Mardi Gras (9 page)

“Why?” he boomed at her. “Why the hell did you do it?” Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open, but nothing came out.

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Lacey Alexander

“Why, Mia? Or is that
Mina
? Why did you lie to me? Answer me, damn it.”

“I…I can explain.” She looked panicky, shaky. He thought she sure as hell should.

“Well, start talking.”

Shudders ran the entire length of Mia’s body. How had she been so stupid, letting him come in here? He’d shown up at her door unexpected, and she hadn’t even thought… Oh God. She’d just said she could explain, but could she? “I…I… God, Ty, I just…wanted to be with you.”

He looked incredulous, and she couldn’t blame him. “So you thought it would be clever to put on a mask and a wig and make me think you were somebody else?” She nodded. Then shook her head. She was so confused. “I…I never thought you’d want
me
. So I just thought, with it being Mardi Gras and all, that maybe, just once, I could be someone else. Just for some fun. One sexy night. Something different and…memorable.”

“So you thought it would be amusing to put one over on me, use me for some kinky sex, then cut me loose and never fill me in that it was you.” She’d never seen him look more disgusted, and behind that, in his eyes, just plain sad. She didn’t know what to say, how she could possibly salvage this. The worst had happened—everything good they’d ever shared was ruined now.

Which made her realize she had nothing to lose. So she told him the unthinkable truth. “Ty, I’ve had a huge crush on you since I was thirteen years old. All these years, I’ve wanted you. But I knew you only saw me as a friend, or as Tim’s little sister. I knew nothing would ever happen between us if I didn’t
make
it happen. I’m thirty-one years old. I wanted to have wild, crazy sex with you. Just once. Just to get it out of my system.”

“We fucked twice,” he snapped, lips set in a grim, straight line.

“You wanted to see me again. You wouldn’t let it go.” Her voice quivered now that she’d told him the whole embarrassing truth. “So I…couldn’t resist doing it again.” 90

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When still nothing changed in his enraged eyes, she babbled on further. “I never meant any harm. I just wanted to have a good time, without any repercussions. I wanted to give you a good time, too. That’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?” he repeated, sounding cynical. Then he dropped the masks back to the dresser. “I’ll leave these for the next time you want to make some unsuspecting guy feel like a fool. I’m outta here.”

With that, he stormed from the room, out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him before she could even catch her breath.

She plopped down on the bed, burying her head in her hands. How the hell had this happened? And just when she’d been ready to put it behind her and move on.

Well, she amended, not
move on
. Now that she knew she was in love with Ty, moving on sounded next to impossible—but she’d been ready to try resuming their old relationship, ready to attempt surviving the brutal emotion of love and maybe someday get past it. Now, everything was a colossal mess. And she couldn’t imagine any possible way to fix it.

* * * * *

Ty stalked away from her building, heading for Bourbon Street, his entire body tense. She’d used him. Lied to him and used him.

Tied him up, for God’s sake. Made him lick her goddamn shoe!
Fucked
him with a
riding crop!

He shook his head in disbelief. It had been crazy enough back when he’d thought they were two strangers. But to find out his masked seductress was someone he knew, someone he knew
very well
, and that she was lying to him and using him because she wanted to experiment with some kinky sex was…mortifying. To think of how he’d pined over her. Tried to track her down. Longed to take that mask off and see her face.

Well, at least now he knew why she’d been so damned adamant about leaving the mask on.

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Lacey Alexander

Then new thoughts hit him. He’d seen, felt,
tasted
Mia’s breasts now.
Mia’s!
He’d seen, felt, tasted—
deeply
—her pussy. She
shaved
it. Never in a million years would he have imagined Mia was a sensual, sexual enough creature to do that. Or to own that kind of lingerie. To
want
that sort of wild, hedonistic sex.

He shook his head, extremely confused and sorry to acknowledge that his cock was getting stiff with the memories, with the realization that his wild, riotous sex partner was sweet Mia, who he’d thought didn’t have a kinky, dirty bone in her body.

Turning a corner onto Bourbon was literally walking into an enormous, wild party.

Everywhere he looked, people were drinking, laughing, making out. A jazz band played in the street. People in costumes—wizards, tigers, court jesters—passed by. Girls were lifting their shirts and collecting mountains of beads to weigh down their necks.

Strippers stood in doorways, scantily clad, beckoning men inside.

Yet the only thing that really grabbed Ty’s attention was one of the French Quarter’s many sex shops—lit up and wide open for business.

He wandered inside, drawn instantly—for the first time ever—to the bondage section.

Anger at Mia still burned inside him—it hadn’t even begun to slack off. But his cock burned, too, in a different way. Hungrily. Urgently.

Maybe, he thought as he picked up a package of leather ties, he should teach Mistress
Mia
a little lesson. Maybe he’d show her exactly how it felt to be used for kinky sex. Maybe Fat Tuesday would turn out to be a wild night yet—when he introduced little miss Mia to
real
dominance.

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Mia flinched when someone pounded on the door. Who on earth…?

Yet, as she ran to answer it, she knew who she’d find on the other side.

What she
didn’t
expect was to find Ty standing there wearing a simple but sexy little black mask. Despite herself, her pussy went wet. “Ty…” she said uncertainly.

He barreled in without being invited and shut the door, turning the lock behind him. He still wore the same grim expression as before, but his eyes looked different now—they looked furious and…intensely passionate.

She noticed the shopping bag he carried only when he set it down with a thump.

Impatiently, he reached for the hem of her shirt. “Take this off,” he demanded.

“What?” Had she heard him correctly?

“Lift your arms up over your head, damn it,” he bit off, and she did as he said. He stripped off her top in less than two seconds, tossing it across the room. Next, he reached for the button on her shorts, briskly lowering the zipper and shoving them down, so that she stood before him in a lacy coral-colored bra and matching panties.

“Ty, what are you doing?” she asked, breathless.

He stepped up close enough that she could feel his erection pressing into the front of her undies, and spoke low and firm. “I’m giving you a taste of your own medicine, Mistress Mina. I’m gonna find out how
you
like being used for kinky sex.” She drew in her breath, both frightened and thrilled. She had no idea what Ty might do to her, and she’d definitely never seen him this angry or determined-looking, but she also couldn’t imagine anything he could do to her that wouldn’t excite her right now.

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Lacey Alexander

They stood looking at each other, the air filled with hot tension until he closed both hands hard on her ass and pulled her to him for a rough kiss that left her breathless. She twined her arms around his neck as he moved one hand to her breast for a brutal caress that filled her with more wet pleasure than she could have anticipated.

Still crushing her to him, he yanked one bra strap off her shoulder, baring her nipple, then possessively lifted it to his mouth. He sucked hard, making her whimper at the pleasure-pain of it. Even while it hurt, she’d never felt anything so powerful or intense, and it swept her away in a rush of hot desire. “Mmm, God,” she murmured.

Then his hands were at the back of her bra, deftly unhooking it. “Take it off, all the way. I haven’t seen your breasts without anything on them or around them,” he said in that same commanding voice.

She shrugged free of the bra, then stood beneath his scrutiny, her breasts achy and tingling under his gaze. He cupped them both in his large hands, as if testing the weight, then began to knead them, hot and vigorous. Heated, thready sighs left her until he urgently lowered his mouth to the other breast, suckling hard again. The sensation shot through her like licks of flame. She cried out, grabbing onto him for balance, and he gripped her ass once more, this time lifting her up into his arms and carrying her into the bedroom.

He tossed her on the bed and she lay there, aroused and unsure, waiting until he returned with the bag he’d brought.

The first thing he drew out was a long, black strip of leather. Straddling her in the bed, he pushed her arms up over her head and tied her wrists with it, pulling the leather into a tight knot. Then he attached it to the wrought iron headboard. She remained wildly aware how close his cock was—to her mouth, her breasts—and she wished madly that he were naked. But she dared not say a word.

Backing off of her, he said, “Lift your ass,” then harshly pulled down her panties.

He tossed them aside as he rose from the bed and reached into his bag, extracting…something black, a large swath of leather, but she wasn’t sure what it was 94

Mardi Gras

until he said, “Lift,” again, and this time slid it under her. He drew it around her waist and began to lace it by hand. It stretched from her rib cage to her hips and she realized it was a waist-cincher, an item that struck her as somewhat Victorian and completely wicked in terms of bondage—especially when he laced it tight, tight,
tight
, making her feel utterly imprisoned in the thing before finally finishing.

Next he withdrew a thick, black leather collar from the bag, which he fastened around her neck. Like the waist-cincher, it made her feel pleasantly trapped, forcing sensation on her with each and every move she made.

And then he left. Just left the room—picked up his bag and walked out!

Minutes began to pass and she wondered if he’d departed from the apartment completely and meant to leave her here like this, trussed naked except for a bit of black leather, until she called out for help and someone found her. God, talk about payback.

And on top of that, her pussy wept for him. She could feel the comforter dampening beneath her. She’d been a little frightened and totally unsure what would happen to them once this was over, but from the moment he’d shown up at her door, she’d been aroused and ready for whatever this evening held, for whatever he
wanted
it to hold. If he wanted to punish her, she figured she deserved it. She’d take whatever he dished out.

Just when she’d seriously begun to worry that maybe he’d left her like this, he tramped back into the room—no longer a lighthearted beach boy, but now clearly a god of all that was dark and dangerous.

She gasped at the sight of him, and her cunt spasmed. Across his chest he wore a black halter-like apparatus constructed of thin leather strips connected by silver rings.

His eyes still shone through his sexy black mask, and now his neck was adorned with the same sort of collar she wore. Thick leather cuffs circled both wrists, and below, he’d donned black leather pants—with no crotch. His big cock stood at full attention between the leather leggings, completely exposed. She was stunned speechless. And so 95

Lacey Alexander

damn hungry for him. To think this man had wanted to be tied up—when he was clearly born to be a woman’s master.

As he stood looking at her, tied to the bed in her scant leather regalia, she felt a whole new kind of beautiful, and she
relished
submitting to him. She still feared for tomorrow and the future of their relationship, but for tonight, she was going to soak up every bit of domination he wanted to heap on her.

“Are you ready to be my sex slave, Mia?” he asked sharply.

She nodded, answering with one quiet word. “Yes.”
So very ready.

He walked to the bed and straddled her again, but higher up this time, his thighs settling across her shoulders, the black leather of his pants rubbing warm on her skin.

“Then suck my cock, slave,” he demanded, rising on his knees and holding his shaft down to insert it in her mouth. She opened wide, accepting it with ease.

To have him between her lips, sinking deep, near her throat, without having any control over it, was breathtaking. She felt so owned, so wholly possessed—but in this moment she
wanted
to be owned by him,
wanted
to be whatever he wanted to make of her. Her pussy fluttered with delight as he slid his hard, lovely cock in and out of her mouth, slow at first, but then slightly harder, deeper, until he was groaning with each stroke between her lips. Her mouth felt so stretched, to a degree that—under normal circumstances—would have made her back off slightly, take a break. But like this, now, she couldn’t
choose
to take a break—and it was arousing to have the option stolen from her, to be gently forced to suck his cock until he decided he’d had enough.

When finally he withdrew the massive shaft, her mouth felt instantly empty, abandoned—but joyfully well-used.

What now?
she wondered, thinking,
More, I want more of this. I want to be his slave
, but not daring to speak.

That angry fire still lit his eyes as he shifted back, still straddling her—until his erection came to lay between her breasts. He reached down and pressed the soft mounds up into his hard cock, beginning to slide back and forth, fucking them. She 96

Mardi Gras

moaned at the raw heated delight of having that ultra-hardness enclosed by her sensitive, tender flesh, glad she’d left him so wet that he could glide with slick ease between her breasts. Above, he groaned deeply, watching the connection of their bodies, and she was thrilled to see that even amid his anger, she could still bring him pleasure.

His thrusts turned rough, intense, making her feel it all the more, and love it all the better.
Yes, yes
, she thought, still not brave enough to utter a word.
Fuck my breasts, Ty.

Fuck me every way possible.

Finally, he released her breasts and moved still farther down her naked body, pushing her legs apart and kneeling in between. Her heart threatened to pound right through her chest as she lay bound and watching him study her pussy. Planting his palms on her thighs, he spread them farther, opened her wider. Oh God, she wanted him inside.
Please, Ty. Please.

Without warning, he drove two fingers into her cunt, making her sob at the hot, pleasant intrusion. “Your pussy’s wet, slave,” he said, although his voice seemed slightly calmer now than before.

“Because I’m excited. I want you inside me,” she said between heated breaths.

“You’re supposed to be
scared
,” he said, his tone taking on a rough edge again.

“You’re supposed to worry I might
hurt
you.” She only shook her head, moaning lightly as he continued thrusting his fingers into her hungry little passageway. “Whatever you do, I deserve. I shouldn’t have lied to you. I never thought about…well, so many things. I never thought about how you’d feel if you found out. I was selfish. Whatever you want from me tonight is okay. I owe it to you. Do anything you want to me, Ty.
Anything
.” His face looked almost agonized with lust as he stared into her eyes, then dropped his gaze back to her cunt. She bit her lip, knowing it must be glistening for him, knowing his fingers must be drenched.

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Lacey Alexander

“God,” he murmured finally, and in quick succession, he withdrew his fingers, lifted her thighs, and rammed his cock deep inside her.

She cried out at the blow—hard and filling and all-consuming, and somehow, even then, she wanted more of him. His shaft was enormous inside her, yet she still managed to yearn for more. She wanted to hurt for him, to somehow atone for what she’d done.

She truly wanted to be his sex slave in every way.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Mia,” he bit off, his voice gritty, gone back to pure, unadulterated heat now, and she thought,
this is how it should be.
This
—it turned out—

was
her
perfect fantasy coming to life. Ty calling her by name, promising her an incredible fuck that would leave them both well-pleasured and spent.

He pummeled her with his huge cock, driving, driving, deep inside her, so that she felt his thrusts everywhere—pulsing through her arms and legs, her breasts, even her head. The leather at her waist and neck created a hot friction with each rough jolt of his pounding shaft, and his leggings rubbed at the backs of her thighs. They both cried out at each mind-numbing thrust.

Her breasts bounced and he closed his hands greedily around them, kneading, massaging. She pulled involuntarily at the leather binding her wrists, frustrated at not being able to touch him. He released her breasts, yet closed his forefingers and thumbs around her nipples, pinching them tight and pulling, drawing them upward—making her grit her teeth at more pleasure-pain—until he let them go and she released a screech.

She writhed in his grasp then, overcome with pleasure and pain and frustration and heat, taking each stroke of his cock deep within her being, feeling wild and crazed inside, his new grip on her breasts turning needy and rough. She suddenly knew that he wanted her to struggle, and so she did, thrashing about as he filled her, absorbing more kinds of friction and hot delight than she could easily comprehend, and she sensed it making them both even more reckless and untamed. His heated cries turned 98

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to harsh growls, hers to groans drawn up from deep in her gut. “Oh, fuck me,” she begged through clenched teeth. “Fuck me.
Fuck me
.” It was all so good. The binding, the battle, his hands, his cock. His face, above her.

Even soaked in his anger, she loved it because…well, maybe she was angry, too! Angry that she’d wanted him for so long without having him until now. That’s why she struggled at her bindings for him, even as she wrapped her legs around his back. There was anger and frustration and a deep, forbidden sort of passion all lurking inside her and needing to get out—now—in his arms.

“Come in me, Ty! Come in me. I want to make you come so bad, so hard,” she sobbed.

But then, clenching his teeth and looking agonized to the depths of his soul, he pulled his cock out and dropped her ass to the bed.

She felt abandoned. “What are you doing?” she practically shrieked.

“You can’t fucking tell me when to come!” he boomed. “You’re not in charge this time, Mia! This time it’s all about
me
, punishing
you
!” She had a feeling they’d both forgotten that for a few intense minutes, but now they remembered. Her body heaved with frustration where she lay stretched out on the bed.

“And we’re not done here,” he added in a low voice, his eyes shining hotly on her.

“We’re not even
close
to being done.”

“What now?” she asked, suddenly reminding herself of
him
when their positions had been reversed, always wondering what came next.

In response, he reached up over her, his slick erection dangling down to touch one breast as he untied her from the bed—but he didn’t untie her hands from each other.

“Now, I’m going to spank you. Hard!”

She tensed in a combination of fear and anticipation as he maneuvered her body, face down, over his lap, on the edge of the bed, and leaned down near her ear. “Tell me you’ve been a bad little girl,” he said, no hint of playfulness coloring his voice.