French Kiss (Decadence Nights Book 2) (28 page)

“What about submission?”

“I want that too, but in the bedroom, and the club, and within whatever additional boundaries we set together. We’ll discover those in time. What I don’t want is a 24/7 slave. I want you, the free spirit that is coming out of a twenty-year cocoon. You’re a beautiful sight to see, butterfly
.
Not that I don’t want the masochist who happily lets me beat on her from time to time as part of her very contented new life.”

She beamed up at him. “I can live with that.”

“As can I,
chérie
, and very happily ever after.”

Then like the ending to a fairy tale—okay, maybe a naughty fairy tale—he wrapped her up in his arms, and with his fingers entwined in her hair, took her mouth passionately, with lots of tongue, in a very steamy, very French kiss.

Sitting in the hard, molded plastic chair, she stared through the thick, yellowed partition at the woman Mari had thought was her friend, who had taken her husband, her dignity, and with all her manipulations, lies, and deceit had turned her world on its end. Arturo’s hand on her shoulder squeezed, communicating his love and support as he stood silently behind her, giving her his strength, and though she appreciated it, she realized she didn’t need it. She wanted it, yes, but thanks to him and indirectly thanks to Adri, she had grown enough through her ordeal to find an inner strength all her own. With Arturo, she was better, more fulfilled, happier; he didn’t diminish her, instead, built her up and because of that, she could face anything—even an enemy’s scorn.

He hadn’t wanted her to come, said she could find out everything she needed to know at the trial, but she didn’t want to wait that long to get an answer to her one burning question. And though he worried it could get ugly, and wind up with more hurt feelings on her end, he had supported her, driven up with her, and was even now, standing behind her, had her back, in more ways than one.

“Why, Adri?” Mari asked with real curiosity.

“Because Derek was an idiot, even so, you were worse. You didn’t deserve him, or anything he gave you. You’re pathetic, weak, clingy. You disgust me, Marilee, and aren’t worthy of my time or my breath.”

She felt the tension and anger like a wave of emotion coming at her, from Arturo. His hand tightened, but he remained quiet for now, letting her handle Adri.

“If I’m so unworthy, why did you agree to meet with me?”

Adri’s smug smile said it all. “To gloat,” Mari said, answering her own question. Yet she wasn’t upset or offended at all by her words. Surprised, yes, and mildly amused at the irony. That Adri, sitting on the inmate side of the plexiglass in a numbered jumpsuit, no makeup, and with her roots showing, somehow thought she still had something on her. Suddenly tickled, Mari laughed, the sound flowing through the receiver and from the look of anger contorting her features, stabbing directly into Adri’s heart, if she had one.

“What are you laughing at?” she snapped.

“You. That you still think you’re better than me, despite being behind bars for fifteen to twenty years. That in your arrogance, you believe you have a leg up over the eight figure balance in my bank account even after the feds seized Derek’s ill-gotten gains, or in spite of the fact that when I walk out of here, the gorgeous man standing at my back will be going with me, and will be there for me, loving me, very well might I add, while you’re rotting in your lonely cell every night, wearing gaudy orange. Oh, and by the way, your roots are showing, as is that annoying mustache you’ve been waxing for years.”

Adri yelped in outrage, her hand flying to her mouth.

“Oh, but don’t worry, Bertha and Big Alice won’t mind, I’m sure, indeed, they might be into that kind of thing.” She then hung up the phone, cutting off Adri’s spluttering and cursing, and rose from her chair. She stepped into Arturo’s side, relaxing as his arm encircled her shoulders and they moved to the exit, his deep chuckle warming her after the coldness of the confrontation.

“I got catty, which wasn’t my intention, but it felt freakin’ awesome.”

“I certainly enjoyed it. I’m proud of you,
chérie
.”

She angled her face up at him and grinned. “I’m rather proud of me too.”

They walked down the long corridor through two sets of security gates before they got to the guard doors that lead to the public area and the parking lot beyond. Mari savored the fresh air after the staleness of the jail where Adri was in holding, awaiting trial.

“Sadly, it’s not over for you quite yet.”

“Yeah, testifying won’t be pleasant, but I’m ready for it. I’m not going to let her or anyone judge me anymore or drag me down. That’s in the past.”

“Good for you,” he said, bringing her against him, his presence and support surrounding her with as much warmth as his arms.

“Thank you for arranging this for me.”

“I admit I was doubtful at first, thinking it would be counterproductive, but you were wise to confront her here before the trial, my brave girl, and I know it was freeing for you.” His words of praise, sent spirals of happiness racing through her, yet not nearly as much as his last words said softly against her lips. “
Je t’aime
, Mari.”

“No matter how many times I hear you say it, in French it makes it extra special. Is that silly?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

He cocked his head in question.

“Thank you for bringing me back to life, Arturo.
Je t’adore
.”

“That’s perfect,
petite
, and you breathed air into my life too.”

“Are you sure you won’t miss that action and intrigue of being an international spy? After traveling the world, relocating from London to Houston may be rather anticlimactic and dull. Talk about culture shock.”

“I’ve had my fill of action and intrigue. As for getting bored, Tony gives me plenty of freelance work and is thinking of opening a satellite office here in town. The weather is great, the beach is a short drive, my beautiful fiancée is here, we have friends, a club that we enjoy nearby—”

“Three hours away.”

“Which gives us time to talk, unwind, get focused.”

“Are you always so optimistic?”

“Lately? Absolutely.”

She grinned up at him and his perfect smile flashed back.

“Let’s say we celebrate with an early dinner before heading to the club.”

“Perfect. How about if we take your Porsche? I’ll even drive and let you unwind.” She was only half teasing.

His smile dimmed immediately. “I think not,” he replied as he opened the passenger side door.

“But, why? I returned it to you in one piece the last time.”

“You burned up the clutch, Mari. Get in.”

She slipped into her seat while grumbling. “It all came back to me by the time I hit town. How will I keep in practice if you don’t let me drive?”

“You don’t need practice if I’m driving.” He leaned in and clicked her seat belt in place, a habit that she loved, making her feel cared for more than words ever could. When she was buckled in, his hand came to her chin and he angled her face up until their eyes met. “You stretched the truth into what you Yanks call a whopper.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“And cost me a thousand dollars in repairs.”

“Which I offered to pay for.”

“Got read the riot act by my mechanic.”

She glared at that one. “He’s a misogynist who would prefer all women ride in the back seat or take the bus.”

“You got a ticket, reckless driving to be precise.”

“They knocked it down to speeding after I took that class.”

“That doesn’t alter the fact that you were going close to 100 mph, in an unfamiliar car.”

“I wanted to see what it could do. Why do they make the speedometer go so high if you aren’t supposed to test it?”

“It registers 190 mph, that doesn’t mean you can or should go half that fast on a public interstate.”

“I know that, but I hadn’t passed a car in forever and was getting the hang of it, so I opened it up to see what it would do. Haven’t you ever done that?”

“During a test drive on a closed track, not on eastbound I-10. And this is getting us nowhere. Stick to your Lexus,” he growled as he slammed the door and came around.

“You know I’m teasing, right?” she asked when he got behind the wheel. His green eyes met hers in a long-suffering look.

“I do. But I’m surprised with a club date tonight and having busted your sweet ass but good for it already, that you’d bring it up again. Are you aiming for more of the same?”

“Yes.”

He barked with laughter. “I should have known.”

She smiled softly as she watched his face transform from handsome to gorgeous with his humor. Then she decided to ‘fess up. “To be truthful, when I realized how fast I was going, it scared me and I was slowing down when the trooper caught me. So even though I’ve done the time for my crime, and promised to go slower, the answer is no?”

“She’s quick,” he quipped as he started the engine.

Mari crossed her arms over her chest and with a pout complained, “That isn’t fair.”

“Life isn’t always fair,
ma belle
. That’s why I’m the dom and you’re the sub, and also why you’re in that seat and I’m in this one, behind the wheel.”

She grunted.

“If you’re seeking a thrill, I have a surprise for you tonight that will put thoughts of driving my 911 right out of your head.”

“What?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

He was out of the lot and on the main highway before he reached over and picked up her hand. He transferred it to his thigh where he laid it flat, covering it with his own as he laced their fingers together.

She rolled her head on the headrest, taking in his perfect profile. “I really do like your car, honey. But I’ll let it go, since I like you a whole lot better.”

“Good to know, but you’re getting a few extra swats tonight for giving me crap.”

“With your martinet? Yes, sir,” she said with a grin.

He shook his head. “I’ve created a monster.”

“Nope, you’ve just set the masochist in me free.”

He lifted her hand to his lips. “And thank fuck for that.”

Her body trembled with anticipation as she heard his footsteps on the hardwood floor behind her. They echoed in the near empty theme room, which was known in the club as Sensei Jonas’ shibari dojo, that ironically didn’t have a single piece of rope in sight. Not tonight. Though they were learning more from Jonas week by week, Arturo had reserved the room with an altogether different purpose in mind, to introduce her to his bullwhip.

Just the thought of it made her nipples hard and caused the juices to gather between her pussy lips. Her head fell back as a shudder of arousal swept through her. As it did, she took in the suspension rigging in the ceiling above her and dangling from a pulley and chain, the spreader bar that held her cuffed wrists in position. If she looked down, she’d see a mirror image at her feet, a bar of the same length, separating her cuffed ankles.

“You are stunning like this.”

Lost in her own world of swirling anticipation, she hadn’t heard his final approach, but his whispered words in her ear didn’t startle her as much as they thrilled her. Surely he must be ready to begin by now.

“You’re also trembling,” he observed as he moved around in front, his hand trailing across her back, to her hip, then upward in a slow line to her breasts. He tucked the handle of his whip under his arm and brought his other hand up claiming both nipples at once. Without a warm up, he rolled them and tugged hard, causing a moan to break free.

“So very responsive,” he murmured, lowering his lips for a kiss as he kept up the pressure. His tongue plunged into her mouth, owning it thoroughly as he compressed the hard tips with his thumb and forefinger. When he lifted his head, he latched onto her lower lip with his teeth, giving it a little nip before he let go, smiling at her tormented groan, which was a heady invitation for more—not that he needed one.

After releasing her nipples, he steadied her with his hands on her hips, encircling her waist with a strong arm as she swayed in her restraints. He leaned into her, his bare chest with its light sprinkling of dark hair, brushing her side, making her tingle wherever it touched.

She breathed in deep drafts of air, attempting to control her passion, but it pounded through her blood, heating every inch of her. “Arturo, sir, please,” she panted.

“Easy, we have plenty of time.” As he spoke, his fingers slid down her belly and between her thighs, testing the wetness of her pussy. “You’re dripping wet already. What will you do when my whip bites, giving you what you want so very badly,
ma soumise
?”

“I’ll come, sir. I’ll have no choice.”

He grinned. “This first time, you may come at will. I’ll enjoy hearing your screams of sensual pain as will our audience.”

She stiffened beginning to turn toward the windows behind her.

His hand caught her chin. “Ah-ah,
mon bien-aimé
. Let them watch and dream.”

“Yes, sir.”

Smiling down at her, he slid his fingers over her clit, back and forth, and around in small circles until the writhing of her body rattled the suspension chains overhead. Then the digits moved back, dipping into her center, first two at a time, then adding a finger to make it three, as his thumb stimulated the pearly nub up front.

“I’m going to come now, sir.”

“Tsk tsk,” he said as he withdrew. “Let me clarify; you may come from my whip at will. Anything else you will ask prettily for first.”

“May I come, sir? Please.”

“And diminish the power of your first orgasm by whip? I hardly think so.” Another brush of his lips over hers and he was gone.

A familiar whoosh and a loud, menacing crack resonated in the room without further prelude. In her mind, she pictured him as he was the first night, the six-foot-long black braided whip like a part of him, an extension of his strong arm and skilled hand.

As another resounding pop sent waves of excitement shooting through her body, tingling her nipples and clit, a biting line of heat ignited across her bottom. She groaned, raspy and guttural, as licks of pleasure from her master’s whip penetrated clear through to her pussy. Yes, in this moment, he was that to her, her master, controlling her body, her pain and her pleasure. As the braided lash snapped behind her yet again, her lips parted on a long, sensual cry of anticipation, but the fire didn’t come, only his low chuckle.

“I’d check in,
ma petite
, but your cries of ecstasy need no explanation. More?”

“Yes, please, much more.”

Closing her eyes, she longed for a mirror to be able to watch him in action, seeing his shoulders bunch and ripple, his biceps flex, and the tightening of his powerful forearms as he worked the whip expertly over her body. She lost count and was oblivious to time as she relaxed into the rhythmic power of his masterful possession—touching on both cheeks, her thighs, moving up to her shoulders and once, very softly wrapping the single tail around her trunk just below her breasts.

There was a pause, but her body was alive, humming with sensation as she floated between the spreader bars. When his hands slid over her belly, moving up to her breasts, over her throat and curling around her jawline as he turned her head to the side, tipping it back enough for his kiss.

“Mari,” he breathed into her mouth, “you’re flying.”

“Yes, sir,” came her languorous response, “and it’s magnificent.”

“I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Please…” she sighed.

He was gone, but then he wasn’t, her feet somehow leaving the floor. She blinked, thinking she was floating, but watched in a foggy haze as Arturo, so handsome and strong, hooked her ankles next to her wrists, effectively folding her body in half. Her legs were spread wide by the bar, and she was completely open for him to take as he wanted.

His hands curved around her hips and he plunged into her suspended body. Driving in, he pulled her to meet his hips with each stroke, going deep, so very deep, it took her breath away.

Barely, she had the ability to ask as required. “May I come now, sir?”

“A moment,
chérie
, let me catch up and we’ll find our pleasure together.”

“Too late. I found mine long ago with your whip, but more is quite welcome.” She giggled, woozy with pleasure, which she knew in the back of her mind was her endorphin-laced sub-space.

“Giddy is endearing, but try to focus. Feel my cock driving into you as I build your release.” One of his thumbs came around in front and located her clit, sending all thought of laughter straight out of her head. Her pussy tightened around him and she heard his reactive groan.

“Fuck,” he growled from somewhere deep in his chest. “Now, Mari,
mon amour
, come for me, for I am right there.”

His finger joined his thumb on her clit and pinched, the bite sent her over the top as she screamed his name. And as promised, he came with her, covering her mouth with a kiss as he growled his release down her throat.

A long while later, she came back to him, only vaguely aware of him holding her by her bottom and supporting her weight off her wrists and ankles as they rested against each other and caught their breath. She felt him lower her ankles together, his arm looping around her waist as he held her, releasing and easing down one arm at a time. Freed, he carried her, as limp as a dishrag, to the plush couch in the corner.

She must have dozed because when she woke, she was wrapped in a soft blanket, snuggled warm against his chest, ensconced in his lap but having no recognition of how it had happened or from where the blanket had appeared.

“You drifted away for a while,
ma petite
,” he murmured, his lips brushing her temple.

“It was a spectacular trip, master.”

He stirred, sitting up and gazing down at her. “Mari?”

She nodded. “It feels right.”

His arms tightened around her. “Always that will be up to you.”

“I know that, master, and that is exactly why I felt free enough to say it.”

Emotion was thick in his voice as he murmured, “
Je t’aime, ma soumise.”

“
Je t’aime aussi. Je n’imaginais pas un maître plus parfaite
.” I could not imagine a more perfect master; she’d been working on that for days.

“
Très bien
. You’ve been practicing.”

Rubbing her cheek along his shoulder, she closed her eyes, settling in again. “
Oui
, I want to converse a little in French,
un peu en français
, when we visit your mother in the spring.”

His chest moved, the vibration of his deep chuckle disturbing her from her comfortable perch. She shifted, tipping her face up, his expression a mix of tenderness and amusement. “What’s funny? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, my sweet Mari, and I don’t mean to laugh, but it’s my father who is French. My mother is purely Spanish and knows barely more French than you do.”

“Truly?”

“Yes,
chérie,
Durand is a very common French surname which I got from my father.”

“Well,
merde
,” she bit out. Then her hand flew to her mouth when she realized what she’d said.

His low chuckle turned into rich rolling laughter as he gathered her up close. “No matter what language you speak, they will love you, as do I.” He then ended the discussion with a kiss.

The End