“But you were thinking about it.”
A sliver of guilt skated through her. “How did you know? Are you a mind reader?”
“Love, you’d be surprised what I’m capable of.”
Hah. A man of mystery. Belle slipped into a quiet mood for the rest of the drive, thinking about what Hervé had said. It just didn’t make sense. Why Hervé and Armand were fighting over her? It almost sounded like a bad joke. At least, her sisters would think so. Two extremely hot guys. Competing over her. Yeah, right. She decided that Hervé probably wanted to humour her after the botched dinner party. He knew how rattled she was from the whole ordeal. About her mother’s scheme and Trent.
After exiting the loop, they drove about an hour across the state line to Winnetka. Apparently, Hervé owned a house in one of the most prestigious neighbourhoods in the outskirts of Chicago. House was such an understatement. His place dwarfed her family mansion tenfold. Hervé’s guards greeted them by the front gate. She looked around with awe. Hervé’s mansion was exactly the place her mother and sisters had always wanted to live in.
For years, one of her mother’s chief complaints was that the family hadn’t been able to afford to live here because Arthur Beaumont had been too stupid managing his investments and selfishly died too soon, neglecting all of them. Of course, the blame would finally shift to Belle for being the bad omen in the family. Her father had committed suicide when she was only five years old. Sometimes, Belle wondered what she could possibly have done to drive her father to his untimely demise. She barely remembered her father, let alone being the sole cause of his death.
Belle clutched the hem of her dress as Hervé parked near the front steps of his mansion. She waited to see if the prospect of sleeping with Hervé would make her anxious like the night she’d agreed to spend with Armand. No. She didn’t feel nervous at all. Actually, she was looking forward to it.
God, what the hell is wrong with me? I’m acting like a nympho.
Hervé stopped the car and watched her for a few beats before he decided to wrap an arm around her shoulder and find her lips. Belle tensed, and then melted in his arms. The kiss was sweet, yet scorching at the same time. Pure heat surged through her. Her nipples hardened. Panties dampened.
He traced her lips with the tip of his tongue. Sparks of pleasure fluttered beneath her skin. A low growl escaped from his throat. Hervé held her face. Her heart skipped a beat when his tongue slipped into the cavern of her mouth. He claimed her with feral force. A shock of tremors swept through her. The kiss was so mind-muddying that when Hervé parted his lips, Belle lolled in his arms like a drunkard. Her pussy felt heavy and aching. Every fibre of her being screamed with manic need. Need to be touched. Need to be fucked.
Belle didn’t recall how exactly she got from the car and into the mansion. But she remembered each step she took seemed like an arduous effort. Hervé squeezed her hand as he led her to the second floor, and into what seemed to be his bedroom. He didn’t bother to close the door either. The moment they were inside, he pulled her into his arms and wedged her between the bed and his hard body. He kissed her again. Long. Deep. Greedy. His fingers threaded through her hair. He found the hair clips and plucked them off, letting her hair fall onto her shoulders. The kissing didn’t falter as he removed her clothing.
Belle shivered with heat. Hervé broke the kiss just as he was about to remove her panties. His eyes blazed with fire. She heard the fabric tear. Her panties. He’d yanked them off brutally.
“Hey,” she managed to protest. “They’re new.”
“I’ll buy you new ones. Hell, I’ll buy you the whole store.” Hervé slid his hands on her buttocks and lifted her onto the bed.
Belle couldn’t help grinning. “The whole store?”
“For you, love, anything.” Hervé mauled her lips.
She tumbled down the bed as he assaulted her with more mind-muddying kisses. His hands were all over her. Those large, masculine hands that were surprisingly rough considering who he was, caressed her naked, fevered skin. He nipped her jawline. The hollow of her throat. Engulfed her earlobe and sucked it until she felt dizzy from the sensation. Her pussy clenched and more sexual liquid seeped from her centre.
His hand tightened around her breast. Fingers found her nipple. Plucked it, pinched and rolled it. Belle heaved between the kisses. Shots of liquid fire lanced through her sex. Hervé licked her lips as his hand found the source of her ache. The touch was gentle, but the impact sent her body burning.
“Love, you’re wet already.” His voice was a mixture of amusement and pleasure.
Belle gasped when he parted her curls and slipped a finger between her slick folds. He caressed along the puffy lips. Tickled. Teased. She clutched the collar of his shirt when Hervé pushed his finger inside her.
She mewled as the rings of her muscles enclosed the intruding finger. Hervé stroked deeper until the pad of his palm mashed against her vulva.
“I want to see you come.” His voice became huskier than usual. More throaty. “I’ve wanted to have you like this since the first time I saw you.” He rubbed her slowly at first, then quicker as he found a rhythm. Her pussy made a slick, wet sound. He pecked a satisfactory kiss on her lips. “Oh, love, look at you. So wet, hot and tight. I can’t wait to fuck you. But I want to see you come first.”
Belle gulped a lungful of air. Hervé curved his finger upwards and it hit a special spot that sent her mind reeling. “Shit!” She tensed. He barely rubbed her a dozen strokes when a hot, knife-sharp orgasm tore through her. She threw her head back, calling his name. Her spine kinked. Toes curled from pleasure.
Her breath was ragged when she swam back into reality. Hervé was watching her the whole time, looking utterly pleased.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. “I love watching you come.”
His praise made her bubbly. Belle grabbed his hair and plastered a deep, starving kiss on his mouth. Hervé reciprocated, ambushing her with the same heat. “Take off my shirt,” he told her between the kisses.
Belle let go of his hair and worked on his buttons. Her fingers trembled as she undid the first button. The last wave of ecstasy had barely ebbed away, but the way Hervé kept stroking her pussy made new pleasure gather fast like an impending thunderstorm.
“Damn, love, you’re so fucking wet. I love it,” he cooed.
She pulled his shirt from his pants and ripped open the last button.
“My belt and my pants too.”