TouchofaDom (9 page)

What, a choice? “May I touch you some other time?”

“Of course, if you earn that privilege. Now a special treat
for my lovely, helpless submissive.” He moved fast this time and was on the
bed, astride her chest. She looked up at him, looming over her in all his
glorious nakedness. His hand came behind her head, lifting her closer to his
glorious cock. “Suck me, Adele. Show me how much you want my cock.”

That was no hardship. She parted her lips and, as he raised
her head toward him, closed them around the head of his cock. He was immense,
and soon he’d want her to take all of him, to swallow him down to the root, to
worship him with her mouth. Her entire body thrummed with anticipation as she
took more of him into her mouth.

This was wonderful, fantastic, incredible. As her tongue
eased up and down the side of his lovely flesh, her cunt responded, her clit
throbbed and her nipples ached. This was so incredible, wonderfully superb. He
was superb. He moved her head gently, so he was supporting her neck and head as
she took more of him between her lips.

This was a submissive’s dream, but how much more fantastic
would it feel to have this lovely cock pounding her cunt? She wanted that,
needed that but first she had to demonstrate her submissiveness and her longing
for his body in hers and to show him the depth and extent of her desire.

She worked him with her lips and tongue as he fucked her
mouth, moving in and back in a steady rhythm. She was whimpering and moaning.
She tried to restrain herself but when he said, “Make sexy music for me, Adele,
show me your need,” she let go of restraint and let the sounds of her
wantonness fill the room. She was sighing, moaning, groaning as he worked her
mouth in a relentless and passionate rhythm.

Until he slowed, still supporting her head, and eased out.
She couldn’t hold back the whimper of disappointment. “Enough for now, Adele.
You have earned your reward. Almost.”

Damn! Why the nasty little “almost”?

Because he wanted to fuck her breasts.

His hands cupped them together and his cock was between them
as he rocked his hips. She could see his cock, feel it but not touch it. She
tried lifting her head to kiss the tip but he kept it just out of her reach.

“You want my cock?” he asked.

“Yes, I do. I need you.”

“Need me to do what?”

“Fuck me. Fuck my cunt.”

“How much to do need a good fuck?”

What a bloody question. “I need you to give me release. I’m
in pain from need and wanting. You promised!” That sounded like a whine. Okay,
it was, but he had promised.

“What will you let me do, if I fuck you? Will you let me tie
you up again?”

“Yes! Yes.”

“What if I want you against the wall or to fondle you with
the flogger you haven’t shown me yet? May I?”

“Yes! Yes.”

“Suppose I tie you to a bench and spank you until you cry.
Will you let me?”

“Yes!” She was running out of breath from keeping on saying
it.

“You know I want to bugger you, Adele.”

“Yes! I’ve said ‘yes’ a hundred times.”

“One last thing.”

Dear God! She was sweating with need, her cunt was running
and he indulged in the bloody Inquisition. “What?”

“Will you scream for me when you come?”

“Yes, yes! Yes!”

“Good.” He moved again and he could move quickly when he
wanted to. He lifted her hips, his cock nudged apart her pussy lips and, with a
thrust, he was in her. She gasped and yelled and he started fucking her hard
and fast. He was pumping her, holding her steady as he took her. There was
little tenderness, no gentleness now, just a wild and pounding need, on both
their parts. How he could keep it up for so long amazed her. How she could take
so much astounded her but she wanted it. Wanted all of him, needed his
strength, his power and his need.

She was crying out now, calling his name as he pounded her
to climax. She screamed, gasping his name and her joy as he finished and
collapsed on top of her. For a few moments she luxuriated in the heat and
weight of his body, the slickness of their sweaty skin and the slow softening
of his erection inside her.

She whimpered in disappointment as he slipped out, but she
had no strength or energy to do more. She was used, sated and satisfied, and he
could do this to her as many times as he wanted.

He released her arms, stroking her skin as she turned and
wrapped them around him.

“Thank you so much, Branko.”

“My pleasure, Adele. My pleasure.”

It had been her pleasure too.

“I’m going to hold you to those promises,” he said. “We will
do this again and next time, my dear, I will bugger you.”

“I hope so.”

He kissed her and then moved to release her legs. “Tired?”
he asked.

“I need a new word to describe how worn out I am.” Worn out,
but so satisfied and contented.

“Best you sleep,” he said, and from somewhere brought out a
duvet and laid it over her. “We have this room as long as we want.”

Her last thought, as her eyes closed, was she never wanted
to leave.

He woke her with a tray of breakfast and a smile. Had he
slept beside her? She thought not. “What time is it?”

“Nine.”

“Branko,” she said, taking the cup of coffee he offered,
“thank you for last night.”

“My pleasure, and I hope we have many more sessions. I like
you and your body, Adele, they inspire me.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied. “You are a very
nice Dominant but you’re a distraction.”

“I’m flattered to hear it. Now, I have one request.” She
waited, cup halfway to her lips. “Will you let me join you in your search,
perhaps tell Luc and see what he knows?”

Part of her wanted to refuse, this was her quest, her
mission, but common sense prevailed. “You really mean that?”

“Why not? It will be a way to earn your gratitude. I’d like
to deserve that.”

“You’ve already got that, you know. You are the lover of my
dreams.”

“And you dream of being dominated.”

“I have since I was little, before I had any inkling of what
I was.”

“What you are is wonderful, Adele.” He kissed her, a soft,
gentle kiss, just a brush of lips on lips but her nipples tingled in response.
“Now, my dear, get showered and dressed. I asked Arzhel if he knew your father.
He didn’t but suggested we look at the club records. It’s a long shot but might
be worth a try.”

“Let’s please check, but don’t you have something else to
do?”

“I’d planned on spending the weekend with you in Monaco.
Remember? You turned me down. Let’s see what we can find today and then
tonight, I’ll give you the chance to show your gratitude.”

“Here again?”

“No, back at Les Santons and you will allow me to use that
flogger. Pink, did you say it was?”

“Yes, bright pink, magenta.” As if the color really
mattered.

“So, finish your breakfast, get washed and dressed and I’ll
be back in a couple of hours.”

A couple of hours would also give her time to explore this
room a little more too.

Wild and wonderful sex with Branko and maybe finding clues,
this was going to be one fantastic weekend.

* * * * *

Branko sat at a computer in the back office of the club and
shook his head. Much as he’d be delighted to help Adele find her long-lost
father, and he was more than willing to support her in the endeavor, he
privately thought she was chasing after a blue moon.

Adele was twenty-eight, he’d learned that from her job
application, and her father had abandoned her when she was four. Hell, the man
could be in Timbuktu or Outer Mongolia, although staying in France made more
sense. But how useful were years-old addresses? One had been a dead end and
this one turned out to be one of Luc’s business ventures. Now how odd was that?

Or was it? Adele was kinky, her mother had made premium sex
toys. Good chance her father was kinky. Had he been here, all those years ago?
Come to that, how long had this club been here?

Good question. He went in search of Arzhel again and found
him dozing in one of the downstairs rooms. He wasn’t delighted to be roused a
second time.

“Damn it all, Branko, a man has to sleep.”

“Sorry, but I need to know something.”

“It had better be good.”

“How long has this club been here and did it always have
this name?”

“Christ almighty, you want a history lesson! I’ve worked
here ten years, that’s all I know. It was established then but who the hell
knows for how long? I don’t.”

“Someone must.”

“Ask Luc Prioux, or Stephane. And you won’t be able to
disturb him. He locks his door when he’s sleeping. I’ll have to start doing the
same.”

Call Luc? Why not? He punched in the number and listened
impatiently, hoping he wasn’t going straight into voice mail.

“Branko?” Luc said on replying. “Enjoying yourself? I’m
surprised you have time to call. Something wrong?”

“No, everything’s fine but a question came up and I think
you’d know the answer.”

“What?”

“The Nice place,
Velours Noir
,” he tried to sound as
causal as possible, “was it always a kinky club?”

“Has been since my grandfather bought it and set it up after
the war. Before then it was some sort of hangout for collaborators, or so he
claimed.”

“Thanks. Sorry to bother you.”

“Not a problem. Thinking of taking Adele there? Might be a
bit much for her until you know her better.”

Little did Luc know! “Thanks, see you Monday.”

So, if it had been a kinky club all that time, and assuming
Adele’s father was inclined the same way as his daughter, it was not impossible
that her father might have been a member or an employee. There had to be some
reason her mother had the address.

He was whistling as he made his way back upstairs.

Something inside his chest caught as he opened the door and
saw Adele sitting by the dressing table, combing her hair. She was so
beautiful, his chest ached.

Had to be hunger pangs. They both needed to eat a proper
meal after all the exertion last night.

She turned and smiled. “Hello, Branko.”

Mon Dieu.
This was more than feeling a trifle
peckish. He ached, but not for food, but he had to wait. She needed to rest and
recover. So, come to that, did he, even if certain body parts disagreed.

He walked over and kissed her. “You are beautiful, dressed
or naked.” He perched beside her. “You were incredible last night. Truly
stupendous.”

“You were pretty impressive yourself. I think I’m lucky I
can sit comfortably.”

“I’ll see about that later but meanwhile…”

“I need to get going, Branko.”

“Listen to me. Please.” She listened. “I want us to go back
to Eze. I thought of something when I was in the office downstairs.” She held
on. Not exactly patiently but she let him continue. “This club has been here,
under one name or another, since the war and Luc’s family has owned it all that
time.”

“And?” Not sounding the least bit patient, she let him go
on.

“The business records, Adele. They will list anyone who was
a member or employee. If your father was here in either capacity, his name will
be there.”

She was out of her seat and her hand on his arm was like a
spring clamp. “Where are they?”

“Back at the house. I’ve been spending a lot of time the
past few years transferring old paper records to the computer. We can check.”

She gave no argument after that and even beat him back to
Eze, practically dragging him out of his car before he’d killed the engine. A
suggestion she make them both coffee was dismissed with a frown and an
impatient
tsk
. So he pulled up an extra chair and had the distraction of
her sitting so close that he’d swear he could hear her heartbeat. Or maybe that
was his. What was happening to him?

“All right.” His computer took forever to start up but once
going he got busy. “I’m doing a search for anyone with the name Royer for the
past twenty-five years. Would that be about right?”

“Why not start right after he left us and do five or ten
years at a time. It might be faster and since he isn’t known there now, if he
ever was there, it’s more likely it was earlier.”

A good point. He set the search for twenty-five to fifteen
years previously. She was right, ten years would surely do it.

“Look!” Excitement wasn’t the word for her reaction.
“There’s a list of them but it’s not exactly an unusual name after all. How
many?”

“Twelve.” He brought up the full list. “Okay, we can
eliminate Annette and Marguerite.”

“Might as well.”

“How old was he?”

“I have no idea. In the one picture I have he looks sort of
the age you expect your father to be.”

“Let’s say that then he’d be between twenty and thirty. That
knocks out Etienne Royer. He was fifty-six.” They also eliminated Georges,
Saint Jean, Maurice and Paul. But… “Hey, is this him?”

Jules Royer, age twenty-nine, employed as a bookkeeper and
it gave an address.

“Oh!” she said, and then, “Damn! I tried there already. It’s
all been refurbished and there’s not even a concierge nowadays. I asked around
but no one knew anything other than it had been run-down and uninhabited for
several years before it was restored ten years or so ago. It’s a dead end,
Branko.”

“Maybe not. At least you know for certain he did come down
here, and where he worked and lived. There has to be a reason your mother had
those two addresses. Maybe she did have contact with him but never told you.”

“No.” She sounded very certain. “I saw his brother, my
uncle, when I was in Paris and none of the family has seen or heard from him.
Unless Uncle Alain was lying and I don’t think he was. Although he did urge me
to forget about him so maybe…” She ended up shaking her head.

“Could he be dead?” He hated to throw that out there but it
wasn’t impossible. Her mother was dead after all.

“It’s not impossible but I don’t think so. He used to send
Mother money, every month until I was eighteen. It came via a
notaire
in
Cannes.I wrote to him about six months ago asking if he knew the
whereabouts of Jules Royer and got a rather curt reply telling me to cease
making inquiries and threatening me with an
ordonnance restrictive
if I
persisted. So that pretty much confirmed he must be alive.”

And not wanting to see his daughter. Bastard. “So you
ignored him and came down to look for yourself.”

“Not right away. I had to find a job first.”

“I’m glad you did.” Very glad. “So what now? That
notaire
wasn’t joking. Seems your father is determined to stay out of reach.”

“But why? At this point I don’t want anything from him. But
I would like to know why he walked out on us, without as much as a word. And
cut himself off from his family too. Branko, his mother is old and frail and you’d
think he’d at least have kept contact with her.”

“Are you sure persisting is a good idea?” Seemed pretty
dicey to him. The man threatened legal action to preserve his privacy, so it
was pretty clear he valued anonymity.

“It’s probably a rotten idea but I’m doing it. Will you
help?”

If he had the brains of a fruit fly he’d talk her out of
this ridiculous, self-appointed mission. One look at her face and he’d conceded
the superior mental power to drosophila. “We need to be organized. No point in
barging in and having that
notaire
waving legal papers at us. How about
we have lunch, then you show me everything you have, addresses, the photo and
anything else? Heck, even the
notaire’s
address as that’s all proof of
one sort or another.”

“We’d better not try to contact the
notaire
again, he
was pretty emphatic.”

“You have the letter?”

“Yes, I brought that too.”

“Good. Luc might know of him.”

* * * * *

So, after a lunch of omelets and salad, Adele spread out her
collection of scraps. It wasn’t much to go by, just an old address book, the
letter from Maitre Dupont in Cannes and three very old photos. One, a crumpled
wedding picture, another of a very young man posed by a motorcycle and the
third the same man, a few years older, holding a dark-haired little girl on his
shoulders.

“That’s you?” Branko asked.

“Yes, and I don’t even remember it being taken. I found them
all among Mother’s things. And the two addresses are in the address book.”

He flicked it open. It was old, held together with a rubber
band as the spine was split and some pages were loose but there, under “R”,
were the two street addresses. “Maybe we should go through this,” he suggested.
“There might be other addresses that could help.”

“I already have, nothing else caught my eye, just Mother’s
old friends, her parents—who are both dead—and tradespeople, but go ahead and
look. I even tried the studios on the back of the wedding photo but they’d been
out of business for years. No luck there.”

Did seem she’d hit nothing but dead ends but dammit, he
wanted to help her. “How about this.” She was clearly too disposed to listen so
he went on. “We talk to Luc when he gets back. He knows people and has contacts
and might possibly have heard something. Failing that, we talk to his
notaire
,
Maitre Poulain, and see if he can’t do something from our end. What do you
think?”

She didn’t seem as enthused as he’d hoped. “Sounds marvelous
but, Branko, I can’t afford to spend money on his fees.”

“Don’t worry about that. Luc keeps him on retainer. If Luc
okays it, he’ll do the work.”

“But seriously, why would Monsieur Prioux do that?”

“Because he’s one of the good guys and besides, it would put
you under a bit of an obligation to him and you’d be less likely to leave.”

“And losing a cook would be so devastating to him? Honestly,
Branko!”

“It would devastate me.” Where had that come from?

“Please, Branko. Two weeks ago you didn’t know I existed.”

He hadn’t. That rather gave one pause. “I didn’t know what I
was missing. I need you, Adele. I never knew I did until I met you.” He sounded
as if he were suffering from brain fever. “You think I have a screw loose,
don’t you?”

“I’m not sure what I think about you. No, that’s not true. I
think you’re a rather wonderful lover.”

That was a good start, until he got better control of his brain
and tongue. He’d never get control of his cock. Not while she was around. “It’s
mutual, my dear. Good and sincere submissives aren’t easy to find but a
superlative one like you, a Dominant finds once in a lifetime.”

“Branko, you’re getting too serious and too earnest.” He
disagreed but kept that to himself. “Are you trying to distract me?”

“Would you blame me if I were? I’ll do anything I can to
help you find your father but I strongly urge you to wait a couple of days
until we contact Maitre Poulain.”