Knight and Stay (11 page)

The reception area appeared to be an extension of the lingerie boutique on the other side of the door. Sophie scanned the glass cabinets and shelves. They were lined with jewel-coloured objects that on closer inspection turned out to be an alluring assortment of beautifully displayed sex toys. She identified some of them: gobstopper-sized jiggle balls, tubs of freshly churned chocolate spread available in white, milk or dark, elegantly sculptural phalluses... it was an adults-only treasure trove that delighted Sophie's senses and calmed her tightly wound nerves. She paused to look more closely at an exquisite display of candy-coloured eggs piled high in filigree baskets. Lucien lifted a pale pink egg from the display and eyed it critically.

"Pretty," Sophie said, uncertain exactly what it was for.

Lucien caught the assistant's eye and handed over a couple of notes in return for the egg, then turned back to Sophie and presented it to her with a smile.

"Happy Easter."

"It isn't Easter." Sophie turned it over in her hands. "I'm guessing I shouldn't eat it?"

Lucien flicked his eyes to the ceiling and pocketed the egg, then pulled her by the hand towards a curtained archway.

A beautiful girl dressed in a minuscule red velvet dress stepped forward to draw the drape aside, all scarlet-painted lips and glossy black hair set in vintage waves.

"Have a good evening," she murmured in heavily accented English as she inclined her head for them to pass. Sophie couldn't miss the fact that the girl's eyes lingered on Lucien for a second longer than she judged professional, but then who knew what professional even meant in circumstances like these? Besides, who could blame her? Sophie was growing accustomed to the fact that Lucien drew female eyes wherever he went. It wasn't just his height, or his Viking beauty, or his broad shoulders. The man exuded lust from his very bones: he emitted sexual charisma on a frequency that no woman could be expected to ignore. The attendant's gaze settled on the hand Lucien placed casually on Sophie's backside, and then flicked up to give Sophie an unmistakable look of pure envy as they passed her.

Sophie appreciated Lucien's proprietary arm around her waist as they stepped down into the club. If the lingerie and toy store had seemed alluring, their effect was nothing compared with the thoroughly kitsch glamour of the club itself. Crystal chandeliers dripped from the midnight ceilings and the deep cerise studded velvet walls ensured that even wallflowers could lounge in comfort. And there
were
a few wallflowers, but these girls looked totally at ease in their silk and satin lingerie, champagne flutes adorning their manicured hands.

The whole place had the air of a lavish vintage theatre with its sweeping gilt staircases and intimate seating areas, the curved, padded love seats scattered with jewel bright silk cushions surrounding the dance floor. Fat, creamy candles flickered in wall sconces, casting sensual shadows around the room. It was a beautiful place inhabited by beautiful people. There were couples having late-night dinners in secluded booths, Sophie observed, with surprise. She absorbed it all, fascinated. It was impossible not to feel seduced, at ease, even: Lucien had ensured that she'd blend in perfectly with his choice of her attire.

"Well?" he asked as he led her towards the bar.

"I never knew places like this existed," Sophie breathed with a tiny shake of her head. "It's fabulous."

Lucien handed her a glass of champagne and lounged against a high stool.

"I'd call it stiff competition."

Sophie raised her eyebrows, unsure how to express that she felt more comfortable here than in the Knight Inc. club she’d visited in London. Was she being disloyal? "It's very different from the Gateway," she ventured.

"It's Paris, Sophie. People look for something different here."

"I like it."

Lucien lifted an eyebrow at her. "Says the girl who didn't even want to come in here ten minutes ago."

Sophie couldn't argue. "Having that boutique attached is a really clever idea. It must attract more women, don't you think?"

Lucien nodded. "This place is run by women,
for
women. Men are not the top priority."

Now that Lucien had said it, Sophie understood why she felt more at ease here. It exuded femininity, and had a sensual ambience rather than a sexual one.

"It's much more relaxed than I expected," Sophie acknowledged.

The champagne was chilled and delicious, and Lucien's fingers warmed hers when he took her hand and tugged her forwards.

"Then let's go and relax, shall we?"

Lucien headed for a tucked away love seat and pulled Sophie down into it next to him, nodding brief thanks to the black-clad waiter who delivered their ice bucket to the table a second or two later.

Sophie glanced around at their closest neighbours as Lucien topped up their glasses. A curvy brunette in stockings and suspenders had curled herself into her companion’s lap, her arms around his neck as she whispered in his ear. Sophie noticed how the man casually stroked her full, bra-clad breasts as he listened to her, his other hand massaging her thigh. The woman looked utterly relaxed, as if she were fully clothed rather than dressed in stunning black and ruby red underwear that wouldn't have looked out of place at The Crazy Horse. A further glance around showed that the other couples scattered around the room were equally at ease. Some kissed. Some touched a little. Some touched a lot. There seemed to be no rules, no constraints and no pressure. Unadulterated, unhurried pleasure in whatever form anyone chose.

A smoky-voiced redhead who'd have given Jessica Rabbit a run for her money was perched on the closed lid of a grand piano, her vocals providing a sultry accompaniment to the dinner suited pianist. Here and there on the dance floor, couples twined around each other as they danced sinuously.

Lucien's arm curved along the back of the seat, his fingers a warm, gentle pressure on Sophie's neck.

It had been a long, long time since Sophie had last danced with a man.

"Shall we?" she said, tilting her head towards the sprung wooden floor.

Lucien looked mildly startled. "Are you asking me to dance?"

Sophie's mouth curved into a smile at his reaction. "Yes."

He frowned, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the table, then stood and held out his hand formally.

"May I have this dance, Ms. Black?"

Chapter Sixteen

Lucien drew Sophie into his arms. He wasn't by nature a man for slow dancing. Although he’d never thought consciously about it, the passivity and languor didn’t appeal to him. He was a man of action. Where should he put his hands? He knew where he
wanted
to put them, and given their surroundings, he knew that it wouldn't be frowned on, but he had the distinct impression that Sophie herself might frown upon it.
So she wanted to slow-dance?
All right. He held her, one arm around her lace-clad waist, the other crooked between their torsos, laced with Sophie's slender fingers over his heart.

She looked up at him with the embers of her smile still on her lips, and traces of trouble in her smoky, made up eyes. She was one of the least provocatively dressed women in the club, yet in his eyes the sexiest by a mile. Her mussed-up blonde hair tumbled around her face and her dark eye make up gave her the air of a sixties waif.  He'd suggested the dress thinking that its coverage would offer her a little security in this unfamiliar environment, but he hadn't bargained on how it would look wrapped around her body. She was a wanton sex kitten in it, her lush, creamy curves barely contained by the black lace. Every slow undulation of her body against his had him closer to losing control.

"I haven't danced like this with anyone in a long time," she murmured when he rested his forehead against hers.

"Not even your prick of a husband?" Lucien matched her murmur for volume, but there was no disguising the contempt in his voice. He appreciated the fact that Sophie didn't choose to correct his description.

"Only on our wedding day."

He held her a fraction tighter. He hadn't danced with a woman in over ten years either, but then he hadn't duped anyone with false promises of romance. And in truth... it felt pretty good when Sophie closed her eyes and laid her cheek against his chest. Her arm circled his shoulder, her fingertips tangling in the hair at his nape.

The clean, apple scent of her shampoo drifted around him as he let his mouth skim the top of her head, and her mouth brushed his throat as she sighed.

It was the sigh that did it. She sounded like sex, and she felt like sex, and they were in a sex club.

He'd resolved not to push her, but it sounded like the sigh of someone who wanted to be pushed, maybe just a little. So he let his hand skim down over her lace-clad bottom, intensely aware that she was naked beneath the dress.

She sighed again, and her fingers toyed with the buttons of his shirt.

He laid his hand flat in the space below her throat, above her breasts, keeping his caress just in the realm of decency.

He wanted her to lay her hands on his aching cock.

Sophie's warm fingers stroked down his back, moulding him against her until there was no air between them, and Lucien let his hand move down between their bodies to her breasts. Beyond the realm of decency.

Her nipple ripened beneath his thumb, and her fingers slipped back into his hair as she opened her eyes and tipped her head up.

She was turned on. She told him so with her darkened, heavy gaze, and with the infinitesimal arch of her body as he stroked her breasts.

"I think I love this place," she whispered dreamily.

"And I love what this place does to you," he countered against her lips.

"You used the L word again."

"I did. I also
love
that you're naked underneath this dress." He rocked his hips into her, his erection hard against her abdomen.

The tip of Sophie's tongue snaked over his lips, and he accepted her invitation willingly. The slow, late night music washed around them, a steady beat to move to, to kiss to. Her mouth was warm and open for him, and her arms tightened around him as he massaged her bottom. Christ, she felt amazing. He wanted to ruck her skirt up and fill his hands with her bare skin.

She breathed his name when he squeezed her nipple and didn't stop him when he eased the cup of her dress down just enough to give him access to stroke it without exposing her to the other dancers. She bit down on his lip and groaned.

"Oh god, Lucien."

"Shh." He held her close and kissed her ear. "I still love your tits."

"That's two days on the run," Sophie said, a little unevenly. She was finding it hard to concentrate on speech. "You're in danger of creating a habit."

"And you're in danger of being screwed right here on this dance floor."

He felt her lips form a smile against his mouth.

"Then I guess we’d better sit down."

Sophie sat back down on the love seat and scooted sideways to face Lucien, one leg crooked beneath her. She'd never felt such a heady sensation of sexual exhilaration.

Back in the London Gateway Club she'd been turned on, but guilt had clouded her emotions. Here, in this feline, sophisticated boudoir, she felt liberated, and sexy, and thoroughly adult.

She knew her parted legs were an invitation.

Lucien's eyes dropped to her crotch with the merest lift of an eyebrow, and as he angled his body towards hers, the contours of the seat curved about them, so they were close together both by choice and by necessity. Lucien dropped his hand to rest on Sophie's thigh. She glanced over his shoulder and saw that the couple that'd previously been idly playing were now engaged in full blown sex, the brunette splayed on the chair, the muscles of her partners back gleaming as he knelt before her and pumped his hips.

Brazen with lust, Sophie leaned in and brushed her mouth over Lucien's, opening her legs a little more at the same time. He read her blatant cues perfectly, stroking her inner thighs beneath her dress, his fingers a whisper away from her core.

"How far are you willing to go, princess?" he murmured against her hair, then dragged one slow finger up the entire length of her sex.

Sophie shuddered with pleasure and turned her face to claim his mouth again.

"Further?" he said, trailing back down again. Barely able to breathe with anticipation, Sophie wound her arms around his neck, her fingers massaging his skull, her tongue moving over his.

"More," she breathed.

"I like assertive Sophie." Lucien parted her with his fingers. "Jesus. You feel fucking amazing," he whispered as he let his fingers glide over her opening. "More?"

"Much more."

Lucien's low groan of appreciation rumbled into her mouth as he pushed two fingers deep inside her.

"This much?"

Sophie nodded, rocking on his hand and still desperate for him to go further.

"Feeling brave, princess?" Lucien dropped his other hand between her legs too and in one swift, decisive movement, pushed the lace dress up out of the way.

Up to that point, Sophie had been able to convince herself that their actions were clandestine. Not any more. Lucien had now deliberately exposed their intimacy to anyone who cared to look. Sophie glanced down at his hands between her legs and found that instead of the thought turning her off, it turned her on. Wildly so.

His index finger drew circles on her clitoris.

"You are so much sexier than you know," he said, biting the pad of her thumb when it skimmed his lips. "You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you right now."

He'd voiced her thoughts. His fingers were magic, but she wanted his cock.

"So fuck me."

The words were out of her head and in the air, and his entire body stilled for a moment, apart from the motion of his thumb on her clitoris.

"Sophie..." He seemed hesitant, unable to believe what she’d just said, so she reached down and flicked his trousers open as affirmation. His cock sprang out of its confines, eager and engorged, and Sophie couldn't help but curl her fingers around it.