Bound to Be Mine (South Jersey Bound Series) (6 page)

Soon, a familiar serenity stole into their conversation—easy laughter, quick understanding. Being with her was like sliding on an old glove during winter’s first snowfall. Ben knew there would never be another woman for him. Lisa was it; she was the one…which was why he refused to hurt her again, even if it meant staying away.

After they finished dinner, just when he almost forgotten their present circumstance, she placed his book on the table. Her long, slender fingers pressed lightly into the leather cover as she slid it toward him.

“Thank you for your apology,” she said. Two pink spots dotted her cheeks. “Writing this must have been very difficult for you.”

Ben’s eyes dropped to the book, almost as if it were an alien thing. His breath grew suddenly thick in his throat.

“It’s yours,” he said.

His face heated at the crack in his voice. He expected her to walk out at any second. Why else would she give back his journal? He didn’t want to watch her say good-bye.

“I can’t accept your apology,” she replied.

His eyes snapped up.
What the hell?
“Why?”

“I don’t believe it,” she said. She swallowed and pressed her lips together, shrinking toward the table.

“You don’t believe I’m sorry?” he asked, astonished.

She shook her head, keeping their eyes connected.

“I believe you’re sorry. I
don’t
believe what we did was wrong. I certainly don’t believe who we are is wrong, either,” she whispered breathily. “But your premise is wrong, Ben. You didn’t hurt me. You never forced me. You never would.”

“But you don’t know—”

“Wait.” She shifted and drew a finger to his mouth. “Hear me out. I heard you out, if only in writing.”

“Okay,” he said against her finger. Even that small touch caused weakness in his knees, heat in his neck.

“I did lose myself,” Lisa said slowly. “But it wasn’t because of you. I think…I think it was because of the dancing. But, dancing won’t make me numb anymore. I quit the club today.”

Everything in the room grew bright. He had the disconcerting sense that everything in the future hung by a thread, and he would come to define things by this day, perhaps, by this very moment.

“You quit dancing?” he managed to ask.

She smiled and nodded. “I’ve been thinking about quitting for a long time.” She took her finger from his lips and her hand disappeared beneath the table.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“I have a few things up my sleeve.” She sat up straight and placed both hands on the table. “The real question is: what are
you
going to do, Ben?”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember when I started dancing, I convinced you dancing was right for me because I wouldn’t have to answer to those assholes in their cheap, discount-store suits?”

He nodded.

“For the first year that was true. I felt powerful on stage, like I controlled the audience. But really, to those men, I was just a faceless pussy. The audience started to control me.”

Ben lurched. Anger flamed inside his chest. Anger so white hot he couldn’t grasp its shifting form. The image of men waving bills arose in white light, an urge to pound the ghostly forms into tomorrow followed. He struggled not to show his rage.

“Some of the girls could do it, but it wasn’t for me. I should have figured that out a long time ago.” She raised a hand and ran a fingernail down the side of his face. “But I don’t want to talk about the club. All that matters is us. I want you and I know you want me,” she said under her breath. “But what we did yesterday isn’t going to cut it.”

Ben saw her through a haze. He knew what she asked, knew what she wanted, but was she right? He felt the pull of all those meetings…all the terrible things other people had told him he was…and in the other direction, he felt the tug of Lisa’s love, her calm assurance.

“I know you think how we lived…what we explored hurt me. I’m telling you it did not. And I’m asking you to trust me. Your aggression doesn’t drive this. Was I
ever
just a faceless pussy to you?”

“Never,” he said without hesitation.

He tried to recall his sponsor’s words.

Silence.

No one had told him to go to the program, but he felt how distant Lisa was becoming, and he knew, he just knew, it was because of him. But what if he’d made a mistake? Did those twelve-step groups ever turn anyone away? Had his sponsor made assumptions based solely on his presence there?

He thought about it…other group members talked of obsessively searching for porn—every day. Ben liked a picture or two…okay, twenty, but he’d never needed to look at photos to get hard. Others spoke of their partners being faceless—just how Lisa spoke of her club patrons. But Lisa had never been faceless to him.

She was simply…
his
.

His polar-twin emotions were beyond his understanding—lust and love, the desire to protect and the desire to bind. He loved to see her kneeling naked at his feet. But he also loved to see her smile.

If they came back together in their crazy struggle—this explosive union—wouldn’t they ultimately destroy one another? Anger was there, he could feel it pulsing in his heart, pooling in his belly.

“I don’t know if we can work,” he said, looking out the window.

He’d spent so long convincing himself that what they did was wrong, he didn’t know how easily he could unwind the knots around his heart.

“To be honest, Ben, neither do I,” Lisa breathed. “All I know is that I need my master.”

Lisa shivered as a hot shade of dusty rose spread across her cheeks. Not the flush of desire, but getting close.

Who was he kidding?

“You don’t want someone better, someone…I don’t know…more fucking gentle, or whatever it is women dream about?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “No one is better for me than you.”

Relief washed over him, and it was all he could do not to sweep her off her feet and carry her right out of the diner. Caveman tendencies…could he really live with himself that way? Did she really want him to?

Lisa took two twenties from her wallet and placed the cash on the table.

“I can get it,” Ben offered.

She stood and then stepped to his side, a small smile playing about her lips. Her scent made him ache as her hair fell close to his face.

“I want a master, not a keeper,” she whispered, kissing him on the head as he’d done to her. “Look, maybe we did need to break up last year. Maybe we both learned things apart that we couldn’t learn together.”

She drew out a key and placed it on the table.

“I’m going home and I’m getting ready for my master. But this is a one-time offer. If you don’t show, this is good-bye.”

Ben watched the provocative sway of her hips as she sauntered out of the diner.

He was lost.

****

Lisa lay on her floor naked, her head tucked into her knees. Her muscles ached from the effort to keep still. Seconds stretched into minutes until time bowed, forcing her to bend to the outer limits of her patience.

The contents of her sacred box—collar,
flog, rope, blindfold, leather cuffs, and jelly—were spread out on the floor in front of her, bearing witness to her silent vigil.

For some reason, she just had not been able to throw those things away. She’d never lost hope, not really.

Tears hovered behind her eyes, but she refused their comfort. Part of her wanted to prepare for abandonment’s sting, but throwing up a wall against the pain would have been disloyal.

She’d made an offer to her master. She resolved to trust him.

He would come. She knew he would.

Desire slicked the folds of her quim. She ached between her thighs. Her breasts were heavy and her nipples firm against her knees.

This morning, she’d installed a hook in the ceiling beam—with a quick-release button, should she need to use her safe-word.

Her master had always wanted to hang her by her wrist cuffs, but she’d told him hanging was one of her a hard lines. To be stretched bare had seemed too much, too far. The rug softly tickled Lisa’s cheek as she imagined hanging tonight.

No fear poisoned her mind. When her master returned, she would not fear then, either.

She practiced moving her awareness from one part of her body to another…drawing full attention to places often over looked—the inside edge of each finger, the skin just under her shoulder blade.

When a key finally scraped and rasped against the lock, she wanted to cry out in frenzied elation.

Instead she lay in silence while her excitement spoke in her limbs’ involuntary trembling.

The air became charged with sexual longing, as every sense she possessed read her master’s approach.

Thud, thud, thud
…on freshly vacuumed carpet. His heavy breath rushed above the light hum of the air conditioner. Without trying, without looking, she matched her breath to his.

Instinct told her to tense as he bent over her, but she rejected her impulse, forcing herself to remain loose and open.

Trust him, trust him, trust him.

He circled behind her and lifted her hair into one of his hands. A cool breeze shimmered against the sweat beading on her neck. Lisa concentrated on the sound of his breathing as he crouched beside her.

His heat radiated—close, so very close, but not touching. Anticipation spasmed at the base of her throat, but she remained folded and still, awaiting his command, be it silent or spoken.

He twisted her hair and, for the first time, Lisa tilted her face upward, just enough to release the tension. She could feel his breath on her back. He inhaled, his chest expanding.

Come on,
she thought,
take me.

At once, her body convulsed with contrition. A true servant would wait.

Wait and be grateful.

She hoped for—no, craved—his domination and prayed she had not misplaced her trust.

Her skin, from the soft under-curve of her flattened breasts to the exposed stretch of her ass cheeks, saturated with yearning.

She understood that her master wrestled a beast inside him, and she had resolved to lay herself down for the beast and wait. She did not speak—could not speak until given permission—speaking would destroy the delicate balance. She leaned her head to the side, presenting more of her neck.

Vulnerability was the most intimate offering she could give, a gamble of the most sacred sort.

If he was right, his darkness would come out. He would take her and fuck her until she was to him what she’d been to her customers…faceless…a pussy to be stolen, raided, violated, and then abandoned in shame.

If he was right, this time would be the last. She’d be wrecked for good.

But she trusted the truth; their bond would proliferate and deepen, saving them both. She tottered on a teary edge, knowing there was no return from the abyss their relationship had created.

He kept her hair taut, but with his other hand, he cupped her head. Under his hand’s warmth, her nerves came alive and her body flooded with a worshipful thrill.

Gently but deliberately, he guided her to her feet by her hair. His heat spread delicate awareness across her naked flesh. Maddeningly, he kept his distance.

With just one finger, he touched her hip, guiding her back against his jeans. The rough denim cloaked his thick and ready cock. He stepped back.

“You know what I want,” he said.

His voice rained on her skin, luscious and rich. Yes, she knew a touch in just that place was an order to rub him with her ass.

He was taller. She arched forward to fulfill his command. He remained rigid. Her strained scalp shot fingers of pain through her body.

She concentrated on her breath—a sub’s haven—until she could balance her aching scalp inside with her liquid center. Once balanced, she focused on the throb in her pussy, the juice that wet her thighs.

With agonizing slowness, she eased toward his body’s heat. The opening of his zipper chaffed, as she clenched her ass around his prick.

Quick as a snake, his arm came around her waist and crushed her against his chest. She gasped, eyes watering.

He forced her head to the side and covered her mouth with his, forcing her to draw breath from him alone. Though his fingers bit into her cheek, she opened to his kiss, his claim, freeing her mind of any other thought.

****

Ben locked Lisa’s back against his body. She inhaled with an almost soundless whimper that tightened the thick lust swimming in his groin. He twisted her face, invading her mouth with a draining, brutal kiss.

He could die now, with her pliant lips open and her helpless, involuntary moans echoing in his ears. Die and die happy.

Later, he’d slap his belt across her ass, and punish her for making sounds without permission. He dropped her hair as if singed and stepped back, panting.