Fleur de Nuit: Bourbon Street Bondage, Book 1

by Cat Montmorency

  Like nipple clamps. Those had been fun.

  And Tamara had let her have the lead all session. So her parting look had meant a lot.

  Adrian’s look, however, was priceless.

  “You watched, I take it?”

  “Maîtresse, you made me very hard tonight. And proud.”

  Moira struck a pose and winked, grinning, before taking his arm. “I’m glad you approve. I’m rather proud of myself.”

  “Mon ange noir, I approve very much, and you should be.” He leveled a heated look at her. “But have you given thought to our suppertime vay-yay?”

  Moira wrinkled her nose, her high disappearing. “It doesn’t change anything. Except I think Tamara and I both have more respect for each other. Where is Kara, anyway?”

  Adrian cocked his head. “She may still be in with Gideon. Viens.” He twirled her around and then led her down another hall to another door. But the room inside was empty. No mysterious Gideon, and no Kara.

  Adrian pulled a phone out of his pocket and dialed, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor until his call was answered. “Ah, Devon, where is our Kara?”

  A look that was equal parts confusion and worry flashed across his face before his expression smoothed again. “Bon. Merci.”

  Moira stared at him with a flash of anxiety. “What’s going on?”

  Adrian ushered her back out of the empty room. “It would appear she’s gone home. He said they finished some time ago.”

  Moira’s eyebrows fell together. “That’s…” Her thought faded into nothing.

  “Mon ange?”

  She shook her head. “I’ll call her, I guess. I’m going to go home, Adrian. I’m tired.”

  Adrian’s eyebrow rose. He reached out with a finger to lift Moira’s chin. “You may stay here, if you wish.”

  Moira bit her lip, considering it, but shook her head. “No. Thanks. I think I’d rather go home.” She turned and started to walk away, but Adrian caught her hand.

  “At least let Devon drive you home, mon ange.”

  Moira opened her mouth to protest but found she was suddenly too tired to. “Fine.”

  Adrian typed a quick message before letting her go, and Devon met her downstairs with her things. The night air felt too cold after the heat of her session, making her shiver as she climbed in the car. Her earlier elation had vanished with the heat, leaving her confused and sad. Pulling her coat more tightly around her, she took out her phone and hit Kara’s number. The line rang twice, three times and a fourth.

  “Hey, this is Kara Deschamps, you know what to do.”

  Moira stared at her phone for a moment and killed the call without leaving a message.

  She woke to the slightest touch drifting down her face.

  “Hey, hon.”

  Kara sat on the edge of her bed, the fingers of one hand gently brushing away the dark strands of Moira’s hair. Her makeup was smudged, and her black dress looked like it hadn’t been home all night.

  Moira caught Kara’s hand and stilled it. “You asked for a session with Gideon. And you left Adrian’s early.”

  Kara wrinkled her nose. “I know. Sorry. Wasn’t feeling it, I guess.”

  Moira raised an eyebrow in silent question. “Kara, you said you were terrified of the guy. Why would you ask for a session with him?”

  She didn’t answer, so Moira tried a different approach.

  “You were wandering Bourbon Street again, weren’t you?”

  Kara looked away. “I didn’t do anything. Drank less than I could’ve and said no to every proposition.”

  Moira’s concern ratcheted up. That wasn’t like Kara at all. “Then, what were you doing?”

  Kara shrugged. “I don’t know. How did your session go?”

  “You’re changing the topic.”

  “You noticed. So how did it go?”

  Moira rolled her eyes. “Which one?”

  “Both.”

  “Fine.”

  Kara glared at her. “That’s not an answer.”

  “Neither is changing the subject.”

  Kara groaned and flopped down on the bed, landing across Moira’s legs. “You first.”

  “Kara…”

  “Look, I’ve been on your couch since four. Please?”

  Moira sat up. “Why the couch? I’ve let you share my bed as long as I’ve known you.”

  Kara ground the heels of her palms into her eyes and groaned. “I didn’t want to wake you up. I saw you called, so I came over, but you were sound asleep.”

  “That’s never stopped you before.”

  Kara looked away without answering.

  “Kara.”

  “Just tell me about your session, please?” Kara’s voice was barely audible. “The one with Mistress Tamara’s sub.”

  “Josephine.”

  Kara nodded.

  Moira fell back to her pillows. “It was fine. I let Tamara join in.”

  “And?”

  “And what?” Moira pushed up on her elbows to look at her friend, but Kara was still facing the other way. “I beat the fuck out of her and she liked it. What do you want me to tell you?”

  “I don’t know.” Kara stared at the ceiling and then draped her arms over her eyes. “Did you like it?”

  Moira stared at her. “What are you talking about? I had fun, sure, but…”

  “Tamara was hoping you’d like Josephine.”

  Moira sat up the rest of the way, her thoughts stuck. “Wait, what?”

  Kara sighed. “Mistress Tamara. She was hoping you’d like Josephine.”

  Moira barked a laugh. “What, enough to collar her? That’s… I don’t even know what that is. First off, she’s being trained for Adrian, and second, I’m not ready to collar anyone. I’m way too new at this still. I don’t even think I’m out of training yet.”

  Kara snorted. “That’s not what I heard.”

  “Kara, what are you talking about?”

  Kara sat up and pushed off the bed. “Nothing. Something Master Gideon said.”

  Moira lunged forward and grabbed her arm. “Hang on, we’re not done. Why were you even with him?”

  “Moira.”

  Moira’s phone rang, startling them both with some classic blues track that was completely the opposite of her normal ringtone.

  “Shit.” Damn Adrian. Moira glanced at her phone and back at Kara. “I’m serious. We’re not done.” She waited until Kara nodded before letting go of her arm and reaching for the phone. “Adrian, you need to stop fucking with my phone when I’m not looking.”

  “Mon petit ange noir, bon matin.” The amusement in his voice made her head hurt.

  “I had a really late night, Adrian. One you were present for.”

  Adrian laughed. “So I recall. You left me with an ahnvee that took most of the night to satisfy. I’m afraid I exhausted my girls. And Devon.”

  Moira closed her eyes and pressed a hand into her forehead. “That’s a lovely compliment, one I appreciate, but that doesn’t explain why you called.”

  He hesitated. “A client came in. I need you to take him this afternoon.”

  “Dammit, Adrian. Did you miss the part where I’m exhausted?”

  “You’ll have to forgive me, mon ange, but I really do need you to take him.”

  Moira caught movement out of the corner of her eyes as Kara crept toward the door. She snapped her fingers and pointed to the chair. Kara sighed and sat. “Fine. Can I call you back for details? I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

  The amusement was back. “Mon ange, I thought you said you were exhausted?”

  “Adrian.”

  He laughed. “Bien sûr. Until later then, Maîtresse.”

  Moira killed the call and tossed the phone to the bed before walking over to Kara. “Now, spill. What’s all this about?”

  Kara shook her head. “Nothing. It’s only me being stupid.”

  “No way. I’m not letting you play that card. What did Gideon say that has you all tie
d up in knots, and why him?”

  Kara looked away, squirming a little under Moira’s gaze. “Master Gideon… I was hoping he’d take my mind off things. I needed someone who I knew could completely distract me, and I knew he would. But I wasn’t into it, and he noticed. He’s a scary-ass Dom, but he surprised me. We talked. He said everyone knew Mistress Tamara threw Josephine at you so that I’d go with her, and he hoped I would stay. That’s all.”

  “No, that’s not all. What do you mean she threw Josephine at me so you’d go with her?”

  “Moira…”

  “Kara, please.” She stepped forward and knelt in front of Kara. “I don’t understand any of this. I can’t figure out why you’re bothered, and it’s killing me. I need to know.”

  Kara took a deep breath. Her eyes flicked around the room, not sure where to settle. “If you liked Josephine…” She trailed off and shook her head.

  Moira grabbed Kara’s fidgeting hands, running her thumbs over the skin in gentle circles. “My God, Kara, what is it? I’ve never seen you at a loss for words. Look, I liked Josephine fine. She’ll be a great sub for Adrian. Listening to them confuse each other with the differences in Cajun and Quebecois French—” She broke off, laughing. “God, that’ll be hilarious. I’d like to sit in on a session simply to hear that.”

  Kara finally laughed, a sad and strangled sound, but still a laugh.

  Moira smiled. “Sorry. Off topic. My point is that so far as I know, there’s absolutely no reason Josephine should have anything to do with whether or not you go back with Tamara at the end of the week.” She looked at Kara, and then shook her head, throwing caution to the wind and taking Adrian’s advice. “Look, I know I was drunk the other night when I said it, but I’m saying it now totally sober. I’m not giving you up without a fight, unless that’s what you want. If you want to go with her, the last thing I want is to stop you. But God as my witness, Kara, I’m a selfish bitch, and I can’t imagine you not being in my life. So whatever it is you’re worried about, stop.”

  Kara’s lips twitched into a smile. “You can’t order me to stop worrying.”

  “You tried it enough with me, I thought it was worth a shot.”

  “It never worked though, did it?”

  Moira laughed. “No, but I’m not very good at following orders, am I?”

  Kara laughed, a real laugh this time. “No. And now you know why!”

  “Exactly. So do what I say like a good little sub,” she added with a wink.

  Kara nodded. “I’ll try.”

  “That’s all I’m really asking. Well, that and that you never spend the night on my couch again. I’m amazed you can even walk.”

  Kara laughed again, loudly. “It’s not that bad.”

  Moira pushed back up to her feet. “Oh yes, it is.” She pulled Kara to her feet. “Do you want to use my shower?”

  “God, yes. Thank you.” Kara hesitated. “Do you want to join me?”

  Moira’s heart melted. “I’d like that.” She gently cupped Kara’s jaw and drew her in for a soft kiss. “I need to call Adrian back, and I’ll meet you in there.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Moira walked around the back of Adrian’s house and slipped in the side door. She’d left Kara asleep in her bed, naked and smiling, and walked into Adrian’s with her own smile. Happy exhaustion followed her inside, and Adrian met her with a raised eyebrow and a quirk of his mouth.

  “L’Ange Noir seems very pleased.”

  Moira laughed, trailing a finger down his chest. “You’re not getting any details.”

  “Ma petite, you wound me.”

  “Oh, knock it off, Adrian. So which lucky sap am I working over this afternoon?”

  Adrian gave her a look before answering. “A young man, a soldier. Mais, I’ll let him tell you. Toutefois, I think you’ll like him. I know for a fact he’ll like you.”

  Moira snorted. “All right. Where is he?”

  “La chambre bleue, of course.”

  Moira smiled. The blue room had become her default room, it seemed. “Better not keep him waiting, then.”

  “Allez, mon ange noir.”

  Moira shook her head and turned to walk away. Adrian’s laughter followed her down the hall and up the stairs. She shed her overcoat, leaving it on the hook outside the room, and took a deep breath before pushing the door open and walking in.

  She froze in the doorway. Young was right.

  The young man pacing the far end of the room couldn’t have been more than twenty-one or twenty-two. He paused and looked up as she shut the door. Something about him seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

  His face, however, drained when he saw her. “Miss D’Arcangelis?”

  Recognition slammed into place. “Fuck. Landry Boudreaux? I’m absolutely going to kill Adrian. What the hell are you doing here?”

  Landry laughed. “I could ask you the same thing. That motier foux renard. The last person I expected to show up in this room was my history teacher. Even if that was, what, six, seven years ago?”

  Moira sat down in the closest chair. “Seven. My first year down here. But what are you doing here?”

  Landry looked around. “I’d imagine that’s kind of a given, isn’t it?”

  Moira stared and shook her head. “Yeah, sorry. Taking me a minute to wrap my head around it. I mean, I always wanted to beat a few of you, but this is a little different.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is.” Landry grinned. “But not bad, I hope?”

  Moira cocked her head and then laughed. “No, not bad.” She gestured for him to sit. “All right, Landry honey. Talk to me. What are you here for? What do you need?”

  Landry sat on the edge of a chair, his hands nervously circling each other. “Well, ma’am, Mr. Lacroix, he told you I joined the Marines?”

  “Mistress, Landry, not ma’am. And yes, he mentioned you were military.”

  “Mais I always kinda knew I liked taking orders. And with my Vieux, being a soldier was a foregone conclusion for me. But I came back from Paris Island feeling like something was missing. Long story short, I met a girl who introduced me to Mr. Lacroix. But it’s been a year and a half since I’ve been home, and I have an ahnvee for more than a pretty girl.”

  Moira smiled, listening to his accent slide back to where she knew it should be. It meant he was getting comfortable. “So what do you need, then?”

  “It sounds silly saying it out loud.”

  Moira gave him a look. “Giving a voice to your deepest needs is never silly, Landry. Tell me.”

  He took a deep breath and looked away. “It’s the ordering that does it, ma’am. I mean, Mistress. And the watching. The crop is sexy, but I can take or leave getting beaten around. But you could tell me to go fuck that bedpost, and if you said it right, my bibitte would be hard in a heartbeat. Merde, you could tell me to strip and knit a hat, and I’d do it with a raging hard-on.”

  Moira laughed lightly, tapping her boots with her crop. “Orders I can do. Watching I can definitely do. Anything else?”

  Landry’s lips twitched. “You’re it, Mistress D’Arcangelis.”

  “Please, use Moira. Or Adrian calls me L’Ange Noir. You can imagine I can’t have word getting out that the high school history teacher is a professional Dominatrix. The school board would fire me in a heartbeat.”

  “Especially if they knew you had a former student as a client? I can imagine. But it’s not like I have plans to tell.”

  “I should hope not. Adrian would do horrible things to you.” She leaned back in the chair and touched her forefinger to her lips. “All right then, let’s get started, shall we? Your safe word?”

  He smiled. “Bulldog, Mistress.”

  She smiled back. “Very good. And down, boy. Hands and knees.”

  Landry dropped, looking at her with eager anticipation. Moira crooked her finger, calling him to her without a word. He crawled slowly toward her, brown eyes turning darker.

  Moira halted him with a boot
ed foot on his shoulder. “Stop there. Shirt off, slowly.” He complied, eyes never leaving her. Moira took a moment to admire him. He’d filled out since she’d seen him last, the smooth mocha tone of his muscular chest accentuated by a curly-scripted Semper Fi above his heart and a second quote tucked along his right side and ab.

  She leaned forward, lifting his arm with her crop so she could read. “‘Courage is endurance for one moment more’. That’s an excellent quote, Landry.” Moira leaned back again, crossing her legs as Landry lowered his arm. She tapped the shaft of her crop against her neck and bit her lower lip.

  Landry licked his lips.

  “How are you at pushups, soldier?”

  He grinned. “Excellent, Mistress.”

  “Good. Stand up.”

  He stood, his eyes questioning.

  Moira smiled coyly. “Take your boots off. Toss them in the corner.” He bent down, fingers tearing at the laces. She stopped him with a touch of the crop. “Slowly.”

  He pulled at his laces much more slowly, lifting his leg to pull the boot off and toss it to the corner as she’d directed, and then bent to repeat the process.

  Moira watched the way the muscles in his arms and chest flexed, blatantly enjoying the view. The second boot joined the first. “Socks too.”

  Landry smiled and pulled his socks off slowly, throwing them to the corner with his boots.

  Moira winked and pointed to the floor. “Pushup position.”

  His eyes never left her as he tipped himself forward, landing on his hands with a loud thud.

  “Very nice.” She gave him a golf clap. “All the way down, and back up to kiss my boot. And count out loud please, Landry.”

  He lowered himself until his nose touched the floor, and then pushed back up to kiss the tip of her boot.

  “One.”

  Moira grinned wickedly and watched him repeat the process until he reached twenty. Then she tapped his shoulder with her crop and told him to stop. “Stay exactly like that.”

  She walked around him slowly while he held his position, arms fully extended and back flat. The tip of her crop traced his skin as she walked. An eagle, globe and anchor graced his left shoulder, and another script followed his spine, this time in French: La guerre n’est pas un aventure. La guerre est une maladie. Comme le typhus.