide-awake and exulting in his dominance, lapping it up and rolling around with ecstatic delight in it. She threatened his very sanity with her voracious capacity for pleasure, driving him mad with the ruthless promise of a perfect surrender.

  He eased back, compelled to see the art of her in bondage. The sight undid him. The contrast of the dark weave against her pale, luminous skin, the bright red of her lipstick smeared by his kiss, the glistening beads of sweat that trailed between her shoulder blades, all combined to blot out every honorable intention. He was seduced beyond reason. He growled and ran his tongue across her shoulders to lick the droplets away. The salty taste pulled something dangerous from his depths.

  His sexual demon burst free, wild, greedy and violent.

  Swift fingers claimed intimate flesh, flying over her slick center to create a maelstrom of sensation. He felt the tension coming, felt her begin to tremble as he took her, reveling in her ready wetness and heat. Julianne came in harsh, shattering spasms. He didn’t relent, bombarding her body with a barrage of stimulation until she came again.

  The demon roared for more.

  There was no patience, no care, no sense of anything but the primitive urge to dominate. Blind with his own ecstasy, he offered no quarter, driving her ruthlessly toward the next peak. Primal lust conquered him when he felt her rippling with orgasm again. She cried out as he tore her apart, completely lacking in gentleness as he did so.

  He was crazed, even bordering on abusive, as he dragged her to the edge. Touching her everywhere, biting, pulling, pinching, forcing her toward another orgasm until she screamed for release from the erotic agony.

  “Ahh. S'il vous plait, Maître.”

  Master. The word stabbed him like a dagger, shattering his lust-filled haze.

  Shaking off the blindness, he took in the image of his frenzy. His delicate Beauty crushed against the dais. Hair scattered across a face turned into the pillow. White satin stained with red lipstick. Pearls over contorted shoulders slicked with sweat. Ripped stockings.

  He went numb. He didn’t want to see.

  He closed his eyes and the foreboding, final passage of her journal flashed before him.

  Master. Master. Master. Who are you to take everything from me, yet give me nothing but despair? I suffer every day for you, empty, alone and in pain. Why? Why do seek to destroy me? I swear I will survive. I will pretend, but I will never truly submit. I hate you, Master. With all that I am, I will always hate you.

  That terrible, tear-stained page offered a clear warning. A warning that he, like a weak fool, had ignored.

  Dear God, what have I done?

  *****

  When Jacques arrived at the gallery, he found Nico sitting on a dais in his studio with his face buried in his hands. Black ribbon spilled through his fingers and draped listless across his lap. He looked more than distraught.

  “Where is Julianne?”

  “I took her home.”

  Jacques knew exactly what Nico had done with that ribbon, but asked, “What happened?”

  He did not get the answer he expected.

  “She was turned on by the suggestion of bondage and I decided to introduce it, here, in a place where she felt comfortable. I wasn’t going to touch her, not yet, just let her try it first. One minute, I was photographing her. The next, I was an undisciplined beast.” Nico looked up with horror in his eyes. “God help me, Jacques, I lost control.”

  Jacques’s characteristic cool evaporated and he struggled to hide his shock. They’d shared countless scenes, bondage and otherwise, but he had never seen his cousin lose control. Not even close. Nico was a very experienced Dom. It didn’t register that he could make such a colossal error.

  “Tell me. Everything,” he demanded in a flat voice.

  Jacques listened as Nico spoke. What he heard was serious, but not dire. Nico pushed Julianne to her limit, but not beyond it. He took care of her properly afterward. She obviously enjoyed herself and left oblivious to the darker reality of what transpired. And there was even a silver lining. Her reaction to such an extreme domination meant that Julianne could become exactly the type of lover his cousin needed.

  The Dom/sub 101 lecture was probably overkill, but Jacques went there anyway. “I’m not going to coddle you and tell you that you didn’t step over the line. You made a serious mistake by not ending that scene at the first hint you might lose control. You can never make that mistake with her again.” He gave his cousin a warning glare. “Ever. Do you hear me? If you do, you will answer to me.”

  “I’m counting on it.”

  Neither harbored illusions about what would happen if Nico ever abused his power over Julianne again. Within the Order, missteps had consequences. Extreme consequences. Each member was honor bound to preserve the other’s integrity and Jacques presented a formidable threat.

  “But I still have to pull back, Jacques. She’s an innocent. I have to protect her. I refuse to hurt her anymore.”

  “What makes you so sure you hurt her? She didn’t tell you she was hurt or frightened by what you did, so why are you imposing feelings she didn’t express?”

  Nico swallowed hard, obviously holding fast to his shame and trying to skirt a fight. “I know what she needs,” he said in a clipped tone
that was meant to block the next question.

  Jacques barreled right ahead. “And that is what exactly?”

  “A lover. A plain vanilla, traditional lover.”

  There was no hiding his reaction to that statement. Now Jacques wasn’t only shocked. He was pissed. Doms were not afforded the luxury of such naïveté. How could Nico have convinced himself that sacrificing his own sexuality would somehow protect his woman? He knew better. The more he repressed, the more risk he might actually hurt Julianne, not to mention himself.

  Not letting you venture down denial lane, cousin. “What? Nico, you’re not wired for traditional. Neither am I, and from what you just told me, neither is Julianne. Naked, bound and she comes not once, but multiple times. Use your head. You know what that means. The fact that the girl hasn’t had a score of love affairs before coming to you is irrelevant. Her sexuality is what it is. If you ask me, she’s lucky to have found you before some insecure moron convinces her that she’s a sinner or a slut. She needs a Master.”

  “No, damn you. She does not.”

  Jacques knew he’d hit a nerve. His high-brow cousin wasn’t one to raise his voice, but Nicolai shouted those words furiously. Jacques didn’t back down.

  “Yes, she does. And I’ll tell you another truth. If you pull back and lie about who you are in some insane quest to protect her, you will break her. You will destroy that beautiful submissive and make her ashamed of who she is and what she needs.”

  “You didn’t read her journal.” Nico sounded absolutely defeated as he reached down to pick up a book from the floor that Jacques hadn’t noticed until that moment.

  “That’s it. She actually wrote everything?”

  Nico nodded.

  “Did he?” Jacques tilted his head. No need to ask this one out loud.

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anything in there worse than what you’ve told me?”

  Nico shook his head again.

  “Then why are we having this argument. Her father may have abused her, but he didn’t abuse her sexually. I fail to see the connection between his bullshit and her sexuality. Don’t condemn her to a boring, unsatisfying love life because of her father’s ignorance.”

  “Read it for yourself, Jacques.” Nico opened the journal and handed it to him. “If I become her Master, she will hate me.”

  Jacques sat cross-legged on the floor at Nico’s feet and read the last passage. He remained mute for a minute, organizing his thoughts. He could see Nico’s point, but he didn’t agree with it. He had to dismantle this bomb with extreme caution.

  “She’s not writing about you. This doesn’t mean she isn’t a submissive or that she doesn’t want you as her Dominant. The difference is consent. You’ve spent months building her trust in you, which is pretty amazing given what she’s been through. You didn’t lose that trust. You made a mistake.

  “In this lifestyle, we all strive for perfection, but how many of us achieve it? She’s pissed off at daddy, but aren’t we all? I see no reason in any of this why you should become something you’re not to please a woman who wants the real you.”

  Jacques watched his pigheaded cousin mull his comments over in his mind looking for fault, but the logic was sound. Consent was the key difference. Nico was simply too upset to see it.

  After a minute, Nico huffed a resigned sigh. “You sure you’re not a lawyer?”

  Jacques grinned. Progress.

  “I know what I am, Jacques, and I know what she is, but her past makes our situation far more complicated than it would be if she was only a novice. Before she told me what she’d been through and I read that journal, I took her behavior for granted. I thought she was just like any other submissive woman. But she isn’t. She was never given a choice. She was forced. I’m not sure she even comprehends the difference. I don’t think she would deny me anything I asked, even if it was harmful to her. That’s a heavy responsibility.”

  Now his cousin sounded like the responsible Dom he was.

  “I understand, Nico. It’s a delicate balance."

  "It's a delicate balance for any man, but for a man like me, with my past? All I've ever done is play with the women in my life. It's all I ever thought I would do and now I have Julianne." Nicolai let his head hang on his shoulders. "Je ne sais pas. I just don't know. Those eyes when she looks at me, Jacques…can I become the man she thinks I am? Can I be the man she needs me to be?"

  The lost look on his cousin's face made Jacques want to hit something. Or someone. Damn, Alexi Stavros and his caustic legacy.

  "You're a good man, Nico. You can handle it and you don’t have to do it alone. I can help you. Darion can too. Hell, any of your brothers in the Order can. That's the whole point. We share the responsibility and the risks. We support each other. Always have, always will.”

  Reminding Nico of all of the people who would support him in his new life with Julianne seemed to lighten him, but Jacques knew words were only the start. It would take experience to prove to Nico that he was a good man, a worthy man, and no one knew better than Jacques that beneath all those layers of self-doubt, a beautiful man.

  “Do you want to cuddle too?” Nico teased.

  “Très drôle, connard.”

  “I am quite funny, but seriously Jacques, it’s not only about her. It’s about me too. It scares me how much I need this woman. I can’t lose her. With her, everything feels new. I know this sounds absurd given my history, but with her, I feel like a virgin.” He pressed his face back into his hands and murmured, “I think I’m falling in love.”

  “Um. That would be ‘fell in love,’ Romeo, not ‘falling.’ When does Juliet move in?”

  Perhaps the star-crossed lovers illusion was a bit ominous given Xavier’s interest in Julianne, but they both chose to ignore that elephant for now.

  “Saturday.”

  “Trust yourself, Nico. Everything will work out.”

  “I have no other choice, but I will never forget what she wrote. I can’t. I vowed that I would never hurt her and I never will. I may not be what Julianne thinks I am, but I have to try. While I figure it out, I’m going to take this slow. Really slow.”

  Jacques had said enough. He could see in Nico’s body language that his cousin had calmed down. This plan was a good one even if it did involve Nico holding back for a while. Given the combustible passion between Nico and his muse, he was certain neither would remain repressed for very long. The time was right to lighten up the brooding artist.

  “You do know that you’re one lucky bastard to have found a woman like Julianne. That scene was hot. I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”

  Nico’s eyes glazed over at the memory. “You should have seen her, Jacques. Un-fucking-believable.”

  Now, they were really making progress.

  “Tsk, tsk. And you didn’t invite me. Someday, I might let you make it up to me,” Jacques teased before adding suggestively, “when do I meet our femme fatale?”

  “Will you be back from Japan for the opening? She’ll be there.”

  Jacques never missed one of Nico’s openings and he definitely wouldn’t miss this one. “We’re flying in Darion’s G550. I could be back before I leave in that jet. Of course, I’ll be there. How far am I allowed to go?”

  “One kiss.” Nico stuck one finger in Jacques’s face to emphasize his point.

  “Oh, Nico.” Jacques collapsed against the dais like Cinderella in her stepmother’s garden and feigned tears. “You’re a fucking sadist.”

  Nico laughed so hard he fell back onto the pillow next to his cousin.

  Fait accompli.

  14

  Finding Home

  Julianne glanced around the foyer.

  She should hate him for what he did to her here, but deep in her heart, she forgave. She heard him, late at night, alone with his tears. So much pain for a lost love.

  But he was supposed to love me too.

  Setting th
e envelope on the center table, she murmured, “I’m sorry, Maman. I have to leave him.”

  Will he cry for me too? Will he ever understand?”

  Wiping the last of her tears, she closed the door.

  Never to look back.

  *****

  Darion chuckled, “You look awful,” and rang the doorbell.

  “And you look like a damn debutante,” Jacques groaned, craning his neck from side to side. “I hate Asia travel. The time change is worse than a brutal Mistress.”

  “Then you’re lucky we’re here,” Darion said as they waited at the genkan. “Kotani’s women make pampering into an art.”

  The door slid open.

  “You might have a point.”

  Jacques smiled at the delicate woman bowing to him. Her elaborate green and orange kimono draped elegantly over her slight frame, but the dress wasn’t exactly traditional. Although she was modestly covered from her neck to her ankles, the paper-thin silk clung to her body with seductive suggestion as she moved.

  “Yohkoso.” Her voice chimed like a bell.

  “Right back at you, gorgeous,” he answered as they stepped through the door.

  Their host joined them in the entry hall. “Welcome to my humble home, Darion. Welcome, Jacques.”

  Takahiro Kotani’s home was far from humble. He was the chairman of a Japanese bank as well as a member on the board of directors for several Asian companies and his fine home announced that esteemed status. Takahiro was widely respected within the Order because he offered entrée to business partners throughout Asia. He was wildly popular because he lived with a bevy of beauties who were all trained in the geisha arts. Among other talents.

  “You must be tired from your trip. Come. I have a light meal waiting to refresh you.” He placed a hand on the shoulder of the woman next to him and turned to Jacques. “I chose Akako for you especially, Jacques-san.”

  “I am very grateful, Kotani-sensai. Akako is a lovely woman with a lovely name,” Jacques replied with a deep bow.