Devotion - Billionaire Contemporary Romance Novel (15 page)

Everything forbidden between us during the day shall be unleashed in the secrecy of the night.

She touched the strong, scrolling inscription with her fingertips as her eyes absorbed the significance of the object beside it—a black Venetian mask, its elegant plume arching upwards like a crown and its rhinestone trim glinting in the chandelier light.  She lifted the mask into her hands and slipped it over her face, disguising her inner most fears with the mystique of a temptress.  A flushing tingle of passion burned between her legs, igniting her deepest desires.  She knew what he wanted because it was what she wanted for herself—to unleash the burden of every repressed emotion and physical inhibition and allow herself the permission to become his unbridled fantasy.

The roaring engines of the yacht suddenly stopped; the vessel glided across the surface of the lake before slowing with the rolling pace of the waves.  Isabel crossed to the porthole where she gazed out into the black waters.  There was no moon, no lights from the shore, nothing except the privacy of her isolation.  Slowly, the chandelier dimmed to darkness, casting everything into shadows.  Overwhelmed with anticipation, she held her breath and paused, listening to the lapping waters and the oppressive sound of solitude.  A soft vibration buzzed inside her stateroom as the sleek wooden-paneled wall disengaged and slid open like an invitation.  Isabel peered into the dark companionway, studying the half-flight of fiberglass stairs, flanked by mirrors, reflecting the vision and masquerade of herself as she ascended to the upper interior deck.

Was that the whispering rush of her palpitating heart, or the sound of waves licking the sleek ebony surface of the ship’s hull
?  Enveloped by darkness, she pushed up the narrow passageway’s final step and arrived into the master suite, seamlessly sculpted in the shape of the yacht’s aerodynamic bow. 

The rolling waves churned like a murmur, summoning her towards the French double doors of the private veranda. Her high heels tapped along the dark fiberglass floors past the Empress platform bed, wrapped in navy satin sheets.  Passing out onto the balcony, Isabel took hold of the stainless steel railing, overlooking the celestial sky and starry waters of Lake Michigan; she sighed, indulging in how the moisture within the midnight air glazed her cheeks and bare shoulders.  Then, like a premonition, she sensed his commanding presence behind her.  Slowly, his strong forearms wrapped around her waist like an anchor, mooring her into his assertive embrace.

With authoritative control, his fingers secured her chin and lifted it upwards like a cherished possession, as if he was admiring her masked profile in the shadows. 

“My muse,” he whispered, his hot breath exhaling into her ear as his hands constricted around her cinched corset. 

She attempted to confirm the cadence of his voice, but quickly abandoned the effort.  Tonight wasn’t about revealing their true identities.  It was about exploring their deepest, darkest desires, shrouded in the fantasy of the night.

“You punish me for it,” she whispered back, closing her eyes and taking in the warmth of his chest against her shoulder blades.  He was naked.  She could feel the stark exposure of his bare skin against her body.

“Not as much as you punish me.”  His nose passed over the nape of her neck, taking in her scent.

She felt him shift his pelvis against the tulle train of her gown.  He was hard and erect, ready to dominate her with the strength of his masculinity.  She sighed and gripped the railing, expecting him to mercilessly overpower her.  But he was making her wait for it.  He wanted to make sure she was ready in every way. 

“Close your eyes,” he commanded. 

She obeyed, relinquishing herself to the euphoric sensuality of the night. 

He braced her like a submissive doll, drawing back her head by her hair, signaling his expectation for her full consent.  His smooth cheek grazed against her mask as he lowered his lips to her throat and kissed it with tenderness. 

Yes
…she sighed, savoring the sensation of his wet mouth running down her collarbone as he secured her torso against his firm pecs and groped her cleavage with savage desire.  He stripped down the ruffled cups of her corset, exposing her bare breasts to the chilling air.  Her tits tingled as his hands slipped under her gown and followed the inner contours of her thighs until they reached her bare crotch.  He tested her wetness, proving she had no choice—she could not defy him or deny herself.

“You inspire every forbidden desire within me,” he betrayed in his low hush.  “I can no longer endure it.”

Pressing the full weight of his chest against her shoulder blades, he restrained her again.  She gripped the railing and submitted to his domination, allowing his determined hands to peel back the sheer netting of her gown and expose her backside to his view.  She sensed he was admiring the vision of her—masked and forbidden and fully surrendering herself to his command.  She sighed deeply, absorbing the firmness of his hand, traveling along the curve of her backside.  He massaged her cheeks in circles, loosening her defenses while exhaling his longing into her ear.  His sharp chin pinned itself into her shoulder, his mouth sucked her neck with indulgence.  He passed his fingers in front of her body and cupped her pubic bone, glazing his fingertips with her wetness.  She was gushing now.  Slowly, he parted her slit and stroked her into submission, coaxing her stance wider and wider with her every moan.  She clung to the railing, pushing herself deeper against his touch. 

Yes…
she exhaled, granting him permission to explore her and granting herself permission to enjoy it.  She relaxed her weight into his embrace, his probing fingers diminishing all her defenses.  She wanted him inside her—wanted him to ravish and conquer her with the full force of his masculinity because he had succeeded in making her believe that she was the only one who could satisfy him.

Then, she felt his hot cock replace his fingers.  She arched into it, accepting the firm pressure of its tip.  He cupped her breasts, steadying her body against his chest while testing her tautness.

“Tell me you want this,” he hushed past her mask into her ear.

“Yes.”  She nodded, anticipating his initial breach.

“My naughty vixen.”  He exhaled his desire through his nostrils, subduing his own instinct to dominate her without restraint.

She sighed, gazing upwards, seeking out the dark contours of their silhouettes in the reflective glass of the suite’s ceiling panels before he whisked her into his arms.  Carrying her to the Empress platform bed, he spreading her, face-down, across its satin navy sheets.  She gasped with the sudden jolt of his hands, violently ripping apart the tulle netting of her gown, exposing the supple curves of her backside to his full view.  She clenched the sheets, feeling the stain of her arousal christening them as his hot breath dropped behind her, his tongue seeking out her slit. 

“I love tasting you,” he confessed. 

She muted her protest against the mattress, his teasing licks traced the contours of her backside before bringing her to the brink of an unbearable groan. 
Forbidden
.  She shut her eyes, accepting her role as his submissive, allowing him to draw her up onto her hands and knees, granting him full access to her.  She arched her back, savoring the taboo satisfaction of being fully penetrated by his invading tongue.  
Yes, yes, yes
, she was his dirty mistress. 
Such his dirty mistress
, she sighed, allowing herself to be lapped so submissively. 
Would she ever be able to face him—and his true identity—in the daylight
?  She didn’t know and she didn’t care.  She only wanted to endure the quivers of excitement rising up through her pelvis every time his nipped her clit and flicked his tongue deeper and deeper inside her slit.  Within the security of the darkness, his anonymity made her feel another woman—a sexual goddess—willing to relinquish herself completely to him.

Slowly, he withdrew his tongue and shifted behind her, slipping the hot tip of his cock against her slickness, hinting at his invasion.  He coaxed her stance wider and braced her hips with his strong grasp, pinning his pelvis against her flesh, preparing to seduce her in the most sacred of ways.  She heaved, signaling her desire for him to breach the glistening spot that they both knew he wanted most. 

There, yes…

She gasped, like she was surfacing for air, as he pushed the full length of his cock past the initial friction of her slit. He filled her completely, the strength of his erection kindling a throbbing ripple of relief.  He ran his palms around her cinched corset, gauging the respirations of her breath before slowly withdrawing himself and searching out her consent for his second thrust. 

Deeper
, she sighed, aching with satisfaction; she wanted nothing more than to feel him inside her, accelerating his pace from behind her.  But he was making her wait for it. 
Beg for it
.  His fingers slipped in front of her body, teasing her clit with precision, building her up with ebbing waves of stimulation, reminding her of the sexual gratification he had delivered to her the night before.  She lowered her head against the mattress and gushed for him. 
Wetter and wetter
.  He stroked her ass and fondled her slit like he was her master. 
Yes, yes, yes,
she chanted, petitioning him to overtake her—ride her harder, rougher, deeper. 
Yes, yes, yes, she repeated.  His dirty naughty vixen
.

Slowly, confidently, he pulled her back onto her knees, cupped her exposed breasts, and drove the firmness of his cock into her, challenging the limits of intimacy they both had imposed on themselves. She opened her mouth, shuddering with the vibrations humming within her, mimicking the rhythm of his accelerating penetrations. 

God, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop
…Her private petitions for more echoed through her mind before escaping her lips like guilty sins. 

“Say you will accept me—fully.”

Yeesss
, she sighed as his thrusts raided her every inhibition, heightening her gushing desire to be conquered and punished like his divine whore. 
His muse, his temptress, his enchantress, his mistress
—she had fantasized about being all of them, and now, he had offered her the opportunity to become them in the security of their shrouded charade. 

She heard him groan from behind her, a warning that he could no longer withhold his own need to come.  He grasped her shoulders and shifted into his final acceleration.  She arched her tailbone, absorbing the domineering strength of his pelvis against her backside, forcing her to accept his unyielding rhythm.  She fondled her own clit, searching out relief from the seizures of ecstasy he was building up within her, before drawing back her head with a heave—on the brink of her climax—as he surged with his final thrust.  His flowing warmth coursed through her, initiating her simultaneous release with a flush of rushing heat that radiated a rippling wave of satisfaction throughout her body that only he had the power to unleash within her.

When it was all over, they fell into the dark flowing sheets, drowning in their own panting breaths. 
One forbidden night
.  She felt his hands unclasping the loops of her corset, fully liberating her body and breath.  She curled her knees against her own chest as he removed her mask and spooned her with his protective embrace, confirming his devotion behind their mutual masquerade.  It was no longer a question of whether or not they had both yearned to break free from their sexual repression.  It was only a question of how they would face its consequences within the raw candor of the morning light.

* * * *

Isabel opened her eyes to the sound of roaring engines.

She sat straight up in the bed before fumbling out of it, half entangled in the sheets, as the yacht moored against the harbor’s buffering tires with repetitive thumps. 

What time was it? 
She glanced out of the veranda’s double doors at the timid sun, rising across the endless horizon of Lake Michigan. 

Oh thank
God
—
dawn
. 

Quickly, she gathered up her clothes—T-shirt, yoga pants, tennis shoes—arranged with care at the foot of the bed—and dressed herself with haste, barely considering how they got there.  She could only focus on how the vessel’s revving engine steered its hull against the waves and how its undulating rhythm mirrored the lingering sensations of what had transpired last night.  She surveyed her surroundings, realizing how ordinary everything appeared to her now—the tousled bed sheets, the dull black floors, the muted ceiling mirrors reflecting the suite’s emptiness.  The only proof of his domination—and her submission—was her own surreal memories of their lustful night.

Then, she spotted it on the corner of the nightstand—a red leatherette jewelry box.  Beneath it was the familiar white calling card.  She retrieved it and read its bold inscription:

Beneath the fantasy of last night lies my fidelity to you.

Her pulse quickened as she peered at the jewelry box, attempting not to allow herself to hope for something grander than what she had already received—a gorgeous necklace, beautiful studded earrings…
what more could he bestow upon her now
?  She unfastened the red button clip and peeled back its double doors.  Then, she heard a gasp.  It ricocheted through her mind before escaping from her lips.
 
She gazed upon the awe-inspiring ring, its two-carat sapphire centerpiece glinting like a mythical nautical treasure.  Her fingertip swiped over its diamond-studded platinum setting, taking in its full beauty and significance.  Isabel never wore rings; they had always been too restrictive and distracting on her hands.  But now, she peered down at the ring and savored its sleek sensation of luxury on her finger, wondering if perhaps she had adopted a physical aversion to rings to reinforce her own private belief that she would never find love—and certainly never
fall
in love—ever again.