Maison Plaisir Page 10

  But Armand beat her first. He wiped his mouth with the napkin. “I know this isn’t an appropriate time to discuss it, but I can’t wait any longer.”

  Oh no. Belle fought an urge to groan. Why can’t we discuss this next week? Next month? Next year? I’m happy with the way we are right now.

  “Me too,” added Hervé. His face was as stern as his voice.

  Belle took a deep breath. “About?”

  “About you.” Armand watched her, fingers tapping on the surface of the table. “I want you to decide which one of us you’ll take as your husband.”

  Belle gripped the edge of her chair. What they demanded was a pretty tall order. She liked them both. Loved them both. And to choose one of them would be impossible. Silence blanketed them until she finally worked up the courage to speak her mind. “I can’t…”

  Armand’s lips thinned into a grim line. He traded gazes with Hervé before he returned his attention to her. “Do you need more time?”

  She wanted to, but it wouldn’t matter anyway. She knew in the end she wouldn’t be able to choose. She shook her head. “No. I’m sorry.”

  “So, this is it?” Hervé sounded outraged. “No, I can’t accept this.”

  “None of this would have happened if you’d just backed off,” Armand snapped at his cousin.

  “Back off? I let you win, once. Now it’s my turn!”

  Belle jumped from her seat. “Would you two cut it out?”

  That got their attention. Armand and Hervé stopped arguing.

  “This is why I don’t want to choose either of you. I couldn’t stand seeing you fighting. If I chose one of you, are you two still going to talk to one another? Are you going to continue fighting forever? You’re family. Nothing should come between the two of you. Not even me.”

  Hervé was taken aback. “Belle…”

  “I’ve made up my mind. Please honour it. It would be better for all of us if we just go our separate ways.”

  Armand clenched his fist. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Well, too bad! The world doesn’t revolve around you two, you know? You…” She pointed at Armand. “Sometimes women get tired of your macho shit attitude, and you…” She turned to Hervé. “Just because you’re handsome, don’t get your head stuck in the clouds and assume all women will fall for you. I’ve had just about enough of you two bickering. Goodbye.” She felt both men’s gazes burn her back as she made her way to her room. She planned to go back to her own apartment tonight and put this whole thing behind her.

  It’s for the best.

  Belle tried to focus her mind on her work, but she just couldn’t. A week had passed and not a day went by where she hadn’t regretted what she’d said to Armand and Hervé. She wondered if she’d been too harsh on them. Neither Armand nor Hervé had tried to contact her after she left Hervé’s mansion that night. Were they mad? Should she apologise? At the time, she thought it was the best way to keep them from jumping at each other’s throats. But now, she rued what she’d done. She missed them. Something was missing for not having them around. If they could stay friends, she wouldn’t feel this miserable. At least she would see them from time to time.

  She furiously scribbled on her Wacom pad, erasing the vector figures she’d just drawn on the InDesign. Her supervisor had given her an assignment to design a client’s website and she was supposed to create a whimsical commerce layout for a children’s clothing boutique. But since she couldn’t concentrate, her sketch looked more like a pre-schooler’s doodles.

  Frustrated, Belle deleted her current digital sketch and started with a blank workspace. She stared at her computer screen for five minutes, waiting for inspiration to kick in. Her mind remained blank. She caught sight of her phone and a terrible urge to call Hervé or Armand pestered her relentlessly.

  “Belle.”

  She jumped. Her friend Lisa poked her head around the cubicle partition. “You startled me.”

  Lisa cringed. “You okay? You’re spacing out.”

  “I’m fine. You want something?”

  Lisa handed her a folder containing the tear sheets of the project Belle had just recently handed over to her boss.

  “Something wrong with it?” Belle asked.

  “Hell yeah.” Lisa rolled her eyes. “Marcus said this is the second time this week you did a sloppy airbrush work on the models’ shoots. He wants to see you now in his office.”

  “Oh crap.”

  “You okay, Belle? I’m worried about you. Lately you seem different.”

  Belle waved her hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Just tired and all.”

  “Uh huh.” Lisa didn’t seem to buy her excuses. “Well. You don’t want to keep Marcus waiting, do you?”

  Belle sighed. “I guess.” She rose from her seat half-heartedly. “I’ll go see him now.”

  “Don’t forget I need those shoots fixed before the end of the day. We’re running on a tight schedule since the ad is going to be live next week.”

  “I’ll get it done. Don’t worry.”

  “Thanks, doll.”

  Belle dragged herself out of her cubicle and padded to the second floor to Marcus’ office. Her supervisor rarely called her in person regarding the quality of her work unless she did a very poor job. This past week had been hard on her. Usually, Armand and Hervé would help her get through the day, especially when she had to deal with Maggie’s crap and the twins, and the whole business with the police and the lawyers. With them not around, Belle felt lost.

  She stopped at Marcus’ office and knocked on the door. “You want to see me, sir?” Belle heard a muffled answer. Taking that as a cue, she pushed the door open and entered. She was juggling with the folder in her hands so it took her long seconds to realise something wasn’t quite right.

  Wait a minute, this isn’t Marcus’ office. As a matter of fact, this doesn’t look like the office at all. Where the hell am I?

  The room was small and empty. All four walls were plastered with fleur-de-lis wallpaper and, in the corner, a tall floor-length candelabrum lit the space. The familiar scent of roses and burnt wax drifted up to her nose. There was only one place she recognised the scent from. Maison Plaisir. Belle blinked. Then who answered me earlier? How did I get here in the first place?

  Armand or Hervé.

  She frowned. They were the only two people she knew who could spirit someone away like this. She groped the door behind her, looking for the handle. As much as she wanted to see Armand or Hervé, she thought it would be better if she avoided them for good. Her hand felt an empty space. She turned around and found the door had gone.

  Figures.

  When she took a good look at the room again, she noticed the door had moved to the opposite site. Irritation started to creep on her. She’d never been a big fan of haunted houses. Hervé or Armand could call if they wanted to talk to her. That was what phones were for. They knew her number.

  Exhaling a deep breath, Belle strode across the room and yanked open the door. She half-expected to see Armand or Hervé in the next room, but what lay beyond the door was another long dark corridor. She followed the length of the corridor—it brought her into a cavernous room plastered with dark wood from floor to ceiling. Study room? Library? Bookcases were perched neatly along one wall. A flickering fireplace on the other. And the masterminds of this haunted house sat behind a grand desk and in a chair in front of it.

  Hervé waved at her cheerily. Armand motioned for her to sit.

  “Come in,” Armand called.

  Belle stepped in half-heartedly. When she didn’t walk fast enough for his liking, she found herself magically zoomed into the chair Armand had motioned and landed her butt first. Her folder fell near her feet. “Hey!” she protested. “What gives?”

  Armand gave her a Cheshire Cat kind of smile. “You didn’t think we’d give up on you that easily, do you?”

  “I was under the impression that was exactly what you two did.”

  “Well, you’re wrong.�
�� Armand steepled his fingers. “Hervé and I have talked things out. We’d like to propose an arrangement.”

  Belle abandoned her attempt to pick up her folder. “What arrangement?”

  Hervé got up from his seat and placed a paper on the desk. “A prenup.”

  “Who’s getting married?”

  “Me. Us.”

  “To whom?”

  “You, silly girl.”

  Belle wanted to clear her ears to see if she’d misheard. “I don’t get it.”

  “We’ve fought. We’ve argued. We’ve come to the realisation that neither of us are willing to surrender our claim to you, and it seems you can’t choose one of us, either. So.” Hervé shrugged. “We ought to be content to share you between us. It’s the most reasonable way to settle our matter without us killing each other.”

  “I still don’t get it.”

  “These kinds of arrangements are pretty common in Seventh Realm,” Armand explained. “But since Hervé and I are members of the Royal Family, we weren’t legally allowed to marry you at the same time. So, we’ve decided that I’m to officially marry you through the city registrar since I need a wife to take over the dukedom, and my cousin will marry you through our High Priest. So then, each of the marriages will be recognised legitimately through Seventh Realm’s law.”

  “Usually, people here only get married once, either through the city registrar or the temple. We’re taking advantage of the loopholes, but it’s a perfect solution, don’t you think?” Hervé traded an evil grin with Armand.

  “Can’t think of a better solution than that,” Armand added. He held his fingers to his cousin and counted. “Monday, Wednesday and Friday, she’ll be yours. Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, she’ll be mine. And Sunday is the lady’s choice.”

  “Or if she prefers a double game,” Hervé offered.

  “What about holidays?”

  “Major or minor?”

  “Major, during the waxing moon…”

  Belle shook her head. “You two are crazy.”

  “Yup, crazy about you.” Armand leant forwards and reached across the desk to push the paper closer to her. “Sign the prenup, Belle.”

  “I…I don’t know. I have to think about this.”

  “You think too much, love.” Hervé grabbed a pen and shoved it in her hand. “Sign it. I can’t get married without a prenup. And neither can Armand.”

  Belle peered at the two-page document. It was printed in tiny letters and written in the flowery-kind of language she barely understood. It was worse than any legal documents she’d read. She skimmed to the bottom of the page where she must sign. From her vague understanding, when she signed it, she would enter a legal binding agreement into a three-way marriage with Armand and Hervé.

  Was this what she really wanted? This didn’t seem right. Married to two men at the same time sounded too…scandalous.

  Hervé made an impatient sound and grabbed her hand, fixing the pen aimed to the blank space she had to put her signature in. “Sign it. Scribble. Anything. This suspense is killing me.”

  Armand got up from his seat and came to her side. “Belle,” he said, his hand slipping under her skirt. “I’m miserable without you, babe. Hervé too. I can’t promise you everything will be smooth sailing, but at least we can try. To make things work for all of us.”

  Hervé leant down and kissed the shell of her ear. “Please, love.”

  Belle sucked in a deep breath. “This is crazy…”

  “But we know you want this,” Armand pressed.

  She couldn’t deny it. She loved both men and being with them was all she ever wanted. She bit her lip and scribbled her name on the prenup paper. She heard Armand draw a relieved breath. Hervé chortled.

  “Wasn’t that hard, was it?” Hervé inquired.

  Hervé took the prenup and read it with satisfaction. “We should discuss the wedding details and living arrangements right after we take care of an urgent matter.”

  “What matter?” Belle asked suspiciously.

  “Four weeks without having you. It’s killing me,” Armand said gruffly. He lifted her from the seat and draped her belly-down on the desk.

  “Hey!” she squeaked. “What are you doing?”

  “Just helping ourselves to an afternoon cookie,” Hervé replied.

  “Nookie,” Armand corrected. “Seriously, your human slang sucks, cousin.”

  “Bite me.” Hervé drew a sharp inhalation. “I bet she’s wet.”

  Belle stifled a moan when two pairs of strong hands caressed her backside. She heard her zipper being unzipped and her skirt was pulled down. Her panties followed, pooling near her ankles.

  “Heavens, she is,” Armand hissed. He stroked her pussy lips.

  “Of course,” Hervé added. “She’s been miserable without us. She regretted calling you a macho shit or me for having my head stuck in the clouds. Do you know how many times she was about to pick up her phone and call us?”

  God damn it. “Have you been spying on me?” Belle tried to move but Hervé put his palm on the small of her back and pushed her down.

  Hervé’s wicked laugh echoed in the room. “You didn’t see me, but I was never far away from you, love.”

  “Stubborn,” Armand chastised. He parted her moist lips and slid a finger into her opening.

  Belle stiffened. Armand petted her, almost lazily. Finger in and out as if measuring, calculating… For what? She wriggled in desperation. It hadn’t been a minute since she agreed to their arrangement and they were already acting all bossy. “Armand!”

  “She’s ready,” Armand commented, withdrawing his finger.

  Belle heaved when someone lifted her from the desk. It was Armand. He pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her in a protective embrace. “Ma belle, Belle.”

  She couldn’t help grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling him closer. She found his lips and kissed him hard. God. She’d just realised how much she’d missed him. Armand let out a strained growl and kissed her back with the same heat. His tongue stroked deeply. Teeth nipped. Fingers dug into her flesh. Fevered heat rushed over her, searing all of her nerve endings alive. By the time he broke the kiss, she felt drunk with lust. Armand released her, nodding at Hervé. Belle kicked off her shoes, along with her panties and skirt.

  Hervé was in the process of undressing when she trudged a step to him. He stopped and reached for her. His mouth plastered hers a second later, claiming her greedily like his cousin did. His fingers threaded in her hair, gripping her with possession. Belle felt her entire body scorched by pure brimstone. Her nipples ached. Pussy throbbed. By the time he gave her a chance to catch a breath, she was ready to jump on him and mount the man. She’d never been this wanton. But hell, it had been weeks since she’d had her last cookies. An amused smile stretched over his handsome face. Hervé shoved down his briefs. His black trousers made a pool near his ankles but he didn’t bother to shed them properly. The white shirt he was starting to unbutton hung askew. His attention was completely on her.

  “Wait,” Armand halted her.

  Belle stood, shaky with arousal, as Armand undressed the rest of her clothes. Her blouse came off first. Then her bra. Something sparked in Hervé’s eyes when he saw her breasts free from their containment. Something feral. Hunger. Fervent hunger. Hervé’s eyes glowed luminously. His unsettling aura came back like the first time she saw him. Unconsciously, she shivered with excitement. Hervé looked as if he was ready to pounce.

  Hervé grabbed her. “Come here.” His voice strained with wanting.

  Belle jumped into his embrace. He slid his arms on her buttocks, drawing her up past his belly. It took a moment before she realised he wanted her to mount him standing up. She felt silly. She wasn’t wired as a gymnast, let alone be expected to perform a bedroom acrobat. But she was so damn horny. She braced herself by gripping Hervé’s shoulders as he lowered her down onto his massive cock.

  She released a gusty breath when the crown of hi
s cock kissed her opening.

  “Gentle,” Hervé whispered.

  She shut her eyes as his cock speared her open. Even though she was more than ready, it still wasn’t an easy feat. The moment his fat tip stretched her open, a sliver of panic seized her by the throat. It had been weeks since she’d done this. She wouldn’t be able to take him. He was too big. Too damn fucking…

  Belle was out of breath when Hervé filled her to the hilt. Her pussy spasmed around his hard, throbbing shaft, protesting the delicious intrusion. She gushed juice luxuriously.

  Hervé felt her creaming and cast a triumphant smile. “I love it when you do that.” He said it with such a low voice, as if it was meant as their own dirty little secret.

  Armand, however, noted it. “Do what?” he asked.

  “Creamy pussy. Wet. Hot and slicked.” He pulled and tugged while anchoring her weight with both hands.

  Belle clawed his shoulders. The hummingbird frictions in and out sent jolts of pleasure through her spine. God. She’d forgotten how good that felt. Having a cock inside her, the hard veined shaft grinding the walls of her cunt that relieved the constant craving aches in her pussy.

  “Oh, yeah. My favourite kind of kitty cat,” Armand murmured. He sounded like he was undressing from the soft whisper of fabric behind her.

  “Mm-mm,” Hervé agreed. He paused and swivelled around, looking for a chair to sit in. He settled on a sofa near the fireplace and sank himself down with a happy groan.

  Belle wanted to groan, too. Taking him in a sitting position felt much fuller than when he was standing up. She could feel his cock up to her guts; there wasn’t an inch not being filled and stretched and, oh, how she loved it.

  Hervé planted his hands on her hips and bombarded her with urgent, short strokes. “Come for me, love. It’s been weeks since I’ve had you like this. Missed you.”

  He nibbled her chin and the curve of her neck. His hot breath seared her. The combination between the quick thrusts and the way he licked her sent her reeling to oblivion. She didn’t realise how much she needed him. His scent invaded her. The warmth of him cocooned her, bringing her a sense of completeness. How did she think she could live without all of this? Without him. Without Armand. Oh, how foolish she’d been.