Fleur de Nuit: Bourbon Street Bondage, Book 1

by Cat Montmorency

  “I’m sorry, Adrian. But I can’t.” She turned, trying not to bolt toward the door, and only stopped because of the hand that closed on her wrist.

  “Wait.”

  Moira froze, squeezing her eyes shut against memories she couldn’t stop. Memories of hands holding her wrists down hard enough to bruise and break. Hands that did more, hurt more. She shivered, even as his gentle grasp released her.

  “Moira, there’s no harm that’ll come to you in this house. From my hand or any other.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not that. I can’t—”

  “Oui, I heard. You can’t.” Adrian ran his hands up her arms, his fingertips barely grazing the skin. “I happen to think you’re wrong, but I’ll agree that you can’t yet. However, dominance isn’t only about the beating.”

  Moira’s eyes opened. “What do you mean?”

  “While sadomasochism is the most recognized form of dominance play, it’s not all there is to it. Stay, trust me, and I can show you. I can help you take control, if you want it.”

  God, how she wanted control. Wanted to stop feeling broken. Even if all it meant was freedom from the memories. Moira knew the past couldn’t hurt her, but deep down, it still held her future hostage. She wanted her future back.

  “All right.”

  “Bon.” He stepped closer, until his chest pressed against her back. “Tell me what you felt, ma chère. Before, when you took the crop, and I called you Mistress.”

  Moira let out a shuddering breath, but didn’t answer.

  Adrian leaned in closer, until his mouth hovered right next to her ear. “Please, Mistress?” Moira’s breath caught. “Or would you like me to beg?”

  “It felt good.”

  The words tumbled out in a rush, before she could stop them. Part of her wanted to take them back.

  The other part was glad she’d said them.

  “You liked it?”

  Moira nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Adrian’s breath on her ear and his naked chest against her back weren’t helping.

  “Honesty is the first step, Moira. Be honest with yourself. Why did you drop the crop? Why did you run?”

  Moira took a deep breath. Honesty. Come on, you wuss. “Because I liked it.” Because I’m broken, and I liked it.

  His laugh vibrated through her body. “But that’s a good thing. What you did, what I asked you to do, was consensual and harmless.”

  She shook her head. “I know. I still can’t do it.”

  His hands spun her around quickly, putting her face inches from his. “Very well then. We’ll take a different tack. Give me an order.”

  “What?”

  He didn’t answer, just looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

  She hesitated. “Anything?”

  Adrian’s smile promised more than she was sure she wanted. “Anything, for true. Tell me to crawl on my hands and knees or stand on my head. Command, and I’ll obey.”

  “And if I tell you to let me go?”

  He sighed. “I would let you go. But not before I asked you to stay.”

  Moira sighed. “This is ridiculous. You want an order? Fine. Stand on your head and sing ‘I’m a Little Teapot’.”

  Adrian threw his head back and laughed, before turning around, dropping to the floor in front of the bed and standing on his head. A moment later, he started singing.

  She laughed. “Oh, God, you’re really doing it.”

  “Of course.”

  She waited patiently for him to finish the song. “This is absurd, you know.”

  He shrugged, which looked odd, the way he was propped upside down. “If it helps, I am happy to do it. What next?”

  Moira rolled her eyes. “You may as well stand up. I don’t know, hop on one foot.”

  He did.

  “Pat your head. Touch your tongue to your nose. Recite the alphabet.”

  He did each without question.

  Moira watched him obey and allowed an idea to form. She knew the command she really wanted to give him, but it wasn’t wise. It wasn’t safe.

  Maybe I’m tired of being safe.

  “Kiss me, Adrian.”

  He froze. Surprise flitted across his face, followed by a flash of hunger. “Ma chère?”

  She took a deep breath. “You heard. Kiss me.”

  “As you wish, Mistress.”

  His fingers cupped her jaw tenderly as he brought his mouth to hers. He took his time, brushing his lips gently against her own once, twice. The third time he lingered and then pressed more firmly. His tongue ran along the seam of her lips, and she found her mouth opening to welcome him, only to find he’d pulled back.

  “Don’t stop.” Her words were no more than a whisper.

  Adrian didn’t argue, he simply did as he was told. But this time, his kiss was an assault, stirring up heat inside her that Moira hadn’t felt in years. Her hands spread across his stomach and up his chest. He groaned and gripped her arms again.

  She broke away. “Don’t.”

  “Ma chère?” His voice was husky, and his eyes questioned her.

  “Your hands. Keep them down.”

  He groaned, but dropped his hands. “That makes it hard to do this properly.”

  “You wanted me to tell you what to do, I’m telling you. Hands down. In fact, put them behind your back.”

  Adrian obeyed with a smile and leaned back in to kiss her. “Oui, Maîtresse.” He kissed her hard for a moment, then moved to her jaw and down her neck.

  A moan escaped her lips. “God, Adrian. You don’t know how long it’s been.” His tongue traced along her collarbone, and she couldn’t help herself. She wound her hands in his long hair, pulling him closer.

  “I can happily do this all night, Mistress, but if you want more, you’ll have to say so. Give me an order. Take control. Dominate me.”

  Moira sighed at the way his lips trailed down her collar to the hollow below her neck. Her brain was running in overdrive. This is stupid. I don’t know him.

  But Kara does. Kara trusts him. And I trust Kara.

  You don’t need this. You don’t deserve this.

  I do need this. God, I need this. He’s willing, and he’s giving me control.

  What am I waiting for?

  “Adrian?”

  “Mistress?”

  It amazed her, how a single word could make her feel so powerful. “I want…” Don’t chicken out. “Your hands. I want to tie your hands.”

  Part of her felt dirty for even saying the words, but judging by the grin on his face when he pulled back to look at her, it was the right thing to ask.

  “As you like, Mistress.”

  Again, the surge of power. Not power, she realized. Desire.

  Still, she hesitated again. “On the bed. I want your hands tied on the bed.”

  His eyes flashed with something she couldn’t recognize, but he immediately moved to sit on the bed, and waited.

  Moira blushed and looked around. “What should I use? Rope? Cloth?”

  “I suggest the leather wrist cuffs. They have clips, so they’re fairly versatile and easy to put on and take off.” She looked at him, questioning, and he pointed.

  She retrieved them with only a slight quickening of her heartbeat. A small part of her couldn’t believe she was about to do this. Cuff a man? Let’s be honest. You’re planning on doing more than that. But she’d listened to that fearful part of herself for too long, and it hadn’t gotten her anywhere, so Moira picked up the leather and buckled it to his wrists. And her hands only shook a little.

  “You can clip them together in front of me, or behind me, or to several places on the bed.”

  His words sent a thrill through her that ended between her legs. She cleared her throat and forced herself to look him in the eyes. “Where on the bed?”

  His gaze burned her. “The headboard will work, or there are clips at the corners.”

  The idea of Adrian lying there with his arms tied above him, waiting for her to fuck him
, was almost too much. But she couldn’t deny they both knew that was where she was headed. Moira cleared her throat. “He-headboard, I think…?”

  He cocked his eyebrow. “Don’t ask me, Moira. Tell me. Take control.”

  The reprimand in his voice gave her a surge of angry embarrassment. She glared at him. “Lie back, Adrian. Hands over your head.”

  He smiled and lay back, stretching his arms above him so that she could clip them in place at the headboard.

  She couldn’t believe she was doing this.

  “You’re sure about this, Adrian?”

  He looked up at her. “Moira, arête-toi. I told you. Whatever you like.”

  She looked from the strong muscles of his chest, back to his green eyes, and took a deep breath. “But you’re sure?”

  He laughed. “You have my hands cuffed above me, I’m half-naked, and you’re asking if I’m sure?”

  She smiled hesitantly. “Good point.”

  “But while we’re having this particular discussion, I should explain safe words. If there’s ever something you aren’t sure about, the safe word is how you stop. Most Dominants like to hear ‘no’ and ‘stop’, so saying them will really only egg them on. But we all have that implicit trust that once a safe word is used, everything stops.”

  Another major difference. Moira nodded. “What’s your safe word?”

  He laughed again. “Not that you’ll ever hear it, but mine is Barataria. You should put some thought into yours. Now, whenever you’re ready to continue, Maîtresse, my body is yours to use however you will. And I do mean however.”

  The sudden roughness in his voice caught her off-guard, and so did the narrowing of his eyes. Almost like he was daring her to give in.

  Seeing him flat on his back with his arms locked to the bed and his suit pants tenting was too much. For the first time in a long time, she simply wanted to take what was offered and enjoy herself.

  To hell with it.

  Adrian grunted as she ripped at his belt and then his pants.

  “Would you really do whatever I said?”

  His eyes blazed. “With pleasure, Mistress. Give me an order and you’ll see.”

  “God, I can’t tell you how amazing it sounds when you say that.”

  He laughed and then gasped as she manhandled him. Moira almost gasped herself. He was huge, so thick and hard, straining toward his belly as she pulled off his boxers. She felt a rush of wetness between her legs at the sight of him.

  “Condom, pocket,” he moaned.

  She blushed, but fished it out and rolled it on, savoring the feel of him in her hand.

  “As much as I’m enjoying watching you look at me, I’m starting to feel a little lonely, Mistress.”

  She grinned. “Do all subs talk back like this?” Still, her panties quickly found their way to the floor.

  “Non. But I’m not really a sub, remember? Feel free to reprimand me.”

  “Maybe I should. What if I ordered you to tongue-fuck me?

  He groaned. “Oui, Maîtresse. Would you like me to beg?”

  She crossed her arms and stepped away to lean on the bedpost. “Please do.”

  Adrian laughed. “Bon. Please, Maîtresse, may I have the extreme pleasure of putting my tongue to your pochaut until you scream?”

  “Oh, God, Adrian. When you put it like that, how can I say no?”

  “Then please come here so I can, Mistress.”

  His eyes stayed on hers as she slowly crept onto the bed. Again, the small part of her that had ruled her for years couldn’t believe she was doing this. But this was the most internal freedom Moira had felt in a long time, maybe ever. So she straddled Adrian’s chest, savoring the feel of his movement beneath her, and with one tug pulled the skimpy dress Kara had insisted she wear up and over her head.

  God bless Kara, wherever she was. She didn’t even care if Adrian saw her scars. He probably knew about them already.

  “You have to move closer if you intend on this happening, Mistress.”

  Moira smiled and leaned down, brushing his lips with hers. “Stop talking, Adrian.”

  His eyes glinted, and then his body bucked beneath her, pushing her forward. She started to protest, but when the heat of his mouth touched the wetness between her legs, it turned into a happy moan.

  God, she needed this.

  And he was good. Even without hands, he knew what he was doing. True to his word, he got her screaming with only his mouth.

  “Talented bastard, aren’t you?”

  He’d kindly propped his knees up behind her for her to rest on. “So I’ve been told.”

  She laughed, still out of breath. “I suppose you’d like me to return the favor?”

  “As you wish, Maîtresse.”

  She slid back along his torso and leaned in to kiss him. “I believe I do wish.” She could feel his erection behind her, still straining, and Moira didn’t think she’d ever wanted anything more than she wanted him inside her in that moment. Gathering her legs under her, she levered herself up and, biting her lip, slid him into her.

  “God, Adrian, I don’t…”

  He bucked beneath her. It was all the encouragement she needed. Hands splayed across his stomach, she moved on him. Finesse went out the window, leaving only need. They rocked together, and she couldn’t tell whether he grimaced because of the strain on his still-cuffed hands, or from need, and she didn’t care. Her brain had finally shut up, taken over entirely by her body and its needs. Raw need, which drove her to ride him with a force that shocked her. And the sounds, primal sounds, groaning and panting, greedy noises that came from the back of her throat, and the slap and bounce of flesh against flesh. Her nails broke the skin of his abdomen as she climaxed again, and a moment later he grunted out his own release.

  She collapsed on his chest, out of breath, and Adrian laughed.

  “Merci, Mistress. That was—”

  “The best sex I’ve ever had? Yes. It was.” Moira rolled off him, laughing. “I owe you an apology, Adrian. You were right.”

  He turned to look at her. “I usually am. Mais, about what?”

  Moira looked at the ceiling and closed her eyes. “About me. About this. God, I’ve never… I want more.”

  “I do tend to have that effect on women. And men, actually.”

  She laughed and smacked his chest. “I should leave you tied up for that.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll need a few moments, if you’re planning on doing that again.”

  Moira gave him a look that said she was considering it.

  Adrian laughed. “I have a question or two for you to ponder, then. You enjoyed having me like this? Unable to do anything but what you wanted?”

  She blushed and looked away. “I did. You know I did.”

  He nudged her with his knee. “There’s absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. The real question, ma chère, is this…” Adrian nodded to his stomach, where her nails had broken his skin. “Tell me what the difference is between your clawing up my skin and a few taps with a crop? Because in my mind, there isn’t any.”

  Moira stared at the angry red lines she’d made.

  “Something for you to think over, ma chère.”

  Chapter Four

  When they returned to the lobby, Moira carrying her shoes and Adrian sans tie and vest, Kara only looked them up and down and grinned.

  “Kara, I trust you enjoyed my brewmaster.”

  “I did indeed, Sir.” The words bubbled up out of her with a laugh. “Thank you. I might have to beg to see him again.”

  “No doubt. Mademoiselle D’Arcangelis.” He turned to Moira and kissed her hand. “I will see you back here tomorrow, at six of the evening. Go to the bar, they’ll know I’m expecting you.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Moira.”

  She hesitated and nodded. “All right. I’ll come. Thank you, Adrian.”

  His eyes flashed. “Thank you. And merci, Kara, for finally bringing her in.” With a last smi
le at them both, he walked away.

  Moira couldn’t even wait for him to be out of earshot. “I swear, Kara.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Moira stared at her friend and laughed as they went out together, passing through the bar in silence. The night was crisp, but not particularly cold. The narrow cobbled streets were packed with cars and late-night partiers that they dodged in between, arm in arm.

  “Why this, Kara? Why…?” She waved behind her at the bar.

  “Why kink?” Kara smiled and nudged her. “Honestly? Because sometimes it’s the last thing you expect that helps. Sometimes it’s facing the fear in a different way, in an unexpected way, that makes the difference. And you need something that will make the difference. I need to see you smiling again. It’s been too long.”

  Moira shook her head and leaned on her best friend. “And you? You really do this?”

  “Best fun of my life, hon.”

  They walked in silence for a block, letting the noise of the Mardi Gras crowds, the raucous shouts and music wash over them. “How did you know I wouldn’t turn and run?”

  Kara looked around and took a deep breath before answering. “I didn’t. But I didn’t know what else to try. I’m glad you stayed.”

  “I almost ran. A couple of times.”

  “But you didn’t. That in itself is huge.”

  Moira sighed. “Adrian can be persuasive.” She glanced sideways at Kara and grinned. “Even when he’s handcuffed to a bed.”

  Kara’s laugh was loud enough to be heard over the crowds and the music. “You didn’t!”

  “I did.”

  She grinned suggestively. “And did you get to use his crop?”

  Moira’s smile faltered. “He wanted me to.”

  “Too much?”

  Moira looked away. “Yeah. I don’t know, Kara. He made a really good point, but how did you know? I mean, that you were, well, into it?”

  Kara smiled. “I’ve known for a long time. Since eleventh grade when Scotty Cavanaugh backed me up against the locker room wall and pinned my wrists while he kissed the shit out of me. God, that boy knew how to turn me on.”

  “Having your wrists pinned while a guy kisses you is a long way from whips and crops and, and…”

  “Handcuffs during sex? Floggers?” Kara laughed. “It is, but that wasn’t the only thing Scotty did. He was a boy of many talents, and I don’t only mean on the football field.”