Fleur de Nuit: Bourbon Street Bondage, Book 1

by Cat Montmorency

  “Wait, so, that’s why it took you so long to get over him?”

  Kara winked. “One of the reasons. There’s not much kink to be found in southwestern Virginia. Scotty opened my eyes to how much fun a good spanking could be. Among other things.”

  Moira shook her head and laughed. “Wow. And here I thought I knew all your secrets.”

  “Most of them.”

  Moira looked down the street at the tall, colorful buildings with their wrought iron fences and balconies, and realized they’d walked past her apartment and were almost to Kara’s. “I guess I’m staying at your place tonight.”

  “Damn straight you are. You’re having a hard time wrapping your head around it, aren’t you?”

  “A little. I mean, being hit actually turns you on?”

  Kara pulled out her keys with a smile. “Okay, first, you have to get past the hitting thing. It’s not really about the hitting. Pain can be a turn-on, but it’s all about the situation. Some asshole walking up out of nowhere and slapping me would piss me off, not turn me on.” She talked while she opened the outside door and walked them upstairs to her apartment. “But in the right situation, with the right person? When trust is involved, pain can be an amazing addition to sex.”

  Kara held her door open and let Moira pass before throwing the deadbolt and dropping her keys on the side table. “But more than that, being a sub is about serving. It’s about letting go, and letting someone else take the reins, make the decisions, manage the give and take. It’s about letting their wants and needs come first. It’s liberating.”

  Moira laughed. “Since you’re one of the bossiest people I know, I guess that makes sense. But I don’t get where the pain comes in.”

  Kara smiled. “You said Adrian made a good point tonight. What was it?”

  Moira blushed and dropped onto Kara’s couch. “I might have, um, gotten a little overenthusiastic.”

  “You mean you clawed him up a little? Good for you.” Kara flopped on the couch next to her and waved at her to continue.

  “I wasn’t expecting sex that good. Hell, I wasn’t really expecting sex.” She stuck her tongue out as Kara rolled her eyes. “Anyways, he asked me what the difference was between scratching him up midorgasm and a few taps with his crop.”

  “And what’s your answer?”

  “It’s not like I meant to dig my nails in—”

  “Honey, has any guy ever complained about getting scratched up during sex?”

  “Well, no—”

  “Yeah, exactly. Pain can amplify pleasure, whether it’s intentional or incidental. You know that phrase ‘hurt so good’?” Kara winked at her and grinned.

  Moira shook her head and smiled back. “You really think this’ll help?”

  “Hon, not only do I think this’ll help, I think you’ll enjoy it. You just have to let yourself.”

  Moira leaned over and pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you.”

  Moira stood outside La Belle Dame trying to convince herself to go in. Last night had been amazing, but in the light of day it had felt more like a crazy dream than reality. She wouldn’t have believed it had happened at all if Kara hadn’t talked about it nonstop.

  So she couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened. Watching the blond brewmaster whip Kara, watching her best friend enjoy it almost as much as she’d enjoyed the fucking after. Kara had even confessed she’d known Moira would be watching. Moira hadn’t had the nerve to admit to her or Adrian how much the sight had turned her on. She’d barely had the nerve to admit it to herself.

  She’d always thought her best friend was dead sexy. But she’d never really thought past that knowledge.

  And going back… Moira stepped toward the open door, and then backed away again. I can’t do this. I don’t care how mind-blowing the sex was.

  So the sex was great. She wasn’t sure that made up for the resurgence of her flashbacks. In the surrealism of last night, Kara and Adrian’s logic had made so much sense. But in the light of day, it all seemed ridiculous.

  Beating people for pleasure. A shudder rolled through her, followed by the memory of the power she’d felt the night before, merely ordering Adrian around. She’d promised him she’d try to be more open-minded tonight, and less squeamish, but she wasn’t sure, standing there now, that she could be.

  Too much. It was all too much.

  She turned to walk away, and her phone chirped, making her glance down at the text.

  Stop being a chicken shit and go inside.

  Kara, of course. Moira rolled her eyes, then squeezed them tight. When her best friend could know instinctively that she’d still be outside trying to talk herself into—or out of—this, it was time to make a change.

  Fine. Going. I hate you.

  You love me.

  Moira shook her head, took a deep breath and walked into the bar. Live jazz drifted up from the lower section, mixing with the quiet noise of the early crowd. In an hour, the place would probably be packed, but it wasn’t too bad yet. Moira took another deep breath and walked up to the bar, where a petite blonde filled drinks. The young woman looked up as Moira approached, her face already asking what her order would be.

  Moira smiled hesitantly. “Hey. Um. I’m supposed to meet Adrian? He told me to come to the bar and tell you.”

  The bartender smiled and held out her hand. “You must be Moira then. He said to keep an eye out for you. I’m Sam, by the way. Want anything while you’re waiting?”

  Moira shook Sam’s hand. “No, thanks.”

  Sam raised an eyebrow in question. “Sure? Okay. Let me give the boss a ring.” She turned and grabbed a phone, dialing quickly. “Hey, it’s Sam. Your girl’s here. Yeah, I’ll send her back. Sure.” She hung up and walked over to the other bartender, whispering to him before turning back and smiling at Moira. “Come on, I’ll show you the way.”

  Moira smoothed the short black skirt Kara had insisted she wear, and followed when Sam stepped out from behind the bar. They walked downstairs, the same way Moira had gone the night before, but this time Sam took her to a side door and knocked.

  “Entrez.”

  Sam smiled at Moira and winked before turning and walking away, leaving her staring at the door.

  Get over it already.

  Moira grabbed the doorknob and wrenched it before she could think better of the idea.

  “Ma chère Moira.” Adrian stood behind a desk, smiling. “I was beginning to wonder if you were gonna stand me up.”

  Moira stepped inside, shutting the door quietly, and stood awkwardly. Now that she was there, she wished she wasn’t. “I almost did.”

  He gestured to a padded leather chair. “But you didn’t.”

  “Yeah, well.” She sat down, avoiding looking at him. “Kara would’ve killed me if I had.”

  Adrian walked around his desk until he was directly in front of her. His hand reached out, lifting her chin until she couldn’t avoid looking at him. “And is that the only reason? Because Kara would have been put out?”

  Moira sighed and pushed Adrian’s hand away, glaring at him. “No. But neither of you understand.”

  “Understand what? That it’s been so long since you did any living that you don’t remember how anymore?”

  “Something like that. And then there’s the sex.” She felt herself blushing, thinking about it.

  “Mais I thought you enjoyed yourself.” Adrian leaned back against his desk with a smile. “You did say as much.”

  Moira blushed harder, but it didn’t stop her from staring at him. He wore a white dress shirt, unbuttoned to the top of his charcoal-gray pinstripe vest. The muscles of his forearms flexed as he gripped the desk, clearly visible below his rolled-up cuffs. She took a deep breath, forcing her eyes back up to his face before they traveled lower. “Yes. I did. It was good. Too good.” Her face heated as she blushed again. “I haven’t… I mean… I’ve hardly…” She took a deep breath and looked at her hands. “Sex, relationships, intimacy, they’ve all been f
ew and far between, and not much worth mentioning. Guys find out about me—and they always do—and the few that are still interested think I’ll break if they look at me wrong. I hate it.”

  “That’s tragic. And all the more reason to make a change.”

  Moira snorted. “Yeah, easier said than done.”

  “Easier than you think. You took to it well enough last night.”

  She let her head fall back against the chair and stared at the ceiling. “I’m pretty sure that was simple desperation. Adrian…”

  He cocked his head in question.

  She dropped her head and stared at her feet. “Don’t you think…?”

  “Moira, ma chère, what is it?”

  Moira shook her head, suddenly more nervous than she’d been even the night before. “What if this all just proves it?”

  He leaned forward, all laughter gone from his face. “Proves what?”

  She took a deep breath, and let it all out in a shudder before answering in the barest whisper. “That I really am broken.”

  Adrian stood slowly and took her hands in his. “Do you think I’m broken?”

  She shook her head. “No, I—”

  “Or your Kara? Do you think she’s broken?”

  Moira shook her head sharply. “No, of course not. She’s stronger than anyone I know.”

  “Then why in God’s name would you think it of yourself?” He sighed and ran a hand through his chin-length hair. “If anything, I think it proves the opposite. You’re a strong woman, Moira. You’re only broken if you want to be. Now, are you willing to put that theory to the test?”

  Moira didn’t answer, but when he extended his hand, she took it. Adrian reached across his desk to grab his suit jacket, and then wrapped her arm around his before escorting her out of his office. Once again, he led her back past the stage where the band continued to play, oblivious to the turmoil in her head. They stepped through the same rear door and past the same hulking man.

  Adrian watched her watch the other man hold the door and shut it after them. “Devon. My houseboy. I believe you met him last night, non?”

  She stared at Devon. “Yes. I remember.” Moira turned back to look at Adrian. “Wait. Houseboy? Isn’t he a little old?”

  Adrian laughed, leading her up the stairs. “That may be. I offered to call him the butler, but he prefers houseboy. I don’t care what I call him, as long as he comes when I say. He’s a fabulous fuck, aussitte,” he added with a wink.

  Moira stopped dead in her tracks. “But, I thought…”

  Adrian laughed loudly. “Mmm, I don’t discriminate by gender. A good fuck is a good fuck.”

  “Oh.”

  He grinned. “That isn’t a problem, is it?”

  “Oh! No. I don’t care. I just never thought about it that way.”

  “You should.” He started them off again, leading her into the same room as the night before. “Now.” Dropping her arm, he walked over to the side table and picked up a crop.

  Moira felt her face flush with heat, but realized after a moment that her hands weren’t shaking at the sight of it. Much.

  Interesting.

  “You’ve turned a delightful shade of rouge. Pourquoi?”

  She shook her head. “Embarrassment.”

  Adrian stepped forward. “Oui? Is that all?”

  Moira looked away. Embarrassment over the night before was foremost in her head, but the truth she couldn’t escape was that the sight of the crop in Adrian’s hand hadn’t bothered her, it had made her embarrassingly wet.

  The question wasn’t whether or not she wanted it. Looking at the crop, Moira knew she wanted the control Adrian had offered her last night, and more.

  The question was whether or not she wanted it enough.

  Enough to deal with the nightmares, the fear. She’d woken in a panic three times last night, certain she’d felt the burn of rope around her wrists and full of the too-familiar dread. All a sure sign the nightmares would follow. So did she want it enough to hold the crop in her hand and own it?

  “Non, that’s not all, is it?”

  Moira closed her eyes. “No. It’s not.” She felt the tip of the crop lift her chin and opened her eyes. Adrian’s green eyes blazed back at her.

  “Moira, chère. You want control? You have to take it.”

  Moira stared at him a moment longer and made up her mind.

  She took the crop.

  Adrian circled her. “You think you don’t remember how to live. Mais you’re wrong. You remember how to trust and let go.” He stepped up behind her, hands wrapping around her hips, and whispered, “You simply don’t let yourself.”

  Moira swallowed. Honesty, right? “You’re right.” Her voice trembled. “I don’t.”

  “Oui, I know. But do you know why?”

  She shook her head, and Adrian leaned in even closer, until she could feel his lips move against her ear.

  “À cause de, no one has given you a good enough reason to.”

  And as quickly as he’d moved behind her, he was gone again, leaving her trembling and weak. She turned instinctively to look for him and found him sitting in a chair in the corner of the room.

  It took her a minute to find her voice again. “What do you mean?”

  Adrian smiled. “Trust is all about taking chances. Mais, to take a chance, there has to be the promise of a payout. Some recompense. You suffered a great tragedy. Mediocre sex and a life only marginally less boring than the one you have now merely isn’t enough for you to risk getting hurt again, you see?”

  Moira’s hands clenched around the crop she still held, as the blood drained out of her face. “How do you know?”

  “There are two parts to l’art of domination. The world outside assumes that it’s all about the physical. They’re wrong.” Adrian stood and walked slowly over to her. “True domination is about the psychological. Close your eyes.”

  Moira closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe. “Okay. I can understand that. But what does—”

  His voice came very suddenly from close to her ear. “Psychological domination means I first have to get in your head. Like this.”

  Moira suddenly found herself angry. “Stop it.”

  “Stop what, ma chère?” His voice came from behind her. She hadn’t even felt him move. “Right now, your whole body is awake, aware. Every inch of you, straining for my voice, hoping for my touch. You could open your eyes, make it all stop. Maybe, for the first time, you think it might actually be worth playing along. You’re enjoying this.”

  He was right, and she knew it.

  Moira opened her eyes and turned, placing her hand in the center of his chest. “Fine. You’re right. About all of it. So where does that leave me?”

  Adrian covered her hand with his own. “With a choice. Do you want to keep your boring, vanilla life, or would you like to give the dark side a try?”

  She didn’t answer right away. Adrian’s green eyes bored into her, daring her. Moira stared back, her body tingling with the memory of the night before. It had felt like another life because it was another life.

  A life where she didn’t have to hide from her past.

  A life where she could be someone else, someone confident and happy.

  A life where she was in control.

  And she wanted it.

  A hesitant smile crept across her face. “Yes.”

  Adrian’s eyebrow lifted. “Yes, what?”

  Moira let out a shuddering breath. “Yes, I want it. All of it. I want the control. I want the sex. I want to stop hiding from life.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it all out in a rush. “I want it all, Adrian.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “And this?” He gestured to the crop she clutched like a lifeline. “What about the question I put to you last night?”

  She stared into his vibrant green eyes. “You’re right. It’s mutual, it’s consenting, and if it’s for pleasure, where’s the harm?” Her voice shook, contrasti
ng the flippant tone of her words.

  But Adrian simply smiled wide. “Bon.”

  Chapter Five

  Moira woke with a sharply inhaled gasp. The streaming sunlight made her wince, but it also brought the world into sharp focus. Her world, now, in New Orleans.

  Not the dark world of her past, with heavy footsteps and fear. Her heart was still racing from the memory.

  Taking a deep breath, she rolled over, trying to avoid the bright light from her window, and jumped as she came face-to-face with a grinning Kara.

  “Wakey-wakey, bestie!”

  Moira swore and tried to burrow back under the covers. “God, Kara, I hate you.”

  Kara’s laugh echoed through the room as she yanked the covers down. “Come on, Sunday morning breakfast. Let’s go. I want to hear all about last night and the fabulous sex you had.”

  Moira opened one eye. “Stanley’s?”

  “Better. The Cake Café. Boudin and eggs, crab omelet with brie, shrimp and grits… Get your lazy ass out of bed. I’m starving and I need details.”

  “There aren’t any details,” Moira huffed. She pushed herself up out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

  “Liar. With Adrian, there are always details.”

  “Not this time.” She cranked on the shower and stepped in, shouting over the water. “No sex. Only talking. We psychoanalyzed each other. It was both enlightening and boring.”

  Kara laughed. “You’re only grumpy because you expected sex and didn’t get any. Which makes me grumpy too. I’ll have to have a chat with him.”

  “Relax, Kara. I think I can handle one night without sex. Hell, the other night was good enough to last me another two years. So if you really want to be helpful, you can pick out something for me to wear.” Moira leaned back and let the water rinse the shampoo from her hair, and sighed. She hadn’t been kidding when she told Adrian it had been the best sex she’d ever had. But she also hadn’t been kidding when she said it was too good. It made her want more, and Kara was right. She was grumpy at not getting any.

  “Clothes are on the bed, hon. I’m making coffee because your ass is too slow.”