“Would you like to know what’s going on, pet?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Five men… taking turns to kiss and suck her painted, jewelled toes… two women… one blonde, one brunette… sucking her black nipples…”
I saw out of the corner of my eye that a vein in Dante’s neck twitched.
“…she’s frigging herself, beneath a leather skirt. How wet do you imagine her to be?”
“How long has she been there?”
“Going by the sheen of sweat on her brow, I’d say we’re talking multiples by now.”
“Then I’d say she’s waterlogged. Wringing wet.”
“I quite agree.”
I crossed my legs on the chair, reminding him, “Now, that punishment.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“You’re really okay with whatever…”
He nodded.
I tugged his underwear open at the back, ready to put his balls on ice.
I showed him the ice and asked in an innocent tone, “All of it, dear?”
He shrugged and that was good enough for me. I wanted the beast later, I wanted more… I wanted all of him. I wanted to free the monster inside… and let him know I loved him, too.
I dropped the entire glass of ice into his pants and he cried out at the sensation.
“Bad boy,” I chuckled.
He was lucky the ice had melted slightly and wasn’t as sticky with frost still, like it was when the barman first brought it over to me.
He hunched over, shuddering with pain.
“Okay, pet?”
He nodded, not reaching for the safe word.
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
“Yes? Am I going to be reimbursed later?”
He nodded slowly and we sat there; me watching everyone else; me telling him about the things going on around us.
Some men were wrapped in cling film, just their mouths free to lick pussy. Dozens of pussies, taking it in turns.
Women on women, too: it was something I had often thought about trying for myself, but now I had Dante I couldn’t imagine needing anything but him.
Men painted other men with chocolate and then licked it off to impress their Mistresses who masturbated while watching men on men, man on man.
Sometimes, when we visited the club, I left feeling shocked that people could still surprise me. However, I’d seen a lot so everything was becoming less and less surprising.
It got so heady sometimes, you left Cohésion feeling certain the scent of pussy would never leave the insides of your nostrils, let alone the scent of dried-on cum mixed with leather. It was a female-centric club so women ruled, not men. Few men were allowed to pleasure themselves in front of the women, but their cocks could hardly help but slide a load out now and again as they enjoyed the debasement of themselves at the hands of old women, young women, beautiful women, ugly women, fat women, skinny women… all women.
Dante had knelt on all fours for most of the night with his pants full of ice or icy water and I could see him sagging, see he was tired. “Are you ready to leave?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he said, his voice weak.
This was the thing about Dante; he willingly suffered and took it like a man, and he’d never used the safe word in all the time we’d been doing this together. I didn’t know if it was that he had a high pain threshold, or if it was that he was incapable of admitting he was human.
“You may crawl behind me,” I said, giving him chance to let blood circulate around his body again.
I took my phone out of my coat pocket in the cloak area and called Sexton. “We’re ready.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in ten.”
I watched curiously as Dante rubbed his spine and stretched his legs, finally standing again.
“I never asked…” I glanced at him as he removed the chain from the hoop on his collar. “…where does he stay in Paris?”
Dante couldn’t speak. Not initially. I saw in his eyes anger and despair, and numbness. Had I upset him? Pushed him to the limit? What had I done? We’d played with ice before but it was true, I’d never put a glassful down his pants all at once – until then.
“Where does Sexton stay while in Paris?” I asked again, simplifying the question.
“He has a woman,” he mumbled, tugging on his coat angrily.
“Only in Paris?”
He nodded abruptly.
My phone tinkled and it was time to go down.
We took the rickety stairs out and waited in the cool air outside for no longer than a minute, not long enough to get accosted by a prospective escort for the night.
“Get in Cleo,” my lover ordered.
Instead of helping me into the car and jumping in after me, Dante poked his head through the driver’s side window and asked Sexton, “Can you walk home? I have somewhere I need to take Cleo.”
“Of course, I love walking in Paris. Have a good time.”
Sexton left the car and Dante jumped into the driving seat. Before I was given chance to ask if I could sit up front with him, he screeched off, my head knocking against the headrest. Quickly belting myself up, I feared the worst and gulped, knowing I’d really angered him.
Nine
HE DROVE LIKE A MANIAC through Paris, up hills, round bends… without care. I wasn’t sure if he even knew where we were going… was he just trying to scare me?
One thing I did know, he needn’t consider a career as a chauffeur. I also sensed the car was a hire job because he wouldn’t dare throttle the clutch like that on his own machine, surely?
“DANTE! Explain, please!”
“We’ll be there soon, honey bun!” he called, sounding like the perfect maniac he really was.
I saw in the reflection of the mirrors that his coat wasn’t even done up properly so if this was daytime (it wasn’t; it was two in the morning), everyone would get a lovely view of his exposed chest which displeased me.
He was mine and all those contours and that sheen of light-brown fur coating his muscles was for my eyes alone. At least outside of the club.
After a twenty-minute rollercoaster ride, we skidded to a halt near Cimetière du Père Lachaise. I knew of it because I’d been before… to pay my respects to Oscar Wilde, Balzac, Jim Morrison, Chopin… the list went on. I thought it was a wildly romantic place to visit on a spring day, a book under one arm, a baguette under the other. Angrily, he left the car and yanked my door open, holding out his hand for me to grab a hold of. As soon as he had hold of me he tugged me towards the ugly green gates which stood between the high walls of the cemetery, and I dared not tell him it was shut at night. With his back up he reminded me of the scary, gnarled creature from Beauty and the Beast… only his clothes didn’t cover up his beastly body beneath, because his coat still laid open.
“For fuck…” He complained, realising he was foiled, his fists banging on the doors when we arrived and he saw a notice displaying daylight opening hours.
“Dante–”
“Don’t you dare defy me,” he growled, nostrils flared.
He dragged me back to the car and another insidious car journey got underway, although this time I sat up front with him, watching the maniac alongside me hunt for whatever it was he wanted.
Holding onto the steering wheel with his eyes like the wolf’s and his claws wrapped around the leather, he grunted as he looked one way, then the other.
Perhaps he wanted to bury me alive tonight alongside a favourite poet, painter or composer of his?
Eventually the car jolted again as he screeched to a halt and I was dragged off once more, but this time into the grounds of a small church which fortunately (or unfortunately, I wasn’t sure what I was facing) didn’t lock its gates at night.
He was seeking, looking side to side, then he grunted like the beast incarnate when he saw something he liked.
Dragging me quickly with him, he pushed me up against a tree.
“First thing’s first,” he warned, his
eyes shining against a bright full moon like a set of traffic lights saying GO.
He tugged my coat off and threw it to the ground, and I looked warily at our surroundings which were quiet and empty. It was just us, shielded by another Paris cemetery heavily laden with trees and shrubbery.
The cold air forced goose pimples all over my arms and I shivered as he stole my handcuffs, took my arms behind the tree, and locked me up. So, he’d been looking madly for a tree, just a tree, one which had the right circumference to tie me to.
Rounding back to me, his eyes narrowed and he stared lasciviously, triumphantly, hands on his hips.
“Are you going to get your own back now, sir? Leave me here… locked up all night… for the dirty vicar to find me in the morning.”
He growled. “Words like that will only earn more punishment.”
“Punish me, then,” I begged.
He launched forward, his hands on my cheeks, his teeth and tongue scraping my mouth out and into his. I loved this man so much, it hurt.
He ripped open my trousers and shoved a hand inside my black lace thong beneath. I tried to tear my mouth away but he insisted on continuing to roughly kiss me, his stubble bruising my lips and grazing my chin. I wanted to scream, and shout, cry out that I loved him… but I realised he was muffling me so we didn’t catch the wrong attention.
He dug his fingers inside my wet pussy, hooking them as he pushed in and out, drawing such pleasure from my body that my eyes rolled back and I felt powerless. He used his hand to thrust manically and I came, biting his tongue, gasping for breath.
He was in a hurry, desperate not to get caught, even though there was only a small chance at such a time of night.
“Quiet, Ciara,” he warned, ghosting warm lips over my cold throat, setting my skin alight.
His right hand groped my breast while with his left hand, he began nudging his pants down, then mine. Surrounded by his big black coat, nobody would be able to see what we were doing beneath.
He released one of my nipples and dug his incisor straight into my bud, dragging a suppressed cry from my lips. I looked down and for a brief moment, I saw how purple and hurt his cock looked. He’d suffered for me.
“Dante,” I cried, upset.
He looked down too and murmured, “Let your warmth heal me.”
He pushed my trousers to my ankles and kicked my legs apart, lifting one of my thighs slightly to spread me more. His knees bent, he dug up into me and smothered my cries with a hand. He shocked me with how cold his cock still felt, and also, with how big and vicious he felt, too. Bigger than I’d ever felt him.
I drew in manic breaths through my nostrils, sucked at his palm like I might die if I didn’t, and I felt tears leave my eyes because I was so painfully aroused. I bit his palm and squeezed my eyes shut when I felt him come deep inside me.
I couldn’t come. It was all too much. I felt so raw with emotion, I couldn’t relax enough for it to happen again.
He quickly withdrew and helped me get dressed, then he got himself dressed. He carried me back to the car in his arms and placed me on the backseat. I fell into random, dazed dreams with the steady whirring of the car beneath my ear. When we arrived back at the apartment, he lifted me out again and carried me upstairs to our place.
He stripped me and put me in bed naked and I cuddled on top of his body.
“Will you marry me, Ciara?” he asked as we laid still and at peace.
I lifted up on top of him, searching his eyes. “Pardon?”
He reached out and stroked my hair. “Will you marry me, beautiful?”
I looked into his glistening eyes. “Yes.”
I buried my lips in his and he made love to me.
***
“WHEN we met, I was just a girl.”
He lay in bed beside me, our legs tangled, arms holding one another. It was midday or something and we were yet to leave the bed since he’d proposed last night.
He kissed my nose, shaking his head. “It wasn’t that.”
“I was though, I was too young. Too skinny.”
“You’ve always been perfect, but you are mature now, and full grown since Mr Domino became your number one takeaway delivery man.”
I pressed my lips together to stop myself smiling. “It tastes so good and you never said I couldn’t… so I did.”
I stroked my hand along his torso, all the ripples and joins in his body right beneath my touch. Just this was a miracle, lying in bed together.
“Shall we seek a ring today?”
I dared not believe it was happening and replied, “Maybe.”
Trailing my fingers through the sleek trail of hair at the bottom of his tummy, I caught his eyes briefly.
“Maybe…?” He seemed hurt.
“I won’t marry you until you tell me about the side of your life you said was a closed book.”
He frowned, and his lip twitched.
“You know… even when you know, it won’t make any difference. We both know our love is real. The rest doesn’t matter.”
“Stuff that takes you from my bed to work long into the night… stuff that keeps this brain occupied,” I said in a warning tone, tapping his head, “does matter. It all matters.”
“I have enough money to retire. I’ll retire!” He turned on his back and tossed his hands in the air. “Import Clothes is running like a well-oiled machine. The people running it earn me enough money.”
“Dante,” I said softly, rolling onto my stomach, resting my head on my elbows so I could look across at him.
“Yes?”
“Just tell me.”
He took a deep breath and warred with himself internally, puffing his cheeks out, over and over.
“Okay,” he breathed, “fine. Here we go.”
“Here we go…”
“Yep.”
“Yes?”
“I’m a fixer,” he said, quick as you like. “There, it’s out.”
“Like on the TV show?” I cackled.
He looked sternly into my eyes. “Not at all like the TV show. I’m a fixer, Ciara.”
I chewed my lip. “Is that not good?”
“I make deals for people they wouldn’t want to do in person. I’m an agent, like I said.”
“Sounds shady,” I hazarded.
“It is.”
“So, why do you do it?”
He sat up against the headboard and shrugged. “Because I do.”
Another derivative answer…
“If clothes earn you enough…”
He puffed his cheeks again. “Because I get bored, and fixing doesn’t bore me, it tests me. It keeps me occupied. It keeps me challenged.”
“Challenged, how so?”
He tapped his head. “Like you said.”
“So, this challenge the job poses… I’ll replace this challenge, will I? I’ll fill the need you have and you’ll be happy enough with just me to challenge you?”
He pursed his lips. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“I’m saying I’ll quit it all, for you! Doesn’t that make you happy? Not even a little bit pleased that the thing I love to do, I’ll quit for you!” He folded his arms across his chest and all the veins in his forearms bulged.
“Don’t use your mind games on me Sonny Jim!”
“Mlah blah blah flah,” he mumbled like a child, “don’t use your mind games on me…” he repeated, in a mimicking tone of voice.
I shook my head at him. “You’re being pathetic.”
I ran for the bathroom and slammed the door, locking it.
“Ciara! Come on! Come on!” he asked, and I heard him coming to the door.
I sat on the closed lid, holding my head in my hands. “It’s dangerous, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“That’s why you kept me at a distance?” It all sank in…
He was dangerous. A bad man, doing bad things. Asking me to strike him, to absolve him of his sins�
� that’s why. That’s why he never felt he deserved to indulge himself in me.
“Yes.”
“I hate you! I hate you! I should’ve ran ages ago! I should never have–”
He banged on the door. “Ciara, open this fucking door!”
I needed to look up the definition of what he was, but like he said, he made the rules. He could make himself a job doing anything, anywhere.
“Ciara, please… open the door.”
“Why?” I asked, crying.
“Because you’re upset and I hate it when you cry.”
“Well, I am crying.”
I wadded some paper from the toilet roll and blew my nose.
“I’m so sorry, angel. I’m sorry. I’m not a simple man, but I love you. Please, stay with me. We’ll figure it out. You’ve already had me sleeping in… eating on the run… proposing. I don’t know in what ways I might change for the better next, but I’m certain I should’ve pulled you into my arms so long ago, Ciara. So long ago, angel.”
“I’m not your angel, I’m just a girl who loves you.”
“I know. Let me in, honey.”
I stepped towards the door and slowly unlocked it.
He padded inside the room (still naked) and pulled me into his arms, sliding with me to the floor to stroke tears from my eyes as I sat in his lap.
“I’m more naked than I’ve ever been. Give me a chance, Ciara.”
I swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. “Those people… your workers… are they hidden, to keep them from danger?”
He nodded, ashamed.
“What if we have kids? I mean… I only have one ovary left. They took the other… I might not be able to but if we do want kids, will they be safe? Will I be safe? Will you be safe, Dante?” I burst into a sobbing, hot mess and he curled his arms around me and pulled me so tight into the crook of his neck.
His hands shaking, he told me, “I’m so sorry, Ciara. I’m just so sorry. I can’t give you children. I’m too damaged for that.”
“You said you weren’t damaged. You said you weren’t–”
“I am sweetheart, I am… I’m so damaged. The more I love you, the more I know it to be true.”
I held his jaw in my hands and pulled his eyes to mine. “I can’t live without you.”
The Contract (Nightlong #1) Page 10
