“It was his idea.”
“You knew he didn’t love you. He told you he didn’t love you.”
“He would love me. In time he would have loved me. Everyone loved me. Tout le monde. Oui? The most beautiful girl anyone has ever seen? I think you called me that once. Every boy at your school adored me.”
“It was an all-boys school. You weren’t special. You were just there, and they wanted to fuck you.”
“Oh là là, such language.” Nora walked around him, letting him hear her footsteps. “Were you jealous? Did you want to marry him? That would have been cute, you two standing at the altar.”
“Don’t be absurd. I didn’t want to marry anyone, not then or now. But I didn’t want him to marry you.”
“But he did. He must have wanted to marry me if he did it. He does everything for a reason.”
“You tell yourself that,” Kingsley said. “He fucked me, not you.”
“He respected me. He wanted us to wait until we knew each other better. That was all.”
“If you believe that, you’re crazier than I ever thought you were. You disgusted him. The way you threw yourself at him. The way you touched him when he slept, groping him, trying to arouse him. Not even I would ever touch him while he slept.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“He didn’t like it,” Kingsley said. “It reminded him of his sister, and he didn’t want to remember her. The same way I don’t want to remember you, you vile bitch.”
Nora didn’t speak at first, shocked by Kingsley’s rancor. She had to remind herself that it wasn’t her he was angry at, but his long-dead sister.
“Do I really deserve that?” Nora asked. “Your sister?”
“Non,” Kingsley said. “No, you don’t. Forgive me.”
“Why are you so angry at me? Is it because he picked me over you? He did it again, didn’t he? With his little girl who is bleeding from her ear out in the bedroom? He picked her over you, oui?”
“Non,” Kingsley said.
“He didn’t?”
“Non. She left him. Do you know why?”
“Tell me, mon frère.”
“She left him because he wanted to leave the priesthood for her. But you know something?”
“I’m waiting...”
“He offered to leave the priesthood for me, too.”
Nora’s eyes widened in shock. She almost gasped but she controlled herself. If she broke character for one second it would all fall apart.
“Did he?” She kept her voice light and curious.
“It was years ago, not long after he came to the city. He’d met his little girl, his little virgin queen, and he’d fallen in love with her. It hurt to know he loved her so much when I wanted him still. After eleven years I wanted him. And I told him I wanted him, and he asked me if he left the church for me, could I be faithful to him. I pretended at the time he was joking, but I know he wasn’t. He doesn’t make jokes like that. If I had said yes, if I’d agreed to be faithful to him and her, he would have done it.”
“You said no?” Nora asked, more stunned by this than anything else.
“I did.”
“Pourquoi? Why would you say no to his offer if you loved him so much?”
“Because I’m not sixteen anymore. He can have me on my terms or he can’t have me at all. And you know what else? I left him first. And it made me happy to do it. I took your broken, bloody body back to France and buried you next to our parents. And I knew he was in Maine waiting for me to come back to him. We’d pick up where we left off. He had his trust fund, all those millions of dollars were his because his wife was dead. I would go back, and we would be together, me and him. Lovers. Rich. Free. I didn’t go back.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t know at the time. I thought I was punishing him. But now I know I was saving myself. I wouldn’t have been his lover. I would have been his slave. I’d been his slave, and I didn’t want his chains anymore. But you can’t be in his bed without wearing his chains.”
No one knew the truth of that better than Nora.
“Do you regret it? Not going back to him?” she asked and wondered what her own answer to this question would be.
“Non,” Kingsley said. “I miss him, I love him, I want him. Je ne regrette rien.”
I regret nothing.
“Even my death? Do you regret killing me?”
“I didn’t kill you. You killed yourself.”
“Because you slept with my husband behind my back.”
“I would have let him fuck me in front of your face if I could have talked him into it.”
“I knew you hated me.”
“I hated your arrogance. You thought you could have any man in the world. You didn’t even love Søren. You wanted him because he didn’t want you. He wasn’t a man to you. He was a challenge. And you lost.”
“And look at us...neither of us has him now. Poor us.”
“Poor us? Do I look poor to you?” Kingsley demanded. “I’m rich. I have Juliette. She’s going to have my children someday. I have my home, my life. Work I love. And you’re lying in a grave in two pieces because you were so angry at your husband for wanting me instead of you, you killed yourself.”
“And you don’t miss me at all...” Nora put as much hurt into her voice as possible. Real hurt. Remembered hurt.
“That’s not true,” he said, his voice breaking—a crack, a chip in a wineglass, but still...a break.
“Isn’t it?”
“I loved you before... I did. We played together on the beach as children. You buried me in sand. When you cut your foot on the rock in the water, I carried you to Papa. You were so scared. You thought a shark would bite you because you bled in the ocean.” Kingsley laughed to himself. “There are no sharks off the coast of France.”
“I was a child. Children think silly things.”
“Why did you die?” Kingsley asked. “I didn’t want you to die. I wanted you to be angry. I wanted you to throw things at me. I wanted you to scream and hit me and hit him and tell us we were sick and disgusting. I wanted you to see he loved me, not you, and to have the marriage annulled. That’s all I wanted. You weren’t supposed to die. You weren’t supposed to run away. I know you. You were a fighter. You didn’t run when you were angry. You stayed. You fought. You didn’t run. Why did you run?”
“Je ne sais pas,” Nora whispered, touching the tears on Kingsley’s face. “I don’t know why I ran that day. But I regret it. We could have worked it out, you and I. It would have taken time. It would have hurt for a long time. But we could have loved each other again. I shouldn’t have died. And I’m sorry, Kingsley. Mon frère. Petit frère. I’m so sorry.”
“I am, too,” he whispered in French. Moi, aussi.
Nora kissed him on the cheek, both cheeks, and then she kissed his lips softly. As she kissed him, she reached behind his head and untied the blindfold. His eyes flew open and when he saw it was her, he kissed her back.
“Who am I?” Nora asked, making sure he saw her for who she really was. She dropped the French accent. The game was over.
“Nora. Mistress Nora.”
“And who are you?”
“Kingsley Edge.”
“And where are we?”
“Your dungeon in the club.”
“Good. Just checking,” she said, stroking his cheek with the back of her hand. “You did so good, King. So good.”
“You...” He exhaled heavily, as if he’d been holding his breath all this time. “You sick, sadistic bitch.”
“Who’s your queen?” she asked, batting her eyelashes.
“You are.”
“Now do I get my tip?”
“Majesty,” Kingsley said between breaths, “you get more than the tip. You can have every inch.”
18
Creating a Monster
NORA WRAPPED THE tie around Kingsley’s neck and drew him to the throne. She pushed him down into it and with three lengths of rope, tied hi
s hands over his head to the back of the chair and his ankles to the legs. His chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths. She could see the muscles in his stomach, tight and fluttering. Even bound to the chair he looked powerful, strong, dangerous, desirable.
“A throne fit for a king,” Nora said, running her fingers over the ridges of muscle in his stomach. Her fingers traveled from his stomach over his hip. She took his cock in her hand and stroked his full length from base to tip and back down again with a firm grip, just the way he liked it. “I hope you don’t mind my little game I played on you.”
“Mind what? What we were talking about again?”
“Now I know how women become the power behind the throne. We just give the king a reach-around.”
“A whore, a whore, my kingdom for a whore,” Kingsley said, and Nora laughed. He grinned broadly, his dark eyes shining with happiness and pleasure.
“Catharsis looks good on you, King,” Nora said, dropping to her knees in front of him. “And since you’re a king on a throne, I suppose I should kneel. I’d kiss your signet ring, but since you aren’t wearing one, I’ll have to find something else to kiss.”
“I have a suggestion...”
Nora needed no suggestions and no encouragement. She licked Kingsley in his favorite spot to be licked—right under the head. With a firm hand she held and massaged the base while her tongue worked up and down him and all around. He panted and pulled against his bonds.
“No coming,” she said, looking up at him. “That’s an order.”
“What if I do?”
“I’ll get out the cock ring and force you to get hard again, and if I do that, one of us is going to have fun with your cock, and it’s not going to be you.”
“I was wrong about you. I thought you would be almost as bad as the priest to play with.”
“And?”
“You’re worse.”
Such a compliment could only be rewarded with a round of passionate, thorough and vigorous cock-sucking. She stroked him as she sucked him, running her hands over his thighs and his scarred chest. It must have been the worst sort of torture to experience so much pleasure—pleasure that left him breathless and groaning—knowing he couldn’t come lest he face a very unpleasant consequence. Kingsley hated cock rings almost as much as he hated collars. But they weren’t a hard limit, which meant she could use one on him if he misbehaved.
She almost hoped he misbehaved.
But not yet. No coming yet. She wanted to enjoy this night for herself, for her own private reasons. Something bad had happened between her and Kingsley and she feared the rift between them would always be too vast for either of them to traverse to the other side. But here they were, baring their true selves to each other again, his masochistic side, her dominant side.
Nora saw Kingsley’s fingers clench into fists. A thousand nights with him had trained her to recognize that meant he was close to coming. She stopped sucking him and sat back on her knees.
Slowly he opened his eyes.
“I hate you,” Kingsley said.
“That hurts, King. That stings.”
“Do you know what hurts? Having an erection and being two seconds from coming and your domme stops sucking you off.”
“That is a very sad story. Tell me more.”
“I’ve created a monster.”
“You didn’t create a monster,” she said, leaning forward and putting both hands on either side of his head. She kissed his earlobe and bit it hard enough to make him flinch. “You just let her off her leash.”
She kissed him on the mouth before he could answer. From inside the top of her right boot she pulled out a condom. Kingsley’s head fell back, and he muttered a heartfelt “Dieu merci.” Thank God.
Nora left the throne and grabbed her lube and a small vibrator that fit over her finger.
“Oh...tingly,” Kingsley said as she rubbed him with the lubricant. She massaged him for a long time, long enough he started panting again. “How much longer are you going to torture me?” Kingsley asked, half smiling, half grimacing. He was brutally hard and still pulling on his wrist restraints. She wondered idly what he would do to her if he managed to escape his bonds. Probably a sex act still illegal in thirty-nine states. Too bad she’d tied him up so well.
“For the rest of your life, most likely,” Nora said. “In one way or another.”
“Good.”
“Now sit there like a good boy while I use your cock to get off.”
“Use me,” Kingsley breathed. “Use all of me.”
The throne was large enough for the both of them and then some. She straddled his lap, took his erection in her hand, and inch by inch, lowered herself onto him, sighing with pleasure as he filled her. He felt so good inside her, so big and hard and deep, it almost seemed like a crime to take money for this.
Not that that would stop her. She had a laptop to buy, after all.
Nora turned on the finger vibrator and pressed it to her swollen clitoris. Kingsley inhaled sharply.
“What did you feel?” she asked, as breathless now as he.
“You clenched,” he said. “I could feel it all around me. Felt like being squeezed by a hand.”
“You mean this?” She clamped her vaginal muscles down on him again and he gasped.
“That...is obscene,” he said between breaths. “Do it again.”
“What do we say when we want our Mistress to use her pussy to massage our cock?”
“S’il vous plaît, Maîtresse? You are the most beautiful mistress in the world and my body belongs to you for the next...” He glanced over her shoulder to the pendulum clock on the wall. “Twenty-three minutes.”
“Better make the most of you, then.”
She rocked her hips forward, the vibrator buzzing against her clitoris. Beneath her, Kingsley lifted his hips, moving with her and against her in slow undulations. Every thirty seconds or so she would concentrate solely on her inner muscles and clench them tight. Every time she did it, Kingsley rewarded her with a sharp intake of air. She cupped the back of his neck and kissed him again. Locked together like this, she couldn’t move much, but she didn’t have to or want to. Right now she wanted to stop time, rush nothing, enjoy every inch and every second and every shuddering ragged breath.
“It’s good to be in you again...” he murmured against her lips. “You stayed away too long.”
“I’m back now.”
“You won’t leave again?”
“Of course not. Who would beat the hell out of you if I did?”
“Life,” he said. And it was such an adorably cynical French thing to say that Nora laughed and kissed him.
The kiss turned passionate, then torrid. Her blood burned in her veins and she gripped Kingsley’s shoulder to ride out the orgasm that tore through her, sending currents of electricity in waves and spikes and delicious tremors.
As she caught her breath, she managed to ask him, “Did you come, too?”
“Non.”
“You didn’t?” As hard as Nora came, she assumed everyone else in the world had orgasmed, as well.
“You haven’t given me permission to come.”
“Oops. I knew I was forgetting something.” She reached above his head and untied his hands from the top of the throne. She lifted herself off him and knelt between his knees. “I’m letting you go but only to change positions.”