Picture Her Bound-epub (10 page)

Odalia could feel them standing on the precipice of something, a foreboding she couldn’t get a read on. If she fell off this ledge, would he catch her? Or would she tumble to her death?

Jacques closed the distance and encircled her chest, unfastening the catch of her bra. She let it fall to the floor and kicked it to the side, out of the way. Her panties went next, and then she was as naked as he was, save for the bandages on her new ink and the wound.

He took her arm and pulled her in front of him again. Back to front, she let her eyes drift closed, swaying with him to a rhythm only they heard.

Oh bayou, my baby on the bayou tonight. I’ll fly o’er that bayou to you.

Jacques fiddled with something on his wrist. She peeked at it out of one eye then gasped.

He held a narrow band of leather, maybe three inches wide, stained a dark chocolate. The outer surface of it was stamped with a design every few inches.

A design she knew.

The same design freshly inked on her thigh.

“I made this a few weeks ago. Guess I’ve been wanting someone to give it to.” His voice rumbled over her. “My
mamère
had it stitched on her kitchen towels, said it put love into everything she cooked.”

“My dad had it tattooed over his heart,” she said, hating the watery quality of her voice.

“We’re two lost souls,
bébé,
you and I. I failed you once. I’d like to prove to you that it’ll never happen again.”

She twisted in his arms. “You never failed me.”

The muscle in his jaw jumped. “I did. I knew not to photograph your face, and I couldn’t help myself.”

“The pictures were beautiful.” There were some of those shots they’d never recreate, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t try.

For a moment they stared at each other. The hardness in his gaze said that he’d bear the weight no matter what. As frustrating as it was, she knew how seriously he took his role and how much he respected her.

“What I’m trying to ask is,” he licked his lips, “
bébé
, would you consider wearing my collar?”

Invisible fingers ran down her body, and she sucked in a breath. “Yes.”

Odalia gathered her hair and lifted it off her neck while Jacques buckled the leather into place. She smiled as the weight of the collar settled around her.

It felt right.

What were the odds that the same symbol would be important to both of them?

One in a million.

The camera flash burst again, capturing the moment for all time. Two people, stripped bare, made new.

Jacques cupped her face and kissed her, and for the first time, she could truly savor this kiss from her man. She rose up, winding her arms around his neck to get closer, and deepened the kiss, opening her mouth for him and sucking on his tongue.

He swept her up in his arms, and she laughed, free to enjoy this new relationship, this commitment binding them together. His gaze was open to her now, nothing hidden. She’d expected the lust that they’d shared, but there was more behind it. Odalia wanted to laugh with this man, she wanted to cook dinner and watch horrible cop shows and talk about the future. She wanted it all, and gazing into his eyes, she knew he wanted it too. In time.

Jacques set her on an old, claw-foot couch covered in burgundy velvet.

“You never let me down, you know that?” she said again.

“Nothing like that will ever happen again.” He spoke with the certainty of a man who knew facts, and yet, wasn’t there a camera set up a few feet away?

Jacques turned as if reading her mind and retrieved the camera, flipping a switch. He brought it to her and knelt next to the couch, turning the screen so she could see the images.

Set against the white background, her skin complemented his darker tones. The top of the frame cut off at her shoulders, and in a few of the images, her chin dipped into view. But never her face. They weren’t perfectly in focus, and not all of them were on center, but they captured a moment when nothing more powerful than the love of a man bound her in pictures.

“How? When did you set this up?” she asked, taking the camera and flipping through the shots herself.

“Earlier today.” He kissed her shoulder and traced circles on her thigh.

She handed the camera back to him and shook her head. There were no words.

“I missed you,” Odalia said after a moment.

“Mouton was very specific about giving you space.”

“And when did you start listening to cops?” She chuckled. Of course he was. Mathieu was the only thing close to family she had.

“Never. I just took some time to consider his suggestions.” He sat on the couch next to her.

It was a pity she had both an injury and a new tattoo, but those were only on her legs.

Odalia twisted, throwing one leg over his to straddle Jacques’ lap. The sound of the dungeon music rose, signaling the evening was in full swing and their time in the private boudoir was ticking down. All the private rooms had limits on how long they could be reserved for.

“We should commemorate this, don’t you think?” She slid her palms up and down his chest.

“My collar isn’t good enough for you?” He slipped his fingers under the leather and gave it a tug.

“It’s plenty good, Sir, but it’s you I want.”

Jacques regarded her for a moment, gaze heavy lidded. “Move.”

She shifted so he could stand.

“On your knees. Hands on the back of the couch.”

Odalia obeyed but couldn’t resist a glance over her shoulder. Jacques pulled his play bag out from under a table and removed not one but two floggers. She grinned, liking where this was going.

Play connected them, but it also released endorphins into her system that were natural painkillers and muscle relaxers, and even relieved migraines.

He swung the two leather floggers, following a figure-eight pattern.

She was going to like this.

Odalia pulled her hair over her shoulder and braced herself on the back of the couch. She heard the leather whistle through the air, the pitch rising as he increased the speed. Her breath stuttered in her chest, and she dug her nails in, ready for the first lick.

The sound stopped suddenly.

Leather fell down her back, and she jumped, startled. She chuckled and let her head drop forward, surrendering herself to his ministrations. He was her Dominant now. Hers. And no one else’s.

The leather gently slapped her bottom, and another swing went between her legs. She gasped and squirmed, clenching her muscles. Whistling again and
smack
! She grunted at the first true blow across her shoulders, followed in quick succession by more. The flogging was by no means as hard as the first he’d given her, but the idea of submitting to him, being under his control, gave tonight a sense of completion. This was right.

Each lick of the leather on her skin brought the blood closer to the surface, heating her skin and releasing endorphins into her body. She yelped when he wrapped the tails around her side, tickling her breasts.

“Don’t move.” He laughed and wrapped on the other side.

Odalia squirmed in place.

Jacques cracked his hand across her ass.

“I said don’t move,” he taunted, amusement lacing his voice.

He rubbed her bottom and up her back. She arched like a cat, luxuriating in his touch. He kissed a line down her spine. She heard the rustling of plastic and the unmistakable sound of latex on skin.

Odalia bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder. Jacques knelt behind her on the ground, his hands on her hips, and brushed a kiss over an angry red mark. Her heart fluttered. His gaze locked with hers, and no words needed to be spoken.

They’d reached a level Odalia had never attained before. With anyone. Their souls felt laced together on an elemental level. When his heart beat, so did hers.

Jacques stood and leaned over her, planting one hand on the couch while the other grasped her hair. She had a sneaking suspicion the man harbored a hair fetish, but she wouldn’t hold it against him. Unless he asked her to.

She smiled and bent at his urging, offering her mouth for a kiss that was sweet.

The feel of his cock against her quickened her pulse. She dug her fingers into the cushions and sighed as he thrust. Almost two days was too long to wait.

She lowered to her elbows, resting her face against the cushions, and pushed her hips back to meet him. They groaned as one.

“Better every fucking time,” he rumbled.

“Mmm hmm.” Words were beyond her. The world was sounds, smells, colors and emotions.

Jacques thrust hard, rocking her forward into the couch. His hand on her hair remained firm without jerking. Each slide of his flesh against hers sent shudders of pleasure coursing through her body. She moaned, working with him, setting up a steady, driving rhythm.

He gripped her hip tight enough that she might even be left with bruises, but she loved every second of it, especially how this thing between them drove him as crazy as it did her.

“Oh, God,” she muttered and squeezed her eyes shut.

Odalia’s body rushed toward the edge, and there was no holding her back. Jacques thrust harder, and she shot over the edge, the euphoria coiling and coalescing around her, as if she were in a free fall. Jacques went still behind her, groaning as he joined her in bliss.

She sucked in deep lungfuls of air and slumped against the couch, completely spent and boneless.

Jacques eased out of her and helped her to lie down while he cleaned them both up. She smiled as he discarded wet wipes in the garbage across the room. He could make tea, beat her ass and deliver orgasms that curled her toes.

“What’s that smile for?” He grabbed a blanket from his bag and wrapped them up in it, her head cradled on his chest.

“I’m happy,” she said.

“I’m glad.” He kissed her forehead. “Happy New Year.”

“
Laissez les bons
,” she kissed his cheek, “
temps rouler
.”

“Why don’t we go to your place and watch the countdown with Creature?” Jacques suggested.

Her heart swelled twice as big. She added liking her dog to the list and grinned.

Yes, it was going to be a very good beginning to a new year.

It can never be said that Sidney Bristol has had a ‘normal’ life.  She is a recovering roller derby queen, former missionary, and tattoo addict. She grew up in a motor-home on the US highways (with an occasional jaunt into Canada and Mexico), traveling the rodeo circuit with her parents. Sidney has lived abroad in both Russia and Thailand, working with children and teenagers. She now lives in Texas where she splits her time between a job she loves, writing, reading and belly dancing.

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Coming in 2014

Officer Mathieu Mouton sat at one of the four top tables along the windows of Cafe Du Monde and gazed out at the darkening city, an unsettled sense of foreboding deep in his gut. The glitz and glitter of New Orleans stared back at him, like a young woman hungry for her beau. If it weren’t for his sister, Mathieu would have been at home flipping through the channels, trying to put another week behind him.

Instead, he checked his phone again.

She needs your help, Mathieu.

He grimaced at the echo of his sister’s words as she’d cornered him in their mamma’s kitchen after Sunday dinner. Damsels in distress were a dime a dozen in New Orleans, and getting entangled in a charity project was not on his list of good ideas. But no one said no to Lola. Not even grandmère. If Lola weren’t poised to take over the Assistant District Attorney spot opening in the spring, grandmère would have made Lola a Voodoo queen.

The coffee in his cup was cold, the beignet untouched.

If this broad didn’t show up in the next—

The café door opened and a bell chimed. A woman wearing a cherry red coat that covered her from knee to chin stepped in and shook the chill from her body. She carried a backpack that was stuffed until the seams strained.

She was the only person who’d entered the café in the last fifteen minutes.

Mathieu sat forward, propping his elbows on the table as he studied the patron.

She turned, honey blonde hair streaked with golden brown hair flipping over her shoulder as she surveyed the room. Her eyes snagged on him immediately and he sucked in a deep breath.

“
C'est sa couillion
.” He was a raving lunatic.

No wonder Lola hadn’t told him the name of the woman he was meeting. She started towards him. Mathieu could feel the cosmic pull between their two bodies. It’s what had drawn him to her all those years ago.