One NIght With Pasqual (The Chevalier Series)

by Azod, Shara

  The kiss went on until she felt as if she were melting on the inside, her entire body supported entirely by his arms and the solid surface behind her. But even as he freed her lips, his own never ceased assaulting her senses, moving down the front of the simple dress she wore. Gripping the V-neck on either side, Pasqual ripped the poor (okay, yes, cheap) material down the middle without pausing, leaving Rhonda to gasp at the action, thrilled down to her soaking pussy and beyond by the act.

  Rough hands kneaded her breasts, placing exquisite pressure on the nerve endings located there. His teeth scraped her nipples before he sucked them inside his hot mouth, causing tiny quakes deep inside her pussy. Her head fell back against the door with a thump as Pasqual’s hands slid down her body to her crotch. His fingers unerringly found her clit, pressing the sodden cotton of her panties against the hardened, sensitive nubbin, deliberately sending all her senses into overdrive.

  It was so hard to breathe, so hard to do much but clutch at Pasqual’s head as he ravished her utterly. His fingers played with her through her underwear until her gulps of air turned into tormented moans, her hips bucking wildly to increase the delicious agitation.

  “Ummm, Rhonnie, I like watching you come.” The deep voice was muffled, his voice causing vibrations against her skin as he didn’t bother to release her breast from his greedy mouth.

  Her eyes snapped open. He was watching her? Sure enough, the lapis lazuli orbs watched her face intently. Curiously, knowing he watched her fueled her own desire. Her body reflexively spasmed as a small orgasm washed over her, but did nothing to relieve the intense erotic pressure building inside her. In fact, it only increased the desperate need for more, deeper, harder.

  “I think I want to taste you as I make you come,” Pasqual purred at her. Oh, God, did he even know how his words made the yearning so much worse? “Would you like that, baby?”

  “Yes, please.” She wasn’t even sure he meant for her to answer that, but hell, yes, she wanted that.

  Instead of lowering her to the the floor, or at least carrying her over to the bed, Pasqual dropped to his knees, slinging her legs over his shoulders. At first he didn’t even move her panties aside, but bit her crotch lightly before sucking the upper part of her pussy, clit and all, while pressing his fingers against the lower part. Rhonda let out a keening wail, clutching his hair in a death grip. Sweet baby Lord, she was so freaking close!

  “Please, Pas! I need more!”

  Why wasn’t he filling her already? She really needed his tongue, his fingers, glory to the saints above, his cock deep inside her. There needed to be penetration, damn it! Why wasn’t he getting on that?

  “I know, sugar,” Pas murmured, casually pulling the crotch of her undies to the side. His fingers did a slow, lazy stroke against the seam of her cunt while he blew against it. “So wet for me. Aren’t you a delight?”

  Pasqual Chevalier thought she was a delight? Saints have mercy, that was as much of a turn-on as what he was doing to her body. But thankfully he didn’t waste much more time, lowering his mouth to her needy pussy. The feeling was so much more wickedly erotic than she had been expecting. In her dreams it was wonderful, but the reality was beyond mere words. His mouth moved in a carnal kiss, his tongue moving inside her channel as his lips massaged all the surrounding area. Anchoring her shoulders against the door she moved in rhythm with his mouth, the last of her inhibitions fleeing with the expert touch of the man she had longed fantasized about.

  Pasqual feasted on her flesh as if it were his last meal. Relentlessly, he drove her to heights that seemed inconceivable, first with just his tongue, then he used his fingers, driving inside her in quick, deep thrusts, his fingers curving up slightly to reach the spot that made her scream with wild abandon, clawing at his shoulders as she shuddered in ecstasy over and over again. Rhonda was barely conscious by the time he rose again, carrying her to his bed. His lips claimed hers again, sharing the taste of her own release. There was no thought of turning away, of rejecting the claim he clearly had on her body. The eroticism of it all only made her hungrier for more.

  “I want to taste you.” Rhonda surprised herself by uttering the longing out loud.

  “Later. I need you.”

  She felt the head of his cock against her pussy and wanted nothing more than to let him inside, bare, without reservations. But as reckless as he might make her, a warning went off deep on the recesses of her mind.

  “Condom,” she gasped, desperately trying not to push her hips upward to impale herself. God, she wanted to.

  Pasqual merely grunted, moving up to open the nightstand drawer. Of course he had condoms there. Her face flamed with the thought she might be one of many who had experienced this. And yet, it was not enough to make her get up and leave. She was under no misconceptions. There would only be this night. And damn it, she was going to enjoy it, then hold the night’s memories deep within her for as long as she could.

  Ripping the wrapper off with his teeth, Pasqual donned the protection with quick efficiency. Nope, definitely not his first time at the rodeo.

  “Don’t.” The warning stunned her, causing her eyes to whip toward his fierce gaze. “There is only you, us, right now. The condoms are there as a precaution. I don’t bring just any woman to my bed. I brought you, Rhonda.”

  Well, there wasn’t anything she could say to that, was there? Besides, he punctuated the statement by driving his dick inside her with a single, forceful thrust, then held still, looking down on her with a primal lust that sent her over the edge yet again. She screamed, her body shuddering all around his cock.

  “That’s it, baby. Come for me. Show me how good we are together.”

  Too good, bordering on painful. But Pasqual didn’t give her any time to think about it. As soon as the tremors of her orgasm started to wane, he thrust again, this time not stopping, but driving in a strong, steady rhythm. Rhonda arched her back and canted up, needing to receive all he had to give.

  “So good, sugar. I never want to stop,” Pas groaned as the tempo increased.

  Locking her legs around his hips, all she could do was hold on as he powered inside her. Every time he pushed himself to the hilt, their pelvises met, his pressing with agonizing accuracy against her clit. The added sensation was too much. She needed more, damn it, and he was going to give it to her. With force she didn’t know she had, she slammed up against him, demanding without words that he go faster. Shooting her a cocky grin, that was exactly what he did, riding her hard until she was screaming for mercy, in completion; she wasn’t really sure which.

  But she was sure when she felt his own release flood her sheath.

  Wait, he had a condom on, didn’t he? Surely she was mistaken. Because God forbid the damn thing broke. She wasn’t on any form of birth control; it cost too much and her insurance didn’t cover it.

  “Umm, Pas?” How did she ask if he’d come inside her? Was there some kind of etiquette? Did you politely exchange numbers and promise to call if anything should happen to...take root?

  “You’re not going anywhere, baby. We just got started.”

  She meant to bring it up anyway, she really did. but Pas took her mouth again in one of those kisses that stole her train of thought. Later, she promised herself as she let her body be swept away in the erotic storm that was Pasqual. I’ll ask him later...

  *****

  There was way too much light coming through his bedroom window. Pasqual would’ve closed the damn curtains, but his body refused to move. His mouth felt like a camel had died inside it and was now baking in the hot desert sun. And who the hell was inside his head kickboxing his poor brain matter? That third bottle of bourbon had not been such a wise idea. Rayce was a menace, leading him down the paths of sin and licentiousness. Never mind the drinking contest had been his idea. A truly loving cousin would have told him no, would’ve led him home so he could sleep it off.

  Cracking one eye, Pasqual saw he was indeed home. Okay fine, so Rayce had gotten one thin
g right. Looking down at himself, Pasqual groaned, shaking his head. He hadn’t been alone when he came home. There was no sign of a female now, but there had definitely been one here. There were one, two, three—five total used condoms on his bed, three of them broken.

  Please, God, let that have happened when I pulled them off. Given the evidence, there was a good chance that was not what happened.

  “You awake?”

  Craning his neck, Pasqual looked toward Rayce, who leaned against the bedroom door calmly eating a bowl of cereal. The fucker didn’t look the least bit hungover. Asshole.

  “Should I thank you for pouring me into bed last night? And do I even want to know who was keeping me company?” Rayce had a well known aversion to debutantes or any other woman the family would consider “suitable.” Given that Pasqual had followed blindly to all his cousin’s favorite hang outs, chances were pretty good whoever he had hooked up with was someone he might have raised a brow at sober. “And why the hell wouldn’t you stop me from bringing some...questionable company into my home?”

  He sincerely hoped Rayce had escorted his company home, out, just away.

  “You are an arrogant ass, you know that?”

  Hangover forgotten, Pasqual’s gaze snapped back to his cousin who was scowling at him. What the hell was that about?

  “Are you going to tell me I hooked up with a virgin?” Seriously, Rayce of all people going all prudish? “What bug crawled up your ass?”

  “Fuck you, Pasqual.” An angry tic pulsed in Rayce’s jaw, his hands tightening on the bowl. “I came in to tell you that you have about an hour to catch your flight to Quebec. Thereze will kick your ass up to Canada if you miss that flight.”

  Shit. He had forgotten he was flying to Quebec for a series of meetings aimed to bring LeBlanc Industries back into the the LeBlanc, Inc. fold. Now that all the branches of the Chevalier family had reconciled, this deal had been years in the making. All that was left was logistics. That was his department. As the head of the family businesses, Thereze had asked him personally to oversee the finalization. She would indeed kick his ass if he were late. The woman was positively terrifying.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m up.” Despite the aches and pains, Pasqual pulled himself out of bed. Good thing he was already packed. But...the broken condoms bothered him, as well as a few other signs he hadn’t been very careful last night. So not like him, no matter how drunk he got. That must’ve been one hell of a hot chick. Too bad he didn’t remember any of it. “Hey, do you know who I was with last night?” This was said in earnest. He needed to know if there would be any consequences. No matter what they were, he wanted to know.

  “Yeah, I do.” The dark quietness of Rayce’s reply took him aback. What the hell was up with that?

  “You’ll tell me if there is anything I need to worry about, right?”

  Rayce didn’t say anything for a few minutes. For a moment, Pasqual was convinced Rayce wouldn’t tell him a damn thing. Like his cousin was seriously pissed at him about something. But that didn’t make any sense. They were a very tight-knit clan. They all grew up together, more like brothers and sisters than cousins. Even the formidable Teres and Thereze.

  “I will tell you what you need to know, Pasqual. Let it go at that.”

  Pasqual didn’t press. That was exactly what Rayce would do. He was so damn much like his father, it was frightening at times. Uncle Rance was...well, you just didn’t fuck with him. Yeah, Rayce got his fun-loving side from Uncle Remy, but when push came to shove, Rayce Chevalier was every inch Rance Chevalier’s son.

  “Thanks. And thanks for last night.”

  Rayce stared at him for moment, then shook his head, his usual humor returning. “It was either take you to work off some steam, or poor Marie might have been a widow and my beloved Aunt Angelique would have been bereft. I could never allow Aunt Angelique to be bereft.”

  “Stop thinking about my mom, man. That is just sick.”

  Last night forgotten, Pasqual scurried to catch his plane. Things would be fine. He was sure of it. Rayce would have never let him get freaky with someone who was conniving or too questionable. Freaky? Yes. But not some money-grubbing gold digger and certainly not someone who might be carrying extra surprises with her. He put the whole thing out of his mind. All’s well that ends well, right?

  Chapter Three

  “I need you to do me a favor.”

  Rayce barged into Pasqual’s office unannounced and looking worried. Dread crept all over Pasqual. Rayce worried was not a good sign.

  “What did you do?”

  It was hard enough growing up Chevalier in New Orleans. The large clan set tongues wagging even if they were standing still. It was a bit unusual; the children of the four cousins who’d settled here—no wait, seven, three technically Chevalier-de Câpet—understood that. Most of them married interracially, which was unusual for the one of the richest founding members of the city. Teres and Thereze were the twins of a ménage à trois relationship, a fact they dared anyone to comment on while flaunting it in the face of society. Pasqual’s mother had been the daughter of the African-American mayor when she met and married his father, a member of a very conservative white family. Well, what society thought was a conservative white family.

  There were secrets layered in secrets within their family, but there was deep, abiding love and unquestioned loyalty too. Pasqual, along with each of his cousins had been taught early that family came first above all but the person you marry. No matter what one did, no matter what trials came, they stuck together, always, without limits or questions.

  Didn’t mean you couldn’t beat each other to a bloody pulp if the other deserved it, though.

  “This is going to come as a shock to you, but I am innocent this time.” But Rayce looked agitated. No, he looked deeply troubled. Pasqual was starting to get a very bad feeling.

  “So, what is it?”

  For a few minutes, Rayce didn’t say anything. He seemed to be weighing his words. That was so not like him. Generally the man had no filter.

  “Is it Sebastien or Ranier?” The twin boys were Rayce and Remy Jr.’s younger brothers. At twenty-four, they were often a little hard to keep in line. Being young meant you were naturally not too bright. Being young and rich meant trouble. While Pasqual’s younger brother Christian was kind of the quiet type, way more interested in archeological digs than partying, Sebastien and Ranier were very fond of causing mischief. The most ridiculous kind. Like trying to lasso gators to get them to pull skiffs in the bayou, or convincing co-eds at LSU to pass out samples of food from Uncle Remy’s restaurant to tourists during Mardi Gras...topless. Nothing horrible, just a bit of a headache.

  “No. It’s... I have a friend.”

  Not good. That meant it had to be Rayce. “And? What about your friend?”

  Sometimes it was rough being the oldest male of twenty-four cousins, all of whom were as distinct and individualistic as they were similar. It came with a certain responsibility for each of his younger cousins; whether they wanted to admit or not, or whether they wanted to accept it or not. Pasqual felt it was his duty to ensure the happiness and safety of all on some level. Though Teres and Thereze were unquestionably the head of their generation, he was sort of the family enforcer. There were things the parents didn’t need to know; that was when he stepped in. Usually it was at the direction of the older pair of twins, but he was always there to fix things. Rance Jr., Uncle Remy’s son and the one closest to Pasqual in age, could not be told some things. He was currently the mayor and had to remain as free from scandal as possible. Unfortunately, it wasn’t always possible with their clan.

  “Please don’t tell me I need to drag Rance the Second into this.” Pasqual sighed. R.J. was always willing to help a family member—he was way too nice like that—but he was coming up for re-election soon. Everyone was supposed to mind their p’s and q’s during election season. It was an unspoken rule.

  “The friend is a female, and she’s pregnant.�
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  Pasqual promptly shut his mouth. This was bad. This was really really bad. No matter what kind of hell they raised, no one had ever gotten anyone pregnant out of wedlock. Hell, Zelime had been married for four years and she had yet to have a kid. Teres and her husband had one after five years, Thereze and her wife had two after three. No one ever brought home a bastard. Not ever.

  “It isn’t my baby, Thierry—oh, I mean Pasqual.”

  He let the dig about being too much like his father go. This was too serious. “Fine, so how is it your problem? Unless, Chloe...?”

  “Hell, no, Chloe isn’t pregnant! My sister is a virgin!”

  Pasqual breathed a sigh of relief. No one but no one wanted to know what Uncle Rance would do if his only baby girl got knocked up. They had all seen the man punch a horse once when Aunt Jade twisted her ankle getting off it. At ten, it had been a hilarious sight. Aunt Jade hadn’t thought so, but it was something none of the kids had ever forgotten. After running off every boy who had looked twice at Chloe, with the aid of his four sons, Pasqual was pretty sure Rance might kill anyone who dared violate his little girl. Who was thirty-one, but whatever. Pasqual felt the same way about...

  Nope, still not going to think about that.

  “Your sister is not a virgin.” Pasqual sighed. Damn, but he was relieved. “So? Who is this friend who is pregnant, and what does it have to do with you?”

  “Do you remember Chloe’s friend Rhonda MacDaniels? The one that graduated with me, but was sorority sisters with Chloe?”