Page 13 of Isabelle’s Forbidden Love

So this wasn’t just a one-off. He was a regular. She would have never guessed. “Is he already with the woman he booked?”

“Tracy is getting ready.”

“Call her back and tell her to take a break. I’ll be taking her spot.” It was time to have a word with Orlando, because being replaced by a prostitute was something she couldn’t stomach. And she would tell him as much.

The woman lifted the receiver and pressed a button, before speaking into the phone. “Tracy. Take a break. I’ll have somebody else take care of Mr. Carlisle’s needs.”

When she put the phone down, Isabelle asked, “Where is he?”

She stood up and pointed to the end of the corridor. “Turn left. Tracy will show you to the room.”

“Thank you.”

As Isabelle walked down the corridor, a young woman dressed in a colorful kimono-like robe walked toward her. “Are you Tracy?”

The human beauty smiled. “Yes.” She ran her eyes over Isabelle. “You’re taking over Mr. Carlisle?”

“Yes. Show me to his room please.”

“But you have to get changed first. He has very specific wishes,” Tracy insisted.

Isabelle raised her eyebrows. What kind of fetish was Orlando into? Curious, she allowed Tracy to lead her to a small room that looked like the dressing room of a burlesque theater.

Tracy rifled through the rack, then pulled a sexy robe in red and black tones off of it and handed it to her. Isabelle looked at the revealing garment. Well, it couldn’t hurt to get changed. Because once she’d had a serious word with Orlando and explained to him that her father would never get between them, she would have to take her clothes off anyway. She wouldn’t let him leave before they’d had sex.

“Take everything off. You can put your clothes in here.” She pointed to a locker.

Isabelle stepped behind a room divider and got changed. Dressed in the robe, not a stitch beneath it, she stepped out from behind it. Moments later, Tracy led her back out into the corridor and stopped in front of a door where a red light was illuminated next to the doorknob.

“He’s ready.” Her hand on the doorknob, Tracy looked over her shoulder. “And whatever you do, don’t say a single word when you’re with him. He doesn’t want any of us speaking. Just follow his instructions.”

Before she could ask why, Tracy opened the door for her. Isabelle entered and heard the door close behind her.

The first thing Isabelle noticed was the smell of scented candles. She inhaled deeply: vanilla and oranges. Her own hair shampoo smelled just like it. The scent overpowered the dimly lit room. Only candles and a couple of wall sconces illuminated it. And there, on a large king-sized bed lay the man she was looking for: Orlando. He was naked, though a thin sheet covered his lower half. Gloriously naked, except for one item that couldn’t be called clothing.

There was a reason why Orlando hadn’t jumped up yet, now that she was in the room. The scented candles clearly impeded his sense of smell, but that wasn’t the only reason. He wore a black sleeping mask covering his eyes fully so he couldn’t peek out from underneath it like he would have been able to had he used a regular blindfold. He couldn’t see. Dozens of thoughts bounced around in her head as she tried to figure out why Orlando would come to a brothel and blind himself so he couldn’t see who was there to service him.

Tracy’s comment not to say a word now made sense too. He didn’t want to hear the woman’s voice, didn’t want to know who she was.

“Come,” Orlando said in a husky voice.

She walked closer, the lush carpet underneath her bare feet swallowing her footfalls, and stopped next to the bed.

He patted the mattress to his left. “Get up here, and then lick my stomach.”

At the sound of his words, everything became clear. Her heart thundered in her chest. Orlando was recreating the incident from four months earlier when he’d been injured, and Isabelle had licked his stomach wounds, lapping up the blood, healing him.

She slid onto the bed, sitting down on her folded legs, before bending over Orlando’s stomach. Her long hair brushed over the skin of his torso, and he took an audible breath. Isabelle lowered her face to his lower abdomen, right where he’d been slashed by a vampire’s claws months earlier. But there were no scars. A vampire’s body didn’t scar.

She placed one hand on his thigh, feeling his hard muscles through the thin sheet, then brought her lips to his stomach and kissed his warm skin. It was just like she remembered: soft and smooth like that of a baby. Yet steel-hard muscles lay beneath it.

“I said, lick—”

She didn’t let him finish his command. Instead, she licked over his abdomen in long, leisurely strokes as if she was lapping up his blood. A visible shudder charged through Orlando’s body, evidence of how much this action turned him on. She continued with her sensual caress, enjoying the smell and taste of his clean skin, while she gripped the thin sheet and pulled it farther down, exposing his cock. From the corner of her eye, she watched his shaft rise like a Phoenix. A few more long licks, and he was fully erect. She turned her head, interrupting the action he’d tasked her with to admire his hard-on.

He was even bigger than she’d imagined. Purple veins snaked around the proud shaft that stood in a bed of dark hair. The thought of having him inside her, made her womb clench in anticipation.

“Continue,” he demanded, his voice sounding like a growl. “Lick my stomach.”