CharmaineLouise Books — CharmaineLouise Books Coterie on Ream Sneak Peek II!
CharmaineLouise Books — CharmaineLouise Books Coterie on Ream Sneak Peek II!
Glitzy. Glamorous. Steamy.
The Second Chapter in Entice My Desires Luc & Blair: A Billionaire Age Gap Romance
I want to live again—for my best friend’s daughter.
In the world of trillion-dollar finance, I’m accustomed to getting all I want—except for the much younger daughter of my best friend. Blair Thomas gives me reason to live again after the tragic deaths of my wife and son during childbirth. And she re-ignites my Daddy Dom kink… Can the flames of our forbidden love flourish or will they dwindle?
Luc Montaigne—the sexy Silver Fox and the last Duke of Blois—lights a fire throughout my body with his smoldering gaze. But the sadness lingers, and I want him to live again. For me, his little girl, despite my real father’s disapproval. Can I have my cake and eat it too?
The Men of STEELE World is a series of standalone, interconnecting Billionaire romance novels set in the STEELE International, Inc. world with the LEVELS BDSM clubs as the backdrop. Follow these Doms as they fly around the world chasing the subs they love and their happily ever afters. Get ready for glitz, glamour, and steamy romance stories. What's better than that? The Jet-set Lifestyle has never been hotter…
Read on for your second Sneak Peek of chapter two of their sizzling off-limits romance. Then click here to read the complete novel on Ream today.
Enjoy! xoxo Charmaine Louise
“Okay, Blair. Will you promise not to give the guys who approach you the side-eye? For one night, just pretend you’re interested and not aghast. Mum worries about you. Just the other day…”
I tune my younger sister Jillian out as she goes on and on about the state of my love life. One would presume she’s the older one. But no, she’s thirty to my thirty-three. Even though her name means young child, she behaves as the oldest.
Our brother Jasper teases her incessantly. When she questions his business or personal decisions, he asks if she’s the eldest child, or is he the one who’s thirty-five. Then he’ll pinch her cheeks and laugh as she swats at his hands.
I love my sister to death. She’s my best friend. But I pay her no heed. I know the man I want. The one who makes my heart race. Just at the mere thought of Luc Montaigne, my pussy softens as my juices flow in preparation to welcome him into my body. Teeth clamp on my lower lip to stifle a needy groan.
From the time I turned thirteen and hormones changed my body, I realized the attraction to my father’s best friend was more than the uncle figure. Not understanding, I felt ashamed to dream about a thirty-year-old man. Dreams where I would sit on his lap like a Daddy—not for a sweet bedtime story. But for a raunchy tale where the prince didn’t kiss the sleeping beauty to wake her. Oh, no, he was more… creative.
When Luc married ten years later, the devastation hit me so hard I couldn’t attend the wedding at Château de Blois. My family went while I begged off with the excuse of not feeling well. Not a lie, since my heart ached, and my stomach roiled. Like a masochist, I scrolled through every single one of the society pages and the media websites for images of the four-day-long extravaganza.
There in four-color stood my prince beside another woman. Her silvery gray eyes filled with happiness outshone the elaborate diamond tiara perched atop her blonde head. Her petite frame nestled against his side as he towered over her by over twelve inches. He smiled down at her with equal love.
I barely made it to my en suite bathroom before I retched.
For three years, I avoided Luc whenever he came to London to visit my Dad, even if his wife didn’t accompany him. My heart hurt too much to be near him, knowing he would never be mine. At dinner one night, my Dad announced Luc called with great news. She was expecting a son. Bile rose, and I excused myself from the table.
As much as I hated she was in the place I wanted so desperately, genuine sadness befell when she and the baby died in childbirth. No one deserves such pain and loss. I attended their funeral with my family. Luc was inconsolable. He never mingled with the mourners. Only my father spent time with him, locked in the study for hours.
My heart ached for Luc. I wanted to comfort him in my arms. Run my fingers through his jet black hair. Cup his cleft chin in my hands as I stared into his sapphire blue eyes to tell him all would be better. I didn’t have the chance. My family and I returned to London a couple of days later. Luc threw himself into work. Even avoided time with his best friend.
But the Universe always has plans we do not see.
Three years ago, I finally admitted to my father I had no interest in joining our family’s manufacturing business—Thomas Industries, Ltd. A world leader in the production of aluminum, coal, copper, diamond, iron ore, and uranium, it’s the largest mining company in the UK. Like my siblings, I interned in the various departments over the years to learn the business. However, after graduation, they accepted their full-time roles. My passion for fashion leads me on a different path.
My father acknowledged my desire to pursue my goal, then surprised me with an interview arranged by Luc. The administrative assistant position at Lola’s Coterie offers me the opportunity to learn the business side of fashion. Lola was trying to handle all aspects of her company, despite Luc’s advice to focus on the creative design side and let an assistant handle the day-to-day tasks. After a one-month trial period, I proved to be efficient, dependable, and clever when balancing the activities that didn’t need Lola’s constant or immediate attention. I moved from London to Paris and loved my new job from the start.
But I don’t see Luc as much as I would like. Sure, he comes to the atelier since he’s Lola’s mentor and Vice Chair, and I sit outside of her office right in his line of sight. However, he and I never share more than a few words. I want so much more.
It’s been seven years since their deaths. Enough time—in my opinion—to grieve. He’s still a handsome man, sexy and fit. Now, with gray mingled in his jet black hair for a distinguished appearance. At six feet, four inches with a clean-shaven face that highlights the cleft in his chin. He could pass for a movie star. Not to mention being a billionaire duke, the last of his noble line. Only fifty years old. The age men reach the peak of their sexual desirability. And boy do I desire Luc Montaigne, Duke of Blois. Or Le Renard Argenté as Lola and Leonie call him. He’s The Silver Fox for sure.
The Universe proffered a taste. I want the feast.
A shiver runs through me as I slip the Saint Laurent evening gown over the Lola’s Coterie bra and matching thong. My nipples tighten beneath the black silk. I bite my lip at the pulse in my pussy. No, the guys tonight won’t send a thrill through me the way the thought of Luc does.
But I’ll put on my best face—not the side-eye—since it’s the annual fundraising gala for Thomas Industries’ foundation. It supports the families of miners, injured or worse. An important part of our organization. We give back to the community for more than goodwill. It’s the right thing to do.
“Blair, are you even listening to me?”
I slip my arms into the long sleeves of the gown and gesture for my sister to zip me up.
“Of course, Jilli. I heard every single word, Mother Hen. I will smile and not scowl. Right?”
I spin around and smooth my hands down the beige stretch-jersey covering my slim hips. The ruched bodice and skirt separated by cutouts on the sides held together with an oversized rosette at my middle flatter my lithe, five-foot-seven-inch frame. As I slip into strappy stilettos, I wink at my sister.
She rolls her eyes and huffs.
“Sure, you did. And I am not a mother hen. Mom and I worry about you—”
She giggles at my arched eyebrow.
“Okay, fine. Maybe I have a tad bit of a mother hen in me,” she says, then pivots sweeping her curtain of chestnut brown hair over her shoulder. “Here, zip me.”
Many people confuse us as twins with our matching cerulean blue eyes, straight hair, and height. We take after our mother, Tilda. While Jasper resembles our father with ebony hair and tawny brown eyes.
“Mum is going to wonder if we coordinated our looks with your cropped top and my cutouts,” I muse as I zip Jillian’s top.
She’s stunning in the black velvet, long-sleeved piece with a crystal bib neckline and crystals trimmed on the hem. A good four inches of her toned belly shows. More sparklers cover the waist of the maxi skirt that skims the floor.
“Great minds think alike,” she says, tapping the side of her head.
I stack bracelets on my arms and pick up my chocolate brown crocodile clutch. Jillian slides into strappy stilettos and grabs her crystal minaud. A last glimpse in the trifold, full-length mirror, and we leave the dressing room of her Knightsbridge penthouse flat.
My mobile rings as we step off the private lift into the lobby.
“Hi, Jasper. We’re headed your way,” I answer before he can ask our whereabouts.
“Finally. I’ve only been sitting in the limo for fifteen minutes,” he responds. “But hey, don’t rush on my account. Take more time.”
I giggle and ring off.
“And I’m the mother hen?”
We giggle as the doorman opens one of the ornate glass and wrought-iron double doors. Jasper’s driver nods when he sees us and opens the limo’s door. Jasper glances at his watch pointedly, then cocks an eyebrow.
“Fortunately, the venue isn’t far. We wouldn’t want to arrive late to our own event, now, would we?”
Jillian squawks and flaps her bent elbows like a chicken. Her cerulean blue eyes gleam with mirth in the interior lights. Jasper huffs and picks up his mobile. I laugh as he ignores her antics.
Soon enough, we arrive and walk the red carpet lined with paparazzi and the media. My siblings and I pose for the cameras and answer questions about the charity. Since we volunteer, we’re well versed in its happenings.
Although I moved to Paris, I fly up once a month for a weekend doing my part. I may not want to work at the company. However, I enjoy the time helping the miners and their families, especially the children. I hope to have a little one of my own one day. Hopefully, with sapphire blue eyes and jet black hair.
“Come back to this world, Blair.”
Jasper’s words rouse me from my musings as he takes my elbow and leads me and Jillian into the hotel’s lobby.
We make our way to the grand ballroom and take our places beside our parents in the receiving line. Our father cocks an eyebrow and glances at his watch, so like Jasper. Our mother smiles as her gaze lands on our bared middles.
“Twinsies, girls?” She asks as she kisses our cheeks. Her eyes sparkle like the diamonds in her ears and around her slim throat.
At fifty-three—four years younger than our father—she’s a stunning woman who inspires my love for fashion. She can make a cashmere sweater and a pair of jeans as glamorous as the haute couture Valentino gown she wears tonight. I recognize the master’s signature red color and the craftsmanship of his maison.
Every year since I was sixteen, together we attend the fashion shows for each season in New York, London, Milan, and Paris. They’re always our special mother-daughter trips. So, my announcement to bow out of Thomas Industries did not surprise her. She encouraged me to follow my dreams.
Jillian and I respond simultaneously, then burst into giggles.
Our Mum shakes her head with a smile and turns to greet the next guest.
Twenty minutes later, she touches my arm and gestures towards a young man in front of her. I recall him being a Scottish duke—one of the most sought-after bachelors in the UK. I glance from his smiling face to my mother. She beams.
“Darling, you’ve spent enough time on the receiving line. Why don’t you show the silent auction items to His Grace?”
Caught off guard, I stare blankly.
A nudge in my side from Jillian causes me to utter an undignified bleat. My cheeks heat as I stutter an affirmative response and place my hand on the wrong duke’s arm.
Blasted! And I thought the night would go well…
* * *
“Oh, Blair! I have such great news!”
Lola rushes towards me the moment I enter the atelier in Paris. Her hazel eyes shine as she claps her hands.
“We have a meeting tomorrow with STEELE International, Inc. in New York City to discuss our expansion into the United States! Luc arranged it. Can you believe it? STEELE is huge! They would be the perfect partner…”
My mind zooms in on one word. Luc.
Will he attend since he organized the meeting?
Will he say more than hello, how are you, and goodbye this time?
Or will I just fade into the background for him as usual?
“—prepare for the meeting. I’ll need you to research their properties while I run the numbers. Then organize the latest collections and models in New York City. Luc wants to go over the presentation. He’ll join in via a video conference call in a few hours. Leonie is coming too for a mini fashion show. We fly out on Luc’s private jet in the afternoon and stay for the week. I know it’s last minute, Blair. Does time away from Paris work for you?”
I all but jump in the air and pump my fists.
Instead, I contain my jubilation and nod.
“Absolutely, Lola. What fantastic news! I’ll get right on those tasks. Anything else you need, just let me know.”
She nods and hurries back into her office.
As I head to my desk, I wonder if I’m more excited about the meeting or having the chance to spend time with Luc. With a grin, the favor tilts towards him.
The day passes in a blur. I don’t join in on the video conference call with Luc since I run around like a madwoman organizing the trip. But I don’t mind. I thrive on a challenge. Lola and I stay well into the evening. She rehearses her presentation between bites of Thai takeaway. By the time I return to my flat in the seizième arrondissement, I shower and collapse in bed.
My thoughts drift to Luc, whose mansion isn’t far from my building. I imagine him lying in bed—sculpted chest bare, six-pack abs taut, and black silk pajamas slung low on his narrow hips. My pussy clenches, envisioning his cock tenting the soft silk as I waltz into his bedroom. Naked.
I cup my small breasts and knead them. They grow heavy in my hands.
He growls as I tug the peaked nipples and pinch them between my thumbs and index fingers. My head lolls back with a throaty moan.
One hand skims down my flat belly to cup my bare mons. I widen my stance to let my swollen clit peek from between my wet folds. His growl deepens as he sits forward. Hands fist the silk sheets. I gasp and bow my back as the tip of my finger brushes the sensitive bundle of nerves.
Using the natural lubricant, I sweep my finger around my clit in a teasing circle. My hips undulate to mimic the pattern. My breasts swell along with my pussy. I pant as my arousal increases. My clit hides behind its hood, too sensitive for another touch. Knees wobble.
Before I collapse to the floor, Luc leaps from the bed and catches me with muscular arms. He scoops me up and carries me to the bed, where he lays me down. His hands press my knees apart into a butterfly position. Sapphire blue eyes flash as he lowers his mouth to my throbbing pussy.
“Do not cum until I give you permission, little girl,” he growls.
My body trembles at his erotic command. I gasp and nod my head with hooded eyes.
His sapphire orbs never leave mine as his tongue darts out to lave my slick flesh from my puckered hole up my slick slit to my pulsating clit. I arch from the bed with a garbled cry. His name a prayer on my lips. The sheets crumple in my fingers as I seek purchase lest I fly into the heavens.
“Do. Not. Cum.”
His snarl nearly forces my orgasm to the forefront.
I clench my pussy walls to hold it back. But I nearly come undone as he feasts on my honey.
His fingers join his tongue. He plunges two inside, curls them, and strokes the front wall of my pussy. The moves bring a strangled cry from my slack mouth. Toes curl. Knees jam close, only to be held down more firmly with a chastising growl.
Luc continues to eat my pussy. The moment he senses the contraction of my inner walls, he pulls back and nips my inner thighs. He continues to bring me to the edge and back until I’m a wet, blubbering mess. Crazed with the need for release. I beg him again and again.
“Look at me, Blair.”
My eyes snap open. They lock on his feral gaze.
“Call me Daddy.”
My mouth drops open as I blink.
He cocks an eyebrow and runs his knuckle across my G-spot.
“Oh! My! God!” I wail, on the verge of climax.
“No. Not God, little girl. Your. Daddy.”
I jackknife from my bed on a scream as my pussy contracts. Juices coat my thrusting fingers. My vision darkens. My heart rate races. A heated flush licks over my heaving breasts, up my throat, and to my sweat-dampened hairline.
My body collapses to the bed. Twitches jerk me as I gasp for breath. Sleepiness overtakes me. I roll to my side and curl into a ball wrapped around my body pillow. As my eyes flutter close, I wish it were Luc’s firm chest beneath my head and his powerful arms wrapped around me.
A last thought drifts into my mind.
Perhaps the Universe will grant my wish after all.