Pointe Noire (The Noire House Book 1)

by Lacie Thorne

  Nerves shot through me. The feeling not dissimilar to the moment before I stepped out on stage every night. Excitement and anxiety curled together in my stomach. I had no idea why SR wanted to see me. No idea why he’d agreed to meet me at such an ungodly hour. A time of night when most people were safely tucked in their beds.

  “Miss Charles,” the same man greeted me as my previous visit.

  “Hi—” I came up short, realizing I didn’t know his name.

  He smiled. “Mitchell.”

  “Hi, Mitchell.”

  His smile widened as he looked up at the stars. “Lovely evenin’ tonight.”

  I nodded in agreement and followed him as he led me inside and down the hallway. He stopped outside the same room as before and opened the large door.

  “He’ll be with you shortly, Miss Charles.”

  “Thank you, Mitchell.”

  Alone in the dimly lit room, I perched on the now familiar chair, glancing behind me to see if I could spot the source of the changing light. The tiniest bulb poked through the wall, sitting underneath the Victorian light fixture. I expected there’d be no light this evening, no time limit, the meeting with SR different from the first night.

  When the lights began to fade, I shifted on the seat, straightening the flowing skirt of the dress I’d chosen. Most nights I left the theatre in yoga pants and whatever top suited the weather. The idea of wearing such casual clothes, even in the dark, didn’t fit my idea of the evening. In a way, this was like a second date. At least within the world I now found myself.

  Darkness flooded the room and my breathing grew deeper, a combination of nerves and excitement. I longed to hear the deep tones of his voice and low rumble of his laughter.

  A faint click had my head snapping up, my eyes trying desperately to see through the blackness of the room. Of course, it was pointless—the room was designed to reveal no visuals.

  “Good evening, Em.”

  A tingle ran down my spine as he spoke, my eyelids fluttering closed at the simple greeting. It was ludicrous, this reaction he pulled from me after so short an encounter.

  “Em, you have a terrible habit of refusing to greet me. When I say good evening, I expect a response.”

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “Good evening.”

  “I hope it was.” I sensed his amusement and imagined he’d be smiling across from me. “There’s not much left of it now. A few short minutes.”

  “I’m sorry. My job—”

  “No need to apologize.” He sighed, and I almost—almost—felt his breath rush over my face. “I understand the demands of a job. I only hope you enjoy the work and don’t put in hours like these with no reward. There should always be a reward, Em.”

  I sensed he no longer spoke about work. It started out that way, but his shift in tone suggested something else entirely by the time he finished. Silence drifted between us, and if not for the ghostly sound of his breathing, I might have thought I sat there alone in the inky room. It was long minutes before he spoke.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he said. “About what you told me when we met.”

  I frowned, trying to recall the words I’d uttered.

  “You were very honest with me—at least I assume you were—and yet I was not as forthcoming with you. It’s been bothering me these past days, and I wanted to make amends.”

  My frown deepened, confused by what he was telling me. He sighed again, the sound tormented though I couldn’t say why.

  “I’m not who you think I am.”

  “But I don’t know who you are. Isn’t that the point of all this?” I gestured to the darkened room, but of course he couldn’t see that.

  “Yes, but—” He paused. “I wasn’t supposed to meet you the other night. Your first meeting was meant to be with CT, not me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “My brother owns The Noire House, Em. I’m not a member, exactly. I’ve been out of state for a while and returned due to—business. When I came to see my brother, he’d just received your file and was putting together dates with your prospective Dominants.”

  He paused another moment, his voice lower when he spoke again. “A file, I might add, that does not have all of your details. I have since informed him of your innocence, and he is in the process of re-evaluating your potential partners.”

  I gaped, my veins having gone cold.

  “CT has been removed, though I probably shouldn’t tell you that. I hope you weren’t too attached to him.”

  His tone had turned glacial, much like the blood flowing through me. My knuckles hurt, and I realized I’d been clutching the hem of my dress. I forced myself to release the fabric, stretching my fingers over my knees.

  “So, you—what? Snuck in here? The other night, I mean?”

  I disdained the breathy sound of my voice, but there was little I could do about it. Shock and anxiety had replaced my excitement from earlier. Instead of the feeling I had before stepping out onto the stage, I now felt the way I had when I fell last year and hurt my back. Months of recovery had—somewhat—healed that injury. Was that my fate again tonight?

  “No,” SR said, his tone firm, like concrete and steel. “Your file said you were new to the lifestyle and mentioned you might be nervous. I assume you added that when you filled it in.”

  I hadn’t, but I could guess Garret had mentioned it when he paid for all this as a gift to me. He knew me well enough to anticipate something like that. Strange he hadn’t mentioned my virginity, but that was likely because he expected me to include it on my form.

  “Anyway, my brother asked me to meet with you first, to set your nerves at ease and calm you.” He sighed, a great heaving of air that rushed from his lungs. “Em, I didn’t mean to deceive you. Nor did I expect a connection between us.”

  He fell silent, and I didn’t know how to respond. Part of me was furious he was not what I’d thought. Another part of me was thrilled I wasn’t the only one to sense something between us. Instead of voicing any of this, I went for something stupid and obvious. “Why do you keep calling me Em? You saw my file, so you know my name is—”

  “Privacy in all things, Em,” he interrupted before I could say it. “My brother didn’t share that with me. Yes, I’ve seen your file and know those—intimate details, but he made sure to remove your name before handing it to me.”

  I didn’t know if I felt relief or not. I could walk out of here now and never look back, never have to worry SR might find me. But that was not what I wanted.

  “Now,” he said, distracting me from my thoughts. “This creates a few complications. Ideally, you should repeat your first visit to The Noire House, but since the party is only a few days away, we will have to forgo it. I understand you have a busy schedule, as do most of the members. Of course, you would be in your rights to skip this mixer. We could schedule you in for the next round of meetings, etcetera. The choice is yours, Em.”

  “I’m sorry, SR, I don’t think I follow.”

  A low sound echoed through the room, something crossed between a groan and a growl. “As your file was incomplete, some of your prospective Dominants are no longer applicable. If you choose to continue, you would be at a disadvantage.”

  I fidgeted with the hem of my dress again, realizing that I was pointing my toes as though my feet were trying to go en pointe.

  “Um, what if I’ve already found someone I—connect with?”

  He cleared his throat, the sound of shuffling fabric whispering through the dark room. “That would be beneficial for you, of course.”

  I smiled. “But not for you?”

  He let out another strange sound, this one a cross between a sigh and a groan. I found myself becoming enamored with those sounds, trying to decipher their meanings.

  “Em—” He paused again, the silence awkward as I waited. “I’m not right for you.”

  His voice was so soft, I struggled to hear the words. Still, they slammed into me with far too much force. This was
Garret all over again. I’d found another man I connected with, and yet it wasn’t enough. My nose tingled, and tears were soon to follow. I swallowed against the lump in my throat, my mouth suddenly dry.

  I tried to think of something clever to say to him, but my mind was distracted by too many other thoughts. This was my fate. I should have accepted it years ago. That I would remain alone, unable to find the sort of relationship I longed for. It wasn’t going to happen. The Noire House had been a fantasy, a last chance Garret had talked me into, and I agreed, buying into the fairy tale.

  My heels clicked against the hardwood floor as I stumbled from my seat, blindly trying to find the door. Mitchell would not be pleased, given how it was prohibited to open the door while the room was flooded in darkness. I vowed to keep my eyes closed until I’d shut the door behind me, leaving SR a mystery I’d never solve.

  I made it all of five steps when a large hand clamped onto my arm. He pulled me to a stop before I reached the hallway door, and I gasped.

  “So against the rules, Em,” he breathed out between clenched teeth. Air ghosted across my face, as warm as the hand gripping my arm. “You’re not going anywhere. Not yet, at least. You’re upset, I get that, but you can’t leave in the state you’re in right now.”

  “What do you care?” I asked, my disappointment making me bolder than I’d normally be. Harsher. “You just said you weren’t right for me.”

  “I’m not,” he growled. I swore it was tinged with regret, but I brushed it off as my own imaginings. “But that doesn’t mean I want you rushing off while you’re upset. This doesn’t change the fact you came to The Noire House in search of something.” His voice lowered, his words slow. “If you’d let me, I’d like to help you find it.”

  I sniffled and used my free hand to swipe away the tears that had fallen from my eyes. SR sighed again, and before I knew what was happening, his fingers brushed my cheek, collecting the moisture.

  “Don’t cry, Em. Please.”

  I sucked in a hiccup-y breath, wishing the sound didn’t echo through the room. “I can’t help it,” I whispered.

  He groaned in response, and the sound vibrated all the way through me. “You undo me, you know that? The sound of your voice. Your scent. The way I can hear you shifting with nerves. All of it.” The words were spoken on a low rumble that had my eyes closing. “You drive me crazy.”

  I grew faint, my body sagging. I hoped he’d catch me if I fell. Maybe he’d put his arms around me, tilt my head back and kiss me. My lips tingled with the want of it, already imagining how it would feel to have his mouth on mine, his tongue—

  “And that’s why I’m not right for you,” he said, breaking into my dream. “You need someone gentler, Em. Someone who will introduce you to this life in slow increments.” He stepped back, his hand falling from my arm. “I’m the last thing you need.”

  I would have argued, but I knew next to nothing. Not enough experience with the life I was entering, and I definitely didn’t know him well enough either. Instead, I stayed silent, mourning the loss of contact.

  “I will, however, help you find the right Dominant.”

  I kept my eyes closed and nodded, aware he couldn’t see the action but hoping he’d sense it. If he didn’t, it was too bad. My voice had left me, gone for the night, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  “Will you accept my help, Em?”

  I loved and hated how he kept insisting on saying my name. It rolled off his lips with such grace and a deep, almost husky sound that thrilled me. At the same time, if he was no good for me, then I needed to stop responding to him.

  “Em? Answer me.”

  I laughed, a breathy sound that barely resembled a true laugh. “Bossy, aren’t you?”

  His chuckle joined mine, the deep sound I already adored. “Comes with the Dom title.”

  The smile danced across my face, but disappointment still ate at me. “Yes.”

  He groaned. “I like that word from your lips.”

  “And I like it when you groan.”

  The words tumbled from me before I even thought them through. By the time I realized I’d said them out loud, SR had taken two steps forward and palmed the back of my neck. With my hair up in the ballet bun, he had unrestricted access to my nape, his fingers applying more pressure than I expected.

  Then his hand was forgotten when his mouth met mine—though not accurate at first. I blamed the darkened room and didn’t care that he kissed the edge of my chin before quickly finding my lips. His mouth was firm and passionate, setting me on fire within seconds. When he bit my bottom lip, I gasped, and he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

  His tongue raked over mine, a hard stroke that tugged a moan from me. I’d never experienced a kiss like his. Yes, I was a virgin, but I’d had my fair share of kisses. All of those paled in comparison to this one moment with SR.

  His fingers squeezed at my neck, while his other hand slipped around my back, tugging me so our chests slammed together. Still I wanted to be closer, until there wasn’t a breath of space between us. I wanted bare skin. His heart beating right against mine. I wanted to feel his muscles tensing as he held me harder, gripped my waist, and—

  He pulled away with an abrupt jerk, the hand at my neck holding me tight so I couldn’t follow his mouth. His breathing was ragged, loud and choppy in the quiet room.

  “That won’t happen again. I promise.”

  “What if I want it to?” I asked, licking my lips to savor the last remnants of his taste.

  “It won’t.”

  He let me go and stepped away, oblivious to the way I swayed without him. I had my dancers balance to thank for not falling over right in the middle of the room. He was still panting, and it gave me a small kernel of hope. Perhaps if he was as affected by me as I was by him, something might still spark between us.

  Hell, who was I kidding? We already had blazing heat. It wasn’t a spark we needed.

  “Sam,” he said softly, his voice rough from our kiss. “My name is Sam.”

  I smiled, loving the sound of it. “Emily.”

  He groaned, fanning the flames still lapping away at my skin. “It suits you.”

  I wished he might say my full name, but instead his footsteps told me he was edging across the room.

  “Sunday night. I’ll see you at the masquerade mixer.” He paused just a moment. “No later than eight.”

  I nodded, still dazed by his lips and tongue and his voice—

  “And, Emily?” I made a sound, though I couldn’t say what it was, lost in the bliss of my name leaving his lips. “Remember to pick out a mask that covers more than half your face.”

  “Privacy in all things,” I mumbled, parroting his earlier words.

  Sam laughed. “Yes, though I would love nothing more than to see you.”

  He left even before the words were cold, leaving me frozen in the middle of the room. The lights slowly came back to life, and I blinked, adjusting to the dimly lit space. I glanced around, but the room hadn’t changed during its time in the darkness.

  No, it was me who’d changed.

  Chapter Four

  Sam

  Emily.

  She would be the death of me. Or at the very least, she was bound to drive me past all semblances of my control. I left The Noire House without even saying a word to my brother, choosing instead to rush home and try to drown out the memory of Emily with a bottle of bourbon.

  Emily.

  Even her name fucked with my head. I couldn’t get the sound of her saying it out of my brain. It repeated on loop, a soundtrack to the thoughts of how she’d smelled—like roses and something powdery, a hint of leather that was so at odds with everything else about her. Beneath all of that was a sharp trace of something similar to pine, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

  All this was enough to drive me wild even without the feel of her lips against me. I’d never felt lips softer than hers, pliant under the demand of my kiss. She was perfect, h
er hair even swept up to give me access to her neck. I couldn’t have asked for anything better, though I was sure my tight grip had pulled strands free to fall down her neck.

  I’d kept my hips away from her when what I really wanted was to grind my hard cock against her. It wouldn’t do, whether she’d welcome it or not, she was not mine. Something I had to remind myself as I adjusted the tight pull of my jeans on my crotch.

  My phone rang beside me, thrown on the passenger seat when I’d flung myself into my car in a race to get far from Emily.

  Emily.

  Fuck, a name had never affected me like this. It was only five letters strung together. So, why did it cause such churning in my gut and my blood to flow south?

  She was petite, too, which I’d always found irresistible. Judging from our encounter in the dark, I’d say more than a foot shorter than me, and I was only a little taller than average.

  My phone rang for the third time since I’d left The Noire House, and I knew it had to be Ian. I let it go since I was minutes away from home and could call him back then. The house was still largely a mess, though it was better than I’d seen it in weeks. I’d bought it recently at a good price and had done major renovations to suit my needs.

  The howling and scratching at the glass door told me Blue was frantic and desperate to greet me. My dog hadn’t yet adjusted to the new accommodations and cared even less for the construction that didn’t seem to be coming to an end.

  “Hey, boy. Yes, I know you missed me, but I couldn’t very well take you with me tonight, could I? Remember how you ran circles around poor Lulu the last time?”

  Blue didn’t mind the slight reprimand, instead throwing himself against me in excitement. He was usually better behaved, but I forgave him since his whole life had changed in the past few months, and he needed time to acclimate.

  I ruffled the charcoal grey and white scruff around his neck, digging my fingers through the thick coat to get closer to his skin. New Orleans was probably not the best climate for a Siberian Husky, but I hoped he’d settle in okay. His ice blue eyes followed me as I rose from my haunches.