Bound in Blue (27 page)

“You realize Jason texts Theo every day.
How’s Sara? Is she happy? Is she okay? Does she miss me?
”
Kelsey chuckled. “You two can have a nice, long discussion about
how much you love each other when he comes to Marseille to see your
act.”

Oh yeah, her act. The main reason she was
here. “I think Jason will like it,” Sara said, “but I’m nervous
about performing for Mr. Lemaitre.”

“You mean your dad?”

“I can’t think of him like that. He made it
clear in Paris that he wasn’t interested in a father-daughter
thing.”

“Aw, Sara. He’s interested. He cares about
you.”

“Does he text Theo every day?” she joked
bitterly. “He hasn’t tried to contact me once.”

“Well...” Kelsey thought a moment. “If I had
to guess, I’d say he’s taking a little breather on the bar.”

“Maybe the bar at the Citadel,” Sara said.
“Or some other sex club. He has his priorities.”

Kelsey shuddered. “Oh God. I just realized
something. I slept with your
dad
. I was his plaything for a
whole week.”

“Theo allowed that?”

“Theo loved it, watching Lemaitre torture me.
I won’t tell you the particulars since he’s your father and
everything. Believe me...” She shuddered again. “You’d be
traumatized for life.”

“He’s not very nice, is he?”

“Lemaitre? Sometimes he’s not, but he has a
huge heart under all that Lord-and-Master posturing. I know, I’ve
seen it. Even if he won’t be your father, I’d accept him as a
friend.”

Theo glared over at them, spreading his
hands. “You’re still talking about your periods? There is so much
to say?”

“I love you, honey,” Kelsey called out,
laughing.

He rolled his eyes at her and then gestured
to Sara. “Come,
ma brillante
. Your turn on the silks.”

Sara watched the fabric twist in the wind. “I
better not. I’ve only ever done trapeze.”

“Go try it,” said Kelsey, nudging her. “It’s
fun. If you want, I’ll go with you.”

“Can it hold both of us?”

“It could hold an elephant, silly. Come
on.”

Kelsey gave her some rosin and showed her how
to make hand and foot “traps” so she could hold on once she climbed
up. The fabric looked so soft billowing in the wind, but in her
hands it felt hard and strong, like it could literally hold an
elephant. Theo climbed up too, on the opposite silk, and he and
Kelsey demonstrated how to do some of the moves in their act. In
Minuit
, their act was dark and tragic, but here on the
silks, they laughed and teased each other, and the day was warm and
bright.

“It’s fun, no?” asked Theo, swinging away
from her. He was back a moment later. “More fun than girl
talk.”

“Nothing’s more fun than girl talk,” Kelsey
said. “Except flying. Hey Theo, make us fly, please?”

“Um,” Sara said as Theo nodded and started
down the opposite silk. “What is this flying thing?”

“You’ll love it,” Kelsey assured her.
“Everyone should try it once.”

Theo let the other tail blow free and took
the girls’ silk. “Kels, Sara has her hand lock?”

Kelsey made sure Sara was secure, then looked
down at her husband. “We’re good.”

Sara wasn’t totally good, but Kelsey winked
at her and told her to relax. Theo grabbed a big handful of the
tail and pulled it to one side, then the other, creating a wide,
swinging, circular momentum that really did feel like flying.

“Oh my God,” Sara yelled. “This is
crazy.”

“I know, right?” Kelsey laughed like a
maniac. Below them, Theo smiled and guided their flight. Each time
he pulled the tail out a little farther, so they went in greater
and greater circles, until the sky above them spun in a dizzying
whirl.
Life is about hanging on
, Sara thought, clinging to
the silk.
Sometimes it’s just about hanging on for the
ride.

She half-laughed, half-cried thinking about
Jason coming to Marseille, and hung on for dear life until Theo
took pity on them and let them down.

* * * * *

Jason flew to Marseille Sunday afternoon with
Lemaitre. The trip to the picturesque coastal city only took an
hour and a half in his private jet. They didn’t chat. Lemaitre
worked on his laptop, occasionally pausing to stare out the window.
Jason drifted, lost in memories of his times with Sara, both the
good and the bad.

What now?
he wanted to ask Lemaitre.
You started all this. How will it end?
They all moved
through Cirque’s world by his hand, like human chess pieces on an
extremely colorful board. If Lemaitre approved Sara’s act, then
he’d send her to perform somewhere and Jason would go with her.
That was going to happen. The rest of it—the hows, whens, and
whys—were still up in the air, like Sara’s red trapeze.

Or would it be some other color now?

He didn’t know. Even Lemaitre didn’t know,
and Theo wasn’t talking. All he would say to Jason’s pleas for
information was, “You’ll see.”

“Oh God,” he muttered under his breath. He
was so nervous for her, so stressed. Lemaitre turned to him but
didn’t comment. Jason assumed the Cirque CEO would be staying in
his Marseille residence while they were here, probably with a
select group of his local slaves, but Jason had booked a hotel room
closer to the theater and Theo and Kelsey’s place. Closer to
Sara.

Jason wasn’t offended when Lemaitre declined
his invitation to dinner, but he was frustrated. It left him alone
with his anxious thoughts. He ended up dining alone at a sidewalk
café and walking around afterward. He wandered in and out of a
couple jazz clubs, but his heart wasn’t in it so he headed back to
the hotel. It wasn’t even eight.

He took a long, steamy shower and distracted
himself with some emails before bed. The sooner he went to sleep,
the sooner tomorrow would come, and that was the day he got to see
Sara again. Surely she’d talk to him. He could tell her all the
things he should have said before, that he was her Master and she
belonged to him, and that he had a cage with her name on it back in
Paris, and that she’d been a very bad girl to run away.

No, he couldn’t say that. He wanted to, but
no.

He had to tell her the other stuff, like how
he couldn’t concentrate on work, and how often he checked
Marseille’s weather. He had to tell her how sorry he was for
squandering her trust, how empty his life was now that she’d gone.
He’d tell her he’d do anything to win her back, even if it meant
just being Jason and Sara for a while, without the Master/slave
stuff.

His phone pinged and he glanced down to find
a text from Theo.

You’re here? Marseille?

Yes
, he typed.

Where?

Hotel Arbruste

Rm 17

Come by?

If Theo would meet him for a drink, he could
pump him for details about Sara. Maybe he’d even take a message
back to her. He waited a long time for Theo to reply, and when he
did, it wasn’t the answer he expected.

Sara wants to come.

It’s okay?

He read the text twice to be sure he wasn’t
seeing things.

She wants to come here?

Yes, okay?

I’ll bring her.

Theo was going to bring her.
Sara.
Sara was coming back to him, just as Lemaitre had said. Whether she
was coming as a slave or lover or friend, Jason didn’t care. He
typed back the only word he could think of.

Now. Now.

Now now now now now.

Jason wanted to run downstairs so he could
meet her as soon as she arrived, but there were several entrances
to the hotel. God forbid he missed her. In the end he waited in the
room, pacing, going out of his mind. He looked down at his phone,
reading and re-reading Theo’s texts.

Sara wants to come.

It’s okay?

He didn’t say why Sara wanted to come,
especially the evening before her big performance. What if she
wasn’t returning to him? What if she didn’t want to be his slave
anymore? What if she was quitting Cirque du Monde altogether, and
coming to tell him goodbye?

Theo would have warned him if that was the
case. No, she was coming back to him. When he heard the knock he
flew to the door, fumbling with the lock just as he had so many
months ago in Mongolia.
Hold on a second. Don’t go.
When he
opened it she was standing there beside Theo, blinking her
beautiful eyes.

“
D’accord
,” said Theo as they stared
at each other. “Be good, you two.”

Jason would have thanked him but he was
already down the hall, and Sara was in his arms, hugging him,
burying her face in his neck. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated
over and over. His eyes fluttered closed. While she was away, it
had been like missing some vital organ, his heart or his lungs, but
now she was back and he could breathe again. He inhaled against her
hair, remembering the smell of her, the shape of her, the weight of
her against his body.

“I missed you,” he said, clutching her close.
“God, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” Her fingers dug into his
skin. “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. I needed time.”

“I know.”

“I’m sure you were angry. But I’m back now,
if you want me.”

“Of course I want you,” he said. “But how are
you?” He touched her hair, her face, her eyes, learning each part
of her again. “Are you okay? Did you have the time you needed? I’m
so sorry, Sara. I’m sorry I hurt you and lost your trust.”

“You were trying to protect me. I realize
that now.”

He was supposed to explain all that, but she
understood already. She possessed some new peace, some serenity he
hadn’t seen in her before. She had changed during her time in
Marseille. Grown, matured, whatever. She was different now.

He squeezed her, trapping her in his arms. “I
want you back, little one. Right now. We belong together. Even when
we fight, even when we make mistakes, I want you beside me. I can’t
be happy without you.”

None of these words were enough to explain
the depth of his feelings so he kissed her instead, a long, deep,
searching kiss as he held her close.
My lips. My beautiful body.
My Sara. Mine.
She kissed him back, pressing against him like
she wanted to blend into his body. His cock filled and rose between
them, and he shook with the effort not to throw her down and take
her. Instead he broke the kiss and tilted her head back, and looked
into her eyes.

Such longing. She might have changed but she
was still all there, his precious slave girl, adoring and eager to
please. “I missed you,” he said, and this time it was a growl of
frustration.

She ducked her head. “Are you going to punish
me for leaving? I deserve it. I should have forgiven you, the way
you forgave me.”

He wove his fingers into her hair and
squeezed until her lips parted in a whine. “I understood that you
were upset,” he said against her cheek. “Maybe someday I’ll punish
you on principle. But right now, I’m more of a mind to reward you
for coming back.” He undressed her, yanking off her shirt and
jeans, tossing them over the hotel chair. She scrabbled at his
button and zipper. They probably should have talked more, become
re-acquainted with each other before they got naked and started
playing, but this had been their mode of operation from the
beginning. She wanted to be on her knees and he wanted her on her
knees, staring up at him, waiting for instructions.

“Master?” She clung to him as he stripped off
her bra and panties. “You won’t...you won’t be too nice to me, will
you? Because you missed me?”

He chuckled and took her elbow, holding it
behind her back. “Are you trying to top me from the bottom? Who
decides how ‘nice’ I am?”

“You do, Master.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I’m sorry,” she said as he pinched and then
slapped one of her nipples.

“Maybe I’ll be so nice to you that you can’t
stand it. So nice that it makes you sick.”

“You could never make me sick, Master,” she
cried, a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

“All right, sillypants. Enough.” He twisted
her arm a little further, pinched her nipple a little harder and
pressed his lips to her neck. “Who are you?”

She didn’t hesitate. “I’m your slave. I love
you, Master.”

His cock ached at every word. He ordered her
to the floor and waited for her to assume her slave pose. She sat
back on her ankles and parted her legs wide, arched her back and
stuck her breasts out. So pretty. His cock rose hard and insistent
in front of her face. She stared at it with such worship, such
hunger. How on earth had he found this girl…and how had he ever let
her go?

He grabbed the back of her neck to bring her
up on her knees and used his other hand to guide his cock into her
warm, wet mouth. Her tongue slid along the underside, teasing,
caressing. The pleasure almost took his legs from under him. He
eased deep in her throat. She gagged, but then stared up at him as
if to beg for more. The sensation would have been enough, but her
enthusiasm made it ten times hotter. A hundred times hotter. Way
too hot, actually. If they didn’t stop, this encounter would be
over before it started.

“Hold on.” He drew away, fighting the urge to
plunge back into her mouth. “I want your shoulders on the floor.
Ass in the air. I want to see everything,” he added. “So spread
those legs.”

She complied, assuming the position he’d
first put her in at the hotel in Ulaanbaatar, before he knew who
she was, before he realized she’d be his for life. Her shoulders
rested on the floor, her hands above her head. She spread her knees
and arched her ass up just as instructed. It was a position of
offering, of utter vulnerability.