Dangerously Bound (7 page)

And . . . she had to accept that she simply wasn’t going to know until they were together
at The Bastille on Friday night.

Friday couldn’t come soon enough.

She busied herself with eating a bowl of oatmeal with honey and raisins while shopping
for curtains and new bathroom fixtures online for another hour, then she decided it
was time to go for her run, and got up to get changed. Her laptop pinged. Without
sitting down again, she leaned over and glanced at her email. Her heart was a sudden
hammer in her chest when she saw it was from Mick. She clicked it open.

Allie,

You are to do exactly as I instruct. Be ready for me at 8:00 on Friday night, as we
discussed. You are to wear a dress, no stockings, high black heels—shoes, not boots.
I don’t care for boots on a sub—they’re for Dominants, in my opinion. Your lingerie
should be black or red. I enjoy the symbolism of the darker colors. I am certain you
understand what I mean by that. Wear only a thong and a bra. Expect that they will
be removed. No jewelry, which only gets in the way of play.

Before I pick you up, I want you to concentrate on the ritual of preparing yourself
for me. Take a bath, rather than a shower. Take the time to soak, and while you’re
there, think about what may lie ahead. Think about being in my hands. Think about
what my hands will do to you. They will command you. Pleasure you. Bring you the pain
you’ve asked for. And they are
my
hands. Never forget that. In fact, you might spend the rest of the week thinking about
these things.

8:00. Be prompt.

Mick

God, she was trembling all over, her sex going warm and wet.

“And they are
my
hands. Never forget that.”

As if she could!

She almost wished his email had come later in the week, giving her less time to think
about it. But she also knew he’d done it on purpose. He was a sadist, after all. Exactly
what she wanted. And everything she feared.

It was going to be a very long week.

*   *   *

M
ICK’S COMPUTER BEEPED
at him, and he checked his email. Allie had written three words back. “
Of course, Mick.”

He could almost hear her saying those words to him, her voice low and soft, like a
caress on his skin.

He could make her say those words to him. What a wonderfully wicked idea.

His cell phone went off and he picked it up.

“Reid here.”

“Mick, it’s Jamie.”

“Ah, our flesh merchant.”

“Ha! Hardly.”

“Our negotiator, then. Is that better?”

“Much, actually. And that’s what I’m calling to talk to you about.”

“If you think you’re going to lecture me about how to handle
Allie, keep it. You’re the one who set this thing up. You wouldn’t have done it if
you didn’t know I can be trusted with her.”

Jamie said quietly, “Can you, buddy? And I’m not asking because I intend to lecture
you. It’s because I think maybe you need to talk it out.”

“I’m not that much of a talker.”

“Yeah. I just need to know your head is in the right place.”

“I’ll get it there by the end of the week.”

“Which is why I’m calling. Look, Mick, we both went through the Dominant’s mentor
program at The Bastille. Are you now so experienced—or so damn macho—that you’ve forgotten
it’s okay to ask for help?”

He ran a hand over his goatee. “Of course not. But I can handle this on my own.”

“It’s Allie we’re talking about, Mick. Which makes this different from any other woman
you’ve played, and you fucking know it.”

“I do fucking know it, all right?” he exploded. He pushed his chair back from the
old wooden door he’d made into his desk and stood up to pace. “Fuck, Jamie. Sorry.
But I
do
know. I understand this will be a challenge. And believe me, I was not too happy
with you—or with her—at first. But now . . . I’ve had some time to mull it over and
I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you I’m looking forward to it. To playing her. To the
challenge of it.”

“But you believe you can absolutely maintain with her?”

“I wouldn’t go near her if I didn’t think so.” A small lie—it burned on his tongue.
“Yes. Of course I can maintain control, with her or anyone.”

There was a long pause on the other end. Then Jamie said, “It’s not that I don’t have
confidence in you as a Dominant, buddy. But this is different.”

“Why all the dire warnings about something that was your idea?”

“It was
her
idea. And I’m making a point. If you’re in denial about this stuff—”

“I’m not,” he interrupted.

“If you were, it could be dangerous,” Jamie finished.

“What we do is always dangerous.”

“Agreed. And it’s exactly why the ‘dire warnings’ aren’t warnings as much as a reality
check.”

“Duly noted.”

He was getting annoyed with Jamie, even though he knew he was right. The things they
did at the dungeon—or at home, in some cases—were dangerous. Physically. Sometimes
emotionally. He was always careful with the women he played. He would be even more
careful with Allie.

“Okay. Since I’m still responsible for her as her mediator, we’ll check in again on
Thursday or Friday and see how you’re doing.”

“Yeah. Fine,” Mick agreed grudgingly.

“Fine. I’m heading to the gym around seven tomorrow night. Meet for a workout? We
don’t have to talk about this.”

Despite his boxing workout that morning and the martial arts training he had scheduled
that evening, he wouldn’t mind working with some weights with Jamie. It would calm
him down. He hoped. “Sure.”

“See you then.”

They hung up and Mick tossed his phone onto the desk. His body was flooded with adrenaline,
as it was every time he thought about Allie. Which was most of the time since she’d
come back to the city. Adrenaline or a hard-on that wouldn’t stop no matter how many
times he came. In bed, in the shower, at his desk.

He was growing hard even now just thinking about her for three damn seconds.

Allie.

He pressed on his aching cock through his jeans.

Control.

But he couldn’t get her face out of his mind. Her beautiful, lithe body.

He remembered what her naked breasts looked like, the hardening nipples a dark, dusky
pink. So succulent under his fingertips, his tongue.

His cock grew rigid. He reached for his zipper. His cell went off again.

“God fucking damn it.”

He pulled in a quick breath before he picked it up and looked at the screen. A business
call. He had to switch gears. Get his focus on work.

“Reid here.”

Twenty minutes later he hung up, having negotiated a job for the coming Monday. Which
meant he’d be gone soon after playing with Allie, unavailable to do aftercare should
she experience a delayed subdrop, those moments—or days, sometimes—when a bottom’s
brain “dropped” after being high on the endorphins and seratonin that often flooded
them during play. They could go through depression, feelings of emptiness, tears.
And as the Top who took them there, it was his responsibility to see them through
any aftereffects. If Allie was prone to subdrop, if Jamie wasn’t around to help out
with her while he was out of town, then Friday night would be off.

He didn’t fucking want Jamie to do her aftercare.

But since Allie was new to the New Orleans scene, she might not have any other local
kink friends yet, so Jamie would be it. Not that he was threatened by his best friend.

Damn it. He’d have to speak with Allie.

He dialed her number. It went to voice mail.

“Hey, it’s Mick. Something’s come up and we need to talk about Friday. Call me.”

He hung up. He hadn’t meant to sound so short.

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw.

Almost unbearable even to hear her voice on her outgoing message.

He dropped his phone on his desk once more and began to pace again. But his office—the
second bedroom in his flat—was too small to contain the thrumming energy running through
his body. He went into the living room and was drawn, as he so often was when he had
something to figure out, to the windows overlooking the narrow street.

It was quiet down there, no people, no cars. Just the row of close-set buildings,
stucco and brick and softly painted wood, some with the intricate wrought iron balconies
and gates New Orleans was known for. He tried to allow the familiar scenery to lull
him, but he was crawling out of his skin.

Maybe he should go for another quick run. Either that or get into a scalding hot shower
and fist his hand around his throbbing cock until he came again.

“Because twice already this morning apparently wasn’t enough,” he muttered. Then,
when his cell phone went off again in the other room, “Whoever you are, I do not want
to talk to you.”

He stalked into his office and grabbed the phone.

Allie.

Well, that statement had been bullshit.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” It was that smooth, purely female voice of hers. More mature now than
when they’d met in high school, but still the same Allie he’d always known. Sweet.

Not as sweet as he’d imagined, or they wouldn’t be having this conversation.

“Mick? You there?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I was working on something when you called.”

When had he turned into such a liar?

“Oh. I’m sorry to interrupt, but your message sounded important.”

“Yeah. We need to talk about Friday.”

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out on me,” she said, warning in her voice, which he
wouldn’t have put up with from any other submissive. There was something else beneath
the bravado. Disappointment?

“Not necessarily,” he said. “I’ll run the scenario by you, then we can talk it out.”

“Okay.”

“I’ve had a job come up in Atlanta. A small venue concert, but it’s for someone I’ve
worked with for years, so I didn’t want to turn it down. It means I’ll be gone on
Monday.”

“I . . . don’t understand what that has to do with Friday. Do you need to leave that
soon?”

“No, I’ll leave early Monday. But it means I won’t be available again until Thursday.
I haven’t checked with Jamie to make sure he’ll be around—I wanted to talk with you
first. In case you need someone here for subdrop. I know we haven’t discussed this
yet. I’d planned to talk through your aftercare needs later this week.”

“My aftercare needs are pretty basic—some water, a snack if my blood sugar is low,
a blanket. I’m relaxed and happy after play if the connection is good. I’ve never
felt subdrop, although I’ve sat with friends through it.”

“You’re certain?”

“I’m certain. Usually I’m a little giddy and dreamy the night
I play, then the next day I’m a bit tired if I haven’t slept enough. Or, those times
when I’ve played a whole weekend with someone, the energy just keeps going until the
play is over—the endorphins, the adrenaline. The rush. Then I just sleep it off.”

He didn’t want to think about her playing with anyone else. He couldn’t stand it.

“Tell me what you usually feel like a few days after.” He had to ask. It was his responsibility,
and responsibility was something he never took lightly.

“A few days after I just feel like myself. Sometimes a little happy and floaty still,
but that’s a good thing. And sometimes I’m sore, of course. Loving my marks.”

Lord, he’d love to be the one to mark her. To welt that fragile-looking skin. To put
bruises there. Teeth marks.

He got hard again in such a hot, sudden rush he had to swallow down a gasping breath.

He adjusted himself through his jeans, and his own hand against the iron-hard erection
beneath the denim had him shivering.

Control.

“Okay,” he said. “But I’m checking in with Jamie anyway to make sure you aren’t left
alone if you need someone.”

“That’s fine. I know I can go to Jamie, anyway. And I always have Marie Dawn, of course.”

“Do you know anyone else here yet?” he asked. “I don’t know that she’d know what to
do.”

“I’ve talked with a few people online, but I haven’t met anyone in person yet. So,
no—no one close. But I’ll be fine, Mick.”

“Just covering the bases. That’s part of my job here, Allie. Or haven’t you played
with anyone who goes by those standards?”

“Of course I have! Mick, I’m not ‘kindergarten playing’ at
kink any more than you are. The people I’ve played with are the real thing. Check
my damn references.”

Oh, he loved the fire in her. But her sharp-tongued reply was deserved.

He blew out a breath. “That was an asinine thing for me to say.”

“It was. But I’m glad to see you can admit it when you’re wrong.”

“I can. Just know those times are rare.”

She laughed. “God, you are such a Dom.”

“Am I supposed to be insulted?” But he couldn’t help the slow grin that quirked the
corners of his mouth.

“Nope. Probably not.”

He lowered his tone. “Don’t think for a minute that I am anything but dominant, Allie.”

“Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure you won’t let me forget.”

“You’ve got that right.”

“Okay, so, Friday night at eight, appropriately dressed and in the appropriate frame
of mind,” she said, her tone shifting. He could tell by the breathiness in her voice
she was switching gears, edging into her submissive role the slightest bit. He liked
it.

What would she be like to play? To have her submit to him? Feisty or not, she would
submit. He’d see to it that she did. He didn’t need a service sub in order to feel
that yielding.

His groin tightened.

“We need to discuss sexual contact,” he told her.

“Oh. Of course.”

“Right now my limit is no sex.”

There was a long pause. “No sex?”

It was going to kill him, but if he was going to hang on to any shred of control,
there had to be some line drawn in the sand.