Mardi Gras (6 page)

about. But I never spoke to her, so I don’t know who she is. Hang on a minute,” he said, holding up one finger.

He picked up the phone again, dialing Liz back, Ty figured. Two minutes later, he hung up once more and gave Ty a perplexed look.

“Well?”

“Liz doesn’t know, either. She saw her, too—helped her with the cake, she said—

but she thought it was somebody
I
knew, a client or something.” Ty leaned back in his chair. “Unbelievable. The best fuck of my life, and I can’t find her.”

Jack sat up a little straighter. “The best fuck of your life?” Ty nodded. “Ropes and everything.”

An amused expression grew on Jack’s face. “Really? And
everything
?” Ty was beginning to feel sheepish, but given some of the stuff he’d been through with Jack over the years, he didn’t know why. “Everything as in—there was a, uh…riding crop.”

Jack nodded, grinned. “Weapons, now, too. Interesting.”

“And she wouldn’t let me take her mask off, so I never saw her face.”

“Mysterious.”

“Yep.”

“So, was bein’ tied up everything you hoped for?”

“And more, unfortunately.”

59

Lacey Alexander

“Unfortunately?”

“I want her again. Like I’ve never wanted a woman before. And I have no idea how to find her.”

Twenty minutes later, he walked back into the messenger service, no closer to locating Mistress Mina. He found one of his messengers, a college girl named Cara, sitting behind Mia’s desk. “Mia went to lunch,” she said. “I told her I’d cover the phones until you got back.”

He nodded. “Thanks. Any messages?”

“I think Mia put a couple on your desk before she left.” Making his way into his office, he scooped up the two small pink slips of paper.

One was from an architectural firm—they wanted to negotiate terms for a new account.

He lowered the message next to the phone, then moved on to the other one.

His heart nearly dropped to his stomach as he read it. In Mia’s neat handwriting, it said,
Someone named Mina called. She’ll meet you Friday night at 8:00, outside the Café du
Monde
.

60

Mardi Gras

Ty nearly felt faint when he set eyes on Mina Friday night. She was a vision. She’d been alluring enough before he’d known what she could do to him, but with that added knowledge, she made him hard as a rock on sight.

Tonight she wore a tight, slinky dress of purple that showed lots of cleavage and lots of thigh. Same hot black heels, and he only hoped those stockings led to garters again—he had a serious thing for garters.

Of course, to his frustration but not his surprise, she was wearing another mask.

Tonight’s was covered with tiny glistening purple sequins, and three dark purple feathers fanned up from the left eye. Two strands of shimmery purple beads hung from either side of the mask, draping below her chin.

Her vibrant green gaze seemed to pin him in place.

“Mistress Mina, I presume,” he said with a smile.

“You presume?” God, her sexy voice sifted down through him like warm brown sugar.

“The mask,” he said, pointing. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I suppose this means we’re still playing domination games tonight.” She pursed her lips. “Does that disappoint you?”

He shook his head shortly. “No.” Although that was a bit of a fib. The truth was, he’d hoped to take a little more control this time, get back into his usual comfort zone.

The fantasy had been fun, if a little unnerving, but he wanted something else tonight.

And now that he knew what it felt like to be tied up, he kind of had the urge to tie
her
up. He wouldn’t have minded dispensing with the mask, either. Sexy as hell? Yes. But despite that, he still wanted to see her face.

61

Lacey Alexander

She took his hand. “Ready?”

So she intended to lead him straight to her apartment and get right to the action. He wasn’t complaining, but… “I’d hoped to take you out to dinner first.”

“I already ate,” she said, then stepped up close to him—so close that, despite all the partiers and revelers around them, no one noticed when she pressed her palm against his cock through his khaki pants. “And I want to fuck you, lover. Now.” Warmth encased his body as the hot pressure from her hand turned him even harder. He loved that they stood in the middle of a crowd, but no one knew she was touching him so intimately. “Don’t suppose I can argue with that,” he murmured, peering heatedly down into her eyes.

Turning, she grabbed his hand and began to guide him across the street to Jackson Square. “One thing, though,” he said behind her.

When they reached the sidewalk, she stopped to look up at him. “What’s that?”

“Don’t tie me up this time. I want to touch you.”

“You didn’t like how things were last time?”

“I loved it, baby. It was…as if you read my mind.” And that was the truth. “But this time I need to have my hands on you.” He decided to keep it as simple as that. The last thing he wanted to do was piss off Mistress Mina by refusing to play her little game.

She gazed up into his eyes, the expression in hers pointed, almost feral, giving him the impression that she might want the same thing. “Will you do what I say if I don’t tie you up?
Exactly
what I say?”

In actuality, he wasn’t sure he could resist taking control if he wasn’t bound. He wanted to turn the tables on this exciting, delectable woman. But he wasn’t about to tell her that. “Yes,” he lied. “Anything.”

He sounded so earnest, so needful, it tore at Mia’s heart. Part of her was tempted to rip off her mask and wig and say,
It’s me, Mia
. Pure insanity, of course. But a big part of 62

Mardi Gras

her wished he knew she was the woman making wild love to him, the woman he was begging, wanting to touch.

Still, she couldn’t. She’d gone too far into this crazy game now. She had to keep playing or she’d lose everything. Her friendship with Ty. Maybe even her job.

Definitely this second night of passion. She wasn’t willing to give up
any
of those things.

Taking his hand again, she led him up to Bourbon, the crowd and the excitement growing with each step toward the famed street of debauchery. Music played everywhere around them. Guys threw handfuls of beads from balconies to girls who were lifting their shirts below, baring their breasts to the cheers of passersby.

Hurricanes and daiquiris and enormous glasses of beer were being drunk, or splashed, or spilled. A glance to her right found a college-aged girl purposely oozing a slushy daiquiri onto her exposed breasts while two guys licked and slurped the drink away.

Mia had never been into that sort of random revelry, even during Mardi Gras. She loved sex, but before Ty, she’d never fucked someone on the first date, and public displays of decadence on the street generally didn’t affect her much one way or the other. But tonight, with a river of heat already flowing through her veins and flooding her pussy—everything around her added to her arousal, with or without her permission.

When finally they reached Aunt Sophie’s place she reached into her bra and drew out the key, letting them inside. And just like Saturday night, she wanted him so badly that it was all she could do not to just leap on him. She needed to catch her breath, get control of the situation, if she wanted to play his Mistress Mina again.

Whisking into the front parlor, she opened the French doors wide and stepped out on the balcony for a breath of fresh, calming air. The weather was cooler tonight than last week. But the crowd was wilder—Fat Tuesday, the culmination of Mardi Gras, was only three days away, and you could feel the Quarter’s tension building with each 63

Lacey Alexander

successive night. This weekend would be the pinnacle of the heavy partying, all the stops pulled out. Maybe this wasn’t such a good place for attempting to calm herself.

She stood there unable to think clearly, her desire rising to a fever pitch, when Ty stepped up behind her. His arms slid around her waist as he pressed his hard-on into the center of her ass. She let out a sensual sigh, and rubbed lightly against him, unable to resist.

Reaching up to pull back her red locks, he lowered a tender kiss to the ultrasensitive skin on her neck, letting the sensation flutter down through her. Then he whispered in her ear, “I don’t mean to be a bad boy, but if you don’t come inside and have your way with me, I’m gonna push up your dress and fuck you on this balcony right now.”

She turned into his arms, her soft body raking against his hard one. Invisible sparks flew.

He drew her close against him with one hand, using the other to eagerly massage her breast. “Ooooh,” she purred, thinking—
Oh God, yes
, his hands were a welcome addition to this evening already.

Without a hint of hesitation, he tugged on her bodice until one taut nipple appeared above the fabric’s scalloped edge. Molding his hand beneath it, he bent to lick. She moaned in response, never giving a thought to whether anyone below could see what they were doing as she reached out and found his erection through his twill pants.

By the time he came up for air, they were both panting, hungering for more.

It was almost enough to make her abandon her plans—to just let him fuck her however came naturally, to just have normal, wild, writhing sex. There was even a part of her that wanted to
submit
to Ty, to find out what he would do to her if she let him.

But she’d liked the sense of control she’d felt last Saturday. She liked it and…well, she also thought maybe she
needed
it—to help her keep her false identity at the forefront, to ensure keeping her secret safe.

64

Mardi Gras

So she pushed him away. “You
are
a bad boy,” she said pointedly, no humor in her voice. She motioned toward the open doors. “Go inside and prepare to take your punishment.”

She couldn’t read his look. Disappointment or excitement?

Either way, though, he withdrew from her and went inside as he was told, and recapturing that sense of power gave her the security she needed to maintain her ruse and press forward into another evening of hot sex with Ty.

Following him inside, her heels clicking across the floor, she reached behind her, unzipping her dress. She found Ty standing in the middle of the room, exactly where his wooden chair had been located last time, waiting and watching. Hooking her thumbs through her shoulder straps, she drew the dress off, shrugging free until it fell around her ankles. Her purple lace shelf bra was cut to expose her nipples, so they were both bared now. Her matching garter belt started at her hips, extending nearly to her thighs, cut to resemble a sinfully short miniskirt that barely revealed the crotch of the tiny thong she wore underneath.

She absorbed his long perusal of her body until he finally said, “You take my breath away.”

As before, she longed to go to him, just kiss him, just fuck him, but she held her ground—and her identity. “Do you think that makes up for your misbehavior? You promised you’d do exactly as I said, yet I did
not
tell you to come out on the balcony and rub your cock against me. I did
not
tell you to kiss my breast. You’ve been a very bad boy again, Ty.”

Her pussy swelled at the harsh reprimand, even if the dark sparkle in his eyes left her wondering if he was going to acquiesce this time. As much as she relished controlling him right now, the idea that he might not allow it made her cunt spasm further.

“Strip,” she demanded.

65

Lacey Alexander

She took a seat on the sofa and met his gaze, which seemed to silently challenge her.

He’s going to fight me on this
, she thought
. He’s going to fight me, and what then? Who would
win?

She
had to. Because if she didn’t, if she turned weak and submissive, she might do something stupid—she might act like herself, she might
sound
like herself. She might even somehow
look
like herself. He might see something in her eyes or hear something in her voice that said Mia to him more than Mistress Mina.

So she glared at him, as if just daring him to argue with her. “Strip, I said.” His eyes narrowed and he looked almost angry, but finally, Ty slowly began to undress. He pulled his polo shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor, then discarded his pants, leaving him in only a pair of gray boxer briefs. His tremendous hard-on made a big tent in front, practically causing her mouth to water.

“All the way,” she said when he stopped there, then enjoyed the view as he pushed down his underwear and stepped free of them.

God, he was gorgeous naked. Maybe the other night she’d been too busy with her plans, or too nervous, making sure everything went just right, to really take her time looking at him like this, to just study him and savor it. But now she was doing both.

“You have a fabulous body, lover.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

His eyes still shot fire as he stared at her, and she suddenly knew she needed to put this man in his place—quickly—before he decided to put her in hers. “Get on your hands and knees,” she instructed.

This time, he obediently followed the order, pleasing her. Reaching up, she absently cupped one breast, lightly twirling her nipple as she watched him. He kept his eyes on her, too.

“Now, crawl toward me.”

66

Mardi Gras

As he did, she observed the muscles in his arms and shoulders working, gliding—

he moved toward her like a sexy jungle cat.

When he neared her, she lifted one shoe to stop his progress, pressing the inch-high platform beneath her toes lightly to his forehead. He halted, letting her hold him there like that.

“Lick the heel of my shoe,” she told him, a little surprised at the skittery reaction in her cunt. She had planned this part of it—wanting to experiment a little deeper with the notion of submission—never having a clue such an act would excite her, too.

She watched as he dragged his tongue up the smooth patent leather heel, her pussy weeping in response, and added, “Keep going. Onto my ankle, up my leg.” A slow trail of fire climbed her inner calf, past her knee, up her thigh, past the top of her stocking, until he was tonguing her clit through lace. “Ooooh,” she moaned hotly, now fondling both her breasts, aware his gaze was glued to them.

“Now reach under my garter belt, and when you find a ribbon, pull it.” He did, his fingers barely whispering across her skin, and when he tugged on the ribbon, her thong loosened.

“Now the other side,” she whispered. “Then pull my panties away so you can look at my pussy.”

Her legs were spread wide, so once the scrap of lace was gone, her cunt was put on proud display, looking pink and slick and lush.

“Do you want to lick it?”

He dragged his heated gaze to her face, nodding.

“Too bad.” She laughed. “Tonight that’s a treat reserved for only
good
boys. Instead, you’ll stay where you are and watch
me
pleasure it.” Ty couldn’t believe her beautifully wet pussy was mere inches from his face and she wasn’t going to let him feast on it. Her clit protruded, swollen and needy-looking, as if begging for his tongue, and he yearned to taste her, longed to feel those soft pink inner 67

Lacey Alexander

lips surrounding his mouth as he licked up through them and across the glistening nub of flesh. Just how long, he wondered, was she expecting him to put up with being denied like this? And just how long
would
he? Last time, she’d helped him live out a fantasy. This time, he was
trying
to indulge her dominance, but he simply wanted what he wanted, and he didn’t like being told no.

He felt near to collapse when he watched her reach between the couch cushions and draw out a shiny gold vibrator. Even more so when she said, “Get it wet for me, lover,” and inserted it into his mouth before he could even think of protesting.

She pushed it in slow and deep in a way that made his stomach contract, since he was unwittingly finding out what it must be like to take a cock in your mouth. She began thrusting the cylinder slowly between his lips, and he wondered how he looked doing this and if she liked it.