Florist Isabella Beaumont, through no fault of her own, is about to lose her business. She might as well lose her soul. With no other options she turns to Lyon Sauvage, a man she dismissed from her life five years earlier. But is she willing to pay the unexpected price of ultimate submission?
Enigmatic millionaire Lyon Sauvage lost Isabella once. He has no intention of opening his heart and suffering that mistake again. When she appears on his doorstep desperate for help, Lyon presents her with a proposition she has no choice but to accept. But will his revenge get her out of his system? Or condemn him to greater heartbreak?
He danced her over to the corner of the banquet hall and opened the double terrace doors, which led to a marble balcony. He led her to a far corner of the long terrace that was shrouded in darkness from the cloudy night. A strong breeze on the air hinted of a storm.
Yes, Isabella thought, feeling his hand on her bare lower back, a tempest called Lyon Sauvage.
He stood behind her, so close their bodies pressed together, and removed the ornate comb from her hair. Grabbing the thick plaits, he pulled her toward him. "You smell like sex and your dress is driving me mad. Have you ever made love in a public place?" he rasped. "Have you ever ached to be touched so close to people unaware you were on fire, so hot, you burned to be fulfilled, to be fucked? Does the fact you're not wearing underwear excite you?"
She shook her head then gasped softly as he began to lift her dress from the front, sliding his warm palm over her thigh. He traced a lone finger along the crease of her pussy, and Isabella opened for him. Frozen by his touch, she felt something in his hand, round, smooth, and cool, and larger than a marble, pressing against her.
"Just relax." He licked her lobe, one arm around her waist, the other holding the cylindrical ball. "Open your legs."
She tilted her head back to his shoulder, heart pounding wildly. Her nipples ached and throbbed so deeply, a simple touch from him would push her over the edge.
Any minute someone could walk out on the terrace and discover them, but strangely, she didn't care. Nothing could have stopped her from refusing him. She loved the sound of his damaged voice as he slid the ball into her pussy.
"They are called Ben-Wa balls and are meant for pleasure. Now tighten up your sweet walls so they won't fall out. The tighter you clench, the stronger the pleasure when you move, I promise."
He was right. Waves of hot sensation filled her as he slid a second cool cylinder inside her. My God, they were in a public place, a roomful of people just yards away. She tensed her inner core to hold the spheres in place. Her pussy quaked with arousal with every move and a strange pleasure saturated and swelled her vaginal walls with fire.