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?
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~*~*~*~*~*~*~
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.
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