Mardi Gras (8 page)

Reaching out, she began to stroke his long, smooth cock, still standing at attention between his thighs. He pulled in his breath.

“Five minutes,” she whispered. “Five more minutes of surrender and I’ll take you to heaven, lover. I promise.”

The combined heat and tension in the room were palpable as their eyes met in the dim lighting. “I don’t think I can—” he began, but she cut him off.

“You can do
this
.”

He let out a sigh.

“Pleeease.” She flashed persuasive eyes through her mask.

He let out a soft chuckle. “I thought that was supposed to be
my
line.” She returned a small grin. “Unlike you, I’m perfectly willing to beg from time to time in order to get what I want.”

His eyes narrowed in grim amusement. “What do you want me to do?”

“Simple. Lay down on the couch like I was, on your stomach.” He lifted a finger in the air. “I don’t want to be tied up again.” She rolled her eyes playfully. “Fine.”

And even despite his reluctance, Mia’s soul filled with excitement as Ty rolled to lay prone on the sofa. She wasted no time, climbing onto the couch, straddling his legs, wondering if he could feel her pussy rubbing wet and open against them as she began to do what she’d done the last time they’d been together here—she slid the length of the riding crop along the crack of his ass.

“Oh God,” he groaned.

“Mmm, yes,” she purred in reply. Women weren’t the only ones to find pleasure in ass play and she was going to give her man as much joy as he’d just given her.

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She bit her lip, aroused by rubbing the leather braidwork over his asshole. Slowly to and fro she scraped the crop, sinking it deeper and deeper against him, playing him like a violin. Beneath her, his breath came hot and heavy, drenching her cunt with still more desire.

Before she knew it, their mutual excitement drove her to do something entirely new. She pulled the crop away from his ass, laying it across his lower back as she used both hands to spread him there, study him. She’d never really had much occasion to examine a guy’s asshole so intimately, but given that this was Ty, her lifelong dream man, she couldn’t have been more deeply thrilled. She stroked the fissure with the pad of her thumb and he moaned, something that she sensed grew from deep in his gut. A second caress produced the same effect, arousing her to her inner core, her very soul.

Drawing in her breath, glad he couldn’t see the little experiment she was about to indulge in, she stroked her fingers between her thighs, getting them wet. Then she rubbed her juices in a gentle circle over his anus, watching it open slightly. He uttered a soft, light gasp that pleased her immensely.

Her heart beat faster as she repeated the motion, this time massaging the wetness in, applying more and more pressure to the hot little circles her fingers made.

“Uhhh…” he growled deeply and she knew he liked it.

Would he like what came next?

Taking up the crop again, she studied the handle—nicely rounded and covered in smooth black leather, no seams.

She drew in her breath, her chest tightening in anticipation, as she began to rub the tip of the riding crop’s handle in a small circle over Ty’s anus.

His groan stretched enormously, seeming to fill the room and drown out the partying and music still wafting up from Bourbon Street below.

She rubbed harder, harder, working it, pressing it gently, until the handle began to slip inside.

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“Ah, God!” he yelled.

From shock or pain?

She stopped in mid-insertion, going still. Then she bent down to gently kiss his ass next to where the riding crop now entered. A purring sound left him and he lifted his ass toward her—toward the crop.

She smiled as a sense of fulfillment whirred down through her, settling deep in her pussy. She slid the riding crop’s handle in a little farther, and he began to move up and down, fucking it.

Her every sense was on alert now, every pore of her skin extra-sensitized from watching his lovely ass take the riding crop inside, from knowing he wanted it and that she was delivering it.

He moaned softly at every stroke, and she pushed the handle deeper, deeper, making him cry out louder. Soon she was fucking him harder and whispering, “Yes, baby, yes,” thrilled at her achievement.

But then she wanted more of him—
had
to have more.

So she carefully climbed down off the couch—still holding the crop in place, still gently fucking his ass and drinking in every hot moan and groan that left him—to kneel beside the sofa.

“Turn onto your side, facing me,” she said, a soft command.

He hesitated, and she could understand why, given that she was fucking him with something so long and gangly and that shifting his body might be tricky at the moment, but she said, “Do it,” anyway.

He turned slowly, and she carefully moved her tool along with him.

When she saw his face, she was filled with…God, with what? Some emotion that almost buried her, strangled her. He looked so pleasured, and it was all because of her—she was giving this to him.

“This is…the most intense sex I’ve ever had, Mina.” 78

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Her voice came out in a mere whisper. “For me, too.” Then, still holding the riding crop in place, she bent to take his lovely cock in her mouth.

A ferocious groan erupted from him, pleasuring her profoundly as she took as much of him as she could, passionately sucking, working him over without reserve, rewarding him for his obedience this one last time.

She slid her lips up and down until her mouth felt stretched and achy and her hand cramped from the awkward angle of holding the crop at his ass, but his sounds of deep enjoyment spurred her on, making her want to suck his big, beautiful shaft dry.

“God, if you don’t stop, I might come,” he said suddenly.

She released him and met his gaze. “Do you want that? Do you want to come in my mouth?”

He looked surprised at her soft tone. But the last few minutes with Ty had drawn something from deep within her, something that demanded she be tender.

“I want to come inside you,” he told her. “In your pussy.” She felt the words in her chest. Mmm, she wanted that, too.

“I want to be able to…fuck you hard, Mina. I have a feeling you like it that way, and I haven’t gotten to do it to you like that yet.” Oh yes, she
loved
it hard. And she wanted it that way from him as much as he did.

“One more thing I want,” he said softly.

She didn’t look at him this time, because she already knew what he was going to say.

“I want to see your face, Mina.”

When she didn’t answer, he said, “Why are you hiding from me?” She didn’t reply, instead gently withdrew the riding crop, leaving him to sigh at the loss.

“If there’s…if there’s anything under your mask you’re afraid to show me…don’t be.”

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God, he thought maybe she had some sort of scarring or deformity or something.

The part that pinched at her gut was the implication that he didn’t mind.

She glanced up at him. “Your chivalry is impressive, but it’s nothing like that.”

“Then why?”

She swallowed, at a loss. No good answer existed. “Listen,” she finally said, “I don’t want to talk about the mask anymore. What I want is for you to fuck me. Just as hard and long as you promised. No more questions or arguments. Agreed?” He sighed, but gave a short nod as she knelt next to him on the couch, one shoe curled beneath her stocking-clad leg. “How do you want me?” she asked.

“How do you like it?”

She thought a moment, then turned over, onto her hands and knees, facing the other end of the couch. “Like this.”

He let out a groan. “That’s so hot, baby.”

“If you want control so bad,” she said in a slinky voice as she peered over her shoulder at him, “take me.”

Placing his hands on her hips, he entered her hard and swift, nearly stealing her breath. He was so awesomely big inside her, the very sensation of him there nearly consumed her. When he began to thrust hard, hitting her G-spot with each hot stroke, it made her feel as if she were going to explode, over and over again. She cried out with each fierce drive into her pussy, overwhelmed by the power of his cock.

Thank God he’d wanted to do it like this—she’d not realized what she’d been missing. Now she was filled with pleasure, filled with Ty…simply filled.

Between his groans of delight, he murmured that he wanted to make her come again, and the next thing she knew, one of his hands had snaked around her hip, between her legs, his fingers sinking into her wetness. “God, yes!” she shrieked.

Oh, it wouldn’t take long, she knew without doubt. She was too excited. And his cock was so big. Part of her wanted to let him fuck her this way all night, but she 80

Mardi Gras

realized it was impossible—her body was too racked with pleasure already, and he’d admitted to being on the edge, too.

“Yes, rub my pussy,” she prodded him, still trying to hold onto a little of her authority as she approached climax—when, without warning, it shattered over her like her body was a piece of crystal breaking into stunning shards of heat and light, and all of them were shimmering down through her as she came against his hand.

And then he was yelling, “God, me too, honey!” and his thrusts nearly skewered her to the couch, they were so deep and penetrating. Again, again, again, he pounded into her, pummeling her, burying her in sensation.

The moment he withdrew, she turned in his arms, needing to see him, hold him, needing for
him
to hold
her
. Without quite meaning to, she clung to him, bitten by that same overwhelming emotion again. She’d meant simply to kiss him, share the afterglow in an easy embrace—but instead she was clutching him tight and never wanted the moment to end, never wanted to let him go.

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Ty rained kisses across her lips, her jaw, her neck and chest, soon nibbling at her perfect pink nipple, still jutting beautifully erect above her sexy, revealing bra.

“Tell me something, Mistress Mina,” he said, basking in the lazy serenity that followed great sex. “Are you always this wild?” He flashed a grin.

He watched her blink beneath that damn mask she still wouldn’t shed for him.

Then she lifted her green gaze to his. “Could be I’m normally a shy, prim little schoolteacher who wears high-collared blouses and her hair in a bun. Or…could be that you can see me nightly, stripping at Club Venus up the street, and that my specialty is hot lap dances on guys just like you.”

He tilted his head, sorry she seemed to be slipping back into game mode, after the intense moments they’d shared. He’d thought maybe he’d been starting to peel back the layers of his mysterious Mistress Mina, thought maybe he’d been getting a little closer to the real her. “Which is it?” he asked anyway.

“It’s whichever you want it to be,” she purred, pulling him down for a soft tongue kiss. “Now,
you
tell
me
something.”

“Anything,” he said, attempting to prove a point. “Unlike you, I’m an open book.” She ignored the sarcasm and asked, “Ever been fucked in the ass before, naughty boy?”

He grinned. Now that it was over, he couldn’t quite believe that had happened or that he’d enjoyed it so much. “Um, no.”

“So I took your virginity,” she said on a light, sophisticated laugh.

He chuckled along with her. “I wasn’t aware I had any virginity left to take, but…uh, yeah, maybe you did. Just like I took yours in the same place.” 82

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They shared a deliciously mischievous smile.

“What’s next for us, Miss Mina?”

“Next?”

He nodded. “Next tonight? Next, the next time I see you?” Her smile faded. “I’m afraid we’ll have to stick to the ‘
I’ll
call
you
’ plan, like before.” A horrible thought struck him. “Are you married or something?” She shook her head. “No, of course not.”

“Then why so secretive? You obviously enjoy my company enough to come back for more. Why won’t you give me your number, give this thing a chance?”

“This thing?”

He motioned back and forth between them. “Me and you.” She bit her lip, looking pensive, and it forced him to recognize the leap in thought he’d made—a leap for which he was usually on the receiving end. He’d never been on
this
side before—the side that wanted it to be more than just an affair.

“Wait, you don’t have to say it,” he told her, pulling back slightly.

“Say what?”

“That this is just sex. We’re not
dating
, not
seeing each other
, this is fucking and that’s all.”

She turned away from him then, which he thought odd—since he couldn’t see her face anyway.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It
can’t
be any more than that. I can’t explain why, but it simply can’t.”

Ty sat up. His heart physically hurt in his chest, but he told himself he was still just recovering from so much kinky sex. He had
not
gotten emotionally involved with his masked dominatrix. He refused to even consider that as a possibility. Even as much as he wished she hadn’t closed back up on him emotionally just now, even as much as 83

Lacey Alexander

he’d liked finding out she had a soft side when she’d agreed to submit to him a little.

Taking a deep breath, he rose from the couch and went to retrieve his clothes across the room.

“You’re leaving?”

He glanced over his shoulder to see her sitting up, as well. “Yeah. I mean, if it can only be sex, well…the sex is over for tonight, right?” She nodded. And he got dressed, realizing he
wanted
to leave now. Even if he sort of hated leaving, too. But the damnable truth was—if it couldn’t be anymore than just this, just the fucking part, he didn’t want it.

He couldn’t
believe
he didn’t want it, could barely fathom that the great sex she’d shared with him wasn’t enough for him, but he also couldn’t fight whatever was going on inside him—and the fact was, it
wasn’t
enough. He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but he
had
gotten emotionally involved.

He walked to the door without looking back, feeling angry, even if a part of him knew that was stupid. God knew they’d never made each other any promises, and they’d never even had any reason to—it had been two nights of hot sex, plain and simple. Maybe he was angry at himself—for wanting more. Wanting to see her face so damn badly. His chest felt tight, achy.

Her clicking heels approached hurriedly behind him, but he didn’t look back until she grabbed onto his wrist.

“Not even a goodbye?” she asked.

Their gazes met, held. Then he placed his hand on the back of her head amid all those wild red curls and kissed her lush lips, one last time. “Goodbye, Mina.” He walked out the door, hailed the first taxi he saw, and headed for home, feeling empty inside for reasons he couldn’t quite understand.

* * * * *

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Mia sat alone in her apartment the next day, flipping through channels, watching nothing, hating everything about Mardi Gras and wishing it would end. Wishing lots of things. Like that she’d never concocted the insane idea to put on a mask and seduce Ty.

Although tears rose behind her eyes at the thought, because how could she regret the wild intimacy they’d shared, at once so new and yet so comfortable? She didn’t think she could have done those things with anyone else.

God, she’d thought she could do this—take this for what it was, hot sex. She’d thought it would fill a physical need, bring the fantasy to life, and maybe then she could move on, get Ty out of her mind.

Instead, though, just the opposite had happened.

She had no choice but to recognize the devastating truth—she was in love with him.

* * * * *

“Morning, sweet thing,” Ty said on Monday as he walked into the messenger service, the plate glass door falling shut behind him.

“Morning, Ty,” she said without looking up, pretending she was immersed in paperwork.

“Any messages?” he called from his office.

“Bobby’s going to be—”

“Fired,” he said before she could finish. “When he gets here, send him in to see me.

And start looking through applications for a replacement.” Wow, he sounded like he was in a
bad
mood. Was it because of Mistress Mina? Was it possible he’d taken their time together that seriously?

Against her better judgment, she got up and walked to his doorway. “Listen,” she said softly, “I know it’s none of my business who you fire, but…Bobby’s actually sick today. Really sick. He threw up while we were on the phone and I’m ninety-nine percent sure he couldn’t fake that.”

Ty shrugged. “A hangover during Mardi Gras isn’t a good excuse.” 85

Lacey Alexander

Oh. Stupidly, perhaps, she hadn’t thought of that—given that she was trying to forget Mardi Gras existed.

“Besides, even if he had the Russian flu, it’s one time too many. I’ve got a business to run and I need dependable employees—like you.”

She swallowed nervously, thinking her usual—
If you only knew
.

“Um, how was your weekend?” she dared ask.

“Shitty, thanks.”

“Why? I…I thought you had a date with your hot chick from last week.”

“I did. It didn’t end well. End of story.”

She nodded, still a little amazed that the things he’d indulged in with Mistress Mina had mattered to him so much.

“How was
your
weekend? Better than mine, I hope. Did you see your new tattoo-free guy?”

She nodded.

“And?”

“And…that didn’t go so well, either. I…don’t think I’ll be seeing him again.” She hurried to add, “I mean, at least not…romantically.” He tilted his head, his expression softening. “Sorry it didn’t work out, sweet thing.” Her heart wilted a little in her chest. “Yeah, I’m sorry yours didn’t go better, too.”

* * * * *

Fat Tuesday. The last day of Mardi Gras. The night of the biggest blowouts, the most wild debauchery, the most hedonistic revelry. Ty sat in his apartment, the first floor of a grand old house on Esplanade, at the edge of the Quarter, watching the daily Mardi Gras report on the evening news. Picking up his fork, he dug into the reheated red beans and rice Liz had sent home with him after he’d had dinner at their place over the weekend.

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I should go out and take part in that
, he told himself, watching a bunch of beaded and masked people screaming for the TV camera.

I should go down to Club Venus and get a lap dance or five and see if Mina turns up
straddling my crotch at any point.
But he doubted she would.

No, I should just get drunk, hang out on the street, and give beads to girls all-too-willing to
jiggle their bare breasts for me, then maybe get laid by one of them.

Or maybe I should walk into a store, buy a mask of my own, and pick up girls
that
way.

Only problem was—none of it sounded any fun. Not the least bit titillating or desirable. Shit, this Mistress Mina thing had hit him hard, harder than he could easily understand. He barely knew her. Why had he cared so much? Why had he wanted so much more of her?

Finishing his dinner, he stuffed his wallet in his pocket, grabbed his keys, and headed for the door, without even knowing where he intended to go.

He set out walking, glad the night was clear and warm—sorry each time he happened upon a group of early revelers getting amped up for the last big party of this year’s festivities. He wanted…he wanted…

Something that felt…safe. Normal. Good.

He wanted to go someplace where he knew there were no worries, where things were easy, comfortable. He could only think of two places that really qualified—Jack and Liz’s place, or Mia’s. He chose Mia, thinking maybe she was lonely, too, given her romantic failure of the weekend just past.

And the closer he got to her apartment, the more
right
it seemed to hang out with her tonight. Maybe they could just talk, pour their hearts out to each other over a bottle of wine or something. Maybe he’d been foolish all this time—thinking sex was more important than a woman’s personality. Maybe he should try thinking of Mia as more than a friend and see what came of it.

He stopped into a liquor store on the way, grabbing a chilled bottle of Chablis, remembering it was Mia’s wine of choice.

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Reaching her building, he let himself through the gate that led to the courtyard, walked past the pleasant little fountain that gurgled there, then headed up the neatly whitewashed stairs and down the veranda until he knocked on her door.

She opened it wearing denim shorts, a cute fitted pullover of pale yellow, and a surprised look. “Ty—what’s up?”

Only then did it occur to him to feel slightly sheepish. But he decided to be frank.

“It’s Fat Tuesday and for the first time in my life, I don’t want to spend it partying. I just want to hang out with a friend, drink some wine or something.” He held up the bottle.

“You up for it?”

She blinked. Looked confused. He started to regret coming. Maybe she was busy.

Or maybe
he
seemed desperate.

But then she smiled. “Sure. Yeah. Come in.” She stood back to offer him entry.

He hesitated slightly. “You didn’t have any big plans for the evening, did you?”

“Me? No. I’m not…you know…much of a partier.”

“Except with tattooed guys,” he said with a grin.

She laughed. “Yeah, except for them.” Before closing the door, she glanced down toward the courtyard, which was quiet and empty, other than some Zydeco music coming from someone’s window, loud enough at the moment to override the sounds of Mardi Gras on the streets beyond. “Hey, do you want to sit outside and drink? It’s nice out—warm.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Sounds good.”

“Let me grab some glasses and a corkscrew from the kitchen. And I have a couple of folding lawn chairs in my bedroom, in the closet, if you want to go get them.” He said, “Sure,” set his wine bottle on a table next to the door, and headed off in search of chairs as Mia went in the other direction.

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Entering her bedroom, he made a beeline for the closet—but was stopped dead in his tracks by what lay on her dresser. Two Mardi Gras masks. One in black with silver cording. The other of purple sequins with dangling beads.

He actually blinked, hard, then opened his eyes again, somehow thinking he’d see them differently.

But no—they were the same. The same very familiar masks. He picked up both in one hand, his stomach wrenching painfully as he tried to make sense of it. Which is when it hit him.
Mina. Mia. Mina. Mia.

All along, he’d had the bizarre feeling of knowing her, although maybe at the time he’d perceived it more as
wanting
to know her. But now, as it all slowly became clear to him…damn, how could it be?

How could his sweet Mia have been Mistress Mina?

My God, the intimate acts they’d indulged in together! The things he’d let her do to him!

Along with the general shock of finding out his seductress had been Mia came the surprise of discovering that apparently she wasn’t the sweet, docile girl he’d always thought. Tim’s little sister, the girl Ty had always wanted to protect, look out for.

Apparently, it was the other way around—
he
needed protection from
her
.

Feelings of humiliation, stupidity, and anger warred within him. His hands curled into fists as his body tensed. Why the fuck would she do this to him? Why would she lie, pretend?

“Ty, did you find the chairs okay?” Her voice grew closer as she spoke, until she walked into the room. “They’re behind…”

Her eyes fell on the masks he held. She went pale, still, and they stared at each other for a long, strange moment.