Fleur de Nuit: Bourbon Street Bondage, Book 1 (8 page)

With another nip at his chest, she sat up, hands on his stomach to help her keep rhythm. The deeper penetration at this angle was so amazing it was hard to stay calm and not just ride him for all she was worth.

But she did need to come first. “Put your hands on my waist and watch me.” He complied, his eyes burning. Forcing herself to keep to slow and steady, she brought one hand under the demiskirt of her corset. She didn’t bother to hold in the moan of pleasure as she touched herself, her finger circling her clit and adding to the delicious pressure. Gavin’s hips rocked beneath her, keeping time. His jaw clenched and unclenched, his hands held onto her, straining. He panted with the effort. It was beautiful.

She was so lost in watching him that her orgasm surprised her. Her back arched, and she pitched forward with a moan as Gavin’s hips continued to push her through it. A single hand on his hips stilled him. Nibbling at his pecs, she gave herself a moment to recover. Her chest heaved against the corset, her breath coming hard and fast. And then she sat up, laughing. Oh, what a feeling it all was.

Gavin groaned as she rose up and off him.

She laughed again. “I know, it’s terrible, but this should make up for it.” Spinning around, she straddled his chest so she faced his legs. She pulled the condom off with a damp cloth, pumping him a few times, and tossed it to the floor before turning back with a wink. “Remember, not until I say.”

“Yes—oh God!” Her hand tightened around the base of his shaft. “Yes, Mistress!”

Moira grinned and ran her tongue over his hot, velvety length. She knew he was close, and it wouldn’t take much. She squeezed her hand again and took his head in her mouth. He tasted so good, all salt and musk.

Behind her, Gavin groaned. “Oh God. Please, Mistress…”

She took him farther into her mouth with a smile and slowly sucked her way to the tip. “Beg me, Gavin.”

“God above, and all the saints.” She squeezed him again and licked his head. “Please!”

“Please what?”

“Please, Mistress, please let me come—ah!” he cried out again as she sucked his length.

“Count to five, and then you may come.”

“Thank you, Mistress!” He groaned as she stroked him.

“Count out loud.”

“One,” he gasped.

She closed her mouth on him again, swirling her tongue around his tip.

“Two.”

Slowly, she took him deep.

“Three.”

His voice strained as she pressed her tongue against him and sucked hard.

“Four.”

She could hear the pain in his voice, the tremor as he held back. Moira smiled and drew her way up him again, until she held only the head, and then worked back down as the last number came.

“Five!” His hips bucked beneath her, and she sucked hard at the wet heat of his release as her hand squeezed at him again.

When she’d swallowed every last drop, she gave the head of his cock one last kiss and released him. “Very good, Gavin.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

When they regained their breath, Adrian walked her through aftercare, and all too soon it was time to go. They laughed as Gavin dressed, and Moira relaxed, thinking how much she’d enjoyed the session. And she had. She felt so powerful. The way he looked at her as she climaxed, with a sense of worship that thrilled her. She’d had no idea sex could be so potent. Or so good. Or make her feel so confident.

“The pleasure was mutual, Mistress. If Master Adrian is willing, I’d be happy to do it again sometime. Maybe with some toys.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” Adrian’s voice so close behind her made Moira jump. She’d completely forgotten he was there.

“Master Adrian. Mistress Moira.” Gavin gave a short bow and left.

Adrian stepped closer, enough that she could feel him behind her now. “I’m proud of you, mon petit ange noir.” He pressed his lips to the place where her neck and shoulder met. “In fact, I’m so proud that I’d rather like to fuck you blind myself now.”

“Adrian…” She closed her eyes as his hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her close to him. “I really do usually hate that nickname. But somehow, coming from you, I don’t mind it in the least. I thought you said watching could be as fun as doing?”

He barked a laugh as his hands roamed over her, his body pressing into her from behind. “Mon ange, watching is fun. But watching you tonight, watching you relax and take the control you’ve needed, well. It’s given me an ahnvee that’ll ruin my night if I don’t do something about it.”

Moira laughed as he rolled his hips against her to emphasize his plight. “I can tell.”

“Good. Moira…” He spun her around and lifted her bodily up onto the side table by the door. “I am going to fuck you now.”

Chapter Nine

Moira woke with a start, but without the usual panic.

What the hell?

She remembered the dream. It had started the same as always, but somehow Justin hadn’t seemed as terrifying. And then it veered completely off track. Almost laughably so. Suddenly he’d been the one tied to the bed, and she’d been standing over him in black pleather and ’80s hair, brandishing a crop while Adrian looked on.

A laugh bubbled up out of her chest and filled her room. God, what a joke.

She didn’t remember where it had gone from there, only that flash of a scene, plus the last bit that had woken her. Justin slapping her, berating her. It was something he’d never done in real life, not until he’d kidnapped her. He’d always put on the perfect show.

I’d have been out of that relationship like a shot, if he had. And none of that would ever have happened.

Maybe.

Still, it was a development, if an odd one. Like her psyche was at war with itself. Like the part that had gotten used to being a victim was fighting to keep the upper hand.

Was that even how it worked?

Moira shook her head and settled back into her pillow. All she really felt now was confused.

I could call Kara.

She smiled. Kara would get a kick out of this version of the dream, at least the part before he slapped her and she woke up. She’d laugh, and then probably insist on coming over anyway, to check on her.

Moira sighed. She wouldn’t call her. No need to, really. It was late, and she was fine.

I’ll call her in the morning
, she thought, as sleep settled back over her.
She’ll want to know she was right.

Kara waved at her from the street with a wide smile before ducking inside. Moira met her at the door to her apartment, grinning. She remembered belatedly that she hadn’t told Kara about the dream that morning, but had gotten up and gone to work, business as usual.

That in and of itself was almost a miracle.

Kara tackled her as soon as she opened the door. “God, woman. Look at you. It’s like I’ve never met you before. You look amazing! Lighter. Happier. Younger, even. It’s like the old you grew up and got all sexy. You have to come sit for me sometime; I need pictures of this new you. But I’m going to yell at Adrian next time I see him. He’s not allowed to keep you all to himself.”

Moira laughed. “Oh, trust me. He doesn’t.”

“Oh my God, you slut!” Kara gave her a play shove and grinned wider. “Now I’m jealous.” She smiled and pushed past Moira into the kitchen. “I brought wine. It’s that cabernet you liked so much on my birthday, and don’t even, Moira.” She glared at her friend.

Moira shut her mouth on the automatic protest and smiled. “You’re right. It is time we drank to the new me.”

“Damn straight. Actually, I think it’s time to welcome you back. And past time too.”

“I’m not sure I’m back, but I definitely feel good. You won’t believe the dream I had last night.”

Kara set the wine on the counter with more force than was probably good. “Was this another nightmare? Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Yes and no, and because it wasn’t worth bothering you. I went right back to sleep.”

Kara still glared at her, but it softened. “Well, fine, I guess. But you know you can always call me.”

Moira gave her best friend a look of thanks. “I know. But it was almost, I don’t know, funny. Sort of.” She outlined what she remembered of the dream quickly.

“That’s fucking hilarious. I still hate that you’re dreaming about it at all, and that you didn’t call me, but it’s a huge step.”

Moira smiled. “So you don’t think it’s weird?”

Kara shook her head. “Nah. It’s only your subconscious trying to work through it, is my guess. Trust me, it’s a good thing.” She turned back to the wine and poured a small amount.

Moira took the glass Kara held out and raised it to meet Kara’s.

“To Moira D’Arcangelis, my best friend, and the newest initiate to the underground world of New Orleans kink. Welcome back.”

Moira blushed and took a sip of the dry red, savoring it. “You’re right, you know. I haven’t felt this alive in so long I’d forgotten what it was like.”

Kara knocked back the little she’d poured herself. “I can tell. Honey, you’re glowing brighter than the sun. You’re smiling all the time. I haven’t seen you like this since…”

“Since before Justin.”

“Fucking asshole,” Kara muttered. “Yes. Since before then. So it’s nice to see you happy again. Now, knock back that glass, you’re going to want it.”

Moira side-eyed her friend and took another sip. “What are you plotting, Kara Deschamps?”

“Drink up and come find out.”

“Kara.”

Kara stared at her.

Moira sighed. She knew when she wasn’t likely to get anything out of her. So Moira finished her wine as she was told. “You know, looking at our friendship, anyone would think you were the Domme, and I was the sub.”

“I like to keep things interesting.”

“You’ll think it’s interesting when I spank that lanky ass of yours.”

Kara grinned so hard it pulled Moira up short. “Don’t make threats you’re not ready to back up, honey.”

Silence stretched through the apartment for a second, then two, then three, before both women burst out laughing.

“I’m going to have fun getting to know this side of you, aren’t I?”

“Hon, you have no idea.” Kara winked and beckoned. “Though you may find out, if Adrian has his way. Anyway, come on. We’re on Adrian’s errands tonight.”

Moira grabbed her purse and followed Kara out of the apartment. “Why does that not inspire me with confidence?”

Kara laughed and led her down the street. With the sun starting to go down, the usual evening festivities were already in full swing, and the crowds were growing thicker. The French Quarter was always busy, no matter what time of year it was, but now, during the Mardi Gras season, it was even busier. That energy was one of the things that had drawn Moira to it. It was vibrant and alive, and she’d hoped that would rub off on her.

In seven years, it hadn’t. And now, suddenly, she felt the city’s heartbeat like it was her own.

Moira smiled and looped her arm through Kara’s as they walked. “Have I said thank you today? Because really, thank you.”

“Oh honey, believe me. I’ve been tearing my hair out for years watching you. I’m happy to see you happy.”

“You and me both. So where are we going?”

Kara glanced at her and grinned. “Right here.”

Moira looked up. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The sign on the door read Tombeur Tattoos.

Moira shook her head and pulled back. “No. Absolutely not. I’m feeling good, but not that good.”

“Adrian insists. And it’s not that bad. I’ll be here the whole time.”

“No. You can’t just spring this on me! Why?”

Her best friend laughed. “Come inside and I’ll show you. But you have to trust me.”

“I’m beginning to hate that word.”

The bell over the door rang gently as Kara pushed it open. The shop itself was cozy and quiet, the faint buzz of a needle mingling with the soft strains of classic jazz playing over speakers tacked discreetly in the corners. The room was awash with soothing dark colors, sprinkled with matching pale highlights, giving it a very welcome feel.

Moira still didn’t feel welcome or soothed. “Remind me to kill Adrian for this.”

Kara laughed. “Price of admission, honey. It’s worth it, I promise.” She rang the bell at the front desk and leaned against it to wait. They didn’t wait long.

A tall lanky older man, with unimpressively graying dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, walked up and smiled at Kara. He wore a tight black T-shirt and a gray tweed driver’s cap on backward and had a kind face. He was also surprisingly free of tattoos.

“Kara Deschamps, ma chère. To what do I owe the pleasure? Did someone finally collar that fine ass of yours?”

“Not a chance, Moreau. I like my freedom. Except when I prefer being tied up,” she added with a wink. “I have new blood for you to ink.”

Moreau’s eyes zeroed in on Moira. “Fleur de Nuit blood? D or s?”

“New Domme. No color, only the outline.”

“Easy enough. Give me a second.” He walked back behind a curtain, and Kara turned back to Moira.

“Kara, please tell me what’s going on.”

Kara turned and picked her hair up off her neck. “You know this fleur-de-lis tattoo you’re always asking me about?”

At the base of Kara’s neck, and a little to the right, was a small fleur-de-lis, no bigger than about two inches. The base was wrapped by a thin black collar, and the words
Fleur de Nuit
ran across the middle in black. The center petal was empty, but the right was orange, and the left was a deep royal purple.

“I’m getting one of those?”

“Like I said, price of admission. It’s your entrance ticket to the club, and if you’re serious about this, which Adrian said you were, you have to have one.”

Moira took a deep breath. “Okay. What’s with the colors?”

Kara gave her a wicked smile and turned around, dropping her hair. “I’ll let Adrian explain, but basically the right petal is for what I’m into as a sub, the center is for who I belong to, and the purple on the left means I’m one of Adrian’s elite cadre. Meaning in certain circles, I have permission to speak for him.”

“Speak for him?”

“Like this. You can’t just walk in and ask for one of these. You have to come with someone like me.”

Moira blinked. “I had no idea it was that complicated.”

Moreau reappeared, cutting off any further discussion. “If you ladies would follow me?”

Kara smiled over her shoulder and tugged Moira with her into the back, and then shoved her into the chair Moreau pointed at.

Moreau sat opposite her and finished prepping his tools. “Right or left?”

Moira looked expectantly at Kara.

“Which shoulder, is what he’s asking. Right, Moreau. Moira’s a straight little deviant.”

Moira shook her head. “It’s like I don’t even know you. And why my shoulder, and not the neck like yours?”

Moreau answered. “Doms get theirs on the outer shoulder, subs on the neck. That’s how Adrian set it up.”

“But I’m a high school teacher. I can’t walk into work Monday morning with a fresh tattoo where everyone can see.”

“Stop looking for excuses, Moira.” Kara dropped down into the chair next to her and pulled her right arm up onto the armrest. “As long as you don’t go sleeveless, nobody will see. Take a deep breath and relax.”

“Kara, I really don’t know about this.”

“Hon, it’ll be over before you know it.”

“No, I’m not…” Moira stood back up. “It’s not the tattoo. I mean, it is, but whatever.”

Kara glanced at Moreau, who shrugged and turned back to his tools. “So if it’s not the tattoo, what is it?”

Moira sighed. “It’s what it means. No going back.”

“Moira.” Kara stood up and walked over to her. “You look better than I’ve ever seen you. More sure of yourself, happier. I think—I
know
this lifestyle agrees with you. And Adrian wouldn’t have asked me to bring you if he didn’t think the same.”

“It’s just so sudden.”

“We can wait, if you’re not ready. But I really think you are.”

Moira sighed and then smiled. “I hate you. Especially when you’re right.”

“You love me.”

Moreau looked at them both. “Are we ready?”

“No.”

Kara raised her eyebrow and said nothing.

Moira rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“I do hate you.”

“No you don’t. You were a trouper. And it hardly took any time.”

“I still hate you.”

Kara laughed. “You’d never make it as a sub, my friend.”

Moira glared at Kara. “Thank God. And it’s not the pain. Actually, that didn’t hurt nearly as much as I expected it to. I would’ve appreciated some heads up, though. Now, I’m going back to my place and finishing that cabernet by myself.”

“Oh, burn.” Kara laughed. “No, actually, you’re not. Adrian asked me to bring you to see him when it was done.”

Moira groaned. “Kara! I was supposed to have tonight to myself. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m actually a little tired of sex.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. It’s the years of celibacy talking.” Moira rolled her eyes, and Kara tugged at her arm. “Come on, it’ll hardly take any time at all. He only wants to talk.”

Moira made a face, but let Kara drag her down the street. “The last time Adrian only wanted to talk, I ended up having the best sex of my life.”

“I’m still trying to figure out why you’re complaining.”

Moira laughed. “Good point, I guess. But I was really looking forward to a nice night in with my best friend, instead of being dragged across the French Quarter getting exclusive tattoos and talking with dangerously sexy men.”

“He really is, isn’t he?” She flashed a smile and then sighed dramatically when Moira’s expression didn’t change. “Half an hour. Tops. I won’t let him keep us longer, okay? But if I don’t bring you, he won’t let me see Master Ian again, and I swear, that man is a god with the rope.”

Moira laughed. “You’re such a rope whore, Kara.”

“Says the woman who’s beaten and fucked more men in the last two weeks than I’ve seen her talk to the entire time I’ve known her.”

“Good point.”

They continued down the street, ignoring the tourists and bar hoppers. Past the Ursuline Convent and the French Market, and up St. Ann Street, past Chartres. The red brick and wrought iron building towered up over the cramped street. It was busy enough, but not too busy, as Adrian had said. La Belle Dame got plenty of patronage, but avoided the heaviest of the Bourbon Street partying.

They walked inside arm in arm and waved to Sam.

“Hey girls. He’s in his office downstairs.”

“Thanks, Sam!”

Adrian’s office was in the same back corner as the door up to his house. They found the door cracked open, and Adrian waiting inside.

“Mes filles. How is my favorite pair this fine Friday evening?”

“All tatted up, as ordered, sir.”

“And annoyed that I wasn’t given any warning,” added Moira.