Fleur de Nuit: Bourbon Street Bondage, Book 1 by Cat Montmorency Page B
Authors: Cat Montmorency
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attention she was getting now. “Mmm. Keep that up, and I’ll stay all night.” She sighed, relaxing. She’d no doubt have nightmares again tonight, but if it got rid of them in the long term? “But no more flogger, okay?”
“What about my crop, hmm?” Adrian’s low laugh rumbled through her as his body folded over hers. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we aren’t finished with the flogger.”
“Adrian, no. I get the point you wanted to make—”
He laughed again. “Calm yourself. I won’t be using it on you. I want you to use it on me. And then afterwards, I have other plans. Ones that involve far less clothing on my end of things. After all, I owe you a reward for that beating I subjected you to.”
His lips traced the line of her spine, and Moira smiled. “I think I can live with that.”
Chapter Six
Moira woke in a fit of panic. The darkness was too close, the air around her too thick. Sweat dripped down her neck, falling between heaving breasts. She fought to catch her breath as images from her nightmare refused to fade.
Justin’s body pinning her down. His hand covering her mouth. His laughter as he hit her.
She took a deep breath, inhaling the smells of the French Quarter. Spice and sweetness and good food. I’m home. I’m home, I’m okay. He’s not here.
She’d been glad that Adrian had insisted Devon drive her home after their session, glad she didn’t have to face New Orleans at night when her flashbacks had risen so strongly. But even anticipating the nightmares, she hadn’t expected them to be so vivid.
Moira wrapped her arms around her knees, trying hard to push away the memory of what came next. But the nightmare refused to leave, and all she could do was hold herself and rock, as the memories came too fast.
The words she could never forget. You bitch. You slut. You made me do this!
His weight, his fists.
The inescapable terror.
Moira launched herself out of her bed to pace her room. She was done with this. She was. Shit. Years of therapy, and she still couldn’t stop seeing his face, or stop feeling the cut of his knife against her breast and side. Her hands instinctively went to her scars.
Snap out of it. You’ve dealt with this. You’re trying to have a life.
An inadvertent whimper escaped her at the thought.
Fuck this shit. Moira dug around in the dark and hit the favorite contacts screen on her phone. Kara picked up on the second ring.
“Moira? What is it? What’s wrong?”
Moira took a deep breath, hating herself for being needy. “I’m fine. Adrian’s session tonight just stirred up the nightmares. I’m sorry. I needed to hear someone’s voice.”
“Honey, you know you can always call me. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there.”
“Kara, you don’t—”
“Stop it, Moira. I’m leaving now. Do you want me to stay on the phone?”
“No, it’s fine.” She glanced up and saw the clock in the other room. “Fuck, I can’t believe how late it is. Why did you even pick up?”
Moira could almost hear the eye-roll through the phone. She did hear the jingle of Kara’s keys and the sound of her apartment door closing. “Because you’re my best friend, and you’d pick up if I called too. So stop the self-effacement and tell me what happened.”
She held herself and paced the room. “I can wait until you get here.”
“Talk to me, hon. Keep me company while I walk.”
Moira sighed and sat in her bay window. “It was only the nightmare. You know.”
“You’re reliving it again, you mean. What did you guys do tonight? What brought it on?”
Kara had been there for a lot of the therapy. She knew the triggers, how to talk her down, all of it. “I hate that it’s been so long, and I’m still dealing with this.”
“I know. I hate it for you. But it is what it is, Moira, and you know what the doctors said.”
Moira laid her head back in the open window. “Yeah. That I’m stuck with crazy for the rest of my life.” She could hear the
“What about my crop, hmm?” Adrian’s low laugh rumbled through her as his body folded over hers. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we aren’t finished with the flogger.”
“Adrian, no. I get the point you wanted to make—”
He laughed again. “Calm yourself. I won’t be using it on you. I want you to use it on me. And then afterwards, I have other plans. Ones that involve far less clothing on my end of things. After all, I owe you a reward for that beating I subjected you to.”
His lips traced the line of her spine, and Moira smiled. “I think I can live with that.”
Chapter Six
Moira woke in a fit of panic. The darkness was too close, the air around her too thick. Sweat dripped down her neck, falling between heaving breasts. She fought to catch her breath as images from her nightmare refused to fade.
Justin’s body pinning her down. His hand covering her mouth. His laughter as he hit her.
She took a deep breath, inhaling the smells of the French Quarter. Spice and sweetness and good food. I’m home. I’m home, I’m okay. He’s not here.
She’d been glad that Adrian had insisted Devon drive her home after their session, glad she didn’t have to face New Orleans at night when her flashbacks had risen so strongly. But even anticipating the nightmares, she hadn’t expected them to be so vivid.
Moira wrapped her arms around her knees, trying hard to push away the memory of what came next. But the nightmare refused to leave, and all she could do was hold herself and rock, as the memories came too fast.
The words she could never forget. You bitch. You slut. You made me do this!
His weight, his fists.
The inescapable terror.
Moira launched herself out of her bed to pace her room. She was done with this. She was. Shit. Years of therapy, and she still couldn’t stop seeing his face, or stop feeling the cut of his knife against her breast and side. Her hands instinctively went to her scars.
Snap out of it. You’ve dealt with this. You’re trying to have a life.
An inadvertent whimper escaped her at the thought.
Fuck this shit. Moira dug around in the dark and hit the favorite contacts screen on her phone. Kara picked up on the second ring.
“Moira? What is it? What’s wrong?”
Moira took a deep breath, hating herself for being needy. “I’m fine. Adrian’s session tonight just stirred up the nightmares. I’m sorry. I needed to hear someone’s voice.”
“Honey, you know you can always call me. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there.”
“Kara, you don’t—”
“Stop it, Moira. I’m leaving now. Do you want me to stay on the phone?”
“No, it’s fine.” She glanced up and saw the clock in the other room. “Fuck, I can’t believe how late it is. Why did you even pick up?”
Moira could almost hear the eye-roll through the phone. She did hear the jingle of Kara’s keys and the sound of her apartment door closing. “Because you’re my best friend, and you’d pick up if I called too. So stop the self-effacement and tell me what happened.”
She held herself and paced the room. “I can wait until you get here.”
“Talk to me, hon. Keep me company while I walk.”
Moira sighed and sat in her bay window. “It was only the nightmare. You know.”
“You’re reliving it again, you mean. What did you guys do tonight? What brought it on?”
Kara had been there for a lot of the therapy. She knew the triggers, how to talk her down, all of it. “I hate that it’s been so long, and I’m still dealing with this.”
“I know. I hate it for you. But it is what it is, Moira, and you know what the doctors said.”
Moira laid her head back in the open window. “Yeah. That I’m stuck with crazy for the rest of my life.” She could hear the
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