Fleur de Nuit: Bourbon Street Bondage, Book 1 (4 page)

He nudged her with his knee. “There’s absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. The real question, ma chère, is this…” Adrian nodded to his stomach, where her nails had broken his skin. “Tell me what the difference is between your clawing up my skin and a few taps with a crop? Because in my mind, there isn’t any.”

Moira stared at the angry red lines she’d made.

“Something for you to think over, ma chère.”

Chapter Four

When they returned to the lobby, Moira carrying her shoes and Adrian sans tie and vest, Kara only looked them up and down and grinned.

“Kara, I trust you enjoyed my brewmaster.”

“I did indeed, Sir.” The words bubbled up out of her with a laugh. “Thank you. I might have to beg to see him again.”

“No doubt. Mademoiselle D’Arcangelis.” He turned to Moira and kissed her hand. “I will see you back here tomorrow, at six of the evening. Go to the bar, they’ll know I’m expecting you.”

“I don’t—”

“Moira.”

She hesitated and nodded. “All right. I’ll come. Thank you, Adrian.”

His eyes flashed. “Thank you. And merci, Kara, for finally bringing her in.” With a last smile at them both, he walked away.

Moira couldn’t even wait for him to be out of earshot. “I swear, Kara.”

“You’re welcome.”

Moira stared at her friend and laughed as they went out together, passing through the bar in silence. The night was crisp, but not particularly cold. The narrow cobbled streets were packed with cars and late-night partiers that they dodged in between, arm in arm.

“Why this, Kara? Why…?” She waved behind her at the bar.

“Why kink?” Kara smiled and nudged her. “Honestly? Because sometimes it’s the last thing you expect that helps. Sometimes it’s facing the fear in a different way, in an unexpected way, that makes the difference. And you need something that will make the difference. I need to see you smiling again. It’s been too long.”

Moira shook her head and leaned on her best friend. “And you? You really do this?”

“Best fun of my life, hon.”

They walked in silence for a block, letting the noise of the Mardi Gras crowds, the raucous shouts and music wash over them. “How did you know I wouldn’t turn and run?”

Kara looked around and took a deep breath before answering. “I didn’t. But I didn’t know what else to try. I’m glad you stayed.”

“I almost ran. A couple of times.”

“But you didn’t. That in itself is huge.”

Moira sighed. “Adrian can be persuasive.” She glanced sideways at Kara and grinned. “Even when he’s handcuffed to a bed.”

Kara’s laugh was loud enough to be heard over the crowds and the music. “You didn’t!”

“I did.”

She grinned suggestively. “And did you get to use his crop?”

Moira’s smile faltered. “He wanted me to.”

“Too much?”

Moira looked away. “Yeah. I don’t know, Kara. He made a really good point, but how did you know? I mean, that you were, well, into it?”

Kara smiled. “I’ve known for a long time. Since eleventh grade when Scotty Cavanaugh backed me up against the locker room wall and pinned my wrists while he kissed the shit out of me. God, that boy knew how to turn me on.”

“Having your wrists pinned while a guy kisses you is a long way from whips and crops and, and…”

“Handcuffs during sex? Floggers?” Kara laughed. “It is, but that wasn’t the only thing Scotty did. He was a boy of many talents, and I don’t only mean on the football field.”

“Wait, so, that’s why it took you so long to get over him?”

Kara winked. “One of the reasons. There’s not much kink to be found in southwestern Virginia. Scotty opened my eyes to how much fun a good spanking could be. Among other things.”

Moira shook her head and laughed. “Wow. And here I thought I knew all your secrets.”

“Most of them.”

Moira looked down the street at the tall, colorful buildings with their wrought iron fences and balconies, and realized they’d walked past her apartment and were almost to Kara’s. “I guess I’m staying at your place tonight.”

“Damn straight you are. You’re having a hard time wrapping your head around it, aren’t you?”

“A little. I mean, being hit actually turns you on?”

Kara pulled out her keys with a smile. “Okay, first, you have to get past the hitting thing. It’s not really about the hitting. Pain can be a turn-on, but it’s all about the situation. Some asshole walking up out of nowhere and slapping me would piss me off, not turn me on.” She talked while she opened the outside door and walked them upstairs to her apartment. “But in the right situation, with the right person? When trust is involved, pain can be an amazing addition to sex.”

Kara held her door open and let Moira pass before throwing the deadbolt and dropping her keys on the side table. “But more than that, being a sub is about serving. It’s about letting go, and letting someone else take the reins, make the decisions, manage the give and take. It’s about letting their wants and needs come first. It’s liberating.”

Moira laughed. “Since you’re one of the bossiest people I know, I guess that makes sense. But I don’t get where the pain comes in.”

Kara smiled. “You said Adrian made a good point tonight. What was it?”

Moira blushed and dropped onto Kara’s couch. “I might have, um, gotten a little overenthusiastic.”

“You mean you clawed him up a little? Good for you.” Kara flopped on the couch next to her and waved at her to continue.

“I wasn’t expecting sex that good. Hell, I wasn’t really expecting sex.” She stuck her tongue out as Kara rolled her eyes. “Anyways, he asked me what the difference was between scratching him up midorgasm and a few taps with his crop.”

“And what’s your answer?”

“It’s not like I meant to dig my nails in—”

“Honey, has any guy ever complained about getting scratched up during sex?”

“Well, no—”

“Yeah, exactly. Pain can amplify pleasure, whether it’s intentional or incidental. You know that phrase ‘hurt so good’?” Kara winked at her and grinned.

Moira shook her head and smiled back. “You really think this’ll help?”

“Hon, not only do I think this’ll help, I think you’ll enjoy it. You just have to let yourself.”

Moira leaned over and pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you.”

Moira stood outside La Belle Dame trying to convince herself to go in. Last night had been amazing, but in the light of day it had felt more like a crazy dream than reality. She wouldn’t have believed it had happened at all if Kara hadn’t talked about it nonstop.

So she couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened. Watching the blond brewmaster whip Kara, watching her best friend enjoy it almost as much as she’d enjoyed the fucking after. Kara had even confessed she’d known Moira would be watching. Moira hadn’t had the nerve to admit to her or Adrian how much the sight had turned her on. She’d barely had the nerve to admit it to herself.

She’d always thought her best friend was dead sexy. But she’d never really thought past that knowledge.

And going back… Moira stepped toward the open door, and then backed away again.
I can’t do this. I don’t care how mind-blowing the sex was.

So the sex was great. She wasn’t sure that made up for the resurgence of her flashbacks. In the surrealism of last night, Kara and Adrian’s logic had made so much sense. But in the light of day, it all seemed ridiculous.

Beating people for pleasure. A shudder rolled through her, followed by the memory of the power she’d felt the night before, merely ordering Adrian around. She’d promised him she’d try to be more open-minded tonight, and less squeamish, but she wasn’t sure, standing there now, that she could be.

Too much. It was all too much.

She turned to walk away, and her phone chirped, making her glance down at the text.

Stop being a chicken shit and go inside.

Kara, of course. Moira rolled her eyes, then squeezed them tight. When her best friend could know instinctively that she’d still be outside trying to talk herself into—or out of—this, it was time to make a change.

Fine. Going. I hate you.

You love me.

Moira shook her head, took a deep breath and walked into the bar. Live jazz drifted up from the lower section, mixing with the quiet noise of the early crowd. In an hour, the place would probably be packed, but it wasn’t too bad yet. Moira took another deep breath and walked up to the bar, where a petite blonde filled drinks. The young woman looked up as Moira approached, her face already asking what her order would be.

Moira smiled hesitantly. “Hey. Um. I’m supposed to meet Adrian? He told me to come to the bar and tell you.”

The bartender smiled and held out her hand. “You must be Moira then. He said to keep an eye out for you. I’m Sam, by the way. Want anything while you’re waiting?”

Moira shook Sam’s hand. “No, thanks.”

Sam raised an eyebrow in question. “Sure? Okay. Let me give the boss a ring.” She turned and grabbed a phone, dialing quickly. “Hey, it’s Sam. Your girl’s here. Yeah, I’ll send her back. Sure.” She hung up and walked over to the other bartender, whispering to him before turning back and smiling at Moira. “Come on, I’ll show you the way.”

Moira smoothed the short black skirt Kara had insisted she wear, and followed when Sam stepped out from behind the bar. They walked downstairs, the same way Moira had gone the night before, but this time Sam took her to a side door and knocked.

“Entrez.”

Sam smiled at Moira and winked before turning and walking away, leaving her staring at the door.

Get over it already.

Moira grabbed the doorknob and wrenched it before she could think better of the idea.

“Ma chère Moira.” Adrian stood behind a desk, smiling. “I was beginning to wonder if you were gonna stand me up.”

Moira stepped inside, shutting the door quietly, and stood awkwardly. Now that she was there, she wished she wasn’t. “I almost did.”

He gestured to a padded leather chair. “But you didn’t.”

“Yeah, well.” She sat down, avoiding looking at him. “Kara would’ve killed me if I had.”

Adrian walked around his desk until he was directly in front of her. His hand reached out, lifting her chin until she couldn’t avoid looking at him. “And is that the only reason? Because Kara would have been put out?”

Moira sighed and pushed Adrian’s hand away, glaring at him. “No. But neither of you understand.”

“Understand what? That it’s been so long since you did any living that you don’t remember how anymore?”

“Something like that. And then there’s the sex.” She felt herself blushing, thinking about it.

“Mais I thought you enjoyed yourself.” Adrian leaned back against his desk with a smile. “You did say as much.”

Moira blushed harder, but it didn’t stop her from staring at him. He wore a white dress shirt, unbuttoned to the top of his charcoal-gray pinstripe vest. The muscles of his forearms flexed as he gripped the desk, clearly visible below his rolled-up cuffs. She took a deep breath, forcing her eyes back up to his face before they traveled lower. “Yes. I did. It was good. Too good.” Her face heated as she blushed again. “I haven’t… I mean… I’ve hardly…” She took a deep breath and looked at her hands. “Sex, relationships, intimacy, they’ve all been few and far between, and not much worth mentioning. Guys find out about me—and they always do—and the few that are still interested think I’ll break if they look at me wrong. I hate it.”

“That’s tragic. And all the more reason to make a change.”

Moira snorted. “Yeah, easier said than done.”

“Easier than you think. You took to it well enough last night.”

She let her head fall back against the chair and stared at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure that was simple desperation. Adrian…”

He cocked his head in question.

She dropped her head and stared at her feet. “Don’t you think…?”

“Moira, ma chère, what is it?”

Moira shook her head, suddenly more nervous than she’d been even the night before. “What if this all just proves it?”

He leaned forward, all laughter gone from his face. “Proves what?”

She took a deep breath, and let it all out in a shudder before answering in the barest whisper. “That I really am broken.”

Adrian stood slowly and took her hands in his. “Do you think I’m broken?”

She shook her head. “No, I—”

“Or your Kara? Do you think she’s broken?”

Moira shook her head sharply. “No, of course not. She’s stronger than anyone I know.”

“Then why in God’s name would you think it of yourself?” He sighed and ran a hand through his chin-length hair. “If anything, I think it proves the opposite. You’re a strong woman, Moira. You’re only broken if you want to be. Now, are you willing to put that theory to the test?”

Moira didn’t answer, but when he extended his hand, she took it. Adrian reached across his desk to grab his suit jacket, and then wrapped her arm around his before escorting her out of his office. Once again, he led her back past the stage where the band continued to play, oblivious to the turmoil in her head. They stepped through the same rear door and past the same hulking man.

Adrian watched her watch the other man hold the door and shut it after them. “Devon. My houseboy. I believe you met him last night, non?”

She stared at Devon. “Yes. I remember.” Moira turned back to look at Adrian. “Wait. Houseboy? Isn’t he a little old?”

Adrian laughed, leading her up the stairs. “That may be. I offered to call him the butler, but he prefers houseboy. I don’t care what I call him, as long as he comes when I say. He’s a fabulous fuck, aussitte,” he added with a wink.

Moira stopped dead in her tracks. “But, I thought…”

Adrian laughed loudly. “Mmm, I don’t discriminate by gender. A good fuck is a good fuck.”

“Oh.”

He grinned. “That isn’t a problem, is it?”

“Oh! No. I don’t care. I just never thought about it that way.”

“You should.” He started them off again, leading her into the same room as the night before. “Now.” Dropping her arm, he walked over to the side table and picked up a crop.

Moira felt her face flush with heat, but realized after a moment that her hands weren’t shaking at the sight of it. Much.

Interesting.

“You’ve turned a delightful shade of rouge. Pourquoi?”

She shook her head. “Embarrassment.”

Adrian stepped forward. “Oui? Is that all?”

Moira looked away. Embarrassment over the night before was foremost in her head, but the truth she couldn’t escape was that the sight of the crop in Adrian’s hand hadn’t bothered her, it had made her embarrassingly wet.