French Kiss (Decadence Nights Book 2) (19 page)

“Not my back scratcher, please. If you break it on my naughty butt, how will I scratch an itch?”

He couldn’t hold back a laugh as he set it back down and moved on. “Eyes front,
soumise
, your wit is distracting me from my purpose.”

“Yes, sir.”

This time he knew he heard a giggle. Good. She was coming out of her shell. After another few moments, he came back armed with his improvised spanking tools, which he set on the floor out of sight. Let them be a surprise.

Picking up the first one, he stood at her hip, his hand smoothing the creamy perfection of her behind that he intended to turn glowing red.

“Part your legs more and give me a nice high target.”

Once she’d moved into position, he brought his hand down in a fast moving arc. A resounding thwap echoed in the room followed swiftly by a feminine yelp of surprise. Her head twisted around right as his hand pulled back for stroke number two.

“My cashmere slippers, dear heavens. I’ve never—”

“I’ll go back for the back scratcher if you don’t face front, Mari.”

She grunted, but turned back around. “Yes, sir.”

His purpose was twofold; he didn’t want her to see what was coming next and he was having a hard time containing a huge grin, she was that cute.

He used the slipper quickly and firmly, slapping each cheek, left then right, up then down, until every inch had received a stinging kiss from the rubber soled little scuff. After a good two dozen, he stopped, his hand admiring the rosy glow and the heat as he caressed each cheek slowly.

“You pinken up so nicely. It would be a rare man who could resist swatting these cheeks until they blushed for him.”

“Thank you, sir,” was her contented reply.

“Did you enjoy that?”

“Yes,” she sighed breathily.

“Hmm, perhaps too much. Let’s step it up a notch.” He bent and retrieved the tilt wand from the mini-blinds.

“Arturo. Having problems?”

He blinked; the male voice intruding into their scene startled him. Taking in the dimness of her empty bedroom, he realized he’d been standing there for who knows how long, lost in a memory. A dick hardening memory, he corrected as he shifted in his uncomfortably tight pants and replied. “No. I’m good.” He added nothing else. What could he say? That he was so head over heels in love with his submissive who was also implicated in an arms theft and the death of several agents that he’d been having a wet dream in her bedroom when he should be cracking a safe?

With his tool bag in hand, he strode across the room to the family portrait, wanting to punch the image of fucking Derek Hoffman’s smiling face right square in the nose. He didn’t. Instead, he lifted it from the wall and exposed the reason he was there in the first place.

When he saw the model name on the safe, he almost regretted that this would be so easy. A challenge might have taken his mind off of Mari and her involvement in her dead husband’s messed up shit. From his bag, he removed a screwdriver and popped off the display from the electronic lock. He then attached the wires to his handheld microcontroller and in less than a minute, it had read the 32-bit key from its memory and the locking mechanism released with a click.

“A bloody millionaire and he couldn’t dish out the $500 extra bucks for a decent lock,” he grumbled as he pulled the door open by the handle. “I’m in,” he said into his headset.

“Give me the make and model and I’ll search for any special features.”

“No need. I’m familiar. It’s almost as old as I am. The cheap bastard must have bought it at a flea market.”

He took out a few stacks of cash, some stock certificates, and several black velvet jewelry boxes. Once it was empty, he ran his fingers along the seam between the bottom and the back wall, as expected, he was able to slide his nail under the felt lined bottom and peeled it back. Underneath, he found a small brown envelope.

“Bingo!” he said, using the American vernacular. Sliding his thumb under the seal, he opened it and poured the contents into his palm—a jump drive and a key.

He returned the contents and closed the safe before retracing his steps. As he rounded the foot of her bed, his boot brushed against something. Looking down, he spied her cashmere slippers sticking out from under the bed. He stared at them a moment, remembering how she’d called his name as he surged into her from behind after her spanking. If she couldn’t forgive his deceit, it was a memory that might have to sustain him for a lifetime. Half in love with her already, the thought was like a tight fist squeezing his heart. Not caring who saw him and what they might think, he bent, scooped them up, and dropped them in his bag.

Almost two hours later, he lifted the covers and slid into bed behind her. In her sleep, she rolled over, moving closer, seeking him out as she pressed her warm, soft curves into his hard body. He draped an arm around her waist, his hand curling around one perfect ass cheek, as he pulled her in deeper, feeling every gentle bend and soft arch of her body, from the roundness of her breasts to the supple cushion of her thighs. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled slowly as he closed his eyes, settling into her, not giving up hope that when the dust from this cluster fuck cleared he would still be welcomed in her bed, into her arms, and her life.

* * *

The rest of the weekend passed much too quickly. Jonas and Lexie were gracious hosts, showing them a good time, while giving them plenty of privacy as well. As newlyweds, they were also happy for time to themselves.

Mari and Arturo walked hand in hand for miles in the surf, swam in the warm water, and as promised, he slicked liberal amounts of sunscreen all over her body, sneaking some into parts that would never see the light of day. Mari didn’t care in the least considering they were on a private beach. As such, they also made love under the midnight sky on the sand near the waves, and more times than she could count, in the big bed on the third floor with the French doors thrown open to the sound of the surf rolling onto the shore in the distance.

On Saturday night, after a few glasses of wine, Jonas convinced Mari to give shibari a try.

“With my clothes on?” she’d asked shyly.

“No,” Arturo had replied with a grin. “If we do this, we do it right. Strip.”

She glanced hesitantly at Jonas and then Lexie. Her friend stood up and started taking off her own clothes. “How about if we do it together, like we do in class?” she suggested. “I don’t notice at all anymore. Jonas has strung me up so many times in front of audiences, I barely know they’re there.”

“That’s because you fly in the ropes, dorei.”

She grinned up at her husband and whispered, “I fly only in your ropes, sensei.”

He kissed her, his mouth swooping down to claim hers as he crushed her body to his. The love they shared was palpable. When he lifted his head, he had to help her with her buttons her fingers were trembling so. Once she was stripped bare, they looked over at their guests expectantly, Jonas’ expression purely professional, while Lexie’s was still muddled from her husband’s kiss.

“Ready,
ma petite
? Safewords are as good here as they are at the club. I think you’ll enjoy this.”

“Mari,” Lexie called softly, “it’s funny, but it’s freeing being bound. Jonas’ ropes are like an extension of him. When he binds me, I can let go, let him take the reins and guide me. All I have to do is relax, enjoy, and feel his love surround me, if that makes sense.”

“It does, kind of,” she replied with a tentative smile.

“Best of all,” Lexie added with a wink, “it’s flippin’ hot!”

Jonas chuckled, squeezing her with genuine affection as he kissed her temple. His eyes came back to Mari, his bright blue eyes twinkling with excitement, the joy he found in sharing his craft with others obvious. That, more than anything else, convinced her.

“What do you say?” their teacher for the night prompted.

“Yes.” She nodded, turning to Arturo. “I’d like to try.”

In moments, with his help, she was as naked as Lexie. From then on, Mari had to only remain still beneath Arturo’s hands as he fashioned a bra-like harness out of hemp rope first. Added to that was a wrist tie binding her hands in the middle of her back. And finally, a crotch rope, which Jonas called “the cherry”.

“One knot or three?” he asked Arturo.

“Three, of course,” her dom had replied without a second’s hesitation. Jonas then had expertly showed him how to measure and knot the rope at specific locations, so that when placed properly, it abraded her clit, her center and rode between the cheeks of her bottom, stimulating her back hole with every breath she took.

“So beautiful,” Arturo had murmured as he ran his hands over her bound body, lingering on her breasts that swelled full and high while lightly compressed in the rope bra, the slight constriction causing her nipples to remain taut. Like a moth to a flame, his fingers keyed in on the hard peaks and pinched them until she was moaning and breathing fast. He’d moved on at that point, brushing the backs of his fingers down her trembling belly to her hips where he hooked two fingers beneath the rope there and pulled with a steady pressure. The knots slid over and pressed into her already sensitized flesh and her knees went weak.

He caught her against him. To Jonas, who was busy tying Lexie’s legs, he said, “I need to find a flat surface and my bag.”

“I was going to get out the tripod and show her a suspension.”

Arturo chuckled as Mari moaned, needing relief, not more sensual shibari demonstrations.

“I don’t think she’s gonna make it,
mon ami
.”

Jonas looked at her, then grinned as he nodded to Lexie who wore the same dreamy-eyed expression. “Believe me, I understand. She’s been my dorei for over a year and each time is like the first time, explosive.” He slid his hand over her long light brown hair as Lexie whimpered. “And heaven help me if that ever changes.”

“We’ll see you in the morning,” Arturo said as he lifted Mari in his arms.

“Take these,” Jonas insisted as he held out a pair of rounded end scissors. “Never use rope without a pair.”

“Yes, sensei,” he said with a grin as he accepted them.

“Good night,” their host had called even as he turned his attention back to his own lovely sub.

Upstairs in their room, he set her down on the end of the bed and reached for his bag. He withdrew a suede flogger, something she was surprised that a sadist owned, it being soft and sensual not really for pain. Then she found out why.

“I can think of nothing besides my lash on your breasts.”

“Yes,” she moaned.

“We’ll go slowly since you’re already swollen and sensitive.”

A light stroke brushed over one breast, feeling like a thousand prickles in her skin.

“Oh god!” she cried out.

“I thought the ropes would make it more intense.” He lashed her again, on the other side. Then he fell into a pattern: right, left, then a sharper snap across her belly.

“Sir, please,” she begged, not sure if she was asking for more or to stop. Soon he was in a rhythm, whoosh, whoosh, splat, and the pattern repeated, then again and again. Her body was alive with sensation and she was wired, loving the pleasure and the pain, but needing to come. “Arturo, please, I need to come now. I can’t bear it,” she sobbed.

He stopped and she groaned in frustration.

“Patience,
ma colombe
.” His hand came around the back of her neck. “Lie back.”

He had to help her, tucking a pillow under her head and shoulders to ease some of the pressure on her hands still bound behind her back. Her feet were lifted and rested flat on the bed. Then he ordered, “Spread your legs.”

Her eyes snapped to his and seeing the intensity there, she let her knees fall apart as far as they would.

“Good girl,” he murmured in approval, as he began working the flogger again. Slowly, he stroked it over her inner thighs, the initial snap of the flails followed by a slow drag of the lash on her skin. Her hips arched, wanting that same perfect attention on her pussy and clit. Feeling she’d go mad if she didn’t come soon, she arched her hips offering her rope bifurcated pussy in blatant invitation.

He obliged with a light slap of suede low on her belly. Then he let it slide slowly, following the path of the rope down over her mound and between her thighs.

“Sir, please, let me come.”

“No, Mari, be patient a little longer. I want you to wait to come until I’m inside you.”

The flogger fell in a similar stroke, maybe fractionally harder, but it repeated the same sensual glide over her swollen juice drenched lips. “I can’t wait,” she wailed.

“You will,” he replied as the lash fell again, distinguishably harder this time.

He was cruel to torment her so. “Sadist,” she cried.

“Absolutely,
chérie
. And you love it.”

She did. And she loved him too. She was convinced of it now. Not from the sex, or the kink, or the sensual pain, but his undivided attention this weekend had shown the side of him that she wanted more of, a lifetime’s worth, if she were so lucky to have him want to spend it with her as well.