Fleur de Nuit: Bourbon Street Bondage, Book 1

by Cat Montmorency

  “I had hoped to get the two of you together at some point, but I was intending a very different scenario. Still…” He paused as his hands drifted farther up their legs, reaching under Moira’s skirt and Kara’s dress. “I am not at all displeased by this.”

  Both gasped as his fingers found their marks.

  “Kara, you naughty girl. I should’ve known you wouldn’t be wearing anything under there. Mais, I want you both to enjoy yourselves, and don’t move.” The last was said in a tone of certain command that sent a shiver down Moira’s back. But then his fingers had pushed aside her panties and found her waiting wetness, and she no longer cared.

  Instead, she closed her eyes and bit her lip. “May I lean back?”

  “Call me Sir while I’m fucking you, mon ange noir. And oui, you may lean back. You too, Kara.”

  They both leaned back with a moan as Adrian drove two fingers deeper into her. Kara put her hand over Moira’s and clenched it tight. Moira bit her lip harder, enjoying the flash of pain it brought.

  “Ladies, you are even more beautiful when you’re aroused. Who’s for three, hmm?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer before thrusting another finger in deep. They both threw their heads back and moaned.

  “One day soon, Moira, I really must have Kara demonstrate a very lovely technique that she’s particularly good at. It involves all five fingers inside her at once.”

  “Oh God, Adrian!” The idea alone sent Moira spiraling wildly over the edge of orgasm, but he didn’t stop. His fingers continued an unrelenting rhythm as his thumb made delicious pressure against her clit.

  “Kara, please join your friend.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” Kara gasped and threw her head back as she came.

  Adrian gradually slowed as the last waves pounded through them, extricating his fingers finally as the two of them sagged, panting on his desk.

  He then made a show of licking each of his fingers clean.

  “Dammit, Adrian.” Moira glared at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

  He grinned, reaching into a side table and pulling out a packet of wet wipes. “What’s wrong, ma chère? It didn’t sound like I’ve lost my touch.”

  “You haven’t. But now I want to tie you to this desk for a few hours. And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that was your plan.”

  “Um, no.” Kara didn’t take her eyes off Adrian as he took his time cleaning them both up. “If anyone is getting tied to this desk, it’s me.”

  Adrian chuckled and kissed Kara deeply. “It’s a terrible thing, but I’m afraid no one will be getting tied to my desk tonight. I will, however, keep that in mind for another time.”

  He turned to Moira and lifted her chin, until his green eyes were all she could see. “You, my lovely Domme-in-training, have a date with your best friend and a bottle of wine, I do believe. And you have a long day tomorrow.” He leaned in and kissed her slowly, painstakingly. She could still taste both of them on his lips, from where he’d licked his fingers.

  Damn the man.

  It took her a moment to regain her bearings once he pulled away.

  “What do you mean I have a long day tomorrow?”

  “That, mon ange, is why I asked Kara to bring you by. You’ll meet me here at ten tomorrow morning. You and I are going shopping.”

  Moira opened her mouth to protest but was immediately silenced by Adrian’s long finger across her lips.

  “Arrête-toi, ma chère. Do not make a bahbin. You’ll come, and I won’t take any refusals.”

  Moira nodded, and he dropped his hand with a grin.

  “Now, get on with you both. And have a glass of wine for me.”

  Chapter Ten

  Shopping with Adrian was an experience. She found him leaning against the entrance to the bar at ten sharp, sporting a tailored charcoal-gray pinstripe three-piece suit, complete with pocket watch, walking stick and fedora. A pair of John Lennon style sunglasses finished the ensemble.

  Moira gave him an appreciative up and down. “Are you trying to look like a pimp?”

  “Mon ange noir, if I was trying to look like a pimp, I wouldn’t look half so nice.”

  Moira laughed. “I think it’s the glasses that do it.” She reached out and snatched his hat, setting it at an angle on her own head. “Better.”

  “You’re pushing it, ma chère.”

  “Your own fault, Maître.”

  “Mais don’t make me regret it. I suppose the hat does look good on you. Viens.” He held out his arm for her to take and, when she did, led her off down the street.

  “So what are we shopping for?”

  He gave a low chuckle. “Your new wardrobe.”

  Moira rolled her eyes. “I don’t need a new wardrobe.”

  He stopped and looked at her hard over the tops of his sunglasses. “Moira, mon ange. In two weeks, you’ll walk into Fleur de Nuit as my newest Domme. You’ll be meeting the top Dominants, subs and switches in Louisiana. As my protégée, you will also be representing me. You must be strong and confident, and you absolutely must look the part.”

  Moira swallowed her sudden rising panic. “I need a new wardrobe.”

  “Oui. You need a new wardrobe. You also need a basic kit.”

  “This is going to be one of those days where I wonder what I got myself into, isn’t it?”

  Adrian laughed. “This is gonna be one of those days you look back on as the best fun you ever had. Come along.”

  He dragged her away from the bar and into the heart of the French Quarter. From the outside, La Belle was all cream and pink and gold, in true French Quarter opulence. So prim and fancy it bordered on tacky. Her first glance inside, Moira thought it was simply another lingerie boutique. Closer inspection proved it to be so much more.

  Moira stared at the racks in front of her and shook her head. “God, Adrian. There are so many to choose from.”

  The racks were full of corsets in every shape, style and fabric, ranging from short dresses to underbust, in leather, silk, satin, cotton and everything else. Plain. Pinstriped. Chains, studs. Lace, ties, zippers, everything.

  And that was only the one section.

  “Pick a style that you like. Something that makes you feel confident. This is no different from buying a dress or a pair of shoes. Or getting your hair cut, even.”

  She gave him a sidelong look. “I think it’s vastly different.”

  He laughed. “Only if you believe it to be, ma chère.”

  “May I help—Maître Lacroix! Je ne voyais pas c’était vous! J’ai gros couer, Monsieur—”

  Adrian calmed the panicked shop girl with a single long finger across her lips. “Te calmer, ma petite fille. I’m glad you’re here.” He turned, showing the petite blonde where Moira stood. “Lissette, I have a project for you. This is Moira D’Arcangelis, mon ange noir, and Domme-in-training. I need to outfit her.”

  Lissette lit up with excitement. “Mais, jamais d’la vie! Maître, you haven’t brought in une nouvelle Maîtresse in so long. Years!” She thrust her hand at Moira, practically bouncing. “Je m’appelle Lissette, come with me, and we’ll get you—wait, Maître, what does she need?”

  Adrian’s lips twitched. “She is new, ma fille. She needs enough to be getting on with. Ten or fifteen full outfits. We’ll deal with toys after.”

  Moira choked on the number. She had a modest amount of money tucked away, but wasn’t sure it would last long if Adrian insisted she buy so much. She opened her mouth to say something, but the enthusiastic shop girl was still talking.

  “Bon. Maîtresse, please, viens avec moi, let’s get you a fitting room, and we will put on a show for le Grand Maître, oui?”

  Moira was bundled away to an opulent dressing area where Lissette threw item after item her way. Corsets, lingerie, stockings and more, all ranging from gorgeously sexy to very kinky. She paraded them all for Adrian, who gave each piece a yes or a no, asked how they felt and how they made her feel, and waved her off to try on the next. Her favor
ite was a lace brocade corset with a demiskirt that hugged her body and felt like the smoothest thing in the world against her skin.

  Adrian’s favorite was a leather lace-up dress that was too short to really be called a dress. At least, judging by the look of appreciation on his face, Moira assumed it was his favorite.

  She wasn’t surprised that both ended up in the yes pile. She did, however, worry about how much it would all set her back.

  “Lissette, I think that’ll do for now. Toys next. Moira’ll need all the basics.”

  Lissette smiled and led them both into a back room that made Moira gasp. It shouldn’t have, considering everything she’d done with Adrian. But somehow, seeing a room full of ropes, whips, chains, cuffs, collars and sex toys all for sale made her blush.

  She managed to swallow her shock before Adrian said anything. And Lissette seemed to know exactly what she was looking for, without consulting either of them. Still, the growing size of the pile, combined with the one they’d left in the dressing area, was starting to panic Moira.

  “Adrian, I can’t afford all this. I’m only a teacher.”

  “Here, now. Is that what you’re worried about? Mon petit ange noir, calm yourself. This is my gift to you.”

  “Adrian, I can’t let you do that. Why?”

  He laughed. “I have my reasons. We’ll talk later. But you owe me nothing. I’m enjoying this, immensely. Lissette, ma fille.” He beckoned to the girl, who came straight to him with a smile. He whispered something in her ear.

  “Bien sûr, Maître. It will be done.”

  “Bon, Lissette.” He slid a hand under her short skirt and grabbed her ass tightly. “Come see me soon. Elle a été trop longtemps.”

  Moira raised her eyebrows as Adrian kissed the girl full on the mouth and then slapped her ass as she skipped away.

  “Maîtresse?” He raised his arm, offering it to Moira. “We still have much to do.”

  She took his arm with a confused look. “But I thought…”

  Adrian tutted and smiled. “Ma chère, you have no boots or shoes, no dresses. You have an appointment for your hair in…” he checked his watch, “…a little over two hours. We have much to do.”

  He dragged her out of the shop, ignoring her continued protests. By the time Adrian was satisfied, they’d hit half the stores in the French Quarter, and the sun was beginning to set. Their final stop was, surprisingly, at Tony’s shop below her apartment.

  Tony didn’t even know what hit him. Moira would’ve laughed, if he hadn’t been sending her oh my God looks.

  She didn’t get any time to respond. Adrian shoved her into a changing room with a single outfit and without a word. It wasn’t until she slipped the satiny black fabric on that she realized he’d taken the tags with him. She shimmied it down her body, wincing at how low it didn’t go. The three-inch lace hem only came to barely below mid-thigh, showing the top of her lace thigh-high stockings.

  You wanted this, remember?

  Moira took a deep breath and poked her head out to look for Adrian. He stood waiting for her and smiled when he saw her.

  “Zip me up?”

  He stepped toward her with a distinct look of hunger. Moira turned. “Mon ange, you need wings on these shoulders.” His fingers traced her exposed shoulder blades before zipping the dress to a point below them. “Beauté.”

  Moira smiled and stepped into the strappy heels he’d brought over. When she looked up, he held out his arm again.

  “I’m not changing?”

  “Non. You and I, ma chère, are going to dinner.”

  “Adrian.”

  “I won’t take non for an answer. It’ll be the perfect end to the day. And you can’t tell me you aren’t absolutely ravenous.”

  It was true. She was starving. And he’d already had her hair done. It tumbled in great waves of black curl halfway down her back. And there had been the manicure and pedicure. And her makeup.

  It would be a shame to let it all go to waste.

  Moira shut the door on her remaining protests, as Tony stepped up. “Moira, chère, you look fantastic.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek and whispered in her ear. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me your beau was Adrian Lacroix!”

  “I told you he wasn’t my beau, Tony. He’s only a friend.”

  Tony glanced back at Adrian, who stood with a silent smirk. “Honey, nobody is only friends with Adrian Lacroix. He’s one of my best customers.”

  “Really?” Moira gave Adrian a look that asked why she hadn’t known he frequented the shop below her home.

  Adrian laughed and ignored her look. “Tony’s right, mon ange noir. We aren’t mere friends.” He offered his arm as the lanky shop owner stared. “Come now, we’ll be late for our reservation.”

  They left the shop with Tony still gaping behind them.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I swear, Adrian, if any of my students see me, I will kill you. Slowly.”

  Adrian laughed, and Moira wished she’d thought of that argument when she was still standing in the safety of Tony’s dressing room.

  Instead, she’d let him hail not a real cab, but one of the horse-drawn carriages that made a killing off the tourists.

  It was a stupidly nice gesture. Especially when the carriage pulled onto St. Louis Street and stopped in front of Antoine’s. Adrian stepped down and carefully helped her out of the carriage. After she adjusted her dress. What little there was of it.

  Moira stared up at the great wide veranda, with its wrought iron posts and fencing, white storefront and dark wood paneling. Antoine’s was a New Orleans institution. “God, Adrian, I’ve been wanting to come here for years.”

  “And why haven’t you? Everyone should eat at Antoine’s at least once. Preferably more often. Much more often.”

  She tore her eyes from the oldest family-owned restaurant in the country. “Teacher salary, remember?” He raised his eyebrow, and she sighed. “And I don’t like eating alone. And I refused to let Kara treat me.”

  “Mon ange noir, you really must get past this lack of confidence. Look at you. You’re absolutely stunning. You have to let your behavior match your outside, or no one’ll ever believe you.” He leaned in closely, until his breath cascaded over her bare neck and shoulder. “This is the true secret to being a Domme. Confidence. Attitude. You believe it, and no one’ll doubt.”

  She took a deep breath, her fingertips touching his chest for support, and let the rest of the world disappear for a moment. He was right. She couldn’t live her life in a bedroom with him watching. It was no better than spending the last seven years hiding alone. Well, maybe marginally better. Adrian had given her the key the first night. It wasn’t about finding control. It was about taking it. In the bedroom, on the street, with a crop, a command or a look.

  Take control, Moira. Stop waiting for someone to hand it to you.

  She stood up straight and smiled.

  “Bon, ma chère,” he whispered.

  They turned together, Moira’s arm resting lightly in his, and walked past the crowd waiting for their seats.

  “Moira? Moira D’Arcangelis?”

  She stopped midstep and winced. Oh fuck. Turning slowly, she found the person calling her name from the waiting throng outside the restaurant. “Darlene. Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Oh, Moira chère, that is you! I didn’t recognize you in that dress.” Darlene’s voice dripped with fake charm and barely concealed distaste, as her eyes did a slow line up Moira’s body. Even her accent got thicker with her disapproval, the way she drew out dray-ess.

  Moira forced herself not to back down. Remember what you just decided. “Yes, well, even school teachers should get to dress up every now and then. What brings you here?”

  “Oh, well, it’s Bobby and my anniversary.” She let her smile stab at Moira, waggling her ring finger and taunting Moira for her single status. “We come to Antoine’s every year. Twenty-eight years, can you believe that, honey? It’s such a shame you’re
still not married. But who’s your friend? I haven’t seen him around. And believe me, I’d remember seeing him around.”

  Moira’s eyes flashed. “I’m perfectly happy not married, thanks, but congratulations, Darlene.” She paused, debating whether she should introduce Adrian, and decided she’d better get it out of the way. “This is my friend Adrian Lacroix.”

  “Bonsoir, madame.” Adrian made a big deal of taking her hand and bowing over it. “May I wish you and your husband bon anniversaire?”

  Adrian’s charm and thick Cajun accent had Darlene eating right out of his hand. She batted her eyes and simpered. “And what do you do, Mr. Lacroix?”

  “I own several businesses in New Orleans. I hate to seem rude, but Mademoiselle D’Arcangelis and I must be going. We have arrangements that I’m afraid can’t wait.”

  He pulled Moira away to the sound of Darlene’s sputtered protests.

  “Mon Dieu, who was that detestable woman?”

  Moira brought her fingers to her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter. “She’s a very vocal member of the PTA. Horrible woman.” She turned slightly and moved her hand to his chest. “Come Monday, I’ll either be the object of jealous worship, or the slut of the International High School faculty. Either way, I can’t really bring myself to care.”

  “Bon. You shouldn’t.” He steered them toward the waiter at the door, a skinny young man whose face lit with recognition.

  “Mr. Lacroix! Please, come in. Your room is waiting for you.”

  Moira’s eyebrows rose as the waiter ushered them in. “You don’t believe in doing anything small, do you?”

  Adrian grinned and looked her up a down. “Mais I believe in small dresses. Besides, the owner is a childhood friend. What’s the use in having friends if you can’t call in a favor on occasion?”

  “Do you know everyone in the French Quarter?”

  He shrugged and smiled. “Everyone who matters.”

  Their waiter led them through the restaurant’s dark corridors, past dining rooms of every size and color. Moira tried not to gawk.