Batiste Read online

  “Got that.” He smiled lazily. “It’s there when you want it.”

  She got up, picked up the tray and set it on her waist high dresser. She came and stood by where he sat on the bed. “Did it really make your bruise feel better when I kissed it?”

  He opened his legs so that she could stand in front of him in between his thighs. “No lie.”

  “I want to see.”

  Batiste cocked his head. “How are you gonna see what I feel?” Then it dawned on him what she was saying. His eyes traveled down to the faded evidence of deep scratches on the insides of her forearms. He pointed. “How about here?”

  She nodded. His heart swelled, seeing that she was not only trying to challenge herself, but trusting him to take care of her. It was more than he’d hoped would happen so soon and he said a silent little prayer of thanks to Mary.

  He took one of her hands in his and gently lifted until her forearm was close to his face. Going on the theory that, if you pay attention, people will show you the way they want to be treated, he placed a series of butterfly light kisses running the length of the red marks. He saw the slight shudder that she tried not to show and took encouragement from it. “Your skin is soft, cher. And you smell like heaven.”

  Moving with exaggeratedly lazy, almost painfully slow deliberateness, he lowered her arm but kept that hand in his while he took the other hand and repeated the same actions.

  “Does that feel better?” She nodded. “Where else?”

  She pointed to her wrists where the ropes had burned and cut.

  He kissed around her wrist and placed a firmer kiss into her palm before doing the same with the other arm.

  “Where else?” he said.

  She pointed to the bruise on the side of her face that had turned gray, green, and yellow. She stepped back as he slowly stood. He didn’t want to take a chance on hurting her, so he placed both hands on her shoulders and kissed all around the bruise. Nose, forehead, chin, and eyelids were all treated to barely there little kisses. He finished with a short sweet kiss on her mouth before pulling back and saying, “Where else?”

  She pointed to the rope burn that went around her neck and dropped her head back to give him access and closed her eyes.

  Breathing in Angelique’s verbena scent mixed with the unique body chemistry of the woman Batiste loved was sexy and intoxicating regardless of the fact that he was exploring the map of her torture. Meticulously tracing his lips over her wounds created a slow burn of desire that was erotic and arousing in a way he didn’t know was possible. But the grim evidence of her captivity was also maddening and he had to work to keep anger out of the equation.

  Some of her trauma would linger as skin discolorations for a long time. Some would eventually fade into white scars that would be easily seen in the sun, permanent reminders of a nightmare, but also evidence that Angelique was a woman of quality. Like the tiny, almost invisible lines in the Dragonware teacup, she would be all the more beautiful for the physical testament to courage and survival.

  “Where else?”

  She brought her head up, stepped back and pointed to the dark bruising on her thigh where the jagged tree trunk had bitten deep into the skin. Batiste got to his knees. She allowed him to place his hand on the back of her knee while he kissed the length and width of the bruise being extraordinarily careful. It was easy to see that the slightest bit of pressure would cause more pain than pleasure.

  When he sat back on his heels, he trailed his hand down the back of her leg to her ankle to see if she could tolerate that. She did.

  “Where else?”

  She pointed to the biggest bruise of all. The entire right side of her body was purple, green, and yellow with a mega bruise, the result of rocking a chair over onto composition flooring while bound.

  Standing still as a statue she allowed him to look at the extensive bruising, a watercolor rendering of violence. He put his hands on either side of her knees and looked up at her face.

  “You’re so brave, cher. When you rocked that chair, it gave us the opportunity we needed.”

  She let a new tear slide down to her chin. “I don’t feel brave, Just. I feel like I’ll never see things the same way again.”

  He stared at her face a couple of seconds longer before bending to run little kisses over the bruise. He passed his lips over a small section with ghost-like touches and said, “You woan ever see things the same. That doan mean there woan be things that are beautiful to you sometime.” More kisses. “Maybe not today.” More kisses. “But sometime.”

  “You’re beautiful to me,” she almost whispered. “You ruined me for anybody else. When we were little kids.”

  When he kissed his way to the bottom hem of her shorts, he stopped and looked up at her with a question. She blinked slowly then awkwardly brought her hands to the metal button at her waist. Watching her undo that button and unzip her shorts, Batiste’s heart filled with pride because he knew it must be hard for her to expose herself after what she’d been through.

  When the shorts were loosened and fell to the floor, she was wearing the thin pink tee shirt and lace bikini panties. The white lace seemed to create even more contrast with damaged patches of skin than the shorts had.

  He continued his path of kisses, murmuring praise and words of reassurance, lips gliding upward to where the bruise stopped at her waist. When he reached the lingerie elastic, he very carefully pulled the edge down so that he could kiss the inch that had been underneath fabric.

  Breathing an internal sigh of relief that she allowed that, he decided to push further. He brought his hand up to her other hip and took hold of the lace so that he was holding the tiny band on either side of her hips. When his mouth reached the top of the bruising on her hip, he continued kissing across her stomach where there had been no visible injury.

  Angelique took in a little surprised breath when he pressed a kiss just above her belly button. It wasn’t feather light like all the others. It was a kiss with earnest intent, not to comfort, but to arouse. Of their own accord her hands flew to brace his head like bookends and, as soon as her fingers made contact, she realized that his hair was soft and silky, a stark contradiction to the hardness of his body and edginess of his personality.

  She discovered that she liked the feel of his hair and, being captivated by the combine pleasure of stroking those strands and feeling kisses inching lower, she temporarily forgot about everything else but that single moment. The promise of ecstasy profound enough to equal the depths of degradation she’d endured.

  Her lack of resistance was, to Batiste, the same as encouragement and so he determined that he would pursue foreplay until she said stop. As he kissed a line south from her belly button he lowered her panties a fraction of an inch at a time just ahead of contact with his mouth. When she felt cold air on her labia, she gasped just as his mouth came in contact with the split above her clit.

  Wasting no time, his tongue darted out and licked the first half inch of her opening while pulling the panties down to her feet. Without thinking she widened her stance to give him more access, moaned and gripped his head tighter when his tongue came in contact with her swollen nub. It was an experience she’d never had. Nor had she imagined that anything could be so exciting. On some level she was glad Batiste’s mouth was the first mouth to come in contact with her most private parts.

  Batiste continued to administer licks and kisses, stroking the backs of her thighs and knees. Suddenly he looked up and said, “What you want, cher?”

  Taking in the flush of the still-flawless parts of her face, and seeing that her eyes held an other-worldly gleam, reflecting every light in the room, he waited breathlessly for her answer.

  She seemed caught in indecision for a few seconds before saying. “Me on top.”

  Batiste let go of the breath he was holding. He’d been on the precipice of lust, yes. But more importantly on the edge of hope for the future. His. And hers. Her words were like a balm to his soul.

&
nbsp; As he stood up, she pulled the tank up. He helped pull it over his head and let it fall to the floor next to her shorts and panties. While he was doing that, she was unbuckling his belt and releasing his jeans. With deliberate movements he hadn’t dared hope for so soon, she pushed his pants down and watched his engorged cock spring free with a bounce.

  “All of you is perfect,” she whispered.

  He tried to laugh, but it caught in his throat when she grabbed hold at the base and pulled upward, a single tight stroke that had him beside himself. “Careful, bébé or you’ll make me squirt.”

  She smiled. “Condom.”

  He bent down, picked up the discarded jeans and pulled a strip of condoms out of a side pocket. “What color?” he asked.

  She pointed to flesh color.

  He put it on quickly and expertly in a fluid movement that told her how many times he must have practiced. She pushed the thought of other women with Batiste to the back of her mind. He was with her. Not them.

  “How you want me? Like this?” He sat on the edge of the bed.

  She shook her head and pointed to the bed. He moved backward to the middle of the bed and lay on his back. Suddenly feeling shy, Angelique looked around wondering what she was doing. Then she remembered. She was about to do the one thing she’d wanted all her life. Fuck Just Batiste. And she wasn’t going to let fears or recently acquired aberrations stop her.

  She crawled over and straddled him, wet and ready.

  Batiste was practically chanting a mantra of a warning to himself not to touch her near the ass lest the spell might be broken.

  Holding his impressive manhood straight up, she sank down slowly watching Batiste’s lips part. He inhaled deeply before lowering his eyes from her face to where their two bodies were coupling. He raised himself up on his elbows so that he could appreciate that view all the better.

  Within seconds Angelique was creating rhythm out of friction. Despite the signs of battering, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Ever.

  When she was close to orgasm, he sat up, took hold of the hem of her tee shirt. She took it out of his hands and pulled it over her own head while he reached around and undid her bra. As he sucked one nipple into his mouth she reached between them and touched her clit.

  Feeling the squeeze of her orgasm brought on his own. Batiste put his arms around Angelique, being careful to be tender with her. She allowed it.

  She relished it.

  She loved it so much that she shed tears again and had to explain the difference between sad tears and happy tears to Batiste.

  As they lay entangled on top of the sheets, talking about what they were going to do when the ordeal of continuing alert was over, Batiste’s phone rang. It was Rou.

  “Batiste,” he answered.

  “Got him,” Rou said. “Just got a call from Rake.”

  Batiste pulled away from Angelique and sat on the side of the bed. “Where is he?”

  “Fornight’s people found him. They’re on the way to Devils’ camp,” which was shorthand for the Lafayette compound. “Where are you?”

  “In bed with your daughter.”

  After a pause, Rou said, “You either have a sick sense of humor or a death wish. Which is it?”

  “Neither one. I’m marryin’ this girl.”

  “No the fuck you’re not.”

  “You want to tell her that?” Silence. “Let’s put an end to this so she and I can get started makin’ you grandchildren. Okay?”

  He heard Rou sigh. “That really what she wants?”

  Batiste looked at Angelique. “Yeah.”

  “Where’s Jolie?”

  “Went to Harrah’s with her sister. On my dime.”

  “I doan think much of that.”

  Batiste shrugged like Rou could see him. “Doan matter whether you do or doan.”

  “I’m gettin’ that.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Shreveport. Fornight’s got the stupid fucker near Beaumont. Didn’t have enough sense to put a continent between him and us.”

  It took no calculation for Batiste to figure that he’d reach Devils’ camp hours before Rou. Which meant that there’d be no argument over who would have the honor of sending the evil bastard to the fiery consequences of bad choices.

  “Later.” Batiste ended the call.

  As he was turning around to talk to Angelique, the phone rang again. It was Brant.

  Batiste answered by saying, “I heard.”

  “You at Lafayette?”

  “No. Mandeville. I’ll be there before delivery.”

  “Good. They’re on the way.”

  “Brant.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Owe you.”

  “Yeah. You do. And you can believe there’ll come a day.”

  Batiste smiled. “Countin’ on it.”

  Batiste took immeasurable pleasure in showing Manatee why torture is a bad thing to do to people. In the end he, Pickup, Rooster, and Army took the ex prez of Stars and Bars, last member alive, down to Vermillion Bay. They took him onboard the old houseboat they kept for fishing vacations, motored out into the middle of the bay. After tying hundred pound weights to each ankle they took the handcuffs off and pushed him off the side knowing that his struggle to free himself with unfettered hands would be futile as he sank lower and lower. He would drown long before he stood a chance of ridding himself of the weights.

  It was a horrible way to die. It was also a style of execution his captors agreed upon. Batiste hoped Manatee would be remembering that the biggest mistake of his life was named Angelique and that, when he breathed in water and felt the terror of facing an eternity of consequences, he was forced to relive every evil deed that brought him to that end.

  Manatee would spend centuries standing upright, like a fish food statue, at the bottom of the ocean. Even when there was nothing left but bones, he would serve as a sentry of warning to those who might think involving biker women in biker business might be a viable option.

  And, for the rest of his life, whenever Batiste would think about that, he’d smile.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN La Bal de Noce

  “Allons changer ton nom,” Batiste said to Angelique.

  Her eyes widened. “Your French…”

  He grinned. “I’ve been workin’ on it. As a wedding present. Our kids will be…”

  “Bilingual.”

  “Oui. And I need to know what you’re sayin’ when you swear at me.” She laughed. “So you sayin’ yes or what?”

  “I’m saying yes. But didn’t you say you wouldn’t marry again.”

  With uncharacteristic sheepishness, he said, “That was when I was a…”

  “Couillon.” He grinned at her choice of words and shrugged. “The Church won’t let you marry again. You know that.”

  Batiste looked exceptionally proud of himself. “Ah, but, it’s all arranged.”

  “It’s all arranged,” she said drily. “How’d you manage that? You flew to Rome and charmed the Pope?”

  He ran a hand over his jaw. “Didn’t think of that. I made a nice donation to the parish. Priest says I’m a good man who deserves what they call a special dispensation.”

  “Mon Dieu.”

  “Yeah. Exactly. So how ‘bout Saturday?”

  They didn’t get married the next Saturday, but they did get married three Saturdays after that. Batiste and Angelique showed their guests, most of whom arrived on motorcycles, how to dance like Cajuns to zydeco music.

  Seven years and two children later, Angelique’s sexual PTSD was healed enough so that she could be touched and approached from behind.

  Meant to be is meant to be.

  Next Up… Headed back to Austin with Dev Merit for the sixth book in the SSMC series. For release announcements follow Victoria on Amazon. If you haven’t read the SSMC series, check it out.

  ALSO BY VICTORIA DANANN:

  Click any active title to go directly to the Amazon page.

  CONTEMPOR
ARY ROMANCE

  SSMC Austin, TX, Book 1. Two Princes

  SSMC Austin, TX, Book 2. The Biker’s Brother

  SSMC Austin, TX, Book 3. Nomad

  SSMC Austin, TX, Book 4. Devil’s Marker

  SSMC Austin, TX, Book 5. Roadhouse

  SSMC Austin, TX. Book 6. Merit

  Cajun Devils Book 1. Batiste

  THE KNIGHTS OF BLACK SWAN

  Knights of Black Swan 1. My Familiar Stranger

  Knights of Black Swan 2. The Witch’s Draam

  Knights of Black Swan 3. A Summoner’s Tale

  Knights of Black Swan 4. Moonlight

  Knights of Black Swan 5. Gathering Storm

  Knights of Black Swan 6. A Tale of Two Kingdoms

  Knights of Black Swan 7. Solomon’s Sieve

  Knights of Black Swan 8. Vampire Hunter

  Knights of Black Swan 9. Journey Man

  Knights of Black Swan 10. Falcon

  Knights of Black Swan 11. Jax

  Knights of Black Swan 12. Deliverance

  Order of the Black Swan D.I.T.

  D.I.T. 1. Simon Says

  D.I.T. 2. Finngarick

  D.I.T. 3. Irish War Cry

  Order of the Black Swan Novels

  Black Swan Novel, Prince of Demons

  THE HYBRIDS

  Exiled 1. Carnal

  Exiled 2. Crave

  Exiled 3. Charming

  THE WEREWOLVES

  New Scotia Pack 1, Shield Wolf

  New Scotia Pack 2. Wolf Lover

  New Scotia Pack 3. Fire Wolf

  The Witches of Wimberley

  Witches of Wimberley 1. Willem

  Witches of Wimberley 2. Witch Wants Forever

  Witches of Wimberley 3. Wednesday

  Links to all Victoria’s books can be found here…

  www.VictoriaDanann.com

  I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading Batiste.