Fleur de Nuit: Bourbon Street Bondage, Book 1 (19 page)

Moira turned away. “Yeah.”

Kara caught her hand, pulling Moira back. “Actually, that hasn’t been true in a long time, if you really want the truth.”

Moira looked up at her, confused and hopeful.

“I stick around because you’re my oldest friend, and really, I’d be lost without you.” Kara closed the distance between them again. “I don’t know what’s with you pushing me away lately, but knock it off, okay? I’m not going anywhere, you’re not holding me back, and if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

Moira took a deep breath. “You’re sure?”

Kara smiled and leaned her forehead against Moira’s. “I’m sure.”

Moira didn’t say anything, just tipped her head up and brushed her lips against Kara’s. Her hand caught the back of Kara’s neck, pulling her close as Kara’s lips parted against her own.

Chapter Twenty

Moira recorded the last grade in her book and tossed the paper onto the stack with a sigh. Her nights with Adrian had gotten her behind on her grading, and she’d forced herself to stay and get them dealt with. With a shake of her head, she closed the grade book and stood, reaching for her purse and jacket.

“So the dark angel is a high school teacher. I’m not sure if that’s cliché or perfectly sexy.”

Moira froze at Tamara’s voice and then turned slowly. The Domme leaned in the doorway, casually looking around the room. She was dressed in a nice button-front shirt and skirt, which made the most presentable outfit Moira’d seen her in so far. Never mind that both were tight enough to leave nothing to the imagination. Including the color of her bra, since she could see the dark green lace peeking out of the white shirt.

“Probably cliché, or maybe both, but at least I’m not a librarian.”

“Now that would be cliché. In an epic kind of way.” Tamara’s blue-green eyes slowly worked their way back to Moira, where they stopped with an offhand wrinkle of her nose. “The smell of high school never changes, does it?”

Moira laughed and walked toward her. “You mean the smell of hormones, dirty socks and cafeteria food? No. The world could end, and I believe firmly that high schools would still smell the same.”

Tamara’s eyes flashed as she smiled. “You’re quite the conundrum, you know that?”

Moira snorted. “Please. I’m a teacher. We’re all secretly conundrums.”

“Ha! I’ll have to remember that.”

Moira stopped in front of her, unable to leave until Tamara vacated the doorway. “To what do I owe the visit?”

“Curiosity, in part. An invitation, for the rest.”

Moira raised an eyebrow. “An invitation?”

Tamara flashed a grin, which forced Moira to quickly smother a surge of irritation at the fact that the woman seemed incapable of being anything but a perfect representation of lust incarnate.
Succubus. She’s a damned fucking succubus, or I’ll eat my grade book.

“Dinner. And a little vay-yay, as Adrian would say.”

Moira cocked her head. “Why?”

Tamara licked her lips. “You don’t like me, do you?”

“I never said that.”

Tamara laughed. “Oh honey, you should know by now that body language is worth so much more than words. Especially to people like us.”

Moira tilted her head in acknowledgement. “Touché. But I still wouldn’t say I don’t like you.”

“You think I’m competition.”

Moira looked her hard in the eyes. “Yes.”

Tamara’s smile widened. “Good. Now, where should we go to dinner? I’m starving.”

Moira sipped her wine and looked at Tamara. The Domme had found some hole in the wall she’d never been to before, mostly free of the tourist madness. They’d settled in a dim corner and eaten in a not-uncomfortable silence. Tamara took her time finishing the last bite of tiramisu, pulling the fork from her mouth in one long, sensuous line.

“Okay, maybe I do hate you a little.”

Tamara laughed and licked her fork one more time with a wink. “It’s all attitude. You’re getting there, and God help New Orleans when you really find it.”

Moira blushed but smiled. “I’ll take that as a high compliment.”

Tamara shrugged and set her fork down. “It’s plain what Adrian sees in you. And what Kara sees in you. But here’s the thing. Kara’s the only sub I’ve ever wanted to collar that said no to me. And collaring isn’t something I take lightly. Nor should it be. Kara is an incredibly special woman, and she deserves a Domme who both understands her, and knows what she needs.”

Moira looked at her hard, thinking. “I agree, she is. But I’m not sure what you’re driving at.”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

Moira took another sip, using the wine to buy time. “You still want to collar her.”

“I do.”

“And you think she’s wasted enough time on me.”

Tamara leaned back in her chair. “No, I don’t.”

“But you think she’s put her life on hold for me.”

“I think she’s held herself back, waiting for you.”

Moira stared at her glass, swirling the dark red liquid around, and hoping for answers in its depths. For all Tamara’s bravado, they were both choosing their words carefully. “Waiting for me. Adrian said that too. That she’s been waiting for me.”

Tamara opened her mouth and then shut it again, leaning forward for her own wine. “I admit, I don’t know what your history is, except that you grew up together and have been best friends forever. She talked about you all the time, but it was mostly stories. Would you mind enlightening me?”

Moira smiled at her wine. “We met in middle school. I couldn’t figure out my locker the first day, and Kara just bounced up next to me, grabbed the combination and spun it open. Hers was right next to mine, turned out. D’Arcangelis and Deschamps. And we were always in trouble together. My father was a mean drunk. Still is. So I spent every minute at Kara’s that I could.

“I think I was the first one she came out to. Blurted it out that she was seriously lusting on this girl in our high school gym class. And I didn’t care. I laughed my ass off at how she dropped it on me. It didn’t matter. It was Kara, and I couldn’t imagine my life without her. We roomed together in college, got in more trouble, and only got closer.”

Moira paused, her face darkening. “And then I met Justin. Kara disliked him from the start. But I thought he was everything I wanted. Kind, romantic, always there for me. Except that he wasn’t. The story made the national news, actually. Justin Surley, whose favorite hobby was raping and murdering women at Washington and Lee University. I was the one who got away.” She grimaced and knocked back the rest of her wine, suddenly wishing it were something harder.

Tamara stared at her. “You’re the one who put Surley away? God. I remember that. What they said on the news made me want to castrate him and set him on fire. Bastard.” She shook her head, then raised her glass. “You’re my new hero, I think. I can’t imagine living through that.”

Moira refilled her glass, wishing it would take away the bitter taste of the past. “As has been pointed out, I wasn’t really living. Oh, I got through it, and Kara was there with me for the whole ordeal. The first person to show up at the hospital, before my parents, even. She was the one who drove me to all my physical therapy and mental therapy. And she was the one who held me when I woke up screaming in the middle of the night. Every night, until the combination of medication and therapy got me past it, for the most part.

“But after we graduated, I couldn’t let her stay. I knew she would’ve. She’d always wanted to move to New Orleans, and when she got the chance, I practically shoved her out the door. Kara still begged me to come. But my mom had been diagnosed with cancer, and it made the perfect excuse to stay.”

“So when you did move down here…”

Moira nodded and took a long drink. “Mom died. I couldn’t stay. There wasn’t anything there for me anymore, and Kara, well, she was home. But even then, she was the only one who treated me like me. Everyone else saw me as too fragile. I’m sure a lot of that was my fault. Too timid, too content to let Kara live for me. She made me feel alive. Still does. Even now, I’m the most myself when I’m with her.”

Tamara set her glass down and looked at her a long time before speaking again. “Adrian tells me Kara insisted on being your first female sub.”

Moira smiled. “She did. That was, well, an eye-opening experience.”

“Have you been with another girl since?”

“No.”

“But you’ve been with her again.”

Moira raised her eyebrows in confirmation.

Tamara leaned forward quickly, startling Moira into looking up. “Then I have a proposition for you.”

Moira stared for a moment, drained her glass again and set it down empty on their table. “Shoot.”

“Top my Josephine.”

Moira turned her head slightly. “You want me to top your collared sub.”

“She’s collared as a trainee, not a slave like Seth. And I already let you play with him,” she added with a wicked grin. “She’s kind of a gift for Adrian. He’s always complaining he needs more good subs, and Josephine wants to move down here to be near the other side of her family. Really, I’m only facilitating an introduction.”

“Okay then. Why me?”

“I need to make sure she’s comfortable with other Dommes, and you need more experience topping girls. It’s a win no matter how you look at it.”

Moira played with the stem of her glass. “All right. I’ll do it. Not tonight, though. I’ve had way more of this wine than I should have.”

Tamara laughed. “No, not tonight. Tomorrow?”

“Hmm. I have a client tomorrow evening. Early, though, so maybe after?”

“Perfect.”

They talked for a little longer before Moira begged off, citing the fact that it was a school night. Tamara laughed, and they parted ways at the restaurant doors. The Bourbon Street crowd had overflowed onto Canal by then. Moira winced at the noise, already regretting the last glass of wine. But Tamara had intrigued her from start to finish, and she hadn’t expected that. Moira turned onto a quieter street and pulled out her phone.

Kara answered on the first ring. “Hey sexy! Where’re you at?”

“Walking. You’ll never guess who asked me to dinner.”

“Ooo, mystery boy, I like! Who is he?”

Moira laughed, letting her head fall back. She definitely shouldn’t have had that last glass of wine. “Not a boy, for starters. And it wasn’t like that.”

There was a moment of silence before Kara answered. “Moira D’Arcangelis, are you drunk?”

Moira shrugged. “Maybe.” She twirled in the street and laughed again. “Yes. I am. Definitely buzzed, at least. I had most of the bottle of wine myself, I think.”

“Get that ass of yours over here, right now.”

“That’s my Kara. You didn’t ask who I had dinner with.”

Another moment of silence. She smiled at what she knew was Kara glaring at the phone.

“Who did you go to dinner with?”

“Your Mistress Tamara. She showed up at school looking like a naughty librarian and asked if I wanted to get dinner.”

Silence.

“Kara Deschamps, speechless! I think that’s the first time in my life.”

“Moira, where are you?”

She laughed at the seriousness in Kara’s voice. “Guess.” She followed with a sharp rap on the door. Her phone went dead as the door opened. Kara stood there in sleep shorts and a tank top, a ponytail and a mildly disapproving look. Moira waggled her eyebrows and walked in. “Is there anything you don’t look hot in? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not looking good, you know that?”

Kara rolled her eyes and shut her door. “You are definitely more than buzzed. I need bourbon if I’m going to talk to you. I assume you want some too?”

“Yes, please!” Moira dropped her things and collapsed onto the couch.

Kara handed her a glass and squeezed in next to her. “What did Mistress Tamara want?”

Moira sipped the bourbon, letting the smoky heat trail down her throat. “God, that’s good. You always get the good stuff.” She set the glass down on the coffee table and leaned against Kara, wrapping an arm around her. “She wants you.”

Kara snorted. “So she asked you out to dinner? I feel like I’m missing the connection.”

“Oh, she wants me to top her sub. Josephine. The strawberry-blonde? Apparently she’s a gift for Adrian, and I’m supposed to see if she’s ready or some nonsense. And she thinks I need experience with more girls than just you.” She said that last with a bit of a pout.

Kara knocked back her bourbon and set the glass down with a wince. “What did you say?”

“I said I would. You should come. We’re meeting at Adrian’s tomorrow after I’m done with my client.”

“Maybe.”

Moira’s hand slid down Kara’s stomach. “You’re so tense. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you tense.”

“I’m cranky because you got drunk without me.” Her tone said otherwise.

“Ha. I don’t believe you.” Moira’s teeth nipped at Kara’s jaw as her hand plunged under the sleep shorts she wore. She smiled at Kara’s gasp of surprise, and pushed a finger and then two into her. “Does that help?”

Kara moaned. “Maybe I should get you drunk more often.”

Moira nuzzled at her neck. “That wasn’t an answer, my best subbie friend.” Her free hand slid under Kara’s sleep tank, brushing over her breasts, and lifting the shirt. Kara gasped again, her back arching at the combined sensation of Moira’s fingers moving in her, and Moira’s mouth as it closed on her nipple.

“God. Yes, Mistress. That helps.”

Moira’s teeth pulled at her nipple and then released as her fingers continued their slow rhythm. Her hand drifted up to Kara’s neck, tracing her collarbone and up her throat as Kara squirmed. “She wants to put a collar on this gorgeous neck of yours.” She ran her fingers along her soft skin. “She wants to tame you. Do you want a collar? An owner?”

“Moira, I—”

Moira pinched at her nipple hard, making her yelp. She shifted, leaning up over Kara as she slipped farther down the couch. Her fingers pushed deeper, harder, while her other hand circled Kara’s neck. She slowly stroked up and down the column of her neck. “I’m not that drunk, Kara. I know what you’re supposed to call me.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress. I—” Her words tumbled off into a core-deep moan, her back arching as Moira bent to suckle at her breast again.

Moira smiled as she sucked and nipped, her tongue rubbing the hardened nipple as she pushed a third finger deep. “Would you like to come, Kara, my beautiful girl?”

“Yes, Mistress, please…”

Moira laughed and switched to the other breast. She hummed her pleasure, a quiet counterpoint to Kara’s growing need. She slowly pulled away, releasing her nipple and rising up until she captured Kara’s eyes. Once she was sure Kara was watching, she slowly slid her whole body lower, letting her nose and lips trail along the skin of her friend’s torso. Her free hand tore at the shorts Kara still wore, an ungraceful one-handed fumbling attempt to disrobe her without stopping what she was doing. Because if she stopped, she’d think about what she was doing—drunkenly going down on her best friend. But God, the taste of her skin, the smell of her arousal… And this was so much more intimate, more personal, and the idea of her face buried between Kara’s beautiful thighs was suddenly all she could think about.