Fleur de Nuit: Bourbon Street Bondage, Book 1 (10 page)

Chapter Eleven

“I swear, Adrian, if any of my students see me, I will kill you. Slowly.”

Adrian laughed, and Moira wished she’d thought of that argument when she was still standing in the safety of Tony’s dressing room.

Instead, she’d let him hail not a real cab, but one of the horse-drawn carriages that made a killing off the tourists.

It was a stupidly nice gesture. Especially when the carriage pulled onto St. Louis Street and stopped in front of Antoine’s. Adrian stepped down and carefully helped her out of the carriage. After she adjusted her dress. What little there was of it.

Moira stared up at the great wide veranda, with its wrought iron posts and fencing, white storefront and dark wood paneling. Antoine’s was a New Orleans institution. “God, Adrian, I’ve been wanting to come here for years.”

“And why haven’t you? Everyone should eat at Antoine’s at least once. Preferably more often. Much more often.”

She tore her eyes from the oldest family-owned restaurant in the country. “Teacher salary, remember?” He raised his eyebrow, and she sighed. “And I don’t like eating alone. And I refused to let Kara treat me.”

“Mon ange noir, you really must get past this lack of confidence. Look at you. You’re absolutely stunning. You have to let your behavior match your outside, or no one’ll ever believe you.” He leaned in closely, until his breath cascaded over her bare neck and shoulder. “This is the true secret to being a Domme. Confidence. Attitude. You believe it, and no one’ll doubt.”

She took a deep breath, her fingertips touching his chest for support, and let the rest of the world disappear for a moment. He was right. She couldn’t live her life in a bedroom with him watching. It was no better than spending the last seven years hiding alone. Well, maybe marginally better. Adrian had given her the key the first night. It wasn’t about finding control. It was about taking it. In the bedroom, on the street, with a crop, a command or a look.

Take control, Moira. Stop waiting for someone to hand it to you.

She stood up straight and smiled.

“Bon, ma chère,” he whispered.

They turned together, Moira’s arm resting lightly in his, and walked past the crowd waiting for their seats.

“Moira? Moira D’Arcangelis?”

She stopped midstep and winced.
Oh fuck.
Turning slowly, she found the person calling her name from the waiting throng outside the restaurant. “Darlene. Fancy meeting you here.”

“Oh, Moira chère, that is you! I didn’t recognize you in that dress.” Darlene’s voice dripped with fake charm and barely concealed distaste, as her eyes did a slow line up Moira’s body. Even her accent got thicker with her disapproval, the way she drew out
dray-ess
.

Moira forced herself not to back down.
Remember what you just decided.
“Yes, well, even school teachers should get to dress up every now and then. What brings you here?”

“Oh, well, it’s Bobby and my anniversary.” She let her smile stab at Moira, waggling her ring finger and taunting Moira for her single status. “We come to Antoine’s every year. Twenty-eight years, can you believe that, honey? It’s such a shame you’re still not married. But who’s your friend? I haven’t seen him around. And believe me, I’d remember seeing him around.”

Moira’s eyes flashed. “I’m perfectly happy not married, thanks, but congratulations, Darlene.” She paused, debating whether she should introduce Adrian, and decided she’d better get it out of the way. “This is my friend Adrian Lacroix.”

“Bonsoir, madame.” Adrian made a big deal of taking her hand and bowing over it. “May I wish you and your husband bon anniversaire?”

Adrian’s charm and thick Cajun accent had Darlene eating right out of his hand. She batted her eyes and simpered. “And what do you do, Mr. Lacroix?”

“I own several businesses in New Orleans. I hate to seem rude, but Mademoiselle D’Arcangelis and I must be going. We have arrangements that I’m afraid can’t wait.”

He pulled Moira away to the sound of Darlene’s sputtered protests.

“Mon Dieu, who was that detestable woman?”

Moira brought her fingers to her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter. “She’s a very vocal member of the PTA. Horrible woman.” She turned slightly and moved her hand to his chest. “Come Monday, I’ll either be the object of jealous worship, or the slut of the International High School faculty. Either way, I can’t really bring myself to care.”

“Bon. You shouldn’t.” He steered them toward the waiter at the door, a skinny young man whose face lit with recognition.

“Mr. Lacroix! Please, come in. Your room is waiting for you.”

Moira’s eyebrows rose as the waiter ushered them in. “You don’t believe in doing anything small, do you?”

Adrian grinned and looked her up a down. “Mais I believe in small dresses. Besides, the owner is a childhood friend. What’s the use in having friends if you can’t call in a favor on occasion?”

“Do you know everyone in the French Quarter?”

He shrugged and smiled. “Everyone who matters.”

Their waiter led them through the restaurant’s dark corridors, past dining rooms of every size and color. Moira tried not to gawk.

“Would you like the tour, ma chère?”

Moira shook her head and smiled. “You really have to ask? This place is amazing.”

“Oui, c’est vrai. So much history.”

The waiter eagerly led them around the building, through the Main Dining Room and the Large Annex, past the kitchens and the smaller dining rooms. The brightly colored Rex Room, named for The Krewe of Rex, a standing homage to Mardi Gras. The Mystery Room, with its Prohibition ties. The Japanese Room, closed for forty-three years after Pearl Harbor, before it was reopened. Even the long, narrow wine cellar. And everywhere, the walls were lined with photographs, some recent, some dating back to the restaurant’s opening.

Finally, the waiter stopped ahead of them, his arm out. “The 1840 Room, Mr. Lacroix. The wine is open, and I’ll be right back with your food.”

The room was a deep red, with a crackling fireplace and more old photos. Moira let her eyes do a slow dance around the room as Adrian helped her sit. She looked back at him in time to see his eyes flash at the amount of skin now showing below her dress.

She smiled and crossed her legs. “See something you like, Adrian?”

He ran his thumb across his bottom lip and slowly raised his eyes to hers. “Tout à fait, mon ange noir. This is the Maîtresse you need to be in public. It feels good, non?”

It did. It felt very good.

Adrian sat without taking his eyes from her, and if the waitstaff hadn’t intruded with their food, Moira was fairly certain one of them would’ve been up against a wall in another minute. As it was, she was sure neither of them appreciated the food nearly as much as it deserved.

It was delicious. But the chateaubriand and the gombo creole couldn’t hold a candle to the heated glances Adrian sent her way all night.

Still, they took their time, savoring both the food and the slow-burning company. Moira spent the entire meal testing out the techniques Adrian had been teaching her. When the waiter came to inquire after dessert, Adrian practically roared at the poor man to bring the check. Moira simply laughed and ordered the gateau chocolat d’Yvonne.

Adrian scowled at her when the waiter left. “Mon ange noir, you’re tormenting me.”

“Aren’t you the one who’s been telling me to be confident and enjoy myself? That chocolate cake is famous all over New Orleans. I’m not leaving without trying it.”

The corner of Adrian’s mouth twitched up. “Touché, mon ange. Enjoy your gateau. But making me wait has its consequences.”

Moira smiled, and when her cake came, she ate as slowly as she could manage, taunting him with every bite. It was more fun than she could imagine. A month ago, she’d never have imagined doing anything like it, and she felt incredibly proud of herself.

Until they were walking out and Adrian’s hand clamped down on the back of her neck.

“Dammit, Adrian…”

“Moira, ma chère, mon ange noir. Listen and learn. This is a common technique. It shows power, ownership. All without a look, all with a simple touch. Mais if I don’t touch you, I’ll have you here on the street. You’ve been taunting me all night.” He took a deep breath and kept them walking. “You feel the power, oui? Understand it. You may only be able to use this if your sub is kneeling, but there are other ways. The intent is what matters. Feel the difference.” His grip lightened, became a caress. “All with the twitch of a muscle.”

Moira forced her thoughts away from his touch and onto his words. He was right, she was too short to use that particular technique. It was also turning her on in the worst way.

“It is something to think about, non? Possession in a touch.”

She nodded. It was indeed.

His hand drifted farther down her back as they turned off Bourbon Street, shifting her thoughts to a different kind of touch, in different places. He fondled her discreetly all the way home, and by the time they reached Adrian’s, her panties were soaked through and her body was humming.

His hand closed hard on her arm as the door shut behind them, but she didn’t give him time to cement the grip. She turned and broke his grasp, shoving him back into the door with a force that surprised even her. Grabbing his tie, she yanked his mouth down to hers.

“How’s this?” she whispered, before closing her lips on his.

His answer was two hands grasping her ass and lifting her up. She heard the lace of her dress tear and didn’t care. Adrian had bought it, and if he wanted to ruin it, fine by her. Moira smiled, wrapped her legs firmly around his waist and kissed him harder.

Adrian growled, his long strides carrying them upstairs and down the hall in no time. He didn’t stop until he’d slammed a second door and pushed her hard against a wall.

She laughed. “The side table again? I don’t think it can stand another round.”

He snarled, ripping off his jacket. “This is my room, mon ange, but non. I’m going to have you on a bed if I have to tie you down.”

She yanked his shirt out of his pants, popping buttons as she proved too impatient to undo them all. “Not a chance. But I’m happy to tie you to the bed.”

His hands slid possessively up her thighs while she pulled off his tie. “Only if you can pin me, ma chère. And that I sincerely doubt, though I do believe I’d love to see you try.”

Moira gasped as he shredded the lace of her panties, ripping them off her. She looped the tie over his head and pulled him close with a grin. “Try me.”

“Bonne chance, mon ange noir.” He lifted her up again, toeing off his shoes as he walked them to the bed. He didn’t give her time to get away, lowering them both down until he covered her.

She gave him a minute, testing the weight of him and enjoying the flex of his muscles against her. And then she shifted her grip and her weight, and flipped him.

He laughed as she straddled him. “Coo, ma chère! Hold on, now—”

His protest came too late. Moira yanked the tie tight around his wrist and tied a quick knot in the headboard. He reached up for it, annoyance written on his face, but she grabbed his free hand in both of her own and put all her weight into pushing it back to the bed.

“Two can play at that, mon ange.” He caught her with his legs, pinning her back down and rolling onto her. She squirmed, smiling.

“Choices, Adrian. You can keep me pinned or untie your hand, but you can’t do both.” She freed the hand he didn’t have held in his own and unbuckled his belt, yanking it out of his pants.

He thrashed, looking back between his hand and her. “I can fuck you as well with one hand tied, ma chère.” He gasped as her hand slipped into his boxers and gripped him tight. “Mon Dieu, you’ll be the death of me.”

The distraction loosened his grip enough for Moira to free her other hand and use his own trick against him. Her legs scissored around him, flipping him again. Her dress ripped more as she quickly looped the belt around his other wrist and tied it to the headboard as well.

Adrian glared at her. “Mon ange noir, I do believe you’ve been hiding things from me.”

Moira ripped his pants off and smiled at him. “I’m surprised you didn’t know about the jiu jitsu classes I took after the mess with Justin. Kara insisted.”

“I’ll have to have a chat with our Kara.” He watched her with burning eyes as she straddled him. “Have a heart. I wanted so to rip that dress off you.”

She leaned over him, kissing her way up his chest and letting her hair fall over him. “I could be convinced to untie you.”

He groaned as her fingers and tongue played over him. “You are well named, mon ange noir. Mon diable. A devil dressed as an angel. What will you make me do?”

“Promise not to tie me down in revenge.”

“Is that all? As much as I really would love to do just that, I suppose I can agree to your terms.”

She smiled and kissed along his jaw. “And I’ll need you to beg.”

“Je ne crois pas. I trained you too well. I am not a sub for you to order me around. I am ton Maître, your teacher.”

Moira smiled and sat up, pressing against his erection, and shimmied the torn dress a little farther up her waist. “You’re tied to a bed with your student over top of you. I don’t think you’re in a position to protest.”

“Maudit! God above, mon ange, please.” He threw his head back and groaned. “I need my hands on you. Ça va, I will die.”

Moira pushed herself back, sliding his cock under her. She bit her lip as it dragged across her wetness. “I don’t know, Adrian. I have you here, waiting, so ready.” She shifted, aligning herself so his tip pushed at her entrance. “Why should I untie you?”

“Fils de putain! I’m begging you, ma chère. You’ll enjoy it so much more with my hands on you. I promise to stay right where I am. I’ll even let you beat me after.” He groaned loudly as she inched his cock into her. “God in heaven, mon ange. Mon Maîtresse. Please untie me. You’re using me without even a condom.”

She sat back, pushing him all the way into her with a moan. “It’s not like I can get pregnant. And we’re both clean, right?” She laughed at his pained agreement. “But I suppose this might be more fun if I let you participate.”