Ruby

by Jeffe Kennedy

  She looked at the dish. “I so should not be eating this.”

  “Are you a model?”

  The laugh escaped her. “Ah, that would be a no. I’m way too short.”

  “A pity, with your unusual beauty.”

  “Thank you.” She cast about, a little flustered. “I just watch my figure is all. My industry is ruthless about such things.”

  “But tonight is an exception. I’m telling you to eat this, so you must.”

  “Will you tell me to stay a size two, also?”

  “I promise to work it off of you.” He grinned lazily. “Do as I say.”

  He wouldn’t let her use her silverware. The barbeque shrimp were to be eaten with fingers only, the shells stripped off to reveal the sweet pink flesh inside. From the first bite, the heady flavor took her over. She even recklessly swirled the bread in the sauce, licking her fingers clean. Her wineglass slipped in her hand when she drank and she had to be careful to hold it just so.

  It was a feast of wild indulgence and she sated herself—on the food, the wine, the creaking of old wood and the scent of night flowers in the tropical rain, the heated looks from this sexy, mercurial man. Beyond the lowering clouds, the sun had set, bringing true dark to the dimly lit Quarter, wrapping her in anonymity.

  When Charity took their wiped-clean bowls away with a lascivious wink, Prejean ordered coffee and Tia Maria.

  She wanted to protest that she couldn’t possibly drink full-test coffee so late in the day, but he cast her a bland look and she bit her lip. At least until she got a sense of what these punishments might be—and how many she could stand—she’d hold her tongue.

  “The liqueur keeps the buzz going.” He added half the shot to her cup and stirred. “And the caffeine keeps you going. Can’t have my playmate fading before my time is up.”

  “Do I get to know what exactly we’ll be doing?” She sipped and found the brew surprisingly delicious. She added more of the liqueur, relaxing into the letting go.

  “Of course you will. It’s just that you’ll find out when it happens—that heightens the experience. Your not knowing.”

  A shiver went through her. A surge of adrenaline. Buckle your seat belt, girl.

  “Anything I should know? Phobias? Triggers? Something you simply will not do?”

  She found herself shaking her head. Some people went bungee jumping. She was doing this. “I insist on condoms, of course. My colleagues can’t know. But otherwise, as long as I can stop it at any time, then I say no holds barred.”

  He licked his lips. “Drink up then. We have places to go.”

  Chapter Three

  He tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow, a gesture both charming and possessive. The rain had finally slowed, so he used the umbrella like a walking stick. In the gaslit Quarter, he could be a man from another time. A pirate taking women for sex slaves. The pirate fantasy had never done that much for her, but now she totally got it.

  “A penny for your thoughts, chère.”

  Unaccountably, she blushed. “Nothing in particular.”

  “I think you’re lying.”

  “Is there a punishment for that too?”

  He chuckled. “There can be. Are you so eager to be punished? Or are you worried about the pain?”

  She gazed steadily down the foggy street, people emerging from restaurants, bars and well-used beds in various states of finery and undress. Surely the licentious atmosphere had affected her. Because she was eager. Hungry in so many ways. “Pain doesn’t frighten me. I am...curious.”

  “Is that so?” He drawled the words, soft and ominous.

  Her sex tingled in response, her vulva aching and growing wetter. When he pushed her back into a shaded alcove, the arousal leaped higher. The unknown leered at her, taunting, teasing.

  “Grasp that ring above your head.”

  She looked up to find an iron ring embedded in the stone behind her. She wound her fingers around the cold, damp metal. “Why is this here?”

  She felt him smile more than saw it, backlit as he was against the street. “Horses, perhaps? Slaves, more likely. This is an ancient city with more than a little mud on her hem. You might get plenty dirty too. Let’s make a start on that.”

  Stretched in front of him like this, she wanted the dirty. She found herself wanting to call him sir, but she wanted more to find out how he’d make her say it.

  “How will you do that?”

  “You look a little prim for where we’re going. Stand still.”

  His hands slid over her hips, a firm glide, testing her curves. His fingers bunched in the narrow pinstriped skirt and drew it up, over her knees. Higher. To her mid-thighs. All the while he watched her, as if waiting to see what she’d do. Another inch.

  She squirmed a little. “People will see.”

  “No they won’t. You’re in deep shadow and I’m blocking you from sight. This is where you start learning to trust me.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “You just do. No questions. No resisting. Now be quiet.”

  She pressed her lips together, her nervousness building as he tugged the hem up to her waistline.

  “Pantyhose? Oh no—if you wish to wear stockings and garters, you may. No more of this.”

  He tucked his thumbs into her waistband and slid the hose down her legs. She sighed for the loss of the control-top, grateful for the dark. Lifting her foot out of her shoe, he pulled the stockings off one leg, carefully reinserting her bare foot into her stiletto. Then repeated the process with the other foot. And tucked the hose in his jacket pocket.

  Running sensitive hands over her ankles, calves, the tender backs of her knees and then up her thighs, he slowly rose, exploring her all the way. She felt almost like a racehorse being inspected for lineage and stamina. Then he clasped her hips again, skin bare but for her panties.

  “Now, thong panties—especially pretty lace ones like these—are always acceptable. Turn around and let’s check out that sweet little ass of yours.”

  Slowly, she obeyed, staring at the shadowed wall inches from her face, excitement singing through her. His hands roamed over her skin, testing and weighing her flesh.

  “Very spankable,” he whispered in her ear and she nearly groaned. “By way of satisfying your curiosity, that’s a very straightforward punishment. But, as you say, this is a little public—and we have all night, yes? Say ‘yes, sir.’”

  She leaned her forehead against the wall, pressing her lips together.

  He sighed out a hot breath. “You love to push the extreme, don’t you? Because you’re new to this, I would’ve let you keep these lovely panties. But not now. You have lost that privilege.”

  She held her breath and he did as threatened, sliding her thong down her legs and leaving her naked from the waist down. Never had she been so casually stripped. And this was just the start.

  To her relief, he pulled her skirt back down and patted it into place. “Our little secret. Turn around again.”

  He held her waist as she did, working her shirt loose from the tight waistband. “I will give you a choice.” With brisk efficiency, he unbuttoned the shirt, spreading it open. “I want you naked under that little jacket. Take off the rest, if you don’t want those fancy clothes ripped up.”

  “Can I let go of the ring?”

  He traced a finger from the hollow of her collarbone to between her breasts. “Very good that you asked permission. Equally naughty that yo
u did not call me sir. Don’t think I’m not counting. Yes. Strip, Ruby. Show me your tits.”

  “Will you give me beads if I do?”

  “Ever had anal beads?”

  The thought arrested her.

  “No,” she said.

  “Yes. I will. Is this hesitation? Strip.”

  Feeling wildly naughty indeed, she pulled off the jacket and he held it, like the most chivalrous date. But there was nothing gentlemanly in his shadowed visage as he watched her shrug out of the shirt and unclasp her bra. Don’t hesitate. Like pulling off a Band-Aid, she did it quickly, handed him the shirt and bra, reaching for the jacket.

  “Not so fast. Grasp the ring again.”

  “Oh.” The sound came out as a little whimper, but she obeyed, in a haze of heightened emotion she couldn’t quite identify. Fear of discovery, of her exposure. Some embarrassment that her nipples were so high and tight in the cool night air and that she was so very naked and wet under her skirt.

  His shadowed gaze studied her and she hung there in suspense, wondering if he’d touch her.

  “Do you have sensitive nipples?”

  Doesn’t everyone? Still, there were things—clamps and piercings and so forth—that always sounded like maybe too painful. Not that she’d admit it to him. No holds barred. “Yes. Very.”

  His grin flashed white. “Good. Another excellent, and charming, way to punish you. Now put your jacket on.”

  Was that disappointment that he’d stopped there? Perhaps so.

  The silk lining felt odd on her naked skin, teasing her aroused nipples. The buttons fell well below her breasts and, though the tailored cut fit her closely, the open lapels left an expanse of skin, and probably the inner curve of her cleavage, on display. He handed her back the shirt and bra.

  She folded them neatly into her slouchy shoulder bag. “And the hose?”

  “I’ll keep those. They might be useful later.”

  “Useful?”

  “Handy for tying up frisky young women who don’t know how to hold still yet.”

  “Oh.”

  “You look most tempting. Ready to play.”

  “I hope we’re not going anywhere with polite company.”

  “Don’t worry your pretty head about that, chère. Polite is the last thing you’ll find.”

  They strolled down the street, her hand once again tucked through the crook of his elbow, her thoughts spinning. One part of herself stood back, amazed that she’d just done that. That was her driven self, the one who’d set her sights on the Vogue Paris job—and totally landed it. This other her...she was slightly drunk on food, wine and this enigmatic man. Who she knew next to nothing about.

  “Why don’t you have to work tonight?”

  “It’s good to be the boss.”

  “You own the Court des Deux Pendus?”

  “I knew you were only after my money.”

  “Not many chefs own the restaurant they work in.”

  “I like to be in control. You should know this already about me.”

  “Of everything?”

  “Yes.” He glanced down, eyes lingering on her nearly exposed cleavage. “Everything. We are stopping here.”

  He led her into a brightly lit shop, fingers sliding down to lace with hers and tug her inexorably along. Masks lined the walls, stacked one atop another so that they towered over her, creating a slight sense of vertigo. Feathers, beads, sequins, satin, leather, lace—they frowned, laughed and leered at her, their empty eyes somehow seeing into her deepest secrets.

  Prejean frowned thoughtfully, eyes scanning the displays, as if looking for something in particular. He pointed to one and the smiling shop girl got it down for him. It was fairly simple, a half mask of red leather that would mold to the face, then flared out from the brows with wicked points. It tied in back with long scarlet ribbons.

  “And the gloves.” He tapped on the glass counter and pulled out a money clip.

  Dani toyed with the mask while he paid, then let him tie it on her out on the sidewalk. “Why a mask?”

  “You said you didn’t want to be recognized.”

  She did feel more anonymous. And more than a little depraved. She pulled on the matching red leather gloves. They had laces at the cuffs and he tied them for her, tightly. With knots. She wouldn’t be able to take them off by herself. A small silver ring was sewn into the gloves too, just above the laces.

  “Why do I need the gloves?”

  He adjusted her mask, tucking a curl under the ribbon, meeting her eyes. “Those are for me. All the better to molest you with.”

  “Why haven’t you touched me yet? Or kissed me.” She tried to sound curious, but in truth the wondering was burning at her. So far, despite his games and innuendos, his looking at her nakedness, their interaction had been nearly chaste.

  “Because anticipation heightens the excitement. Wondering when I will, if I will, if you’ll have to beg me to, puts you farther out of control.”

  “And you more in control.”

  “Yes.” The word hissed out of him, hot with lust. “Don’t worry, chère, when the right time comes, if you beg nicely, I will fuck you.” He patted her ass. “And you’ll call me sir when I do.”

  Chapter Four

  They walked a few blocks to a more residential area until they reached a door in a wall. A town house blazing with light rose above them. Two torches, wired for electricity, glowed on either side. Prejean pulled out a key and excitement thrilled through her, like she was a little girl again, with a chance to see a secret garden for herself. He unlocked the dead bolt, then considered her.

  “We’re going to a party. Think of this as another kind of feast—a demonstration, if you will, of the dishes available to you. From now on I want you to say nothing. Simply absorb. Show courtesy and understand that everyone here is willing, despite appearances. No one will ask anything of you. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, curiosity as aroused as the rest of her senses. He slid a hand inside her jacket, cupping her breast, his thumb brushing her nipple. Involuntarily she arched her back, pressing into the caress. He smiled and kissed her cheek, chaste and gentlemanly, the silky whisper of his neat beard tickling her skin.

  “Good girl.”

  He opened the door and held it for her while she walked through it into a small courtyard. Trailing flowers spilled out of an old fountain, lit subtly, a fine trickle of water making the light dance. Shadowy alcoves set into the walls held polished stone statues of naked figures. Prejean pulled the door to, and the lock snicked.

  “Hands behind your back please.”

  She wanted to ask why. Knew she couldn’t. So she obeyed, the excitement and uncertainty burning through her. When he pulled her wrists together and somehow fastened them there, likely using those little hoops sewn into the gloves, her breathing accelerated.

  He reached around her, pushing up against her back and palming her naked breast under the jacket. He brushed a kiss on the side of her neck, sending shivers through her. “All good, yes?”

  She nodded.

  “Remember that you may always speak to say your safe word. Say it if anything here is too much and we’ll leave.”

  She leaned back against him, her bound hands pressing against his erection, and he made a pleased sound. She nodded again.

  “Excellent. Let’s go in.”

  * * *

  They passed into another world. The magical court
yard had been both a prelude and an oasis. The home they entered glittered with opulent loveliness and then, like slashes of lurid fantasy in the fabric of propriety, revealed scenes from a darker world.

  A young woman kneeled naked by the door. Striking fiery curls tumbled down her back, setting off her translucent redhead’s complexion. Fawn freckles dusted her skin, matching the color of her nipples—which were pierced with cruel-looking hoops and connected with a gold chain. She wore a collar around her slender throat with another chain that fixed her to a ring in the wall. Without looking up, she bent over and pressed a kiss to Prejean’s boot, the chain clinking.

  His hand on her bound wrists stopped Dani from stepping back. Prejean took her purse, shrugged out of his coat and handed them, along with his umbrella, to the girl. She rose and put them in the closet her chain barely reached. The sight of the woman unsettled Dani—and connected to a darker set of emotions. Part of her both wanted to be that girl, tasked to display herself to arriving guests and greet them. Another wanted to touch that girl’s velvety skin and explore the hoops in her breasts.

  Just absorb.

  She breathed out the confused emotions on a long breath, acutely conscious of Prejean observing her reactions. The sounds of refined jazz and conversation echoed down from a set of open doors down the hall. Without comment, he steered her through the empty hallway, lined with mirrors, brightly lit with antique sconces and strings of white lights.

  Her crimson mask stood out amid the reflections, a bleeding cut of color against her dark curls and dove-gray suit and Prejean’s somber black. The gold hoop in his ear winked and he looked even more like a pirate escorting his captive to depravity. With her hands locked behind her, pulling her shoulders back, her too-full breasts stood out, nearly exposed by the deep vee of her jacket. She shrugged a little, trying to close the gap and caught Prejean’s intent gaze in the mirror, registering her discomfort.