The Last Good Knight (Mills & Boon Spice) (The Original Sinners: The Red Years - short story): Scars and Stripes / Sore Spots / The Games Destiny Plays / Fit to Be Tied / The Last Good Night

by Reisz, Tiffany

  True. She couldn’t help Lance, but knowing that didn’t take any of the sting out of that feeling of impotence. Being a Dominatrix meant men bent to her will. Why couldn’t the rest of the world follow suit?

  Back at home, Nora crawled into her own bed and slept for a few precious hours. Her body ached from the beatings Søren had given her but it was the ache in her heart that hurt the most. She’d known Lance all of two days and already felt that every child in the world would be blessed to have a man like him as a father. That his ex-wife and the courts judged him for what he did in private was an insult to their entire world. Kinky or not, Søren was the best priest on the planet. Why the church and the state couldn’t stay out of their goddamn bedrooms was beyond her. After all, the church and the state often visited her bedroom and her dungeon. She’d lost her virginity to a priest, but Søren certainly wasn’t the only member of the clergy in the Underground. She even had elected officials as her clients—congressmen, one senator, lots of lawyers and even Judge B.

  Judge B....

  Nora’s eyes flew open as she remembered the rest of what Søren had said to her last night.

  There’s nothing you can do to help him...unless you became a lawyer or judge and forgot to tell me...

  No, she was no judge, but she did have a judge who worshipped the ground she walked on and the feet that walked on it. Still she couldn’t think of a bigger breach of protocol than to ask a client to do her a favor—a likely illegal favor.

  Kingsley would flay her himself if he found out. Then again, what Kingsley didn’t know didn’t hurt him...

  At eleven sharp Lance knocked on her door again.

  “Are you going to come in this time?” Nora asked when she found him on her front porch looking unnecessarily handsome. She was going to have to talk to him about being less attractive.

  “Can I trust you?”

  “No.”

  “Then no.” Lance took a step back on her porch.

  “Wait...ask the question again. I’ll get it right this time.”

  Lance laughed and shook his head. Instead of asking the question, he simply came inside the house.

  “So this is the house of a Dominatrix?” He glanced around her living room.

  “Were you expecting more whips and chains? Dungeon chic?”

  “I was, actually.”

  Nora plopped down on her couch in her cozy living room decorated with overstuffed furniture and bookcases.

  “Those are all upstairs in the closet. And there’s some stuff in the office, but only because I keep my toy bag in there.”

  “You live alone?”

  Lance examined her bookcase. She wondered if they’d read any of the same books.

  “I do. I’m trying to imagine who could put up with me as a roommate. Maybe Job. I’d need someone patient.”

  “Job?”

  “The dude in the Bible with all the problems who just sat there and took it? ‘The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away—blessed be the name of the Lord’? That guy?”

  “Interesting. Never had a domme quote the Bible at me before.”

  “Gets more interesting—my mom’s a nun.”

  Lance’s eyes popped wide open.

  “You’re kidding me.” He sat down on the chair by the couch. Nora had to feel a little flattered he didn’t feel safe enough to sit next to her on the sofa.

  “My mother wanted to be a nun all her life. But she got knocked up with me as a teenager and that dream went out the window. But after my dad was killed—”

  Lance started to say something and Nora held up her hand to stop him.

  “No, we are not talking about my father today,” she said and Lance nodded his reluctant acquiesce. “Once I became a legal adult, there were no impediments to Mom joining a religious order. I thought she was crazy. We’d had some rough times when I was a teenager.”

  “Now that doesn’t surprise me one bit.”

  “Yeah, I put the woman through ten kinds of hell. But I thought a convent might be a little extreme. I moved back in with her for a few months hoping we could make up for some lost time. Maybe some mother-daughter bonding would change her mind about throwing her entire life away.”

  “Didn’t work?”

  Nora shrugged. “Mother and daughter did not good roommates make. Let’s just say when she found out about my lifestyle, who I was sleeping with and what we were doing, the proverbial excrement hit the metaphorical oscillator.”

  “The shit hit the fan?”

  “With gusto. That was the last straw for Mom. The world was depraved beyond redemption and the only hope for a woman of faith to remain pure in such a wasteland was to join a convent and never venture out into the world again. So she did.”

  “Wow.” Lance gave an impressed whistle. “Catholic priest is a sadist and the sexiest Dominatrix on earth has a nun for a mother. Anything else?”

  Nora only smiled.

  “Nothing that matters.”

  “So...” Lance stood up again. “What’s the plan for the day? You ready to go?”

  “I actually don’t have any clients today. Rarely see clients on Sunday unless it’s an emergency.”

  Lance narrowed his eyes at her.

  “Do I want to know what constitutes a kink emergency?”

  Nora laughed. Good question.

  “Hard to explain. For some of my clients, kink is not a choice. It’s like a drug. And I don’t mean that in the bad way. I’m not talking a drug like cocaine or heroin. I mean it’s a drug like, I don’t know...insulin or Prozac. Our sadist priest, for example. Inflicting pain for him works like Lithium. He can get surly as fuck if he goes without too long. You get him a steady supply of kink—maybe once a week—and the man has the patience of the aforementioned Job. So I have a client or two who need kink like someone with asthma needs an inhaler. That’s one kind of kink emergency.”

  “What’s the other?”

  “The person is rich and horny and Kingsley wants to keep him happy.”

  “That, I can understand. But if you don’t have appointments, why am I here today?”

  “Kingsley’s orders. If I go out and about, he wants someone with me.”

  “Even when you aren’t working?”

  Nora didn’t really have a good answer for that.

  “Nora?”

  She started humming.

  “Kingsley didn’t say I had to guard you when you weren’t working, did he?”

  “What was that? I didn’t hear you over my humming?”

  “I said—”

  Nora started humming again.

  “Nora.”

  “If I flashed you my breasts would you be shocked into forgetting this line of questioning?”

  “I’ve already seen your breasts,” Lance reminded her.

  “Dammit.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that wouldn’t work. I’m just saying I’ve already seen them.”

  Nora got off the couch and came to stand in front of Lance. She pulled her T-shirt off over her head. Underneath she wore a red push-up bra.

  “Nora, I was just—”

  “Too late,” she said, unhooking her bra in the front.

  Lance covered her hands with his before she could finish.

  “I don’t want to lose this job,” Lance said.

  “You think if I show you my breasts you’ll fuck me right here on the floor? ‘Yes’ is a perfectly acceptable answer.”

  “I think...” Lance took a ragged breath. “If you take off any more clothing, I’ll beg you to take me to your bedroom, and I’ll worship your body until the world ends.”

  “That’s a long time, Sailor,” Nora said, pressing closer to Lance.

  “Your body deserves
all the attention it can get. So please don’t ask me to pay it any more attention because I will.”

  It was moments like this that Nora wanted to curse Søren for making it impossible for her to be completely selfish 100 percent of the time like she wanted to be. Knowing Kingsley, he would ask Lance if he and Nora slept together. Knowing Lance, he’d fess up. Lance would get fired. Nora would get a slap on the wrist.

  “Fucking conscience,” Nora sighed. “Always cock-blocking me.”

  “Pesky thing, consciences,” Lance agreed.

  “Yes, I would be a much happier person—” Nora fastened her bra and bent over to scoop up her T-shirt.

  “Nora, what the fuck?” Lance grabbed her by the arm so quickly she flinched.

  “Jesus, what?”

  “What happened to you?” He spun her around and Nora groaned.

  Oops. Caught.

  “Nothing. Just kink.”

  She pulled her arm out of Lance’s grasp.

  “Kink? That’s not kink. You got the shit beat out of you. Those welts are deep. Who did this to you?” he demanded.

  “Nobody you know. I wasn’t mugged. I played last night.”

  Nora pulled her T-shirt on.

  “With who? Vlad the Impaler?”

  “He’s not into impaling. Not even he is that kinky. Wait, what kind of impaling are we talking about?”

  “Nora, I’m not joking. Your back is a mass of bruises.”

  “Yeah, so what? Take your shirt off. Show me your bruises.”

  “I know what my back looks like. That’s not the point.”

  Nora crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I think it is the point. It’s okay for me to beat the shit out of you, but I’m not allowed to submit to the same kind of pain?”

  “No, it’s not okay. You’re a woman. You don’t play that hard on women.”

  “Are you judging me?”

  “I’m judging him.”

  “It was a woman,” Nora lied. She raised her chin and gave Lance her coldest, most Dominant stare. “What are you going to do now? Go beat up a woman on my behalf?”

  “You just said ‘He’s not into impaling.’ Was it a man or a woman you played with?”

  “Both. He/She is a hermaphrodite. I think. I never asked. Personal questions, you know.”

  Lance turned his back on her and sat down hard on the couch. His posture was tense, his jaw clenched with anger.

  “Lance?” Nora sat down next to him. “I’m a Switch. I don’t tell people that. I mean, everyone in the Underground knows I used to be a sub. They think I’m an ex-sub or former sub. Kingsley calls me a ‘reformed sub.’”

  “Not so reformed, I guess.”

  Nora laughed ruefully. “Yeah, I still sub sometimes. Only with one person, though. He’s special. What we were was special.”

  “How special?”

  “Sometimes he calls me, tells me he needs me, and I go to him. I left him, but...sometimes I forget that for an hour or two. Sometimes I forget for the whole night.”

  “Is that what happened last night? He needed you?”

  Nora grasped her hands between her knees.

  “No,” she admitted. “I went to him. I needed him.”

  “For pain?”

  “For...everything.”

  “You slept with him.”

  It wasn’t a question so she didn’t bother answering it.

  “Can’t have you, right? Not until they find that asshole who knocked Natasha out. A girl’s got needs.” She plucked at a loose thread on the faded jeans she lived in on her days off. “You think I’m a slut?”

  Lance laughed loudly, so loudly it surprised her.

  “I think you forgot that I was in the Navy. Once upon a Fleet Week...Well, you know.”

  “Oh, I know Fleet Week. Except the women in the Underground don’t call it Fleet Week. We call it ‘Christmas in May.’”

  “Trust me, this sailor is not going to judge you for having sex with two different men in one week. You’d have to do triple that to beat my record.”

  “Six men in one week? Your poor ass.”

  “Six women,” he corrected, shooting her a dirty look. “But you get the point.”

  “Damn.” Even Nora had to be impressed by six.

  “I was young.”

  “I wanna be that young. Can I be that young?”

  Lance rubbed his forehead and groaned a little. The groan turned into a laugh.

  “I’m sorry.” Lance finally at up straight again. “I didn’t mean to overreact. I...I just don’t like the thought of someone hurting you.”

  “I promise, it was consensual. It’s always consensual with him. I like pain just like you do. I like sex just like you do. And just like you do, I don’t like it when I’m judged for what I’m into.”

  “Point taken. Point very well taken.” He sighed and leaned back, sinking into the couch cushions. “So you’re a Switch? I would never have guessed, not in a million years.”

  “I’m a damn good Domme, aren’t I?”

  “You are. I can’t even picture you kneeling in front of some jackass man.”

  “He’s not a jackass. Even when I’m standing I might as well be kneeling.”

  “Why?”

  “Because...he’s eight feet tall.”

  She gave him a wink and Lance laughed again, this time in shock.

  “The priest?”

  “The priest,” she admitted. “He was my first Dominant. First lover. First everything that mattered. Don’t go thinking anything sick or weird, though. I was twenty before we had sex the first time, before he beat me the first time. He’s not one of those kinds of priests.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Oh, I’m sure. Trust me, I seduced him. Not the other way around.”

  “How much older is he than you?”

  “Fourteen years.”

  “I want to kill him.”

  “Get in line,” Nora said. “You have a lot of competition for that privilege. Mainly from me.”

  “Love-hate relationship?”

  “Mostly hate these days.”

  “Is he as much of an asshole as I hope he is?”

  “No,” she said with a sigh. ”He’s just very good at playing one when he’s in the mood.”

  “Then why all the hate?”

  Nora weighed her words. She could give Lance the usual bullshit answers. Søren was a total hardass as a Dominant—true. He loved playing mind games—also true. He’s a sadist who couldn’t get aroused without causing pain or severe humiliation—very true. But still...none of those were reasons to hate him. Not for her anyway. And Lance deserved better than a half-truth or a full lie.

  “Hate’s like lube,” she finally said. “Makes it easier to get in and get out. If it was all love with Søren, if I didn’t make myself hate him, I don’t think I could get out again.”

  Lance looked at her and, although it took all her willpower, she managed not to turn away from his intense stare. With her answer, she’d let him see a part of her soul she rarely shared with anyone, the part that still loved Søren even though she didn’t want to. In the Underground, she played the part of the invincible Dominatrix perfectly. Even leaving Søren had become part of her legend, her mythos. She’d defeated the Dominant of Dominants by leaving him and his collar behind. At the club she and Søren treated each other like equals, like rivals. It was Sheriff Pat Garrett versus Billy the Kid down there sometimes and everyone did love an outlaw. Søren stood for law and order in the Underground. Nora caused as much playful chaos as she could. And no one knew how often Nora returned to Søren’s bed by cover of darkness and slipped out again before sunrise.

  Now Lance knew, and knowing he kne
w lifted a weight off her shoulders, one she didn’t know she’d been carrying.

  “It’s hard to pretend to be something you’re not,” Lance said, taking her hand in his and rubbing her palm in a manner both soothing and erotic. “The guys I served with, they thought I was old-fashioned the way I treated women. They didn’t know about what I really was. They wouldn’t have understood.”

  “I understand.”

  They said nothing for a moment, a long moment that allowed for the temperature in the room to rise, Nora’s heart to beat faster, and the hunger for each other to build. Nora leaned forward to kiss Lance, not giving a damn anymore what Kingsley had decreed. Lance didn’t seem to care anymore, either. Cupping the back of Nora’s head, he brought his mouth to hers. But before their lips could touch a sound like a klaxon broke the moment in half.

  “Fuck...” Nora growled.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “My hotline. Kingsley set the ringtone to something I couldn’t ignore. Now I can’t figure out how to change it.”

  She got up and grabbed her hotline phone off the charger in the kitchen. “This better be good,” she said to Kingsley, now in no mood for polite hellos.

  “It’s good. I promise, it’s very good.”

  Nora wrote down the information Kingsley gave her and hung up. She returned to the living room and found Lance waiting by the door, his leather jacket back on, keys in his hand.

  “Kink emergency?” he asked.

  “How did you guess? I’ll be ready in ten.”

  Nora changed into her fetish-wear and this time let Lance do the driving. They valet-parked at an exclusive hotel near Gramercy Park.

  “So what now?” Lance asked as they left the car. “We just walk in the front door?”

  “We just walk in the front door. We look nice and vanilla.” Nora had put on a black trench that covered up every inch of anything interesting on her. From the outside she looked like any other rich Manhattanite who didn’t want to get rained on. Under the coat she looked like a cross between Bettie Page and Marlene Dietrich with a little carnival barker thrown in for shits and giggles.

  They got on the elevator and headed to the seventeenth floor.

  “You’ll need to wait outside the room. I’ll be done in an hour.”