Wedding Favors (4 page)

“Take off your clothes,” she urged him between kisses, and reached for his lapels.

He let her slide off his jacket. She went for his shirt buttons, and he allowed her to pop them open one by one. The brush of her hands on his bare skin sent gooseflesh shimmering down his chest. She started to push the shirt from his shoulders.

“Non,”
he said and set her down, stepping away from her.

“What’s wrong?” She pressed her body back against the wall, palms flat, looking so incredibly sexy and disheveled—and uncertain—that he nearly weakened.

“Nothing’s wrong. But
I’m
in charge. You do as
I
say, not the other way around.”

“Oh,” she said, her expression going even more unsure. “Sorry. I’m, um—”

“A strong woman,” he completed for her. “Used to giving orders, not taking them.”

She blinked. “Two out of three, anyway,” she murmured with a smile.

He smiled back. He liked a strong woman. It made her submission so much sweeter. And she wanted to submit to him. He’d seen it in her eyes as she’d watched the woman on the balcony being disciplined by her lover. That was the scenario that had most captured her attention ... and heated her passion. “Fight me if you like,” he told her. “I enjoy a bit of rough when the woman’s into it.”

“That’s okay,” she said, uncomfortable at his invitation to be taken by force. “I’m here because I want to be with you.”

“Bon,
” he said, turned, and walked over to the bed. “I understand. Then let’s begin, shall we?”

Once
again, Tessa felt the blood rush to her face. She didn’t know whether to be excited beyond belief or terrified at what was about to happen.

“Haven’t we started already?” she asked Shay, her heart pounding like a bass drum. She couldn’t exactly remember agreeing to this, but here she was, so she must have.

“Hardly,” he said and plucked a bottle of champagne from a stand by the bed. He turned and regarded her as he expertly worked the cork out, the bottle dripping melted ice onto the deep Oriental carpet. “Walk over to the French doors,” he said, and poured one glass of the amber liquid—just one she noted—before slipping off his shoes and climbing onto the high four-poster bed. He settled against the headboard and gazed at her expectantly.

Her legs felt wobbly, leaden, as if any second now she would slide down the wall supporting her, unable to walk.

“Why?” she asked. The curtains at the French doors that led to a narrow wrought-iron faux balcony were wide-open. She thought about the couples she’d seen earlier, making love in full view of the courtyard below. “Surely, you don’t mean to ...”
Oh,
God.

He took a sip of his champagne, leaning back among the pillows like a dissolute sultan surveying a new harem girl. “I haven’t decided yet. Would it bother you?”

“Yes!” Her heartbeat took off at a gallop. Her gaze cut to the balcony. She couldn’t even imagine being so exposed. It would be ...
God help her
. She swallowed and looked back at him. She didn’t say a word, but he must have read something dark and forbidden in her eyes.

“Shall we try it and see?” His voice was smooth as molasses, and tempting as the Devil’s.

“Let’s not,” she said. But it didn’t sound convincing, even to herself.

“Don’t forget, you still have your mask on. No one will know it’s you.”

Again, the balcony drew her gaze. The idea was outrageously wicked ... and sinfully arousing.

“I want you to walk over and open the doors,” he commanded. When she didn’t move, he said, “Do it, Tessa.”

She took a deep breath. There was no reason to panic. He was right. No one here could recognize her. Except Laura, and her friend already knew her deepest, darkest secret fantasies. Besides, it wasn’t as if she was nude or anything. She was still wearing her bra and panties. She pushed off the wall, padded to the French doors, and with trembling hands, opened them wide.

“Turn around and face me.” She did. “Now take off the rest of your things. I want to see you naked.”

“I can’t,” she protested, mortified that she’d gotten herself into this position.

“You can,” he assured, watching her hungrily. “Don’t be shy,
cher.
Live your fantasy. I know you want to.”

Illicit excitement purled through her. She felt wicked. And unbearably aroused. Okay, she
did
want to.

Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely get the clasp of her bra undone. The panties were easier. She realized they were wet. So was she. Heat streaked through her.

He smiled and set down his glass. He came to her. Pulled her close and held her tight. His hands slowly glided over her nude body. He still wore his trousers and unbuttoned shirt, and it felt unimaginably erotic to be naked in his arms like that. She wanted to kiss him, but he wouldn’t let her. He just held her and caressed her, his hot breath stirring her hair.

Without warning, he turned her in his arms, so her front was facing the courtyard. She gasped. Several people below looked up at the sound to watch them. His hands enveloped her breasts, gathering her nipples between his strong fingers. He pinched them. An electric jolt of desire stabbed through her. She writhed in his embrace, pressing herself back into him, wanting more of the same.

“Do you want me?” he murmured in her ear, as though reading her mind. Or maybe her body.

“Yes,” she said. “Please, yes.”

To her shock, she felt him reach for his belt buckle and lower his zipper right there. His knees bent, there was a rustle, and seconds later he thrust into her from behind. She was wet and swollen, and his cock went in deep and sure.

She swallowed a cry and struggled to get free.
She couldn’t do this in front of other people!
But he held her fast with both arms banded around her middle, not allowing her to move more than a few inches in any direction. She grabbed the top of the wrought-iron balcony. The metal was smooth and cool.

“Shhh,” he soothed. “Hold still.”

She sucked in a breath. “You can’t—”

“I’ll decide how far to go. Just be still, for God’s sake. I want to make this good for you.”

Amazingly, she believed him. Trembling with trepidation, she did as he asked. He was holding her firmly, her legs spread wide, her backside pressed hard up against him. His cock was thick and huge inside her, and she could feel its solid girth throbbing to the beat of their thundering hearts.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No!” She was on the verge of ... of ... Oh, God, she didn’t know what.

“Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Afraid.”

“Why?”

“This is dangerous,” she said, her voice filled with incipient panic.

“It is,” he said. “On so many levels. Possibly the most dangerous moment of your entire life.
Non?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Enjoy it,” he whispered into her ear. “Life is so dull. So few opportunities to feel truly alive, terrified to lose the comfortable existence you’ve always known, as you are feeling now.”

His words struck an unwilling chord deep within her.
How did he know?

“Look,” he urged. “Look down at the people watching you, and know they are envious of your daring.”

She let out a shuddering breath. Daring?
Her?
“I’m anything but,” she murmured.

“You’re wrong,” he said. His hand rubbed down the front of her body and slid between her legs. She tensed. “Watch them,” he ordered, and his fingers probed her folds, seeking the aching center of her need.

At his touch, her body arched and she let out a soft cry. The desperate sound drew even more gazes. One strong finger stroked over her clit. She saw stars. His cock pushed in deeper still. His finger circled. She squeezed her eyes shut in an agony of arousal. “Oh, God, Shay,” she moaned.

“Shall I stop?” he asked, torturing her. The man was a demon. He knew damn well she didn’t want to stop. All along he had known her better than she knew herself, as though he had secret insight into her soul. That for her, doing this was exciting beyond anything she’d ever experienced before or was likely to in the future. And she loved it.

“No. Don’t stop,” she begged, giving in.
She was so close.

He pulled out a little, then rammed back into her. His finger pressed harder, circled her clit faster. She felt herself coming fast and gulped down a breath. Just as she was about to climax, he reached up and clamped his other hand over her mouth. “Scream for me,” he told her.

Her orgasm crashed over her in a drowning wave of intense pleasure. It robbed her of air and sent her whole body into spasm after spasm of earth-shattering sensation.

She screamed, the sound muffled by the flat of his hand.

And in a sudden flash of total, blissful despair, she knew in her heart that tonight she would do anything this man asked of her. Anything and everything he wanted, without reservation.

And
that
was the most dangerous thing of all.

The
woman was a feast for the senses, a banquet of pleasure for Shay’s hungry soul. He made love to Tessa all night, until the rosy fingers of dawn reached into the courtyard, turning the
maison
chamber’s white diaphanous curtains a pale shade of pink.

She’d started the evening as a beguiling mix of bashful innocence and willing openness. By dawn she had thrown herself fully into the fantasy of being his
objet de plaisir.
He’d even coaxed off her mask.

“Let me see you,” he’d murmured as she rode his lap, their arms wrapped around each other, sitting up on the four-poster bed. “I want to know the face of the woman I’m fucking.”

She’d hesitated only a heartbeat, then flung the mask aside. Her cheeks were flushed with the glow of multiple climaxes, her skin dewy from long hours of bed play. Her face was framed by auburn hair in glorious dishevelment, mussed by his own fingers in her slow indoctrination as his personal odalisque. “I guess it’s only fair,” she returned breathily, “since I can see you.”

He’d held her still and studied her until she blushed and pressed her face into the crook of his neck. “Why do you look at me like that?” she whispered.

He kissed her temple. “Like what?”

“Like ... like you’re searching for something in my face.”

“Maybe I am,” he confessed.

She lifted her head. “What?”

Should he tell her? Ask her if she remembered that long-ago day they’d met?

What the hell. The incident had been haunting him for years. He’d seduced her tonight specifically to purge himself of the absurdly disproportionate lingering effects of that chance meeting with a girl young enough to raise the hairs even on the neck of a sixteen-year-old bad boy.

“You were at the fountain earlier tonight,” he said. “The
Jaillissement
de
Plaisir.”

Her lips parted, startled. “How do you know that?”

“I was watching you.”

A shadow of wariness flitted through her sex-smudged eyes. “From where? Why?”

“From a balcony.” He wasn’t about to tell her that it was the private balcony of his own suite of rooms upstairs. She didn’t know his last name nor the fact that he was the owner of the
maison
Chez Duchesne and heir to the family fortune. He liked the fact that she was ignorant of his wealth and his reputation. It made her honest, a rare commodity in his experience with women. He winked. “I heard four beautiful women laughing in the abandoned courtyard. Who could resist a peek? By the time I looked, the others had left. Then I saw it was you ...” He let his words trail off, coaxing an acknowledgment, a sign that she shared his powerful memory.

Her brows drew together. “What do you mean, it was me?”

“You’ve been there before, at the
Jaillissement, non?”
he prodded.