He picked the floggers back up, sliding his hands through loops at the ends. He swung them at the same time, in a figure eight pattern, one following the other around his body. Their gazes remained locked as he came closer. She felt the brush of air against her stomach and squirmed at the impending torture.
The direction of the floggers changed as Mathieu took a knee. They flowed into a horizontal pattern she barely had a moment to marvel at before the tails licked her legs. She shifted, but he kept up the pace, working his way up and down her legs, avoiding the softer portions of her body. She twisted here and there, as much as she could, especially when he used the stingy flogger on her knees, but there was nowhere to go. Her arms were suspended so high there was little to no give in her bonds.
“Spread your legs,” Mathieu ordered.
Words, maybe just sounds poured from her lips, but she wasn’t aware of what she said.
“Spread ‘em.” He smacked her outer thighs again.
She widened her stance until he nodded his approval.
Mathieu let his left arm and flogger come to rest across his knee while he swung the right arm back and under. She recognized the underhanded move for what it was a second too late.
The tails swung up, and though the blow was gentle, it still struck her pussy with enough force to rock her up on her toes and make her vision haze with a powerful burst of color.
She slumped, relying on her handcuffs to keep her upright while she caught her breath. Her head hung forward, her hair acting as a shield. She heard noises, sounds, but there was no energy left in her to pay attention. She was feeling. Sensation. Reduced to her most basic desires, except twining between those was a bright, shining thread of love that burned within her breast.
Mathieu gripped her hips and hoisted her up by sheer weight alone. He pinned her to the cross with his weight and guided her legs around his waist. She gripped the top of the wooden arms and stared down at him, her vision still blurry.
His shirt was gone, and from what she could tell, so were his pants. His lips moved, but the blood rushing past her ears was so loud she couldn’t make out what he said, so she nodded. Whatever he wanted, she would give it to him. There was no holding back with him. Not anymore. She would love him even if it burned her up in the process.
He lifted her and his cock pressed against her entrance. She groaned, arching her back as he let the first few inches ease into her. The muscles were still sore from their last lovemaking, but the sensation of him sliding deep felt so good. He touched every part of her.
For a moment they held still, foreheads pressed together, the connection between them vibrating with sexual energy. She wanted him. Now. In her, owning her, marking her.
She closed the distance, pressing her lips against his and drinking in his essence. He kissed her back with ferocity, forcing her flat against the wood, his fingers digging into her hips. His tongue thrust into her mouth and he nipped her lips. He thrust and a zing of arousal shot through her body.
Lisette moaned into his mouth and moved her hips.
Mathieu muttered something that might have been, “Can’t hold back,” but she couldn’t tell.
He withdrew and thrust hard. Her jaw dropped on a silent scream. There was no time to pull in air as he continued his assault on her body, pounding into her hard. She gripped the wood and tried to move with him, but she was his prisoner, bound to his desire. Each thrust shook the cross, her.
“Look at me,” he growled out.
She opened her eyes, unsure when she’d squeezed them shut. Unlike before, there were no emotional shutters on his gaze and the power of it slammed into her the same moment as his cock, driving her breath out of her as she was wholly possessed by him.
A telltale tingling sensation started in her toes. Lisette groaned and her breathing hitched.
“Not yet,” Mathieu got out between thrusts.
He hoisted her higher, his hips rolling with hers and on each thrust he brushed her clit, ramping up the arousal.
“Not yet.”
He pistoned in and out of her body. The tendons on either side of his neck stuck out in stark relief, his cheeks were drawn in and he manhandled her as if she weighed nothing. She couldn’t take her gaze off of him, which was why she saw the tremor shake him and his gaze widen.
Mathieu groaned and plunged deep.
Lisette could hold back no longer. As his cock kissed her inner depths, she came apart, her climax taking over. She tossed her head back, screaming as her inner muscles clamped down on his thick cock as it stroked her. His motions became jerky, but he continued, pushing onward.
Mathieu roared his release, thrusting once more and freezing as his body trembled around and inside of hers. Electric zings of too-sweet pleasure shot through her body. Every bit of arousal and lust was wrung out of her.
Lisette rested her head against his, panting for breath.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
chapter Eighteen
Falling
Mathieu cradled Lisette against his chest, the comforter swaddling them both. Neither of them had spoken, unless a single word could encompass the meaning of an entire sentence. Like, water. That was straightforward enough.
How had he fallen for her so quickly?
He stroked her hair back, away from her face and kissed the crown of her head. They were still naked, and in need of a cleanup, but too exhausted to do more.
Things had changed between them. The lines were rewritten and he wasn’t sure what was allowed now. Before they were friends, no sex, and he’d screwed that up because he’d been dishonest about what he wanted. Now, he didn’t know what to ask for or where to set the boundaries. If he charged forward, doing as he pleased, he might destroy them both.
Lisette needed to rebuild her life.
Mathieu’s life was in shambles.
She made him want to be more, but not in the way Amanda had. With his ex-wife, he’d needed to be what she wasn’t. With Lisette, he wanted to match her in every way she was. Her strength to go through what had been done to her and come out on this side as she had was inspiring. He hadn’t even been able to survive a break-up with as much integrity.
She shifted, turning a bit.
“Water?” she asked.
He turned to the bedside table, where the last half of a bottle waited just for her. She’d told him she was vocal, and he thought he’d experienced the whole of it in his apartment. Now he knew just how much she’d been holding back. The woman had a set of pipes on her and no qualms about using them. She’d called him names, told him where to stick his cock, laughed and begged him to stop, but he didn’t think she was half aware of it all. No, when she went under like that, the world really did cease to exist.
He held the bottle to her lips and tipped it up so she could sip what she wanted. He took satisfaction in these small acts, giving her water, pulling her hair back. Intimate gestures most would take for granted. He wouldn’t shackle her by telling her how much she meant to him. Lisette needed the freedom to move on with herself, but he could show her if she chose to recognize what he did.
“Need to pee. Don’t want to get up.” Lisette’s eyes closed and she relaxed back onto the pillows.
It was tempting to leave her there, allow her to rest and just watch her drift into sleep. But it was his duty to take care of her.
“Come on.” Mathieu threw the blankets back and tugged her arm. She groaned and flopped sideways into the space he’d just vacated. “Imp. Put something on.”
He tossed his t-shirt at her and made a direct hit. The black fabric spread over her shoulders and face.
“Not funny,” she complained, sitting up and staring at the shirt as if she didn’t know what it was for.
He grinned and pulled on his discarded boxers and jeans. “Put the shirt on and come on.”
“Why?”
“Because there is one bathroom on this floor and I don’t recall giving
you permission to walk around naked. Now, come on.”
“Fine.” She pulled the shirt on over her head and stood. It covered all the important parts and was good enough for now.
He took her hand and led her out of their room, into the hall. There was no one else around and the sounds from below weren’t as loud. The party would continue most of the night, but the social crowd had left already. Mathieu pushed the bathroom door open and held it for Lisette. She walked in, blinking and still a bit out of it. He closed the door behind her, not sure she’d remember to do that on her own at this point and waited.
The last door on the hall opened and a chorus of laughter bubbled out of the dim depths. It was a grand suite, at least twice as large as the one he’d procured for the evening, and last time he’d seen the room, it had sported two beds, a hanging hard point and several pieces of pervertible furniture.
Fletcher Perrine stepped over the threshold, his face drawn into a generous smile. Fletcher was one of those normal, well-to-do people no one would ever suspect being into kink. Unless you knew him. Fletcher’s gaze landed on Mathieu, and what he wouldn’t have given for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.
“Mathieu,” Fletcher said. He strode the five or six feet and pulled Mathieu into a tight squeeze. “Fuck me sideways, I didn’t actually expect you to come.”
“I did.” Mathieu struggled to breathe, not because of the hug, but because he’d been unsure of his reception. Once, Fletcher was one of his closest friends, and as a friend should, he’d sat Mathieu down and told him Amanda wasn’t right for him. But Mathieu wouldn’t listen to Fletcher and they’d gone their separate ways.
The bathroom door swung inward and Mathieu could feel the heat of Lisette’s body behind him.
“Who is this?” Fletcher asked, peering over his shoulder.
Mathieu’s knee-jerk reaction was to shield Lisette, keep her for himself, but that was ridiculous. He turned and wrapped an arm around Lisette’s waist, bringing her to his side.
“Fletcher, this is Lisette. Lissy, this is our host, Fletcher Perrine.”
Lisette’s glassy gaze, sex-mused hair and only wearing his t-shirt would be odd in any other social circumstance, but not here. Fletcher took Lisette’s hand and shook it, his gaze remaining on her face.
“How charming,” Fletcher said with warmth.
“Sir, you aren’t flirting with someone else in front of me, are you?” A curvy woman with dark hair and even darker eyes sashayed toward them, wearing a rumpled cocktail dress, heels and a collar.
“Of course not, darling.” Fletcher turned toward the woman and drew her into their circle. “Allow me to introduce you to my very good friend, Dom Mathieu and this lovely lady I just met, Lisette. This is my newly-collared submissive, Virginia.”
“Please, call me Gina.” Virginia clasped her hands in front of her and smiled a warm, open smile that was familiar. Her gaze flicked to Mathieu, slid off him and jumped back. Her mouth formed a little “O” of surprise and her hand slowly rose to her throat. “Oh no. You’re…”
“What’s wrong?” Fletcher’s brows drew down.
“You work with my sister, Lola.” Inwardly, Mathieu groaned. Great. Another thread too closely tied to his family and kink.
“Really?” Fletcher’s smile regained its brightness. “It’s a small world after all?”
Gina’s eyes grew large. “I’m sorry, I just, I mean…”
Mathieu held his hand up to stave off Gina’s stammering. “It’s okay. She’s unaware by choice, I’m pretty sure.”
“We have a date downstairs, but are you two staying for breakfast?” Fletcher asked.
“If there’s food I’m there,” Lisette said.
“I guess we’re staying.”
“Fantastic. You’re in the red room, correct?” Fletcher nearly bounced on his toes.
“Yes,” Mathieu replied.
“I’ll send one of the slave girls up with some snacks and more water. You look like you could use it.” Fletcher winked at Lisette and clapped Mathieu on the shoulder. “See you in the morning.”
The other couple strode down the hall, arms linked around each other. Mathieu watched them leave, studying the picture they made. He’d never seen Fletcher so happy.
“Who was that?” Lisette asked.
“He used to be my best friend.”
“Oh. And now?”
“I think we’re still friends. I’m going to use the restroom, go back to the room.” He gave Lisette’s ass a little pat to send her on her way.
She stuck her tongue out at him, but did as he bid, crossing the hall to their room and shutting the door.
He entered the bathroom and leaned against the door, shutting out the world for a moment. He’d often wondered what Fletcher and the others would make of him now. There were some bridges he knew he’d burned, but knowing at least one from his old circle still welcomed him back was a relief. If he wanted to start rebuilding his life, he needed those people. He couldn’t maintain this solo routine he’d made for himself.
Mathieu finished up in the bathroom, weariness clinging to him. The momentary euphoria of the scene had burned off and now he was beginning to remember his day. The horrors he’d seen. The frustration at never, not even once, being able to get his sergeant to spare him a minute.
He stepped through the bedroom door and found Lisette curled up in bed, the comforter drawn up under her arms. His shirt was nowhere to be seen. A plate of sandwiches and fruit lay on her legs, and several bottles of water covered in condensation sat ready on the nightstand.
“That was quick.” He clicked the lock and tabbed open his jeans.
“I know. I’d barely closed the door when this arrived.” She gestured at the plate. “Do you mind? I’m suddenly starving.”
“Of course not. Eat.” He shucked his jeans and dimmed the room light before joining her in bed.
He took the other sandwich and bit into it, none too choosy about what he got right now.
“This is amazing. Does he do this kind of thing for everyone?” Lisette daintily shook crumbs off the bed.
“I don’t think so. Well. Kind of. He’ll let the rooms out to people he knows, and brunch is usually included. This though,” he lifted his sandwich, “I think it’s just for us.”
“Because you’re friends?”
“I think we still are. Not sure.”
They ate the rest of their meal in companionable silence. Lisette rested her head against his shoulder and he pulled her in close, happy to just hold her now.
“How are you doing?” he asked into the near silence.
“Hmm. Good.” She sounded as if she were on the brink of sleep, content.
“Anything hurt?”
“Nope. I’m warm and sore all over. Thank you.” She tipped her chin up and smiled at him.
“No triggers?”
She opened her eyes then, blinking a few times as she considered the question. “You know, I didn’t even think of Seth until now. I think I’m good. I’m not afraid of what might happen anymore.”
His mouth went dry and his pulse kicked up.
“Good.” He licked his lips. “That’s real good.”
Mathieu stroked her golden hair and kissed her brow.
She might not be afraid, but he was. He’d lost himself once because of a woman who didn’t deserve him, now he couldn’t fail the one who did—or it would destroy him in the process.
Mathieu stepped into his sergeant’s office and his sense of dread grew.
Philip Soulier-Rouge, or more commonly just Rouge, stood behind his desk while Amber stood almost in the corner, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her face was paler than usual, ashen even. She didn’t even glance his way.
“Sir?” Mathieu said.
“Close the door,” Rouge said, his words clipped.
Mathieu had been roused from bed by a call from Rouge to get his ass to the station, long
before sunrise. The office was still quiet around them, though someone had gone to the work of setting out little boxes of red and pink donuts on all the desks. Rouge had an empty box on his desk, festive, heart-shaped sprinkles the only evidence left.
“I tried to call you yesterday,” Mathieu said as he closed the door, sealing them off. All the blinds around the glass walls had been drawn to give them privacy.
Rouge’s gaze lifted then. His eyes were dark, almost black. Some of the patrol officers said he had soulless eyes, but Mathieu was of the opinion the man possessed a deep soul. His Native American heritage had far-reaching roots in the bayou, which gave him an air of mystery and one of the toughest poker faces Mathieu had ever seen.
“I was otherwise occupied. Amber brought me this—” He let the folder in his hands fall to the desk. It opened up onto pictures of several strangulation victims arranged to show the similarity of the markings. “—this morning. What do you have to say?”
Amber made a sound of protest, but one touch of Rouge’s gaze and she fell silent once more.
Mathieu blew out a breath. “I didn’t know for sure—beyond just speculating—until yesterday. As soon as I knew, I tried to call you.”
“Do you realize we could have been looking at this from a better angle had we realized this was all connected?” The heat and anger behind Rouge’s voice was fire across Mathieu’s soul.
He dug his fingers into his palms. “I’ve been staying up-to-date on these cases. If I’d come forward with what I thought—based on nothing more than speculation—I might have screwed up another investigation.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Rouge flipped the folder closed and strode around the desk. Everyone was on edge, what with so many dead women and the teens disappearing, Rouge more than most. “There was another body last night. Do you know how many that makes?”
“Another?” Mathieu glanced at Amber, who merely nodded, her gaze still trained on the floor. Her posture was oddly similar to that of many slaves he’d seen trained to stand just so. It was unsettling in the moment, but he shook it off. “Five then.”
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