The C Word (Just a Word Book 1) (14 page)

“No we
talked. A lot. I think I told him my life story and the amazing thing is, he
didn’t think I was a freak.”

“You’re not a
freak,” she insists fondly.

“No and if I
am, then he’s one too.”

“So he a—”
she pauses, then corrects herself, “So he’s like you?”

“Yeah.” I
smile at the notion. I’ve never wanted anything to do with any of them, so to
feel comforted that we are the same, it’s a strange feeling.

“So are you
going to see him again?”

I pause, I
called her for advice, but now I don’t really want to tell her, I know she will
be a nightmare.

“Hey, what
gives? Are you going to see him again or not?”

“He’s um,
here.”

“Now? He’s
there with you? Did you fuck him?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you
going to?”

“I want to;
it’s just not that simple.”

“Oh please
Maxi, since when was sex ever complicated for you?”

“I guess
never. It’s just—”

“What?”

“I don’t know
exactly, it just feels too, essential.”

“And that’s
freaking you out?”

“Yes.”

“Maxi?” she
summons my attention in that way she does when she wants to impart some wisdom,
or surprise me with something.

“Valentina?”
I reply in my usual way

“Stop over
thinking things.”

“I’m not, I—”

“Stop. Over.
Thinking. Maybe it is too essential, but more likely, you’re just over
thinking.

She’s right.
It’s just because I told him all that stuff I’ve never told anyone before and
because I know that we are the same. That’s quite overwhelming. I’m placing too
much importance on it. “Yeah…” I murmur.

“So go for
it. Stop hiding in your bathroom and get out there!”

“Wait, how
did you—?”

“I can hear
the echo.”

I roll my
eyes.

“And you can
stop rolling your eyes too.”

“Fucking hell
Valentina, either you’re a witch or we spend way too much time talking.”

“I do have a
hell of a cackle.”

“Okay, I’m
going now.” I laugh.

“Have fun.”

“Yeah okay.”

“I mean it.”

“I will.”

“Love you.”

“Love you
too.”

I end the
call and turn to find him standing in the door way.

12

LET GO

I swallow.
Mentally running through my conversation with Valentina to see if there’s
anything didn’t want him to hear. Hell, it’s too late to worry about it now; I
should have shut the door.

He waits by
the door, no guilt in his expression for eavesdropping. I draw myself up; I
have nothing to feel guilty for. I walk confidently towards the door and open
it wide as if to walk past him, but he stops me with his arm across the
doorway.

He leans in,
pressing me against the door frame and I look up into his green eyes and find
they have changed. Far from the casual, laid back demeanour I walked away from
in the living room, he is trying to seem hard, which I can tell is not in his
nature.

I scoff and
shake my head, ducking under his arm I step out into the room which is my
walk-in wardrobe.

He catches me
by the arm and I pause, not turning to face him. I tense when his lips find my
neck but I soon relax as he kisses his way up.

“Tell me what
he does for you,” he whispers in my ear.

And just like
that, I’m tense again. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Just tell me
what he does that you can’t do without.”

“Why is it so
important? You are not Richard.”

“Amen to
that!”

“But
why
is it so important to you?”

He turns me
to face him and pushes my chin up to look at him, his hand casually around my
throat. “Because maybe I can do it for you.”

I can’t
stifle my laughter, “I don’t want fake dominance.”

His amused
expression keeps an air of challenge as he leans in closer. “Listen, there is
nothing fake about me. I’m just trying to figure out what you need so that I
can do it my way.” He smiles, his confidence never slips. “So what is it? Pain?
Denial? Give me something.”

I can see he’s
trying, I just don’t fully understand why. But his expectant look remains fixed
on me so I relent. “He provokes me. He pushes me to the point where I need to
shift and I resist it.”

“And how does
he do that?”

“Talks down
to me, punishes me, tells me I’m forbidden to come until he says so. He’s a
hard man, provocation comes naturally to him.”

“And you
think I’m not.”

I shake my
head and look away, fighting a smile.

“Whats so
funny, City Boy?”

“You.” I laugh
looking back at him. “I can’t see it.”

“You don’t
think I’ve got what it takes to dominate you?” He asks moving in very close,
his voice still filled with amusement.

I shake my
head. “No, I didn’t say that.”

“Good, I
thought I was going to have to remind you about last night,” he says grabbing a
handful of my hair and yanking my head back so that his lips can roam my neck.
My pulse thunders in my veins at the memory.

“No,” I rasp,
swallowing back a moan. “You can dominate, just not in the way he does.”

His fingers
tighten. “I’m happy to see you have an open mind, City Boy. I’m a little
insulted that you don’t see me getting my hard man on, but there’s more than
one way to bring you to your knees.”

 
“You are not hard.” I chuckle, as he
releases my hair.

“Oh I’m hard,”
he wiggles his brows, pressing his hardness against me.

Jesus. I
shake my head, grabbing his arse roughly and pulling him against me tight. “You
could do with some discipline yourself you know.” My lips skim his as the
gravel in my voice gives away the need I feel.

“Mmmmm, is
that an offer?” he smirks, but his voice betrays him too. I can’t hold off any
more, I bring one hand up to fist in his hair, kissing him hungrily and
grinding us together. The ache to be inside him is almost painful. I swallow,
imagining him tied and bent over my bed.

He pulls back
from my grasp and grins, his eyes flash with desire. He obviously heard my
thoughts, damn it, I need to get a handle on them, stop them from wandering off
into his head.

“No you don’t, I like it.”
he assures me
though the bond.

“Yeah, I
really do,” I say firmly, aloud.

He frowns,
but quickly realises and replaces it with a cheeky grin. Leaning in to kiss me
again, this time slowly, I’m just getting into it and forgetting about my
wondering thoughts when he breaks into my headspace.
“So…tied and bent over your bed, hmmm? I could go for that.”

I hold in my
sigh, he can’t help it, if I’m sharing my thoughts; it’s my fault, not his.

He takes my
hand and brings me back to him. “So where do you keep your whips and chains?”
he grins eagerly and I reluctantly laugh. He can’t be serious for a second and
whenever I feel myself getting overwhelmed or freaking out, he makes me smile.
I cut him some slack for breaking the sexual tension with his silliness. I keep
breaking it with my anxiety, we’ll call it quits.

Okay, so if
he wants to play, I’m game.

I walk over
to the centre of the dressing area where there is an antique chest. The shallow
drawers make it perfect for items like watches, cufflinks and ties. I open the
second drawer down to reveal a selection of carefully rolled ties. T peers over
my shoulder and scoffs.

“I think we
need something more than that, City Boy.”

I glance at
him over my shoulder with a smile and slide back the top section of the drawer.
As my ties slide back into the chest, they reveal ropes, cuffs, silk ties,
almost every kind of restraint you could need. I stand back for him to take a
look. But instead he moves towards me and pulls me close.

“That’s all
very nice,” he says in a low voice. “But we both know none of that will hold
me.” He takes hold of my wrists and positions them behind my back. “What does
he
use on you?”

“Ropes.” I
swallow as his lips skim my neck. “Leather cuffs, nothing special.”

“So it’s all
an act?”

I nod once.

“Then why do
you bother?”

“It’s enough.”

“Really? Why
would you play at it though? Wouldn’t you love to really let go?

“I don’t want
to let go. I just want to come close and have the strength to pull it back.”

“And just how
close have you ever let yourself get, knowing it was really down to you to pull
back.”

I shrug.

“Not close
enough, I bet.” He turns his attention back to the drawer. He lifts out some
rope and shakes his head. “What is all this for then? All the little humans you
fuck?”

I feel like
he’s testing me. “It’s not only humans,” I reply, pushing him right back. His
eyes flare with something akin to irritation. I watch him. These little hints
of jealousy and the feeling I get that he wants more for me than I have, like
he cares in some way. He’s invested. Why? It’s been two days.

“No shifter
could be restrained by this stuff, it’s pointless,” he scoffs.

Shaking my
head, I pull my hands free from his grip. Taking the rope from his hand, I feel
defensive and want to shut the drawer. He doesn’t get it. Not everyone can live
by his carefree ethos. To him, things are simple. For me, there is nothing
simple. Everything requires consideration. Everything is complicated. So I have
to get creative. “I like the way they look and besides, it can be a game. Even
if the ropes wouldn’t hold, the thrill of the game is enough for some. You
should open your mind.” My mind wanders to Rose and how she so perfectly played
the game. Maybe life would be far less complicated if…

No. Life is
less complicated on my own and that is how it’s going to stay.

“So it’s like
role play?”

“In a way,
yes.”

“Show me,” he
glances at the bundle of hemp rope in my hand.

I look down
at the rope and then up into his eyes.

I want to
tell him to go to hell, for mocking the one thing that holds me together on the
rare occasion I start to come apart, but the thought of him in ropes appeals
too much to resist.

“Take your
top off.” I command.

His
expression is ironic, but he follows the instruction, lifting my white T-shirt
over his head and dropping it on the floor.

I pull the
ends and start working the rope through my fingers. His low slung jeans are
tented over his hardening cock and as he watches me feed the rope, he pops the
button and lowers the zip slightly to relieve the pressure. I take a good look
at that trail of hair when I turn him to face the large mirror. I catch his
smile in the reflection as I cross the rope across his chest. Trying to focus
on the ropes, I stop myself returning it.

Taking my
time, I make wide cuffs on his biceps and pull his arms behind him, then finish
off by binding his wrists behind his back. He is still smiling when I look back
up, damn, can he take anything seriously?

“That crease
is back,” he notes.

Ignoring him,
I admire my handiwork.

“Not bad,
City Boy,” he says, turning, to the side to look at the back in the mirror. “Where
did you learn to do this?”

“A friend
taught me.”

“Ah, the
wonderful Richard?”

“No.”

He nods. “So,
what happens now?” he asks, advancing on me and backing me into the open drawer
behind me. Hasn’t he noticed he’s bound?

I shove him
back. “Well usually the one tied up, behaves like a good little sub and waits
to be told.”

“Uh huh,” he
smirks, coming back towards me and planting his lips on mine, his jeans slip
down a little and his dick springs free. He breaks the kiss and looks down. “Well
look at that!” His smile is wide now as he nods towards his hard cock and
wiggles his eyebrows again. “Is this the part where the good little sub gets a
blowie as a reward?”

“Something
tells me you wouldn’t know how to be a good little sub even if your life
depended on it.” Pushing at his chest more firmly this time makes stumble a
little over his footing. “And you have to earn your rewards.” Laughing, I turn
back to the drawer and straighten the ropes he messed up, putting everything
back into a neat line. Without thinking, I run my finger along the edge of the
black box at the back of the drawer.

“What’s in
the box?” T asks from over my shoulder. Jesus. I think we’ve established T is
not a sub.

“Nothing.” I
slide the drawer closed.

I hear the
rope snap behind me and T’s hand is on mine before I manage to remove it from
the drawer, ropes still dangling from his wrists and arms.

“Nothing?” he
asks quietly.

I don’t turn
to face him. I can’t look him in the eye.

“You keep a special
looking box of ‘nothing’ at the back of a drawer full of restraints?”

I pause for a
moment. I had the damn things made. What is it all for if they never come out
of the box?

“It’s not for
you.” I tell him quietly.

“Oh?” he
straightens up with interest.

Slowly, I
open the drawer and lift the box out, placing it on top of the chest and flip
the catches.

“I had these
specially made, for me. But I’ve never used them.”

T lifts one
of the forged cuffs from the box, running his fingers over the inch wide metal
band. I take the tiny hex key from its slot in the box and show him how they
open. He tests it out by closing it around my wrist and locking it, sending a
shiver of excitement through me. I don’t know what I had planned when I ordered
them, but I never told Richard about them. I’ve never even tried them on. The
cold metal gives me a thrill that I’ve never experienced. A taste of real
freedom.

I watch him
open the other cuff and fasten it around my other wrist. He runs a finger over
the ankle cuffs still sitting in their black velvet sections, but leaves them
there. Then picks up the collar and holds it up.

“Is this a
collar?”

I nod.

He frowns. “Pretty
small,” he observes.

I drop my
eyes and look at my feet.

He uses the
collar to lift my chin up, looking at me expectantly.

“It’s tight
so that if I wear it, I can’t shift.” I tell him in all but a whisper.

His eyes show
his surprise. “Thought you didn’t shift?”

“I don’t.
That is just in case it ever goes beyond my control.”

He shakes his
head. “We have some serious work to do.”

I swallow.

“Okay,” he
places the collar back in the box and takes a moment to brush the ropes from
his arms. Then he hooks his index fingers into the metal loops that hang from
each cuff, lifting my wrists up. “Where do we hook these?”

I nod towards
the box and he releases me. I pull two of the metal rings from their slots. And
show him they open and close the same way as the cuffs. “Bring the key,” I tell
him and turn back towards the bedroom.