Pointe Noire (The Noire House Book 1) Read online

  Pointe Noire

  The Noire House Book One

  Lacie Thorne

  Pointe Noire

  Copyright © 2018 by Lacie Thorne.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

  Dedication

  To my wonderful critique partners, without whom I might not have ever had the courage to publish this book.

  Not all girls dream of being rescued by Prince Charming.

  Some girls dream of the capture.

  Ballerina Emily Charles always knew she was kinky, but it takes a special invitation to The Noire House—a private club where all manners of sensuality are explored—for her to realize the depths of her fantasies. During the brief dates held in total darkness, she meets the mesmerizing Sam Roche.

  Sam is just the kind of seductive Dominant Emily went to The Noire House in search of. He leads her down a path of sexual discovery, each intimate encounter taking her closer to the life she always wanted but couldn’t find. They form an intense connection, and before they know it, they’re falling for each other.

  But Sam isn’t the total stranger Emily believed him to be. When the truth is revealed and threatens Emily’s hard-won career and reputation, neither of them is sure their Kinkily-Ever-After may be possible.

  Chapter One

  Emily

  I guess, in some ways, I’d always known I was kinky.

  No, wait. That’s not exactly true. You see, my relationship with submission goes back farther than my understanding of sex. As a child, I didn’t swoon for Prince Charming, but rather gravitated towards the unlikely heroes. I fell in love with The Beast and experienced genuine disappointment when he changed back into his original form. While other girls dreamed about being rescued by a handsome knight, I dreamed of the capture.

  These were the first inklings I had that I was different from other girls, and the start of a long journey that led me here.

  Here was The Noire House, a plantation-style home twenty minutes outside New Orleans’ city center. The antebellum architecture was gorgeous, of course, all lit up in warm ambient lighting I suspected was designed to subdue nerves like those fluttering behind my sternum. Large oak trees dripping with Spanish moss surrounded the property, acting as a beautiful cage to conceal the activities within.

  Not that it was necessary. The estate was extensive enough to keep the happenings from prying eyes, but the wealthy liked their privacy. And The Noire House prided themselves on just that. Only the elite could afford membership—the near-exclusive way to gain entry. The one other was by special invitation and a hefty entrance fee.

  That was how I came to be here, locking my car in the parking lot and walking up the grand staircase almost an hour after sunset. Garret had garnered said invitation and paid for my admittance, something I still wasn’t sure required gratitude or fury. A combination of excitement and terror had me shaking before I’d reached the top step. Though truth be told, I hadn’t stopped trembling since I left my small shotgun house.

  “Good evenin’, Miss Charles,” a gentleman greeted at the wide expanse of the double front doors. “If you’ll come with me, please.”

  I followed, as instructed, and tried my due best to ignore my rising panic. It was the first time I’d ever done something like this. Why hadn’t I started in the kiddie pool version instead of agreeing to jump into the deep end? There had to be dating apps, or adverts in the paper for this kind of thing. Social media groups. Anything that put a buffer between me and my chosen fate.

  Wait. Scratch chosen. It was all Garret’s fault. Maybe if I called him now, he could get me out of this, and I could go home, put on a pair of yoga pants and forget tonight ever happened.

  The man leading the way stopped at an open door and gestured me inside. I’d been so caught up in my frantic thoughts I hadn’t paid any attention to the grandeur and opulence of the house. My gaze wandered down the long hallway in which I stood, and the closed doors lining the hallway.

  More rooms like this one? It seemed like the most obvious—

  “Miss Charles?” the guy said, attempting to encourage me inside the room. He must have noticed my hesitation and panic because he smiled reassuringly. “There’s nothin’ to fear. Each room is monitored via video, and I will remain outside, should you need me.”

  I knew all this already, but it did little to tramp down my fear. With a fortifying breath, I stepped into the room and reminded myself that this was what I had longed for all these years. If I didn’t see this through, I was bound to regret it. Maybe not tomorrow, but someday I would.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” the gentleman instructed. “The lights will be dimmed and then shut off within the next five minutes. Your first date will enter soon after the room is in complete darkness.”

  Before I had a chance to mumble a word of thanks, the door closed behind him, and I jumped at the noise. I took a moment to steel my nerves and then glanced around the room. While spacious, there was minimal clutter and only large, heavy furniture that all at once looked sturdy and yet classic Victorian era.

  The lights dimmed, drawing my attention to the crystal chandelier above while also reminding me I needed to take a seat. My heart raced as I chose the deep burgundy sofa, sitting in the center with my back pin-straight and my ankles crossed.

  Moments later, the dim lights went out completely, and I was left alone in the dark with nothing but my anxiety. A soft click came from across the room, the opposite side of where I’d entered. I hadn’t even noticed another entrance into the room, but it made sense. There’d be too much light from the hallway for the figure to remain shrouded.

  I waited, wringing my fingers as hushed footsteps drifted closer. Surely this stranger heard the rapid beating of my heart and the deep pulls of air I sucked into my lungs. He had to know how frightened I was and yet he said nothing. My trepidation trebled, and I wished I’d left when I could, while I’d considered it as I walked up those stairs.

  Damn Garret for pushing me into this. For being his typical controlling—

  “Is there truly someone there, or have I been misled?”

  His voice was the sexiest thing to ever greet my ears. Low and sultry, yet as smooth as well-aged bourbon. Perhaps it was the lack of light that added to the appeal, but I was convinced I’d never heard anything like it.

  “Hello?” he said, uncertain where he’d been teasing only a moment ago.

  “Hi—hey—hello.” I stumbled with stupid nerves.

  Rich, quiet laughter filled the dark room. “Good girl.”

  Those two little words, spoken in a seductive tone, did something to me. More than any kisses or fumbling caresses from past boyfriends. It was as though this stranger had spoken to a secret part of me I’d always suspected existed, but never truly felt.

  “What shall I call you then?”

  “Uh.” I fumbled again, unsure if I should tell him the truth or lie. Would it be more of a fib?

  “You don’t have to give me your real name, not tonight. But I would like to know how to address you this evening.”

  I let out a relieved breath. “Em.”

  “M?” he asked. “As in short for Miss? Or mischievous?”
r />   There was a note of amusement in his voice I rather liked, though I hadn’t expected someone so—jovial. It went against the picture of a Dominant in my head. I wondered if The Noire House had misunderstood and set me up with the wrong man. After all, their business branched out further than my tastes.

  I chose not to question it beyond my own wanderings, all due to the aforementioned liking I’d already taken to my invisible companion.

  “Em, as in E M. For embark or emerald—”

  “Empower or embrace.” There was a faint hum, but I wasn’t sure if it came from him or some other unknown source. “I like that. And I can’t help but picture emerald green eyes staring at me through the dark.”

  I almost snorted. If he ever saw me, he’d be disappointed. My eyes were nowhere near one color, instead straddling the line between blue and green. In place of the bright, sharp green he imagined, my irises were the dark, moody color of stormy ocean seas.

  “Would you like to know how to address me?”

  I nodded before I realized he could see me no more than I could see him. “Please.”

  “Mm, polite, too. We are off to a very good start, you and I.” He laughed softly, more to himself than anything, while a smile stretched my lips at his tiny compliment. “You can call me SR—the initials of my real name, not some odd play on sir. I don’t care for formal titles. My name suits me just fine.”

  I found myself smiling even wider, falling more and more under this man’s spell. And we’d only been in the dark room together for less than ten minutes. “SR,” I said, trying it out on my tongue. “Like strong.”

  He chuckled, and I imagined him nodding in agreement. “Yes, I suppose that works.”

  SR’s laughter faded, and I mourned the loss of it, already looking forward to the next time he gifted me with the sound.

  “Well, Em, I’m afraid our time is running out.”

  SR cleared his throat. The rustle of shifting fabric suggested he edged forward on his seat. Would he try to touch me? They’d assured me it was strictly forbidden during these initial, short meetings. More concerning was the realization that part of me wanted him to touch me. Nothing intimate, just a soft brush of his hand over mine or a palm on my shoulder.

  Then it struck me. “How do you know our time is drawing to an end?”

  His voice held a trace of a smile again. “There is a small light, no bigger than a pin prick just behind you. It starts green, then changes to orange when we reach the halfway mark and finally red when there’s a minute left.”

  I turned and, sure enough, there was a miniscule light, currently glowing orange.

  “Em? Will you tell me something about yourself, before the end of our meeting?”

  Stunned, I gaped in his general direction for a long moment. In the end, I turned to make sure the light hadn’t switched to red. These meetings were designed to ensure privacy for all parties. The brief encounter was only meant to evaluate potential matches and eliminate those that would obviously never work.

  But again, I liked SR, and so I found myself offering up a piece of information I hadn’t expected to mention so soon. “I’m a virgin.”

  Silence filled the room at my confession, and my nerves went into hyper alert. I swore I could hear the faint exhalations of his breathing. I wished I hadn’t told him. Perhaps he’d think there was something wrong with me—as most people did. As soon as they knew, the look in their eyes changed. I could tell from then on they were searching for my fatal flaw, the thing that was so undesirable it left me untouched.

  The truth was far less interesting and a lot sadder. At least, that’s how I saw it.

  “That’s—unexpected.” SR enunciated the words with deliberate care.

  Would he take such care with me?

  “I think you mean unappealing.”

  “I meant what I said, Em.” His voice changed, hardened. Not in an unpleasant way but rather in a dark, commanding way that people like me responded to. “It’s unexpected. That does not equate to unappealing. In fact, I was only silent because I didn’t want to seem too eager. I find the promise of an untouched woman very—to use your own word—appealing.”

  Not for the first time tonight, I found myself stunned into silence. After a long pause, my voice returned. “Would—would you return the favor and tell me something about you?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t offer nearly such a personal piece of information as yours, but yes, I will tell you something.” More rustling of fabric followed his words. “I believe there are two sides to all of us, Em. The Dr. Jekyll we portray to the world, and the Mr. Hyde we fight to keep in the shadows.”

  My eyes widened, already promising myself I would read the famous book he referenced. It sat on my bookshelf at home, a relic I’d never had reason to open. Now I did.

  “Sadly, the light has turned red, Em. I hope you’ll agree to the next phase in this process because I would very much like to spend more time with you.”

  I smiled, already knowing I would return to The Noire House, no matter how the rest of the night went after SR left. I sensed movement a couple of feet in front of me and barely restrained myself from reaching out. Light footsteps echoed through the room and then stopped. When SR spoke again, he sounded several feet further away, far across the room.

  “I realize there are masks provided by The Noire House, but if you could find something more personal, it would please me.”

  He was gone before I could utter a response, and I was left alone in the room with nothing but the scent of him. It intoxicated me, and I found myself leaning forward as if to gather every hint of it. I was still sniffing the air and trying to put a face to the man when footsteps sounded across the room.

  For one, silly second, I thought it was him, that he’d come back, but no. It was not SR.

  “Hello, darlin’,” said a deep male voice, a hint of a Texan accent. The ‘r’ was more pronounced than the way most folks in New Orleans drew it out to sound like a ‘w’. “Talk so I know where you are and don’t step on your foot.”

  He laughed, and I supposed there was nothing wrong with it—apart from the fact it was not SR. Instead of focusing on my new potential Dominant, my mind wandered, imagining SR sitting across from another woman. Of course, my imagination didn’t go very far, given how I didn’t know what he looked like.

  “Darlin’, I expect an answer when I ask you somethin’.”

  His tone wasn’t cruel, but the reprimand left me cold. I apologized and tried to give him my attention. He too provided initials, telling me to call him CT. Instead of giving the same answer as I gave SR, I told him he could call me LA, as in the in French. Also, it just so happened that Garret’s last name was Lacroix, and I felt comfortable enough stealing the first two letters. Of course, I kept that last part to myself, allowing CT to assume it was my initials.

  As the night wore on, the Doms changing as the little light turned from green to orange to red, I found myself glancing over my shoulder at it far more often. Each man who stepped into the dark room was less appealing than the last, and I longed for the night to be over.

  So much for my first foray into the world I’d longed for. Perhaps I’d been kidding myself all along. Maybe this wasn’t what I’d needed after all. A simple delusion created by my mind. I didn’t know. What I did know, was that I felt gut-wrenching disappointment. Garret paid a high price for me to have this experience, and instead of some great revelation, I was left in a dark room, unexcited by the men who strolled in after SR.

  My eyes were heavy, and I struggled to sit up straight when a voice whispered through the empty, inky room.

  “Em? I know I shouldn’t be in here, but I realized too late that I forgot to say goodnight.”

  I laughed, unable to stop my joy at simply hearing his voice once more, after the deluge of unsuitable partners. Perhaps I’d been wrong. Maybe the real problem—if it could be termed as such—was that I’d felt a connection to SR. The others paled in comparison.


  “I like your laugh, Em.”

  “I like yours, too.”

  He graced me with a low chuckle. “Goodnight, sweet Em. I hope to see you soon.”

  “Goodnight, SR. I hope so, too.”

  Chapter Two

  Sam

  Her voice. Fuck, there was something about it that drew me in—the proverbial moth to a flame. I’d found myself leaning forward in my seat, wishing I could break the rules and reach out to her. Touch her. Anything that gave me skin-to-skin contact. Of course I couldn’t, but I wanted to be closer so I could feel her breath when she spoke.

  With a sigh, I blindly ran my palm over the smooth wall until I found the switch. Soft light bathed the tiny space, barely illuminating it enough for me to find the exit. The in-between I liked to call it, a small enclosure designed to keep the light from spilling into the meeting rooms. It led out into a long hallway, revealing several other in-between alcoves.

  I hadn’t stepped through any of the others, having no reason to meet the submissives waiting in the darkened rooms. If I were honest with myself, I shouldn’t have even returned to this one. I had no business pursuing the lovely-voiced Em. My purpose for being here tonight was not as a potential partner for her, but after meeting with her, I hadn’t been able to stop myself from entering the darkened room once more.

  I didn’t spare a glance at the other alcoves as I made my way through the huge house, up the lofty stairs until I reached the top floor. No one stopped me. The security were well familiar with my face, the men nodding as I passed them.

  “Sam?”

  A smile crept over my face as I stepped into the elegant living room. “How do you always know?”

  Ian shrugged, dressed casually in jeans and a white shirt. “Besides the fact that you’re the only other person allowed up here, you take two steps at a time. Gives you away.”

  I shook my head and ruffled his dirty blonde hair as though we were still kids. Ian grunted and swatted at my hand, managing to make contact despite having been blind for twenty years.