Power and Possession

by C. C. Gibbs

  Dropping onto the soft pink sofa, Nicole flipped through the pages of liquors. “What do you want?”

  “I don’t care. You decide.” Sitting beside her, he leaned back and surveyed the dramatic stage set of a room that reminded him a little of a Bollywood version of Versailles.

  “Have you ever had absinthe?”

  “That’s pretty strong, tiger. Pick something else.”

  “How strong?”

  “One hundred thirty-six proof. Seriously, it’ll put you on your ass.”

  “I’ll just have a little.”

  He gave her a look from under his lashes. “Can I talk you out of it? You won’t remember a thing.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Someone told me, I guess.”

  “Liar. So you were with a woman who passed out on you?”

  He uttered a small, low growl. “Don’t pick a fight.”

  “I want absinthe.”

  “You got it.” Coming to his feet, he walked to the phone and on his return, said, “You heard me. You can try it the old-fashioned way and then with champagne. Death in the Afternoon tastes better.”

  “I’m not allowed to ask you how you know that, I suppose.”

  “Not a problem. I like it better.” He flicked his finger at the booklet. “See if you want a personal performance of some kind in here. Ganz tells me his girlfriend likes the two men and one woman sex act.”

  “Right here?” She waved her arm. “Like up close?”

  “So I hear.”

  “Do you want to see it?”

  “Not really. You’re the only one I want to see. But it’s up to you. New experience and all that shit.”

  “I’m trying not to be pissed, really, but—”

  “Hey, hey,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms. “All that’s a million years ago, okay? You’re my sunshine. You make me happy. I’m not fighting about one fucking thing tonight. Your call on everything.”

  She glanced up and grinned. “Everything?”

  “Well, I might have one request.” Lifting her onto his lap, he kissed her lightly. “And that never changes.”

  “Good. It better not.”

  “Not while there’s still breath in my body, pussycat.”

  Twenty minutes later, after two drinks of absinthe, one with sugar and water, one with champagne, they were undressed, lounging on the bed, and at least one of them was well on her way to feeling good. “Okay, I feel adventuresome. Give me two men and one woman.”

  Rafe leaned over and touched her cheek gently. “This isn’t audience participation, pussycat. You understand that, right?” Which wasn’t necessarily true, but no one touched Nicole but him.

  She giggled. “Let me reword that. Give me the performance. And while we’re waiting for them, give me another Death in the Afternoon. I like that Hemingway named it. It makes it more celebrated and, like, historic.”

  “You still should pace yourself, tiger. Just saying.”

  “Pshaw.” She giggled. “I love that word. Pshaw, shpaw, oh hell, you know what I mean. Don’t frown at me, just a little drinky, okay? But call for the people first.”

  He didn’t roll his eyes, but he thought about it. Like he thought about taking her home before she passed out. On the other hand, he could carry her out whenever and she was having fun. So he was having fun.

  He made the call, made the drink—very weak—and listened to her tell him how much fun she was having in a real sex club for the first time in her life. And enjoyed her kisses and smiles and chattiness more than he ever thought possible. He heard about her and Fiona’s friendship, which was just the very best; he heard about her sisters and brothers, one of whom was named Rafe. He almost asked her why she hadn’t mentioned it before, but then she started talking about how much she liked surfing, how he had to come out to California and surf with her someday.

  Until the knock on the door stopped her.

  “Oh, God, oh, God—are they here? Where do I look? Can I look right at them, I mean directly at, well—”

  “You can look anywhere you like,” he said, climbing from the bed, nude and unconcerned. “Tell them what you want if you wish.”

  “Like what?” She pointed. “Are you going like that?”

  “I think they’ve seen naked people before.”

  “Jesus.” She pulled the sheet up to her chin.

  He laughed. “Would you like an introduction? Would that help?”

  “God no! Quick, give me another drink before you open the door.”

  He had his hand on the latch and turned. “I think you’ve had enough. This liquor is potent.”

  “Just a little one. Please?”

  He eased the door open a slit, said, “Give me a minute,” and shut it again. “I wish you wouldn’t. How about just some champagne?”

  “And a teeny, tiny bit of absinthe.”

  Her smile was dazzling, her voice soft and breathy, and a more punctilious man than he would have had to be standing there to refuse so sweet a request. “Just a little bit now.”

  “Yes, yes, whatever you say.”

  Good God, it was hard to resist such honeyed wheedling. He didn’t. But he did say, “This is the last, even tiny, drink, tiger. I’m cutting you off.”

  “Of course,” she said as if she actually meant it, then proceeded to drain the glass in one swallow.

  As he walked to the door, he glanced at the clock, because no way was Nicole going to last much longer. As he let the nude performers in, he said, “This might be over in a hurry, so watch for my signal to leave. The lady is feeling no pain.”

  The pretty woman of the trio smiled at Rafe. “We could stay for you.”

  “Thank you, but no. My fiancée was the one interested in your performance.”

  Returning to the bed, Rafe settled Nicole in his arms and murmured in her ear, “Now you can give instructions if you think of something. Or tell me and I’ll specify what you want.”

  She shook her head in a frantic little motion on his shoulder. “No way.”

  “We’re ready,” Rafe said.

  The men were large and muscled, the woman small in relation to them, so one of the men set down a small wooden platform he’d carried in and helped the woman up onto it. In the meantime, the other man hit a switch on the wall and a bar suspended between two chains slowly descended from the ceiling above the woman. When it reached a suitable position where she could reach up comfortably and grip it, the switch was turned off. The woman stood between the two men, one in front of her, the other behind, her pussy and bottom at a level with the men’s erections.

  The men began kissing and caressing her, stroking her softly with their hands, fingering her gently, testing her readiness, their dicks engorged and fully prepared for action. Her eyes shut as one man slid two fingers up her pussy at the same time the other man tested her rear entrance with the tip of his dick.

  “Non, non,” she whispered, writhing slightly at the pressure. Whether acting or real, was uncertain. Her hips were stilled in a hard grip by the man behind her and she shuddered.

  Nicole gasped, held on tightly to Rafe’s arm, and shifted slightly on the bed.

  The next few moments, the man in front gently sucked on the woman’s nipples, added a third finger to her pussy, and soon she was softly panting. He gave a nod to his partner, who eased his dick in her ass a fraction more.

  Nicole jerked at her soft cry, sucked in a breath, and groaned.

  Rafe slipped his hand between her legs, ran his fingertips up her slick, pulsing cleft, felt her hard, steady throbbing beneath his fingers. “Can you wait until they finish?” he whispered.

  Eyes shut, she shook her head.

  “You sure? There’s more.”

  Her fingers closed hard over his dick, squeezed harder. He glanced up, said, “Thank you. You may leave.” And before the performers were out the door, he was deep inside Nicole and trying to keep her from coming in under five seconds.

  “Hey, hey, wait.” He
withdrew slightly.

  She dragged him back, pulled him deep inside her, whispered, “Don’t want to,” and promptly began to come.

  What the hell, he thought, it wasn’t as though she ever waited. And kicking ass, he caught up to her and came that first time right on cue.

  She was all warm and cuddly in her half-wasted state and in the mood to kiss him all over repeatedly. This was a side of the feisty woman he’d come to adore that he hadn’t seen before.

  And as if she was a mind reader, she looked up from sucking on his dick, giggled, and asked, “Do you mind if I’m overzealous kissing-wise tonight?”

  He laughed. “Anytime pussycat. I’ll never say no.”

  “Oh, good.” And she got back to business.

  Chapter 24

  “Christ, two twenty-five a.m. Don’t they know the time here in Paris?” Dominic grumbled, understanding his calls came in from all over the world. Rolling over, he grabbed his phone on the bedside table and hit the Answer icon.

  “You’re not going to like to hear this, but I just saw your niece Nicole.”

  Dominic recognized Julian Wilson’s LA drawl; they’d run into each other yesterday at a business dinner. “So?”

  “At the Chandelier Club.”

  “What?” Dominic sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

  “She was with some young dude a while ago. Then I got sidetracked. She looked like a newbie though.”

  Dominic was striding toward his dressing room. “No shit. Look, have Raoul stall them or lock them in if they’re already in a room. Discreetly. No scene. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Kate, his wife, had followed him and was standing in the doorway. “Be where in fifteen minutes?”

  He quickly explained in an edited version while he pulled on boxers and jeans. He called it a nightclub.

  “Nicole’s twenty-two, Dominic. Maybe she’s okay.”

  He pulled a navy sweater over his head. “Nicole has a history of making bad choices.” He’d quietly bailed her out of a few over the years.

  “Shouldn’t that be her parents’ problem? I’m just saying. She might not like you barging into some nightclub,” Kate cautioned him with a yawn.

  “I’m not asking her, and her parents don’t know what she does. How much did you tell your grandparents about your sex life?”

  “There wasn’t a whole lot to tell.”

  “But you didn’t tell them anyway. Right?” His voice was muffled as he reached into a closet and pulled out some shoes.

  “Gramps would have scared them off.”

  “From what I’ve heard about Roy, I’m guessing he’d vetted them already and just let it go.” He stepped into burgundy suede desert boots and swiftly tied them. “I’ll be back in less than an hour. Shut the children’s doors, will you? In case Nicole’s screaming at me when we come back.”

  “Be nice, Dominic. She’s not going to like you monitoring her activities.”

  “I’m not. Fuck—although I should have. Thank God Julian called.” He grabbed some car keys from the top of the dresser. He didn’t want to take the time for Henri to bring up the car. He stopped for a moment to give Kate a kiss, then patted her bare ass. “Close the kids’ doors, then get back into bed, baby. No sense in ruining your sleep.”

  When he arrived at the club, he braked hard, cranked the Mercedes coupe nose in, straight up to the door, got out, pocketed his keys, and snarled, “Fuck you,” in French to the valet who started shouting at him to move his car. “I’m here to see Raoul.”

  The man backed off like he’d been burned. Raoul owned this high-end sex club and ten others in Europe. He was connected and not to the aristocracy. Dominic had known him a long time, had done a lot of business with him in the past. They were friends, acquaintances, and, formerly, partners in vice.

  Raoul was waiting for him in the foyer.

  Dominic smiled tightly. “She still here?” He spoke quietly in French.

  Raoul nodded. “I didn’t know she was your niece. They wouldn’t have let her in if we’d known.”

  “I fucking didn’t know, so don’t sweat it. I don’t suppose you have a robe—just in case. I’m going to walk her out of here in about ten seconds.”

  Raoul snapped his fingers and a bouncer rushed over. “I need a robe. Meet us in room fourteen. I want you there before us.” He was speaking to the man’s back at the last.

  The club owner and Dominic walked through the luxurious bar—all glass, onyx, crystal chandeliers, and plush carpets—then through the even more richly appointed main salon with murals on the walls, antique furniture, and dim lights. Both rooms were packed with clothed and unclothed bodies, everyone high or drunk, sexual exhibitionism graphically on display.

  “You’re happily married now, I hear,” Raoul said as if people weren’t fornicating all around them.

  “I am,” Dominic replied blandly. Having frequented places like this for years, he didn’t react to the spectacle. “And damned lucky to be. You’ve got kids, right?” Raoul was pushing fifty, personal-trainer trim, well-dressed, good-looking. He’d been married forever, Dominic recalled.

  “They’re in Barcelona with their mother. They’re great kids. Both at university now. Yours are young?”

  “Yes.” Dominic smiled. “And precious.” He sighed softly. “My niece was sugarsweet too not so long ago. Last I heard from my sister, Nicole was at my apartment in Monaco taking a break after college. There’s a fucking snow job for you,” he muttered. “Goddamn little liar.”

  “Give her a lecture from me too. This is no place for a young girl.”

  “Who brought her?”

  “I didn’t see. We’ll find out. Want me to bar him from the club?”

  “Nah. I don’t care what he does so long as he’s not with Nicole.”

  A bouncer was standing at the door to the room when they arrived, a black silk robe over his arm. “Door’s open,” he murmured.

  Dominic nodded, took the robe. “Thanks.” Then he turned to Raoul. “I’ll go in alone. God knows what she’s doing. Appreciate your understanding.”

  “Anytime, mon ami.”

  Dominic turned the knob, pushed open the door, walked in, slammed the door behind him, took one look at the naked couple swiftly disengaging at his intrusion, and tossed the robe at the bed. “Put this on,” he growled.

  Nicole let out a shriek, scrambled up into a sitting position, and pulled the sheet up in front of her. “Uncle Dominic, what are you doing here!” she screamed, all wild huff and indignation.

  And zoned out or drunk. “Shut the fuck up. I’m taking you home.”

  She didn’t move, her eyes narrowed, her mouth set.

  “Put the goddamn robe on,” Dominic snapped, then glared at the bastard lounging naked beside her on the bed. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Who’s asking?” A languid drawl, a small shrug that rippled the long black hair on his shoulder. Rafe wasn’t going to argue with Dominic Knight, but he wasn’t going to kiss his ass either. Righteous indignation was a little out of line for a man who’d spent years in places like this.

  “Just answer me, asshole.” But recognition was slowly dawning as Dominic surveyed the man’s tattooed erection. He’d seen that inked dick in Tokyo in the days before Katherine. Even in a group orgy, even concentrating on getting off, you couldn’t help but notice something like that. The young heir to the Swiss pharmaceutical fortune had been a wet-behind-the-ears kid at the time. So he’d be twenty-five, twenty-six, now and he was either on some pharmaceuticals that kept his dick hard or he was turned on by people looking. “Actually, I know who you are. So keep your painted dick away from my niece. Got it, douche bag?”

  Okay, so maybe he didn’t feel like taking Knight’s shit. “You should fucking talk,” Rafe said. “Aren’t you the king of kink?”

  “You’re pushing your luck, kid.”

  “Jesus, I’m really scared.”

  “Good,” Dominic said, ignoring the sarcasm.
“You fucking should be.” He shot a look at his niece, taking note of the absinthe bottle on the bedside table. “Christ, Nicole, how the hell drunk are you?” She’d fallen back on the bed, her dark hair a tangle of curls splayed out on the pillows, her eyes half-lidded.

  “She wanted absinthe. I’m guessing you know she’s hard to talk out of things.” Rafe reached for his slacks. “I’m taking care of her. We don’t need you.”

  “I know how you take care of women, Contini. So fuck off.” Softly swearing, Dominic moved to the bed and manhandled Nicole’s arms into the robe, feeling a major sense of déjà vu, remembering all the times he’d struggled to get her into her clothes when she was a baby. “Jesus, asshole,” he muttered, glowering at the rich punk who was zipping up his slacks. “You like them unconscious?”

  “I don’t. How about you? It was a close one in that Bangkok club I hear. Those kinds of rumors are hard to suppress, right?”

  The muscle over Dominic’s cheekbone twitched like crazy, but he kept his mouth shut and, wrapping the robe around his inebriated niece, he tied the belt and picked her up in his arms. Then he abruptly stopped and scanned the room for Nicole’s purse—credit cards, phone, ID—all the things you didn’t want to leave in a place like this. Ah—there. Walking over to the brilliant pink sofa, he leaned over, grabbed her purse strap with one finger, then strode to the door.

  Not inclined to start a public brawl in a place like this for any number of reasons, but mostly because it would cause problems for Nicole, Rafe said, “Tell Nicole I’ll see her tomorrow. Early.”

  “Good luck with that, motherfucker,” Dominic growled. Bending slightly, he flipped the door handle, swung the door back hard with his foot, and walked out to the echo of wood smashing plaster.

  There were two bouncers in the hall waiting to escort him, and, following his muscle through the crowd, Dominic reached the front door in record time. The men accompanied him outside and down the steps, and after handing Nicole to one of them, Dominic took out his keys, opened the car doors, threw Nicole’s purse on the console, and started the car to warm it up. Walking back to the man with Nicole, he took her in his arms, carried her to the car, carefully placed her in the seat, buckled her in, and quietly shut her door. With a word of thanks to the bouncers, he moved around the car to the driver’s seat and slid behind the wheel.