Fleur de Nuit: Bourbon Street Bondage, Book 1 (21 page)

Kara looked away, squirming a little under Moira’s gaze. “Master Gideon… I was hoping he’d take my mind off things. I needed someone who I knew could completely distract me, and I knew he would. But I wasn’t into it, and he noticed. He’s a scary-ass Dom, but he surprised me. We talked. He said everyone knew Mistress Tamara threw Josephine at you so that I’d go with her, and he hoped I would stay. That’s all.”

“No, that’s not all. What do you mean she threw Josephine at me so you’d go with her?”

“Moira…”

“Kara, please.” She stepped forward and knelt in front of Kara. “I don’t understand any of this. I can’t figure out why you’re bothered, and it’s killing me. I need to know.”

Kara took a deep breath. Her eyes flicked around the room, not sure where to settle. “If you liked Josephine…” She trailed off and shook her head.

Moira grabbed Kara’s fidgeting hands, running her thumbs over the skin in gentle circles. “My God, Kara, what is it? I’ve never seen you at a loss for words. Look, I liked Josephine fine. She’ll be a great sub for Adrian. Listening to them confuse each other with the differences in Cajun and Quebecois French—” She broke off, laughing. “God, that’ll be hilarious. I’d like to sit in on a session simply to hear that.”

Kara finally laughed, a sad and strangled sound, but still a laugh.

Moira smiled. “Sorry. Off topic. My point is that so far as I know, there’s absolutely no reason Josephine should have anything to do with whether or not you go back with Tamara at the end of the week.” She looked at Kara, and then shook her head, throwing caution to the wind and taking Adrian’s advice. “Look, I know I was drunk the other night when I said it, but I’m saying it now totally sober. I’m not giving you up without a fight, unless that’s what you want. If you want to go with her, the last thing I want is to stop you. But God as my witness, Kara, I’m a selfish bitch, and I can’t imagine you not being in my life. So whatever it is you’re worried about, stop.”

Kara’s lips twitched into a smile. “You can’t order me to stop worrying.”

“You tried it enough with me, I thought it was worth a shot.”

“It never worked though, did it?”

Moira laughed. “No, but I’m not very good at following orders, am I?”

Kara laughed, a real laugh this time. “No. And now you know why!”

“Exactly. So do what I say like a good little sub,” she added with a wink.

Kara nodded. “I’ll try.”

“That’s all I’m really asking. Well, that and that you never spend the night on my couch again. I’m amazed you can even walk.”

Kara laughed again, loudly. “It’s not that bad.”

Moira pushed back up to her feet. “Oh yes, it is.” She pulled Kara to her feet. “Do you want to use my shower?”

“God, yes. Thank you.” Kara hesitated. “Do you want to join me?”

Moira’s heart melted. “I’d like that.” She gently cupped Kara’s jaw and drew her in for a soft kiss. “I need to call Adrian back, and I’ll meet you in there.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Moira walked around the back of Adrian’s house and slipped in the side door. She’d left Kara asleep in her bed, naked and smiling, and walked into Adrian’s with her own smile. Happy exhaustion followed her inside, and Adrian met her with a raised eyebrow and a quirk of his mouth.

“L’Ange Noir seems very pleased.”

Moira laughed, trailing a finger down his chest. “You’re not getting any details.”

“Ma petite, you wound me.”

“Oh, knock it off, Adrian. So which lucky sap am I working over this afternoon?”

Adrian gave her a look before answering. “A young man, a soldier. Mais, I’ll let him tell you. Toutefois, I think you’ll like him. I know for a fact he’ll like you.”

Moira snorted. “All right. Where is he?”

“La chambre bleue, of course.”

Moira smiled. The blue room had become her default room, it seemed. “Better not keep him waiting, then.”

“Allez, mon ange noir.”

Moira shook her head and turned to walk away. Adrian’s laughter followed her down the hall and up the stairs. She shed her overcoat, leaving it on the hook outside the room, and took a deep breath before pushing the door open and walking in.

She froze in the doorway. Young was right.

The young man pacing the far end of the room couldn’t have been more than twenty-one or twenty-two. He paused and looked up as she shut the door. Something about him seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

His face, however, drained when he saw her. “Miss D’Arcangelis?”

Recognition slammed into place. “Fuck. Landry Boudreaux? I’m absolutely going to kill Adrian. What the hell are you doing here?”

Landry laughed. “I could ask you the same thing. That motier foux renard. The last person I expected to show up in this room was my history teacher. Even if that was, what, six, seven years ago?”

Moira sat down in the closest chair. “Seven. My first year down here. But what are you doing here?”

Landry looked around. “I’d imagine that’s kind of a given, isn’t it?”

Moira stared and shook her head. “Yeah, sorry. Taking me a minute to wrap my head around it. I mean, I always wanted to beat a few of you, but this is a little different.”

“Yes, ma’am, it is.” Landry grinned. “But not bad, I hope?”

Moira cocked her head and then laughed. “No, not bad.” She gestured for him to sit. “All right, Landry honey. Talk to me. What are you here for? What do you need?”

Landry sat on the edge of a chair, his hands nervously circling each other. “Well, ma’am, Mr. Lacroix, he told you I joined the Marines?”

“Mistress, Landry, not ma’am. And yes, he mentioned you were military.”

“Mais I always kinda knew I liked taking orders. And with my Vieux, being a soldier was a foregone conclusion for me. But I came back from Paris Island feeling like something was missing. Long story short, I met a girl who introduced me to Mr. Lacroix. But it’s been a year and a half since I’ve been home, and I have an ahnvee for more than a pretty girl.”

Moira smiled, listening to his accent slide back to where she knew it should be. It meant he was getting comfortable. “So what do you need, then?”

“It sounds silly saying it out loud.”

Moira gave him a look. “Giving a voice to your deepest needs is never silly, Landry. Tell me.”

He took a deep breath and looked away. “It’s the ordering that does it, ma’am. I mean, Mistress. And the watching. The crop is sexy, but I can take or leave getting beaten around. But you could tell me to go fuck that bedpost, and if you said it right, my bibitte would be hard in a heartbeat. Merde, you could tell me to strip and knit a hat, and I’d do it with a raging hard-on.”

Moira laughed lightly, tapping her boots with her crop. “Orders I can do. Watching I can definitely do. Anything else?”

Landry’s lips twitched. “You’re it, Mistress D’Arcangelis.”

“Please, use Moira. Or Adrian calls me L’Ange Noir. You can imagine I can’t have word getting out that the high school history teacher is a professional Dominatrix. The school board would fire me in a heartbeat.”

“Especially if they knew you had a former student as a client? I can imagine. But it’s not like I have plans to tell.”

“I should hope not. Adrian would do horrible things to you.” She leaned back in the chair and touched her forefinger to her lips. “All right then, let’s get started, shall we? Your safe word?”

He smiled. “Bulldog, Mistress.”

She smiled back. “Very good. And down, boy. Hands and knees.”

Landry dropped, looking at her with eager anticipation. Moira crooked her finger, calling him to her without a word. He crawled slowly toward her, brown eyes turning darker.

Moira halted him with a booted foot on his shoulder. “Stop there. Shirt off, slowly.” He complied, eyes never leaving her. Moira took a moment to admire him. He’d filled out since she’d seen him last, the smooth mocha tone of his muscular chest accentuated by a curly-scripted
Semper Fi
above his heart and a second quote tucked along his right side and ab.

She leaned forward, lifting his arm with her crop so she could read. “‘Courage is endurance for one moment more’. That’s an excellent quote, Landry.” Moira leaned back again, crossing her legs as Landry lowered his arm. She tapped the shaft of her crop against her neck and bit her lower lip.

Landry licked his lips.

“How are you at pushups, soldier?”

He grinned. “Excellent, Mistress.”

“Good. Stand up.”

He stood, his eyes questioning.

Moira smiled coyly. “Take your boots off. Toss them in the corner.” He bent down, fingers tearing at the laces. She stopped him with a touch of the crop. “Slowly.”

He pulled at his laces much more slowly, lifting his leg to pull the boot off and toss it to the corner as she’d directed, and then bent to repeat the process.

Moira watched the way the muscles in his arms and chest flexed, blatantly enjoying the view. The second boot joined the first. “Socks too.”

Landry smiled and pulled his socks off slowly, throwing them to the corner with his boots.

Moira winked and pointed to the floor. “Pushup position.”

His eyes never left her as he tipped himself forward, landing on his hands with a loud thud.

“Very nice.” She gave him a golf clap. “All the way down, and back up to kiss my boot. And count out loud please, Landry.”

He lowered himself until his nose touched the floor, and then pushed back up to kiss the tip of her boot.

“One.”

Moira grinned wickedly and watched him repeat the process until he reached twenty. Then she tapped his shoulder with her crop and told him to stop. “Stay exactly like that.”

She walked around him slowly while he held his position, arms fully extended and back flat. The tip of her crop traced his skin as she walked. An eagle, globe and anchor graced his left shoulder, and another script followed his spine, this time in French:
La guerre n’est pas un aventure. La guerre est une maladie. Comme le typhus.

War is not an adventure. War is a disease. Like typhus.

Moira raised an eyebrow. “My, my, Landry. Aren’t you full of surprises?”

“My Vieux, that was his favorite saying, Mistress.”

Moira struck his backside with the crop. “On your back.” He dropped to the floor and rolled over, watching her again. “You like to be watched, Landry?” She trailed the crop down the center of his body. His breathing grew heavy as the leather tip moved lower. “What would you like me to watch you do, hmm?”

His breath caught as she brought the crop to a rest below his belt. “Mistress, I…”

She leaned over him. “I can order you around the room a thousand times if that’s what you want, but I don’t think it is.” She let her eyes flick over his body. “Tell me what you want.”

There was no question it was an order.

“I want…” He swallowed, eyes wide. “I want you to watch me. I want you to tell me how to touch myself.”

Moira smiled slowly. “What do you say?”

“Please, Mistress? Please tell me what to do.”

Moira stood, stepping over him to sit back in her chair. She tapped her crop in her hand and looked him over, hands straining at his sides. “Remove your belt and hand it to me.”

His hands flew to his belt, slowing when she cleared her throat in warning. With shaking hands and deliberate movements, he unbuckled the leather and slowly pulled it from around his waist before handing it to her.

She rolled his belt and set it on the lamp table beside her. “Rub your hand over yourself, Landry. Tell me how hard you are.”

He groaned, his hand sliding over the bulge in his cargo pants. “So hard it hurts, Maîtresse.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Pull that zipper down slowly now, and let’s see.”

His hands shook more as the zipper went down, tooth by tooth.

“Hitch those pants down a little, there’s a good boy.”

Landry’s hips rose as his thumbs shoved the waist of his cargos down.

Moira laughed. “Do you always go commando, Landry?”

“Mais only when I visit Maître Lacroix’s house, Maîtresse.”

His eyes stayed on hers as she pulled up a leg to tuck it against her. “You always were a smart boy.” She drew her thumb against her bottom lip slowly, watching as he freed himself the rest of the way. “Now take hold of yourself and draw up your cock nice and slow.”

He groaned, eyes darkening further as he watched her watch him. She talked him through, forcing him to stay slow, moving up and down, short strokes and long, rubbing his balls and head, until he was begging.

“I’m going to count to five, Landry. I don’t want you coming until I reach five.”

“Yes, Maîtresse,” he groaned, his hands still moving.

“One… Two… Three… Deep breath, Landry. Four… And gently for five.”

He groaned loudly, and with a few final strokes, came hard.

Moira stood with a smile to fetch him a towel while he lay breathless on the floor, chest heaving, white come dripping over his creamy brown skin.

“God, that’s a beautiful sight, Landry Boudreaux. Here.”

He caught the towel with a laugh. “Thank you, Mistress.”

She sat again, crossing her legs and tapping her lips with her finger. “You know, Landry…hmm.”

“Mistress?”

Moira narrowed her eyes and smiled slightly. “Nothing. I had a thought, that’s all.” She glanced at the clock. “But I’m afraid your time is up, so I have to leave you.” Standing, she looked down at him with a wink. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Boudreaux. I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

Adrian was waiting outside the door as she suspected. Smiling.

“Adrian, you kinky son of a bitch. That was not funny.”

“Non, you were perfection, mon ange noir. Tell me, what were you thinking there at the end?”

She stared at him for a moment. “I was thinking he might be a good addition to your merry little band.”

Adrian’s response was to pull a card out of his vest pocket. “Give him this.”

Moira glanced at the card, black with a white fleur-de-lis and half-skull mask, with gold lettering that said
La Danse Macabre
. On the back was a date and time.

She looked back at Adrian, lifted an eyebrow and went back in the room.

Landry turned, his shirt falling into place over his chest. “Mistress?”

Moira held out the card. “Adrian’s compliments. See you there, soldier boy.” She turned back to the door as soon as he took the card, leaving him with a confused expression.

One that probably mirrored her own as she faced Adrian again.

He chuckled and offered her his arm.

“So what was that?”

“Recruitment, mon ange noir. You’ll see.”

Adrian walked her to the door and bid her a good night. Once there, Moira pulled out her phone, smiled at the text Kara had left for her, and walked out.

My place when you’re done!

She took a deep breath of the cool, late afternoon air and laughed at the noise from around Bourbon Street. The city was getting busier everyday, the celebrations increasing. Even on a Sunday afternoon, the crowds were raucous and chaotic, the krewes going nonstop.

I wonder if Kara wants to hit up the bars with me. I haven’t done that in forever.

Moira laughed again at the thought and walked faster to Kara’s. She had school tomorrow and shouldn’t go out tonight, but the idea wouldn’t leave her alone. She felt so alive, like New Orleans’ heartbeat was her own.

By the time she reached Kara’s, Moira had made up her mind. She opened her mouth the same time she opened the door, but the sound of Kara’s voice talking low made her freeze.

“No, it’s not like that. But you also know how I feel.”

Silence. Moira closed the door quietly, catching a glimpse of Kara pacing in the other room.

“I’m willing to take that risk.”

Moira’s heartbeat sped up.
Who is she talking to?

“I don’t think it is.”

Another long pause. Moira sat down, her mind racing.

“But what if she does? I don’t know.”

Blood pounded in Moira’s head, drowning out anything else Kara might have said. What was she—who was she talking about?

“Moira?”

Kara stood in the door of the living room, phone still in her hand, staring at her. Moira shot out of the chair. “Was that…?”

Kara looked down, then tossed the phone to the coffee table. “Mistress Tamara. She’s decided to stay through Mardi Gras. But she asked me again.”

“Kara…” Moira closed the distance between them and wrapped her oldest friend in her arms. “What did you say?”

Kara hugged her back. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m ready for that decision.”

Moira pulled back, giving her a supportive look before her face split with a grin. “Let’s go out. You and me. Drink our way up Bourbon Street, do what we want, who we want. Whatever comes to mind. You know it’ll cheer you up.”

“You work tomorrow, you know.”

“Whatever. If I’m too hung over, I’ll call in. You’ve been hounding me for years to get into all the Mardi Gras insanity. Let’s just go!”

Kara stared at her and then laughed loudly, wrapping her in a bone-crushing hug. “Yes! All right, we’ll need to find you something to wear, or do you want to go back home and meet me?”