TarotCafeSeries_bundle

by Lynn LaFleur

  She opened her eyes and looked up at him. With bits of moonlight streaming through the trees, he looked so handsome. She thought her heart might burst with longing. “Do I really need to answer that?”

  He whispered the words into her hair, his voice raspy, urgent. “Only a few minutes more.”

  As it turned out, less. At the next bend in the road, Raoul slowed the carriage and turned onto a cobbled lane that wound deeper into the forest. At last she saw the spa. The reporter had said his had been a desert oasis worthy of a sheik. In her wildest fantasies, she’d never dreamed something like this.

  “Tonight you’re my princess,” Brett whispered. “I chose this one especially for us.”

  “Brett, I-I don’t… I’m speechless.”

  Peeking out from behind a blanket of scarlet bougainvillea, Chinese wisteria and a variety of tropical flowers, stood a castle, about the size of an airplane hanger, complete with turrets, a drawbridge and a moat.

  The wind shifted at that moment, and the heavy perfume of gardenias and forsythia growing next to wild orchids drifted on the ocean breezes in an ever-changing bouquet.

  They had descended low enough that at this elevation, Abby heard the tide crashing against the shore. A few yards ahead of where Raoul slowed, and sheltered from view by the trees and hedges, two men waited in a golf cart. As soon as Raoul brought the carriage to a full stop, they piled out of their vehicle and walked quickly toward Abby and Brett. They were dressed in the same type of uniform as the wait staff in the restaurant.

  “This is Étienne and D’tore,” Raoul said. “Together, we will tend to all of your wishes.”

  They nodded to Abby and shook Brett’s hand.

  “This way, please.” Raoul pointed toward the drawbridge and stepped aside so Abby and Brett could walk ahead of them.

  From the moment the sole of her slipper struck against the worn metal of the drawbridge, Abby’s soul soared. All the butterflies that set her tummy quivering on and off throughout the day evaporated. Maybe fairy godmothers really existed. Any doubts Abby brought with her, any anxieties about what tomorrow held, disappeared. Even if for one night only, tonight she’d check her inhibitions at the castle gate. Brett promised to fulfill her fantasies. Poor lamb, he had no idea what he was getting into.

  Inside, Abby found a mini-version of a castle in the best Anglo-Saxon/Middle Ages tradition. Stone walls hung with tapestries, crossed swords, an authentic-looking coat of arms, and ancient paintings. The flagstone floor looked ancient too and smooth enough to dance on barefoot.

  To Abby’s right, a fireplace large enough to hold a small choir blazed with flames leaping and wood crackling. Plank wood doors and curved arches led heaven only knew where. Blazing torches hung in sconces, the only things that lighted the room. At the far end, she saw massive double doors propped open wide. The moon shined in through the misty night.

  To her left, Abby saw a carved stone stairway leading to an upper floor.

  Sparsely furnished, the great room would easily hold a crowd of two hundred.

  In the middle of the room, and most definitely the focal point, Abby saw a cluster of deep couches—or whatever the medieval lords lounged on—each at least six feet long, four feet deep, and close enough to the floor that if one of them rolled off in a stupor, he didn’t have far to fall. The lounges had been pushed close and together formed a playpen on their own, rimming the edge of a wide, rough-hewn wooden table. Fresh fruit spilled out of a pewter bowl, rounds of bread had already been set out in baskets, next to a crescent-shaped collection of covered pewter bowls. Two stacks of china plates, oddly delicate compared to the rest of room, with small sterling forks and spoons, faced the center lounge.

  “If it pleases you, we shall serve dinner here.” Raoul pointed to the table. “When you are ready. Unless the mist clears and you’d prefer to dine among the turrets.”

  “We’ll decide later,” Brett said. To Abby he whispered, “Wait until you see the view.”

  With his arm draped around her shoulder, Brett steered Abby toward the opened doors at the far end of the room. Outside the tide crashed against the shore, and there was the sound of a slow, steady stream of falling water.

  Abby had found herself speechless on only a few occasions. This was definitely one of them. Their spa had been hidden from the road by a thick forest, yet the back stood open to the beach and ocean below. How many people walked by or moored their boats with the back of the castle in plain sight? Or did its gray stone walls blend so cleverly into the side of the mountain, it stood unnoticed?

  A huge in-ground fire pit blazed and threw enough heat to make the outdoors comfortable no matter what time of year. Almost as if someone had flipped a switch, the mist had cleared in the few minutes they’d been inside the castle. The moon shone fully, a gull cried in the distance to a companion who called back, and below the tide rolled in slowly before slamming against the rocks. In the distance, two yachts at anchor bobbled gently.

  “We’re only a hundred feet above the shore,” Brett said. “There’s a lovely garden to play in by day, but I wouldn’t risk the steps at night.”

  An understatement, Abby thought. A hundred feet meant a hundred slippery stone steps.

  Abby turned and found the source of the falling water. Behind her, cascading down the side of the mountain, a narrow stream snaked its way along a crevice she guessed began at the top of the mountain.

  “Where does that go?”

  “You can’t see it in the dark, but there’s a natural pool in the garden leading to an underground stream.”

  Abby left Brett’s side and walked to the crenellated walls built with merlons that stood no more than three feet in height and wide enough for two people to stand in them comfortably and enjoy an unobstructed view of the ocean.

  Behind them, flames leapt out of a fire pit and high into the night.

  “Do you think the people on the boats can see us?” she asked.

  “Probably the tips of the flames. There’s not much light behind us.” He pointed to a telescope. “Take a look. See if anyone’s noticed.”

  Indeed someone had, she soon discovered. A party of six sat on the foredeck of one of the yachts, drinking champagne. One stood at a telescope looking back at her. On a whim, she raised her arm and waved. He returned her wave by raising a bottle.

  The boat near them looked deserted.

  “I don’t think I’d ever tire of this view.” She thought about her flat in Manhattan, with the neighboring building little more than an arm’s reach away.

  She offered the telescope to Brett. Instead of looking through it, Brett rested his hands on her shoulders until she faced him. Then he tilted her chin with a gentle forefinger, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Then stay.” He whisked his thumb across her bottom lip. “Unless, someone special’s waiting for you.”

  Abby smiled. “That’s a discussion for another day, not tonight.” She walked back to the opening and stepped up into the merlon. “Thanks to you, Brett, I’m living a fairy tale in the middle of a land I didn’t know existed.” She wasn’t exaggerating. She stood in the battlement of a castle, dressed in silk and satin, teetering on four-inch stiletto heels, with a tomato red thong hidden beneath her dress. It was madness—wonderful, delicious madness. And it made her love Brett that much more.

  There, she’d admitted it. The tune that had been playing in her heart since the moment she saw him standing in the doorway of Love In Bloom. She loved Brett Kincade. “Tell me that I’m not dreaming, Brett. Tell me this is real.”

  His smile deepened into something so joyful she would have felt it across the expanse of the castle’s great room. For a second she dared hope that smile said more than the fantasy was real. That they were real too.

  “Excuse me, señor. Your first course is ready.” Raoul, whom Abby had forgotten, stepped out of the shadows. “Will there be anything else for now?”

  Brett looked over her head. “The treasure chest?”

  Tr
easure chest?

  “Si, señor.” Raoul fished a key from his vest pocket, only half the size of the one he’d used to open the castle’s gate.

  Brett dropped it into his jacket pocket without a word.

  Raoul began backing away. “The main course is usually served between eight and eight-thirty, but we will await your pleasure.” He smiled at Abby and nodded to Brett. “Call us if you need anything, anything at all.”

  Abby listened for the clack of Raoul’s heels against the flagstone and the sound of the gate closing behind him. Then she slid into Brett’s arms. Inside, the first course of their meal awaited them, but the only things that would satisfy her now were Brett’s mouth covering her and his hands all over her body. She wanted to taste and touch him everywhere. If she never ate another morsel of food, what she hoped to share with him now would sustain her forever.

  Chapter Nine

  Abby lifted her lips for Brett’s kiss. Whisper-light, the barest meeting of soft flesh against soft flesh. He cradled her face in his hands and tilted her head. His lips parted enough to feel the tip of his tongue touch hers. It was a promise of things to come.

  Things she could hardly wait to experience.

  Abby sensed the fire inside Brett, waiting to burst into an inferno at the right sign from her. She’d had a taste of his hunger last night in the parking lot. She wondered what it would take for him to lose control, to turn into the fierce lover she suspected he was.

  She brushed her tongue against his. A deep growl came from his throat. His hands tunneled into her hair, holding her head still while he ravished her mouth.

  The man kisses like a god!

  Her knees grew weak. If a kiss melted her bones, Abby wondered how she’d feel lying naked in Brett’s arms. She shivered at the thought.

  “Cold?” Brett asked.

  “How can I be cold with kisses like that?”

  His lips flashed in a wicked smile. “We’re just getting started.” He slowly slid his hands down her back. “I wonder what else I can do to warm you.”

  Kissing her again, he clasped her buttocks and pulled her closer. The ridge of his cock pressed against her mound. Abby arched her hips forward and shifted them from side to side, caressing his hard flesh with her soft curves.

  Cool air brushed her lower back before the warmth of his palms touched her. Abby realized he’d unzipped the back of her dress, all the way to the top of her buttocks. Panic flashed through her at the thought that the people on the yacht could see them. The panic quickly disappeared, replaced by inner heat. This was her special night, the night she could do anything she wanted, the night her most private fantasy would be fulfilled.

  She wanted those people to see her and Brett.

  Abby turned in Brett’s arms so her back touched his chest. Her dress slid down her arms until it hung on the tips of her breasts.

  “Abby.”

  Brett’s voice sounded rough and ragged. His hands dove inside her bodice to cup her breasts. Thumbs and forefingers soon turned her nipples into hard peaks. Abby reached back and dug her fingernails into his thighs. Her action caused her dress to slide farther down her body, exposing her breasts to the night air. With one little shimmy, her dress pooled at her feet, leaving her standing in nothing but a red thong and black stockings.

  “I could take you right here.” Brett lifted and squeezed her bare breasts. “Do you want that? Do you want those people to watch me fuck you?”

  “Would you? If that’s what I wanted?”

  “Yes.”

  Part of her longed to say yes. The sexy, this-is-my-fantasy part battled with the rational, sane part that would never make love to a man in front of an audience.

  A long wolf whistle from a man on the yacht made the decision for her. Abby scooped up her dress, slid her arms into the sleeves and back onto her shoulders. “Not this time. Let’s go inside.”

  He raised her hands to his mouth and kissed both palms. Holding one hand tightly, he led her back into the castle.

  They passed two closed doors before Abby tugged Brett to a stop by the third one. “What’s behind the doors?”

  “Playrooms.”

  She didn’t understand what he meant. “Playrooms?”

  Brett nodded. “For the more…adventurous guests.”

  That statement tickled her curiosity. “Adventurous how?”

  He turned the knob on the third door and pushed it open. “Take a look.”

  Light from dozens of candles bounced off the stone walls. A large table sat in the middle of the room with a wooden headboard and footboard. Holes were drilled in each board, large enough for hands and feet.

  Abby looked around the room with wide eyes. She saw a large wooden T in the corner with ropes hanging from the crossbar. Chains were attached high on one wall with metal cuffs on the ends. Shelves to her left held whips, floggers and other items she didn’t recognize.

  “What is this?” She had a good idea, but wanted Brett to confirm it.

  “The S and M room.”

  “Wow.” She placed one hand on her chest. Her heart pumped wildly beneath her palm. “This is… Wow.”

  “Are you interested?”

  “No!” she said quickly. “I’m not into pain.”

  “S and M doesn’t always mean pain. It can bring great pleasure.”

  “You say that like you’ve…participated.”

  “I have.” He ran one finger down her cheek. “With the right partner, pain can be very stimulating.”

  His eyes glittered with heat. Abby’s heart pumped even harder. She swallowed. “Stimulating?”

  “Mmm-hmm. There are a lot of ways to give your partner pleasure.”

  “Such as?”

  His smile was both wicked and teasing. He took her hand again and led her from the room. “I think we should have something to eat, don’t you?”

  Surely he didn’t expect her to eat anything after he’d dropped his little bomb. “Are you going to answer my question?”

  “I’d rather show you.”

  Abby would rather he showed her too. She followed him willingly back to the cluster of couches. She watched him remove his tuxedo jacket and tie and lay them at the end of the couch. He dropped to his knees on the soft cushion and tugged her down next to him. Abby sat with her knees bent, her feet to the side.

  White wine in ice and red on the table had materialized while Abby and Brett were outdoors. Brett opened both bottles and splashed some white into two wineglasses. He handed one to Abby before lifting his.

  “To the pleasures the evening brings.”

  Her clit gently throbbed as she sipped her wine. Her mind whirled with all the possibilities of what she and Brett would do this evening.

  What he would do to her.

  The chilled wine slid down her throat and warmed her stomach. “Very good.”

  “Raoul always makes sure everything is perfect.” Brett set his glass on the low table. He gave her a wicked smile and picked up a small box from the table. Abby hadn’t noticed it there before they went outside.

  “What’s that?”

  He removed the lid and took out a sequined and feathered mask. “I want you to wear this.”

  Abby set down her glass. She took the mask and turned it in her hand. The outside was made of feathers and sequins, the inside lined with satin. Red ribbon ties would hold it in place. “Someone forgot the eye holes.”

  “That was at my request.” He leaned closer to her. “Do you trust me?”

  Without hesitation, she said, “Of course I do.”

  “Then wear it for me.”

  She handed the mask back to him. “Please tie it on me.”

  Brett moved behind Abby. Her dress was still unzipped, exposing her smooth back. He longed to kiss and lick the entire length of her back. He wanted to taste her far more than any of the dishes in the covered pewter bowls.

  Patience. You’ll do everything with her before the night is over.

  He slipped the mask over he
r eyes and tied the red ribbons behind her head. “Can you see anything?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you okay with this?”

  She nodded.

  He couldn’t resist kissing the back of her neck before he returned to his spot on the couch. “We’re going to play a game.”

  “A game?”

  “I’m going to feed you something and you have to guess what you’re eating.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Not something weird like raw octopus?”

  Brett chuckled. “No raw octopus, I promise.” He uncovered the first dish—tempura fried oyster and black beans. “We’ll start with something easy, so you’ll understand the rules of the game.” As always, Raoul or one of his staff had carefully labeled each item although Brett had chosen the menu. He was intimately aware of which foods satisfied a woman’s appetite as well as drove her libido.

  “What happens if I guess wrong?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I’m guessing I’ll lose a bit of clothing.”

  “Very good, but only a part of it.” He chuckled softly. “If I think you’re guessing wrong deliberately, the stakes go up.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Why not?”

  When she didn’t answer, he knew he had her answer. She liked playing games too. Mentally he rubbed his palms together. If this didn’t turn into the best night of their lives so far, it wouldn’t be from lack of trying.

  “But how can I guess an item correctly if I’ve never eaten it before?”

  “Without visual stimulation, you’ll have to rely on your other senses to identify what you’d know in a second if you saw it.”

  “I don’t just eat with my eyes, you know.” Her chin went up an inch. “I do have a palate.”

  “Fine. Let’s test it.” He squeezed a drop or two of lemon on a wedge of onion. “Bite into this and tell me what you think it is.” He laughed softly. “This is a freebie. It won’t count against you when you guess wrong.”

  He held the wedge only close enough for her to lean forward and nip it with her front teeth. Brett watched her slide it around her mouth, bite down, then swallow. “I think…” she began.