Nights in Black Lace

by Noelle Mack

  His hands slid under her buttocks to clasp and squeeze them, raising her hips so she wouldn’t have to, lifting her body to his hungry, loving mouth again and again.

  His tongue swirled around her clit when he set her down, but his hands stayed where they were.

  It was extremely sensual to have her bottom held by such big hands. Her softness filled them but his fingers, stretched to their limit, could and did encompass both cheeks of her ass.

  Repeatedly, he pushed her buttocks together, then spread them open. Not to look at her asshole, but to excite her by fondling her bottom with firm strength while he ate her pussy.

  Odette was lost in the luscious sensation, willing to be as wanton as he desired. Deep inside, she could feel the erotic tension building to the point of no return.

  She grabbed his head, straining against his pleasure-giving mouth, shamelessly crying out for more.

  Bryan took her clitoris into his mouth and suckled it with little pulses, bringing her to an orgasm so strong that her body lifted up, up, up, taken to a heaven he opened for her alone, where lovemaking was worship…

  When Odette opened her eyes, Bryan was still kneeling beside her. Wiping his mouth.

  “Yeah. Oh yeah. That’s what I wanted to happen.”

  She whimpered her thanks.

  “My pleasure. My turn.”

  Bryan eased what was left of the sheer gown off her, and picked her up. He carried her down the hallway and to her bed. Along the way, held against his chest, Odette found the nipple ring again and slid her finger into it. He only laughed in a low voice and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  She let go of it before he reached the bed and set her down, caressing her and kissing her with abandon.

  Odette stroked him wherever she could. “What do you want, my love?” she whispered.

  That word. She had said it. Inadvertently. Odette drew in a breath and looked at him. He didn’t seem to have heard it. Very well. She still wanted to please him as he had pleased her.

  “Those stockings you had on—” He looked around.

  “Tie me,” she said. “I want to be tied.”

  He nodded. Instinctively he understood that she needed to cede control to him when all was said and done.

  “Where are they?”

  “In the bottom of the closet. Or the corner.”

  Would he tie her ankles or her hands? Or both? Asking would dull the pleasure of giving in to his will. He was naturally gentle despite his considerable strength, he had proved that to her before, during, and after their lovemaking.

  She looked at his nakedness as he looked for the stockings. He moved so easily, without a trace of shame or hesitation. Male in every way.

  She wanted that huge cock in her pussy, wanted to be completely claimed by him, give herself away…

  “Here they are.” He held up the stockings like a trophy.

  Odette shot him a wanton look without saying anything. In her bedroom, he was the boss. She rolled over on her belly, stretching out, facing the headboard.

  He didn’t waste a minute.

  His big hands seized her ankles and dragged her legs far apart.

  “Up or down? How do you want me?” she said. Odette didn’t turn around.

  “Ladies’ choice.”

  She got on all fours and wiggled backward on the bed, presenting her juicy, still swollen labia to him.

  “Nice,” he growled. “That hot pussy is going to get pounded.”

  “Mmm.” She was waiting for the stockings to be looped around—whssht, one ankle was bound to the corner post. Whssht—then the other.

  She reached out and dragged a pillow toward her. She wanted to hide her face in it, be anonymous, take him deeply and lose herself.

  He sat beside her and stroked her back, as if he was gentling a mare he wanted to ride. Odette turned her head, her hair tumbling over her eyes, and looked at him dreamily.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said. “I feel like I found you this way. Alone. About to pleasure yourself.”

  She pressed her mouth into the pillow to hide her smile. He was a mind-reader.

  “I have tied myself this way,” she whispered. “Pretending—pretending that someone would come.”

  “Really? But you—”

  With her head down and her ass up, she was feeling a renewed rush. From the sex, the drinks, and just being alone with him.

  “I used a toy. A big rod. Like yours.”

  He dragged in his breath. “Yeah?”

  “In the second drawer,” she whispered. “Make me lick it.”

  She pushed her hair away from her mouth but not her eyes.

  Bryan came back and stroked her back again, resting the dildo on the pillow. “Get it wet,” he said. He put it to her lips.

  Odette opened her mouth and let him guide the dildo inside, tonguing it. She wrapped her lips around it and slicked her toy, naughtily aware that it was making him unbelievably hot to watch her. His body was tense, almost trembling.

  “Private pleasure, huh? Women have it made—damn.”

  She took the dildo out of her mouth, then positioned it just right, holding onto the base as she rose. Her breasts were blush-pink from being squeezed against the bed, and he looked at them avidly.

  “But how do you—”

  “Practice.” Odette eased down on the thick dildo, capturing it in her labia. Then she slid up and down on it, making her tits bounce.

  He gasped, watching, grabbing one of her tied ankles. She strained against her bonds, sitting down hard on the bed so the big dildo nearly disappeared.

  Odette arched her back and offered Bryan her nipples. Greedily, he sucked one and tugged the other, making it hard for to keep her balance. He seemed to know that and stopped, breathing hard.

  She rose to her knees but the dildo stayed in. Halfway in. Sliding out.

  Looking to her for a cue, Bryan took it by the base and pushed it gently into her pussy. Not too far.

  Odette sighed with satisfaction.

  “Ahh,” he groaned. “Got it. In and out. Yeah.” He pushed and pulled. “Never did this.”

  “No? But you are skillful. I have never shown that to a boyfriend. You are the only one”—she looked at his huge erection—“who would not be jealous.”

  “How could I be? Jesus H. Christ, you are so fucking hot, Odette.” He eased it out of her. “You’re such a lady…and such a slut.”

  “From the back now. In my pussy.” She gave a shudder of pleasure and put her face in the pillow. “I can never fuck myself very hard that way. I like to know that you are screwing me with a big dildo and watching. Your eyes—ah, your eyes—” She gave him a last look and put her face in the pillow.

  In another moment, he penetrated her again, using gentle but deep thrusts that satisfied her. His passion could be checked by using a dildo on her, but Odette knew that his release would be volcanic from just watching.

  The big thick rod, flexible but solid, bobbing inside her pussy—ah, he could feast his eyes on the sight as long as he wanted.

  And when he was ready, she would get even more: a real cock, long and hot.

  Bryan was ready. He was crazy with lust. There was no aspect of her sexuality that didn’t rev him to the max. He took her plaything out of her delectable pussy and put it—oh hell, not back in the drawer, he tossed it on the floor—and went looking for a condom. Sheathed, breaking a sweat, he spread her cheeks and took a horny man’s good long look at where he wanted to be.

  Rammed all the way up inside the beautiful and way too wanton Odette Gaillard.

  He’d tied her loosely enough to move her forward and he simply picked her up around the hips and did it, before she could say yes or no.

  He kneeled behind her. Grabbed his cock, slid the head.

  Christ, she was tight. And slick.

  Whether he’d thrust in or she’d pushed back, he didn’t know. But he was in deep. Bryan gave it to her good and hard, not holding back. He grabbed her just above the hip
s, wild for all of her, craving her goodness and her badness, driving in the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen, satisfying a hunger that was both emotional and physical.

  Come…was that her telling him to…come! It was like she was in his mind the second he got into her body and let that mysterious womanliness of hers take him over…take him down. He came, shuddering, gasping, almost crying. Trying not to break the soft creature he held. He came hard. So hard.

  Like it was the first time.

  5

  The next day…

  O dette’s atelier was a busy place. Bryan couldn’t compare it to his mother’s little dressmaking shop.

  The place reeked of glamour, even though it was clear everyone who worked for her didn’t have time for much of it themselves.

  He had been introduced to Lucie, dressed in practical black, and flat shoes, and eyed by Marc, in jeans and a T-shirt with Oh! Oh! Odette printed on it. He’d shaken hands with her international sales analyst—who looked like every other sales guy Bryan had ever met. Carefully maintained comb-over. Boring white shirt, boring tie.

  But then sales analysts weren’t paid to be exciting.

  All on her own, Odette created the glamour and excitement of her lingerie, and bras and panties.

  She’d left him to his own devices for a while, disappearing into a meeting for her next collection.

  “Didn’t you just do one?” he’d asked.

  “Yes. And I must begin the next right away.”

  “Rush, rush, rush.”

  “Bryan, if I don’t some other designer will knock off my goods and steal my customers.”

  He got the idea. Fashion was actually not for sissies.

  Her staff ignored him politely. She’d told them to. And instructed them not to confiscate his camera if he took pictures, warning him again not to photograph anything that looked like a sketch or a mock-up of an actual design.

  There were a few items he did recognize from his mother’s shop.

  Dressmaker dummies stuck with so many pins they looked like giant voodoo dolls.

  Bolts of material, carelessly piled on shelves, as if they were taken out and shoved back a dozen times a day.

  Pages torn from magazines and pinned up on bulletin boards.

  Buttons, trims, scraps and swatches—all the fribbly stuff he’d played with as a little kid under his mother’s sewing table.

  It was kind of nice to know that everything wasn’t done by computer. But there was no hum of sewing machines in the workshop. Prototypes were made here but that was about it. The staff talked in low voices and several different languages on phones, or typed on computer keyboards.

  He took a few shots that didn’t break any rules he’d been given, then turned off the little camera to save the battery.

  Odette herself would be a lot more interesting to photograph.

  Especially her face. Beautiful, sometimes moody, sometimes animated—he loved to look at her.

  Too bad they didn’t have much more time left.

  Fuck whirlwind romance.

  He stared out the window, watching pigeons parade on its ledge. A big one—he guessed it was male—was cooing hopefully to a smaller one, probably female. The she-pigeon looked a little doubtful. Double fuck. Was it possible that he sounded just as goofy talking to Odette?

  They’d walked over here from her apartment, with her in her apparently favorite place, tucked right under his arm. He’d whispered sweet nothings all the way, interspersed with a few horndog comments that were meant to make her laugh. People had smiled at them. The French really were romantic.

  A soft tap on his shoulder turned him around. “Birdwatching?”

  “Kinda. Done with the meeting?”

  “For now.” She took his hand.

  “Where are we going?”

  “My office.”

  “Okay.” He wasn’t all that comfortable with Public Displays of Affection in a workplace, but he kept her hand in his.

  He reminded himself that she owned this workplace and could do whatever she wanted. For some reason, that thought didn’t ease his mind much.

  Odette opened the door, and led him in.

  “Wow.” Not exactly a sophisticated response, but wow was the word. He’d seen the windows from the outside, been impressed by their height. From the inside, even on an overcast day, it felt like she had the sky for the ceiling. He didn’t even look at the rest of the office.

  “Like the windows?”

  Bryan stopped craning his neck to look at her. “Yeah, I do. Almost feels like being outdoors.”

  She nodded. “To you most of all. Marc said you were outdoorsy-looking.”

  “Not exactly,” he corrected her. “I like being outdoors. There’s a big difference. I’m a California guy. Sun, sand, surf—” He broke off.

  Odette was laughing. “You can get the first two in Paris. In summer they pour tons of sand along a part of the Seine. Voilà! Instant beach.”

  He thought of the half-mile long waves at beaches he knew in southern California and the rugged, fogbound beauty of the coastline to the north where he’d done some undergrad research. For a marine biologist, heaven on earth and underwater. Otters, seals, kelp forests—

  So go back, he told himself. “That’s great,” he said. “I’d love to see it. Paris has everything.”

  “We like to think so. I would like to see California.”

  “Really? You’ve never been?”

  “Alors, no.”

  “I’m taking you.”

  She smiled and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “Someday soon. For now I am too busy.”

  “I can see that.”

  She was different today, all business, from her neat suit she’d worn to impress investors who’d attended the meeting to her severe chignon. He thought the look was interesting; he knew she couldn’t always wear funky chic.

  But dressed like this, she was a far cry from the wanton woman he’d had so much fun with last night. Was this corporate cutie the real Odette Gaillard?

  Hard to tell.

  He liked her best of all in black lace. Ripped black lace.

  Bryan gave a sigh that made her look up into his face. “What’s the matter? Bored or hungry?”

  “Neither, babe. Tell me about your new collection.”

  She smiled and went over to a fat ring binder in the middle of her desk, flipping it open and sticking the sketches under her arm in the middle of the binder.

  “I got the idea for it the night I met you at Chez Prune.”

  He laughed. “It doesn’t involve actual prunes, does it?”

  “No, no. Prune means plum in French. But no plums either.” She looked at him a little wistfully. “It was because it was raining—and I love the rain—”

  “It does seem to inspire you.” He gave her a wicked grin.

  Odette colored slightly. “In many ways, m’sieu. Not just sexually.”

  He held up a hand to indicate that he’d meant no offense. “Sorry. Go on. I’m listening.”

  “It is the colors. The background of gray intensifies them all. Wet reds. Electric blues. Glowing against black streets. Paris in the rain is beautiful, especially at night…” She hesitated, looking anxiously at him. “I was going to you. And that was part of what made it so wonderful.”

  Bryan just gaped at her. What in the hell could he say? She had just about made up a love poem on the spot. He couldn’t top that, not in a million years.

  “I think I understand,” he said finally.

  The anxious look had disappeared from her face when he looked at her again.

  “Anyway, I had been playing with this unusual gray silk—” All business, she pulled out a swatch from somewhere in the ring binder and waved it at him. “It shimmers beautifully. And the phrase Paris in the rain seemed to go with it. I thought it might do for a design concept.”

  “Did your, uh, team like it?”

  “No,” she said crossly. “Not any more than you seem to. I suppose it
is too personal.”

  He studied her for a long moment, still unsure of what to say.

  “Fashion has to appeal to many, many people to be profitable. So it is not all about, tra la, my incredible creativity.”

  “You are really creative. And a really good businesswoman.” The words sounded a little forced, but he did mean them.

  Odette sniffed. “I should make up my mind and be one or the other.”

  “Do you have to?”

  “No.” She shut the ring binder and sat down in her swivel chair. “Not yet. I need to grow the brand for a few more years, license the name—then I can get out.”

  “You want to?”

  “I don’t want to hate what I do. Eventually some gigantic corporation will gobble me up. Even if they don’t, I have enough money to live on for the rest of my life right now.”

  “Congratulations. Wish I could say that.”

  Odette put her arms on the arms of the chair, and rocked. “I have been very lucky.”

  “I think there’s more to it than that.”

  “I know what women like. And I know how to design fashion that is inexpensive to make, but can be sold for a fortune. Josi Natori did the same thing with little silky robes. I didn’t invent the business model either.”

  “Okay, okay.” He was baffled by her bad mood. “I don’t really know what I’m talking about, so I should probably shut up.”

  “You are being nice to me.” She glowered at him.

  Bryan blew out an exasperated breath. “I will never understand why women get pissed off about that.”

  “Because you don’t take us seriously.”

  “Odette, please. We don’t have a whole lot of hours left. Could you save this for the next—”

  “For the next guy? Is that what you were going to say?”

  “No.” He was pissed off now. Just a little. But definitely pissed off. “I was going to say the next time we met. I was thinking of coming back.”

  “You were?”

  “Yeah. Unless you don’t want me to.”

  Odette shook her head. “I do. I am sorry, Bryan. The meeting did not go well and I am taking it out on you.”