Wedding Favors (30 page)

Kendra made a sensual sound, and he kissed her. Their mouths came together quickly, creating a flurry of tongue-thrusting sensations.

He kept the dildo pressed against her, rubbing until her hips flexed and she rattled the chains on the manacles. On the edge of an orgasm, she started to close her eyes, but he wanted her focused on him.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes flew open, and while she gazed directly at him, he watched her come.

James reacted like the hungry male he was. Not only was he painfully erect, he was leaking pre-cum.

After she had recovered from her climax, he removed a vanilla-flavored condom from his pocket, opened the packet, and sheathed the dildo. Giving himself a thrill, he brought it to her lips.

She stuck out her tongue and licked it. “It tastes like pudding.”

Ah, yes, he thought, like her favorite dessert. “Do you want more?”

She nodded, and he pushed it gently into her mouth and moved it back and forth, creating a blow job rhythm. While she sucked, he imagined that she was doing it to him.

By now, he was leaking like crazy.

She had a slow, sultry technique, and he watched and watched, mesmerized by her.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, he got rid of the dildo and dug around in his pocket for the other condom, preparing to use it on himself. Kendra looked so damn sweet standing there with her arms above her head, waiting to be fucked.

He ditched his shirt and shoved down his jeans, and once he was properly protected, he moved in for the kill, clutching her ass and pulling her against him.

The air in her lungs whooshed out, and he maneuvered her hips so he could thrust into her.

Just like that, he was inside. She was tight and wet and moaning his name. She couldn’t move her arms, but she was doing her damnedest to sling one of her legs around him.

Not that he was complaining. He grabbed the leg she was trying to hoist and helped her get into the position she craved. It worked mighty fine for him, too, enhancing the frenzied friction.

James loved the mindless pace. He loved listening to the jangle of chains as he pumped into her. Steeped in aggression, he kissed her hard and fast.

He’d never been addicted to anything before, but he feared this would be his downfall, his drug of choice.

More of the dungeon. More of her.

Embroiled in lust, he sucked on the side of her neck, leaving marks on her skin. She reacted by bowing her body and inviting him to thrust deeper, to use her for his pleasure.

Experimentation. Bondage and domination.

Sex in the darkest of ways.

Now
that it was over, Kendra felt as if she’d been in a train wreck. Her entire body ached. Yet nothing could have aroused her more.

James took care of the condom, then removed her manacles. She went straight into his arms. All she wanted was to stay close to him.

He nuzzled her hair. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m not spacey like last time.” Did that mean she was getting used to being a sub? That it was part of her nature?

He ran a hand up and down her naked spine. “Are you hungry? We could go to my apartment and fix something.”

Food, she thought. Sustenance. It was the middle of the afternoon, and neither of them had eaten. “That’s probably a good idea.”

They nuzzled a moment longer, then got dressed, closed up the attic, and made their way to his apartment.

In keeping with the rest of the house, he’d filled it with Victorian antiques. The living room furniture consisted of a large sofa with a button-tuft back, matching side chairs, and an ornately carved table. Converted oil lamps and area rugs were scattered throughout. So was a bit of clutter. As nice as his place was, he was still a bachelor who left things sitting around.

He gave her a tour, and they lingered in his bedroom.

He said, “Bedsteads from this era weren’t very big, so I had it extended so it would fit a king.”

She imagined being tied to the iron posts. But she envisioned sleeping in his arms, too. “It looks comfortable.”

“It’s a feather mattress. If you want to stay with me for the rest of your vacation, you can.”

Oh, wow. Was he a mind reader? Or just feeling the same way she did? “I’d like that very much.”

“Once Claire finds out that you temporarily moved in, she’ll probably take some of the credit. She’s been encouraging me to be with you.”

“If I tell Cathy and Ken about us, they’ll probably think it’s cool, too.” She laughed a little. “I guess I better tell them before they realize I’m not in my room anymore.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I suppose so. But they’ll be leaving soon.”

She nodded. Most of the wedding party would be gone by the end of the week, including the bride and groom.

“I’m glad you’ll be here a little longer,” he said.

“So am I.” She wondered what it would be like to stay with him forever. He was everything a girl could wish for.

Wish?
Like at the fountain?

Last night she’d considered how easy it would be to fall in love with him, and today she was daydreaming about being his life partner. Damn that voodoo.

“Are po’boys okay?” he asked. “I’ve gotten pretty good at making them.”

It took her a moment to realize he was referring to their food. Obviously her mind was somewhere else. Love and forever. She had to quit thinking about it.

She focused on his question. She knew that po’boys were New Orleans-style submarine sandwiches. “Sure.”

“How about sausage? Fully dressed?”

Once again, she agreed. Fully dressed, she assumed, meant lettuce and tomato and whatever else went on the sandwiches.

They headed to the kitchen and got started. While the sausage cooked in a heavy skillet, he showed her how to make Creole mustard.

“You’re quite the New Orleans boy,” she said.

“I like it here.”

“You certainly look the part.” She studied his features. “What combination of Creole are you?”

“A fair amount of French, a touch of Spanish, and whole lot of Native American. I’ve got Choctaw blood on my mother’s side, too.”

Which, she surmised, accounted for his straight black hair and bold features.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me?” She shrugged. “I’m white bread.”

“White bread means plain, Kendra.” He roamed his dark gaze over her. “And there’s nothing plain about you.”

Her skin went warm. He had such a sexy way of making her feel beautiful. “I’m English, French, and Scandinavian.”

“So there you go.” He was still gazing at her. “We’ve got French roots in common.”

“I don’t know the language.”

“I’m not fluent, either. I only know enough to get by. Besides, French isn’t spoken much here anymore, except among the Cajuns, and they have their own dialect.”

“Isn’t Creole a French dialect, too?”

“It’s not a dialect. It’s a language, and in Louisiana it was derived from French with traces of Spanish, Native, and African influences.”

“Like the people?”

He nodded. “
Bonswa
means good evening or good night in Creole. So this is the Good Night Inn.”

“That works.” She imagined having plenty of good nights here.

They finished making the po’boys, then sat across from each other at the kitchen table and dived in. It was just about the messiest sandwich Kendra had ever eaten. But it was wonderfully spicy, too.

“So what do you do?” he asked.

She blotted her mouth. “Do?”

“Your job.”

“I work for a charity that helps the homeless.”

“Really? That’s great. New Orleans could sure use a girl like you. Parts of this city are still suffering.”

“Were you here during the storm?”

He shook his head. “I inherited the house after it happened. But I’m happy to be involved in the regrowth.”

“The organization I work for has an office here. I could probably get transferred if I set my mind to it.”

“Would you want to live in the Big Easy?”

Good question. Would she?

Yes, she thought, if it meant making some sort of life with him. Once again, she cursed the fountain and its voodoo. Honestly, how mixed up could she be?

Unsure of how to respond, she skirted the issue. “So what’s your favorite thing to do here?”

“Mostly I work. But I like going to blues clubs.”

“I’ve been to some bigger blues venues in L.A., but I’ve never been to one of those smoky little retro clubs.”

“I know of a place like that, and I’d be glad to take you.” He looked directly across the table at her. “Maybe tonight?”

He was asking her on a date? Kendra’s heart went pitter-pat. Foolish and girlish. “I’d love to go with you.”

Tonight or any other night,
she thought, unable to fight the spell she was under.

 

 

As
James escorted his companion into the club, the singer moaned out a Skip James song and a harmonica wailed from one of the other players.

“Is this what you had in mind?” he asked her.

She nodded. “I feel like I’m in another world.”

“You are.” Smoke drifted in shadowed corners, clinging to scarred wood and purple velvet.

He glanced around and located a table in back, and they were forced to sit body-heat close.

Once they were settled, he put his hand on her knee, pleased that she’d worn a short skirt. He appreciated that women rarely wore stockings anymore. He loved the look and feel of bare flesh. Leaning forward, he kissed her, tongue and all. James wasn’t prone to Frenching in public, but this place and this woman seemed to demand it.

They separated, and she looked about ready to climb into his lap. He still had his hand on her leg.

Her breath rushed out. “I want to order a Southern cocktail. Do you have any suggestions?”

“You could do a mint julep. Or if you want something that originated in New Orleans, you could try a Sazerac. It dates back to the eighteen hundreds. The original recipe was French brandy, a secret blend of bitters, a splash of water, and a bit of sugar.”

“What’s the recipe now?”

“It’s pretty much the same except it calls for rye instead of brandy, and the bitters are no longer a secret.” James let his hand creep up a bit more, moving toward her thigh. “You’re supposed to sip it slowly so you can taste the layers. The rye is spicy with a touch of honey.”

She looked into his eyes. “I’ll get one of those.”

“Good choice.” He kissed her once again, savoring her much in the way he’d told her to savor the drink.

As soon as they came up for air, the cocktail waitress appeared at their table. With her dark skin, bright cotton dress, and thick accent, James suspected that she was a Creole of color. She smiled quite seductively. She’d obviously watched them kiss.

Kendra ordered a Sazerac. James gazed curiously at the waitress and went for a gin and tonic.

When she left he said, “She looks like Marie Laveau’s daughter.”

Kendra blinked. “That’s not funny, James.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. She reminds me of the paintings I’ve seen of her.”

“What was the daughter’s name? I don’t think you ever told me.”

“Her name was Marie, just like her mother.

“There were two Marie Laveaus?”

He nodded, and soon the waitress returned with their order, shooting him the same seductive smile. As she walked away, the band began to play “I Put a Spell on You.”

Kendra shivered. “Okay, now this is getting creepy.”

He latched on to his drink and took a quick belt. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

Clearly, she wasn’t convinced. “A mystic fountain, a telling song, and a cocktail waitress who resembles a voodoo queen. How can that not be something to worry about?”

“The waitress isn’t a ghost.” To make his point, he added, “Everyone else at the club can see her, too.” Or could they? Maybe her appearance looked different to the rest of the patrons.

“Whoever or whatever she is, I think it’s proof that we’re both under the same spell.”

“Maybe so, but it doesn’t matter, does it? The magic was already at work before you got here. You with your dreams, me restoring the dungeon. We were meant to have this affair.”

“It was a predestined spell, and when I leave New Orleans, it’ll be broken?” She searched his gaze. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes.” Or so he hoped. “I should take the dungeon apart after you’re gone, just to be sure.” To stop the craving, he thought. To keep from missing her.

“So, when this is over between us, you’re never going to do to anyone else what you’ve been doing to me?”

“No, I’m not.” He couldn’t imagine pinning another butterfly to his wheel. “What about you? Are you going to do it again?”