SMITTEN (Paris Après Minuit)

by Juliet Braddock

  However, January also knew better than to take this reprieve for granted. Even during her periods of greatest strength, she often felt lost without him. She didn’t want to be away from him—at least not too far—ever again.

  Between his eight-hours on the road and then his battle with the downpour outside her building, Nigel devoured dinner and then cleared away January’s leftovers, too. He was simply glad to see her eating more than a leaf of lettuce. She’d gained a few pounds since he’d last seen her, but she was far too thin when they first met. He appreciated and indulged in her curvaceous changes.

  “You know…” Cuffing her ankle with the ring of his fingers, he caught her off-guard, and then he slipped his hand inside the hem of her jeans. “You look stunning. I think you need a few more trips home.”

  Just that feel of his touch prompted her to delight as the heat emanated from the fire. “Would…would you go with me?”

  Gesturing toward the last slice of banana bread, Nigel raised an eyebrow. “If your mum will feed me like this…”

  Lunging forward, she tested him. “How about for Thanksgiving?”

  “Considering we don’t celebrate it here, that’s no reason to deny you,” he said. “I’m there. It’ll be fun. Let’s book it—tomorrow.”

  “Just like that?” January felt she had to shake him to get the truth out of him. “You’ll go? No arguments? No fighting? No complaining?”

  His grip on her ankle tightened, and he placed a hand on her shoulder. “You need to get one thing straight here, January. I am not Etienne.”

  “You sure as shit aren’t him,” she whispered. “And by the way, the Gallimores are coming over for Christmas.”

  As if he were just on auto-pilot, Nigel thought out loud. What January didn’t realize was that he was already calculating the best time to talk to her father. Tradition was one thing on which Nigel never skimped. In fact, he already had it mapped out in his mind. He would get to know Ed over Thanksgiving, and then ask for her hand during the holidays. Surprising her on her birthday with a ring would mark the perfect start to a brand-new year for both of them.

  “I think Mum would love to host them in Provence for Christmas, but maybe we could all spend some time afterward in Paris? To show them around the city?”

  Again, she just wasn’t used to a man who rationalized the simplest details of life and made compromises, rather than cock-blocking her every move. Furthermore, she loved the fact that Nigel felt he could return to Paris now without angst and regret.

  “Oh, that’s just genius. We’ll ease them into France with the countryside, and then drop them in the big city!”

  “Now, January…”

  “You’ll help me pack up all my crazy shit in this apartment and put it in temporary storage?” January asked. “Trust me. Aurora will look in every drawer…”

  Earlier that year, he would have blushed. Now, his bawdy snicker stirred her arousal. “I’m always happy to take one for the team—especially when it comes to us.”

  “And there’s not an ounce of bullshit here, is there?”

  “I don’t have time for that.”

  Nigel moved his head so close to her, and just when she thought he was about to kiss her again, he whispered, “January, I want you to stand in front of the fire, and I want you to do exactly as you’re told. Understand?”

  “Dommy…?”

  Straightening his back and forcing his shoulder into alignment, Nigel pulled away and held up one finger. “We are going to set some rules tonight, and the first one is that I am not your Dommy.”

  Born of unbridled but unfulfilled desire, her meek reaction as she nodded her head slowly in obedience surprised him.

  Again, he asked her, “Do you understand? Are we both clear on what we want and what we need from each other here?”

  This was the groundbreaking move she’d been awaiting all along. What initially started out as almost a farcical joke had evolved into a melding of their collective proclivities, and January knew that he had to prove himself to her—once and for all.

  Again, she could only shake her head in agreement.

  “Once more, I want you to go stand in front of that fire and wait for instruction. You have ten seconds to get there. And I’m watching the stopwatch on my phone…”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Emphasizing his command with the pull of her hair, Nigel looked her in the eyes. His stare stiffened, and he brandished strength and confidence. “Now, I said…”

  January jumped to her feet and kicked off her shoes as she made her way toward the hearth.

  “You should also know that I don’t tolerate a messy playroom,” Nigel observed. “If I give you permission to engage, I expect you to pick up after yourself.”

  “Yes…” she pouted as she collected her flats.

  “And you’ll leave the shoes on next time until I tell you to take them off.” He held up the stopwatch on his phone. “Nine seconds. I know you’re out of practice, but this calls for improvement.”

  “I…” Weakening with every order, January fought hard to stand up straight. Her voice rattled with desire as she attempted to speak. “I will work on that.”

  All the while, she observed that he kept one eye on her and one eye on the old but familiar Vuitton trunk she hadn’t yet bothered to unpack. However, he didn’t move from the couch.

  “Strip!”

  The demand dropped without warning, and January’s trembling fingers fumbled as she reached for the button on her fly. She felt as if she were about to have sex for the first time all over again, unsure of herself and naïve to the unknown of what was to follow. That nervous tension compelled her needs.

  As the denim fell to the floor, her thighs scraped with her slick need for him. Wrestling with her shirt, she reminded herself to fold her clothes. Raw lust addled her rationale. Given all the time that had passed—and the fact that she hadn’t had sex in almost four months—she felt so out of sorts in her submission. However, that was the perfect place to start anew with Nigel—from the roots of her pledge to serve him.

  Standing before him in just her bra and panties surged another onslaught of yearning.

  Drunk on his intoxicating prowess, she had no choice but to allow him to lead her. January had no idea where Nigel planned to take this scene, but she was certainly on board for the journey.

  Giving her breasts a good shake, she pulled off her bra and then turned around to give him a shot of her ass as she slid her panties down her legs.

  Hands smacking as he folded them together, Nigel leaned forward. January popped her head over her shoulder. His stern displeasure wasn’t the reaction she’d expected.

  “I didn’t ask for a show, Dita Von Teese,” he told her. “I told you to strip. You took it upon yourself to embellish your routine.”

  “I thought you liked it the last time I ‘embellished’ my ‘routine,’” she countered.

  “You are truly racking up the infractions this evening, and I’m starting to lose my patience here.” With the crack of his knuckles, he sighed. “Clearly, it’s been far too long for you, and we’re going to have to start from the beginning—although you should know better…”

  A new beginning was exactly what she wanted.

  “I-I’m sorry, Dommy—I-I mean…Dominant Sir.”

  “You know how I prefer to be addressed.” As he stood up and closed the distance between them, his presence seemed so immense in her small living room. “I’m going to have to punish you. It’s one mistake after another, starting with your visit with a certain French douchebag.”

  “Ah, say that again…”

  Nigel struck her ass with the back of his hand. “You will speak when acknowledged. We don’t need your commentary this evening. Now, stand up straight and face me.”

  Spinning around, January followed his every word. This new edge to their play both amused and frightened her. The opposing elements shot quivers up her spine. While she wondered where he’d learned so much about
controlling their play, she didn’t complain. The uncertainty kept her on her toes.

  As she looked up at him with her curious but steely eyes, he took her hands in his. “We’re going to work from a system of Punishment and Reward,” Nigel told her. “Want to take a guess which one we’ll be employing tonight?”

  Kicking her bare feet against the parquet floor like a spoiled child, she drooped her head. “Punishment.”

  “Well, you got one right,” he said with a pat on her head that was ripe with condescending sentiment. “Such a bad girl you’ve been today. You know, I didn’t want our reunion to be so hostile, but you’ve really left me with no other option.”

  “I didn’t mean to be a bad girl,” she sniffled. “I just wanted to see you again, and—”

  “Oh, the actress and her fake tears!” Nigel berated her with some drama of his own. “I told you that you do not speak unless I specifically ask for a response. You are to be seen, not heard.”

  Damn, he was good. That line, which her father often spoke to a garrulous young January, always stung her heart. Now, Nigel had set that rule into place, and she had to obey.

  In the grand scheme, Nigel claimed his territory and drew his own boundaries and expectations for her. He wanted her to know that he’d made some decisive choices in how he planned to play this game.

  “I’m going to push you a little tonight, January—test your limits, if you will. And I do think we need to iron out some solid safewords. Have any in mind?”

  Her eyes questioned him. January, too, was on a trial run that night, and she had to figure out just what he needed from her. The hopeless romantic in her also wanted to create their own verbiage in this game—words only Nigel would understand. “How about ‘Rose’ for Stop? And ‘Daisy’ for Yield?”

  “What about a green light?”

  “Oh, that would be ‘Lavender…’”

  Pacing around her, he incited nervous energy. “Good choices. But don’t let your ego get the best of you yet,” he warned. “I still have to issue some punishments this evening.”

  January swallowed hard, gulping on her own anticipation as Nigel made his way toward the trunk. “Keys?”

  “On my ring…” she thought quickly. “On the kitchen island. The tiny key…”

  “Thank you.” His sarcasm nearly spit on her as he walked out of the room. “And we’re going to work on some manners. Things like, ‘Please, Maestro…’ and ‘May I, Maestro…’ I don’t know who the bloody hell trained you before, but you certainly need a refresher course.”

  Nigel found the trunk just as they’d left it back in June. Some items had bounced around in their trip across the ocean twice, but for the most part, he knew what that old steamer contained—and he knew what he needed for the night.

  While he maintained the ultimate cool exterior, January had no idea of the anxiety that plagued his thoughts. To Nigel’s knowledge, Xavier hadn’t said a word to her about the training sessions over the summer.

  In his approach, he held his hands behind his back, and January didn’t dare to try to get a glimpse of what he brought with him.

  “I thought we’d start with a little restraint this evening.” He held up the hemp rope she’d rolled into a thick ball like one would do with yarn for knitting. However, the last thing on his mind was a pair of socks. “Know what this is all about?”

  How desperately she wanted to smile. All the while, though, she worried a little. “It’s for Shibori…”

  “Um, no. First off, if you’re going to be my submissive, you need to use the proper terminology. Shibori is an ancient Japanese tie-dying technique. Shibari, on the other hand, is the masterful way to create knots for decorative purposes. Essentially, it’s pretty bondage. Kinbaku, though, actually denotes sexual distinction in the use of rope—a deeper connection between the participants.”

  Shocked by his schooling in ancient Japanese restraint, January popped her head back. Knowing Nigel, he must have read a ton of books while they were apart. He thirsted for knowledge on every last detail.

  Conjuring the energies of Lady Komodo, Nigel remained firm. “You Americans—you just don’t know the difference!”

  “I…I shall make note…” she muttered. “And the scissors are in the top drawer in the—”

  “SILENCE! I’ve already found the damn scissors.” As he stepped up to begin, he pulled the blades from his back pocket and sliced them in the air. Internally, Nigel shuddered to the point where he could feel his stomach quiver. Don’t fuck this up, he coached himself. For the love of Lady Komodo, you have got to get this right. “And you shall be quiet, or the gag is coming next.”

  January stiffened, as Nigel took her hands behind her back and wrapped her wrists. January couldn’t see a thing as he worked his creative tying techniques along her spine. She guessed that his handiwork most likely looked like a child’s macramé project from summer camp, but his effort made her heart gush with love.

  Little did January realize how many times Nigel had tied up Xavier since she texted them with the news of her return…

  At last, Nigel pulled the rope upward and held his hand above her head, tightening her up. He planned to tie the excess to the hooks disguised as candle sconces around her fireplace, per Xavier’s suggestion. Xav had provided all the points of play within January’s apartment and used his personal photos in his instruction. For now, though, Nigel walked her toward the mirror.

  When January turned her head for a quick look, she gasped. Admittedly, she’d expected some juvenile mess of loops, and while his skills had yet to be perfected, Nigel did a simple but beautiful job.

  “What? Is my work not up to your satisfaction?”

  While he wasn’t ready to sigh and relax just yet, he’d presented her with his first task of the evening. With each piece to this scene he’d planned, Nigel hoped he’d gain more courage. Now, he was on his own. He had no one to answer to but January. If he couldn’t please her, he was screwed.

  “It’s…it’s gorgeous,” she said, blinking repeatedly. “Where did you learn how to—”

  With a rough pull to the ropes, he tautened his hold upon her. “You’ll not ask questions now. And you’ve had enough with looking at your pretty self, all tied up and at my disposal. Walk—back to the hearth.”

  Right beside the mantle’s wooden column, he tethered her. Without another word, he returned to the trunk. For this round, he presented her with a blindfold.

  “Before we go any further, I want to check in with you.”

  Now, January, with her arms secured above her head, struggled in her endeavor to add a bit of tension to the scene. Nigel felt he had to prove himself to her, but she also felt that he needed her to play against him—to exhibit the full scenario of kinky play.

  “Lavender,” she whispered at last. “I’m at Lavender.”

  Tracing his fingers over her pendant, he softened his gaze for a moment. “I’m going to blindfold you.” He waited for an adverse reaction, but he saw only confidence in her eyes—faith in her decision and conviction in him. However, he needed to hear her say the words before he continued. “Do you trust me to cover your eyes?”

  For a moment, play paused, and reality seeped into the scene. “Oh, yes…” she said without a trace of doubt. “I trust you, Nigel. Completely.”

  With a nod, he moved her head forward and slipped the silk covering over her eyes. His breath caught, seeing her bound so beautifully. Intentionally, he didn’t gag her that night. Just in case, he wanted her to be able to talk to him freely, even if she couldn’t see what he did to her.

  He’d left enough slack to have her step out from the wall. He wanted full access to her body, a full circle to taunt and tease her in the most salacious ways a deviant mind could imagine.

  “Now, you stay right there. Don’t move. I have some—ahem—work I need to do before I attend to your gluttonous desires.” In truth, her apartment was so small that he could reach her in seconds if she called out to him. Both the kit
chen and the bedroom were connected to the living room, and January’s voice certainly carried.

  Nigel also knew he had to work fast. Back to the kitchen, he rushed, and as he looked at the sink, he panicked. “Water, water everywhere…” he muttered while he searched for a small bucket, just in case of fire. “Bloody hell…”

  At least she kept a full First Aid kit in her trunk, so he didn’t have to scramble to put the pieces together. Dammit, Xavier told him to prepare, but Nigel felt like a naïve schoolboy. Perhaps he wasn’t cut out for this Dominant role, but he had to try before he threw in the towel.

  “Towels!” She’d left him more than enough in the bathroom.

  But how lovely January looked as he passed through the living room. Moaning and murmuring, she stretched against the ropes, tormenting herself with the threat of her own pleasure. Her nipples and clit extended with desire, ready to be plucked and pained.

  Meanwhile, January heard him making his rounds throughout the apartment, opening cupboards and rooting through his bag. She couldn’t even begin to guess what the hell he was up to, but she thought he might be on some sort of scavenger hunt.

  This was all a test on both ends. Not that she minded his rifling through her personal space. He already knew all of her secrets. She had nothing to hide from him.

  “Dammit!” his voice boomed from the kitchen along with the closing of a drawer. Likely, he’d slammed his thumb, and January couldn’t help but laugh softly. She appreciated the fact that while he remained so in control of their play, he was still anxious inside.

  However, January straightened up the second she heard his bare feet stomping from the kitchen to the living room. Nigel wasted no time in resuming the scene.

  “Safeword?” he called out just for his own comfort.

  “Lavender! But I have to come…ohhh…have to come…”