Bound to Please (8 page)

When had he lost control?

The feeling was unfamiliar and unwelcome. His heart beat a disturbing rhythm in his chest, and he wanted to run. Run away from this feeling.

Run away from her.

“Fine, baby. Whatever you want.” He spun on his heel and stalked toward her living room where his boots and jacket lay next to the chair. He tried not to think about Ruby’s naked ass as she’d bent over that chair. Tried not to picture the marks he’d left with his belt.

His
marks. He laughed wryly as he yanked on one black boot. She was right. He’d never see her again. They’d already fucked; what did he care if she wanted him gone? Usually he was dying to sleep in his own bed. This wasn’t any different.

He stood and slid the belt back through the loops of his jeans.

Then, shaking his head in the silence, he left.

Chapter
Seven

R
uby heard her front door shut. Not a slam, but not soft, either. It was the sound of a person sure of where he was going. It was the sound of Mark leaving.

Just as you asked him to.

She took a deep breath and looked at her open bedroom door. She heard a car go by, heard a siren in the distance. The city was alive, breathing, but inside her flat everything was quiet and still. Dead air.

Fuck, fuck,
fuck.

Had she made a mistake sending him away? But she’d meant what she’d said. She hated saying good-bye. It sounded so lame, so neurotic. But hey, she’d never claimed to be normal.

Even now, as sensation returned to her overstimulated body, she realized she enjoyed the way her ass throbbed from Mark’s impromptu paddling. And it turned her on all over again.

What was wrong with her?

Have you ever been spanked?
Meg’s question bounced around in her head.

Twelve hours ago, that answer had been no; nothing but a secret fantasy, and now… it was very real.

Flopping back onto the mattress, she smiled a secret smile. She’d just had her first spanking. From Mark St. Crow, up-and-coming rock god.

Maybe she could have handled things differently, been more diplomatic instead of freaking out and kicking him out. But it was for the best, it really was. If she’d let him stay, she wouldn’t have known if he truly wanted to be there, or if he was simply being a gentleman by staying the night.

He’d been irritated that she’d made him go, but hey, that was probably because it had never happened before.

He’d get over it. Just as she would get over him.

She stepped over the edge of the mountain hot spring. Steam rose in billowing, hot clouds around her. With such pristine water it was hard to tell where the bottom was, but the water was too tempting. She jumped in.

The spring was hot, but it didn’t burn her. Instead it seeped into her bones as she floated on her back. She tried not to think about how deep the water was because when she did fear pierced her. Deep waters terrified her, always had.

Her eyes popped open. She heard her sister’s cry, but she couldn’t see her. She began to swim, following her sister’s voice. But then the water started to surge in a whirlpool, and Ruby was spinning, spinning, being sucked down, her sister’s name a silent scream in her mouth…

The phone pulled her slowly out of the dream. Her heart still pounded as she reached across the bed to pull her cell off the nightstand and she flipped open the phone without even looking at the caller ID. “Hello?” Her voice sounded scratchy, sleepy.

She glanced at the clock. 10:30? She never slept this late, even on a Saturday.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

She bolted upright and cleared her throat. There was only one man who called her that. “James. It’s so nice to hear from you.” There, that sounded normal. And awake. “How are you?”

“Good. Listen, I was wondering if you had time to get together. With me.”

Her pulse fluttered. Was he asking her on a date? After months of flirting and not-so-subtle innuendo, was he finally doing it?

James Cleaver was CEO for a very successful Palo Alto software company. She’d planned their Christmas party last December, and it had been amazing, a winter wonderland like something out of a fairy tale. With an endless budget and free rein, Ruby thought it was her best event ever. She was dying to get more jobs like that—high-end, high-class, and high-budget. It was exactly the kind of event she wanted her company to be known for.

Not to mention, high-end parties brought high-end guests. At thirty-seven, Ruby was feeling her clock ticking, and she wanted to meet a good, responsible, successful man. James Cleaver was all those things. He even had the perfect last name. At the Christmas party, he’d asked her to dance three times, and she was sure he’d call her afterward for a date. Now, four months later, he was.

And of course it was at that exact moment she remembered all the things she’d done last night. With a man who was the polar opposite of James Cleaver. As if to taunt her, her ass suddenly began to sting, and she saw herself bent over a chair, her ass in the air as Mark spanked her. Her body immediately responded in a hot flush, and she squeezed her thighs together in an attempt to hammer down the sensations coursing through her.

“…spring fling. You know, as kind of a company morale thing. I have some ideas for the theme, but I know you’ll make it amazing.”

James continued, but now Ruby couldn’t concentrate. Last night, she’d had Mark St. Crow between her legs. She’d obeyed his commands, let him paddle her ass.

“Ruby?”

Harder!
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get Mark out of her head. “Very nice ideas. Indeed.” But all she could think about was melting under Mark’s hot kisses, his warm hands.

“Great. I’m happy you like it so much,” he said with a laugh. Not for the first time, Ruby noticed James had a very nice laugh.

She tried to picture James, in his khaki pants and starched shirt, wielding a whip at her. She giggled.

“Are you laughing?”

“No.” She put her fingers to her lips, took a deep breath, trying to get the image of a BDSM James out of her head. “Um. It’s just that I think everyone will whip.”

“Pardon?”

“Flip. Definitely.” She nodded as if he could see her. “Everyone will flip over this idea.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

Awkward silence. She couldn’t think! Finally she said, “Can I call you on Monday and we’ll set up a time to get together?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. It’s Saturday. Sometimes I forget people actually have lives. I’m at the office. Of course,” he said with a chuckle.

The guy seemed to always be at the office, which was strange because he was charming, attractive, and wealthy. He was one of the most desirable bachelors she knew.

“I’ll talk with Meg, and we’ll put together some ideas,” she said, pulling a pad of paper and pencil off her nightstand.

“I’m so glad you like the rock-and-roll theme.”

Fuck. A. Duck. Is that what she’d just agreed to? After last night, she’d had enough rock and roll to last the rest of her life! She began doodling skulls on her pad of paper. “It’s very fresh, very, um… hot.”

“And so when I saw the paper this morning, I knew you were just the person to call.”

She paused her doodling midcrossbone. “I’m sorry, what paper?”

“Oh, I guess you haven’t seen it. The
SF Review
. There’s a picture of you and Mark St. Crow at a bar. I didn’t know you two were such good friends.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Oh, it, it’s just that Mark really isn’t a friend of mine.”
Just my one-night dom.
“He’s really just an acquaintance; we’re not involved in any way.”
Other than when I had him between my legs last night.
“I mean, I’m not sure what the paper said, but I only met Mr. St. Crow last night.”
And five minutes later I was begging him to fuck me.

She began scribbling large X’s across the skull.

“Don’t worry, gorgeous. I’m sure you’re just friends with the band.” But his tone had
wink wink
all over it. “But maybe you could ask him if they’d be interested in playing this private party?”

She wanted to say no. So badly. But the more high-end events she planned, the more successful her company would become. “Sure, James. I’ll see what I can do.”

Frowning, she flipped her phone closed. The last thing she wanted was a reason to call Mark. She wanted last night to remain a nice, naughty memory.

One night of craziness.

One night of bliss.

One night that would never, ever be repeated.

What she needed to do was focus on the fact that James Cleaver wanted another party. A spring fling. What she really wanted was to persuade him to have a spring fling with
her
. Maybe he was just too shy to ask her out on a real date.

Placing her phone back on the nightstand, she wondered what a sweet, vanilla guy like that would think of her posing for an erotic photographer.

Well, there wasn’t any reason he needed to know about it.

Which reminded her, she needed to make damn sure there weren’t any more pictures of her out there. Since he’d never shown up last night, she hadn’t been able to tell Ash off. She made a mental note to do so ASAP. Meanwhile, she needed to talk to Meg. They had an event to plan.

Ruby exited the taxi on Union Street, in front of a colorful and fragrant flower stand that had set up shop on a corner. Tilting her chin, she let the sun warm her skin.

She didn’t mind the San Francisco fog; it made clear days like this sparkle in comparison. Everything and everyone seemed so much more alive and vibrant, which was exactly how Ruby felt as she wound through the crowded sidewalk. Today Pacific Heights was busy with families pushing shiny ergonomic strollers and twenty-something women carrying shopping bags that looked as expensive as whatever contents lay inside.

Many of the cafés had placed tables outside on the sidewalks, and as Ruby walked toward Savor, she glanced at the patrons enjoying a meal in the sun. She smiled at a toddler attempting to scoop scrambled eggs into her mouth and nodded at two elderly, dapper men sipping from foamy white cups as they watched people walk by.

Just another normal day in San Francisco. But she felt anything but normal.

All morning she’d been wondering about Mark, wondering where he was. It was damn annoying, really, and, for the millionth time, she shook thoughts of him out of her head.

Instead she focused on the people around her. A couple sipping mimosas caught her eye. They had scooted their chairs very close together, so close they were touching shoulders. Their voices were low and their faces close together. Intimate. She’d never experienced that kind of obvious love, with Ash or any of the boyfriends she’d had before him. She was beginning to wonder if she was even capable of it.

Looking away, she picked up her pace. Two cafés later she found Meg sitting at a small metal table outside Savor.

“Hey, Megs.”

Meg stood and gave her a hug. “Hey, sweetie. I ordered your usual.”

Ruby hung her purse on the back of a wooden folding chair and sat down, trying not to wince. Her skin still showed crimson scratches from the hairbrush bristles, and her bottom was sore from the spanking Mark had so deftly given her. He hadn’t bruised her, but she was still red. Some part of her wanted to stay that way. Marked. It was the only connection she had with him, and she didn’t want it to fade. Each time she felt the pain she remembered exactly how those marks had gotten there, and each time she recalled the scene her heart skipped and her sex began to throb.

Note to self: Spanky-spanky with Mark St. Crow? Not as easy to get over as one might think
.

“So why this emergency brunch meeting, anyway? I hope it’s because you’re going to fill me in on all the naughty details of your night with Mark St. Crow.” Meg took a big sip of her foamy latte.

Ruby reached for her own latte and shook her head. “I got a call from James Cleaver today. He wants us to plan a spring-fling theme party for his company!”

Meg’s eyes went wide. “Oh my God! That’s awesome!”

“Well, there’s a catch. He wants the Riders to perform.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. He wants it to be a rock-and-roll party. Big venue, big budget. Very high-end. Spring-fling rock theme.”

Meg leaned back, and Ruby could see her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I have
so
many props for a party like this. We can go over the top. Very glam, very glittery.”

“I know!” Ruby said excitedly. When it came to parties, the two friends shared the same brain, which was why they’d been able to work together so long without killing each other.

Ruby picked up a menu and pretended to read it. Even though they had an office at Emmett and Meg’s place, they often met at Savor for “official” meetings. They found it was easier to be creative with the help of Savor’s excellent lattes.

“Any word from the SF Opera?” Ruby asked.

Meg shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Damn. That could have really blown us into the stratosphere of event planning.”

“Well, James Cleaver isn’t exactly small potatoes.”

“True. Speaking of which.” Ruby peeked over the top of her menu. “Maybe you can call the band’s manager and see if they’ll perform?”

“Um, no?” Meg said.

“Why not? You’re the one with the in.”

“You know why. We’re a lot more likely to get a band like the Riders to play a private event if it’s arranged outside the booking agent. And as it happens, you just spent the night with the leader of this particular band. Ergo, you need to call and ask him.”

“Um. Well—” Ruby laughed nervously. “I may not be the best person to ask Mark for any favors at the moment.”

Meg narrowed her gaze. “Why? What did you do?”

Holding the menu like a shield, Ruby slumped down into her chair. “Nothing?”

“I repeat. What. Did. You.
Do.
”