Bound to Please (22 page)

S
he was lacing her boots when the call bell rang. Who would be stopping by at nine-thirty on a Saturday morning? Not Mark. She hadn’t heard from him since they’d parted ways at Ghirardelli Square, and she didn’t expect to. It was probably some kids walking by the building who thought it was clever to push buttons as they meandered up the block.

Ignoring the ringing, she pulled a sweater over her head, having decided to spend the day at Golden Gate Park. The grounds always calmed her, and for some reason she felt the need to lose herself in the spring gardens.

She trotted down the stairs and pushed through her building’s front door. The sun was shockingly bright, and she began digging through her purse, looking for her sunglasses. They were always buried at the bottom—

“So you’re home.”

Her mouth went dry. She knew that voice, but it couldn’t be…

She looked up and her stomach dropped. “Ash? W–what are you doing here?”

Her gaze skimmed over him. It had been over a year since she’d seen him, but of course he looked as gorgeous as ever. Thin, with shaggy blond hair and a light beard stubble that gave him that perfect artsy photographer look. It was even more irritating that the whole thing came so naturally to him. He simply forgot to cut his hair, and he couldn’t be bothered to shave. He’d been in the Navy, and he’d always said it was a great pleasure to not have to worry about his appearance after he was discharged. And that was all he’d ever said about his military experience. Whatever the reason, the look worked well for him, and the stack of broken hearts he left behind was proof enough of that.

His eyes bored into hers, like they always had. “I came to talk with you.”

She smoothed her bangs, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. For some reason he’d always made her self-conscious, more aware of her appearance than she normally was. “Good, because I wanted to talk to you, too.”

He quirked a brow. “Oh? About what?”

“The photographs you sold. I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t do that.” She tried to keep the hurt out of her voice.

Scanning her face, his brow narrowed. “Which photographs?”

It was as she’d thought. He’d simply forgotten. She shrugged. “Never mind.”

Ash reached out and touched her arm. “No, you’re upset. Which photographs?”

“There were a few you took of me when we were, um, together. I wanted them, but you said they were your favorite pieces—so I let you keep them if you promised never to sell them.”

Shaking his head, he let out a deep breath. “Oh, fuck. Yeah, my intern—”

“You have an
intern
?” She couldn’t help laughing at the thought of Ash being in charge of shaping young minds.

He grinned, too. “Don’t laugh. I’m teaching a class at SFSU this semester, and it’s part of the deal. Anyway, my intern was taking a bunch of my work to various galleries, and he must have dropped those off by mistake. I’ll get them back, I promise.”

What twist of fate had landed those pieces in Mark’s hands? She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I’m just glad you didn’t purposefully sell them.”

“Are you sure? Because I can call the gallery right now.”

“No. It’s fine.” She didn’t mention that the pieces had already been sold. “Just make sure no other nude photos of me are out there, will you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” she asked.

He leaned against the building and stared at her. “I wanted to apologize for not showing up at Emmett’s party a few weeks ago.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“You look surprised,” he said.

“I am. You’ve never apologized for anything a day in your life.”

“I know how hard you work, Ruby, and I’m sorry I flaked. I got distracted with a shoot.”

“Not surprising,” she said with a laugh.

“I said I’m sorry, and I mean it.”

She put a finger to his lips. “If only you were this apologetic when you were cheating on me.”

He flinched. “I told you. That was a big misunderstanding.”

Sighing, she raised her gaze to meet his. “Ash. I haven’t seen you in over a year. Yeah, you flaked, but there’s nothing new about that. So, tell me. What’s going on?”

“Ruby, here’s the thing.” He lifted her hand, drew a circle around her wrist. Except, in bondage terms, her arm was a column to him, a thing to be tied. “I want you to model for me.”

“What?”

“Model for me again.”

He always had such an intense way of looking at her. She used to think it was sexy, and she was surprised to discover the look did absolutely nothing for her anymore.

“I have this idea for a scene, and I really think you would be the best model.”

“Why me?”

His green eyes gave her body a quick once-over, an assessment she knew was purely an automatic response. “Yours is still my favorite form to photograph. Your body. Your ass.” He grinned. “Your body was made to be photographed, and you, Ruby, were made to be bound.”

She couldn’t help the flicker that went through her at his words. And yet her mind went to Mark, and she thought about the way he’d bound her with his belt. It would seem crude to a purist like Ash, but now Ruby found she preferred the raw, open energy she had with Mark to Ash’s methodical technique.

And yet…

“I’ll think about it.” She remembered exactly how the soft rope had felt on her skin. She recalled the way Ash had so skillfully restrained her with his beautiful knot work. Hours and hours they’d spent together as he silently and expertly covered her in his complex artistry. There was so much trust involved in that.

“Ash, can I ask you something?”

His stare was unwavering. “’Course.”

“Did you stay with me for so long because you loved me, or was it because of how I looked in your photographs?”

He looked uncharacteristically tense, took too long to answer. He ran a hand over his head, and she saw that his long fingers trembled slightly. “I wish I knew, Ruby. I… It’s hard for me to tell the difference.”

She saw the raw honesty in his eyes, and for the first time, she was worried about the infallible artist.

She remembered the way he’d go into an almost trancelike state when he bound her. Moving like he was one with his rope, with a total grace she’d found beautiful. He’d always check her skin, assess her comfort level; he was good and responsible.

But he had a way of disconnecting from her as he carried out his task. Something she’d never realized until she experienced the electric connection she had with Mark. Maybe that lack of connection was actually getting to Ash.

Reaching out, she touched his arm. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

She noticed lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there before and realized he was thinner than she’d ever seen him. Everything about him seemed strained.

“Oh, pardon me!”

The door to Ruby’s building flew open, crashing into Ash’s shoulder. He whipped around to see who had burst through the door. “What the—oh…”

Ruby’s red-haired downstairs neighbor, Joy, stared at them, her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God! I am so sorry. Are you okay?”

He looked more than fine. With an intense expression that Ruby recognized, he was staring at Joy. Finally, he shook the look off his face. “Yeah, thanks. Are you?”

“I’m not the one who got slammed with a two-ton door.” Joy’s eyes were full of concern. Well, they would be. Ruby’s neighbor was one of the nicest people she knew; her name described her perfectly.

Her petite neighbor continued to stare at Ash. Most women did. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

Ruby observed as Ash continued a stilted conversation with Joy. Interesting. Her neighbor was beautiful, but to put it frankly, she wasn’t Ash’s type. Just over five feet tall, she was shorter than Ruby and had actual breasts. And hips. Curves. And yet Ash studied her with a look Ruby knew very well. She rolled her eyes inwardly. Maybe he hadn’t changed after all.

“Okay, well… I guess I’ll be going.” Joy gave a little wave, her gaze still locked on Ash’s. “Bye.”

After Joy had gone, Ruby turned back to Ash and noticed the way he clenched his jaw. “Ash, are you okay?”

He stared over her shoulder for a moment. “Yeah… I’m fine. I’ll be better if I can get this shot done. Would you help me?”

He wouldn’t rest until he saw his vision developing in a dark room, and for the first time ever, Ruby felt sorry for him.

“I’ll think about it, all right?” The fact was, being bound did sound appealing, and it wasn’t as if she had any reason to say no. If it wasn’t as exciting as with Mark, at least it was familiar.

He nodded. “That would be great. You let me know.”

After a quick hug good-bye, she continued up the street toward Clement. Keeping her head down, she walked briskly up the hill. It felt good to get that little meeting over with. She’d seen her ex, called him on his shit, and lived to tell about it.

And it hadn’t been awful. In fact, it hadn’t been awful at all.

Meg tapped her fingers on the arm of the black Eames chair that had been their first splurge as a married couple. She watched the door, waiting for Emmett to walk through it. She didn’t care when he got home, she was waiting up. She had plans for him, for them. For their marriage. She wasn’t giving up.

She felt like a stupid girl. How could she have missed all the signs? Like that time in the kitchen. It was months ago, and she’d been making breakfast when she’d suddenly felt frisky. She’d ordered him to fuck her right there, on the counter. And he had. With aplomb.

She’d watched the porn again and realized Ruby was right. The point of those movies was women dominating men.

Meg could do that. Fuck, she
longed
to do it.

She tapped a long leather paddle on her vinyl thigh-high boots. The sharp slap echoed in the loft, and her pulse jumped in anticipation. Just putting on the outfit, dressing up like a domme, had turned her on. The ritual of it, getting ready, was all part of the scene, and that’s exactly what she was doing: setting up a scene, a fantasy. Her husband’s fantasy.

Hopefully, she’d gotten it right.

An electric thrill bolted through her. She hadn’t felt this charged up since…

She couldn’t even remember when.

Ten minutes later she heard keys in the door. Her heart fluttered with a sudden attack of nerves, but she straightened her back and crossed her legs. The vinyl was sticky so she had to really work to get her limbs in exactly the right position—tough but sexy. She hoped to God she could pull this off.

Emmett opened the door and stepped into the hall. His gaze fell on her, and his metal briefcase dropped to the floor and landed with a heavy thud.

His eyes went wide as he took in her appearance in jerky glances. He couldn’t stop looking at her, and he looked more shocked than happy or turned on. She began to get self-conscious; why didn’t he say anything? Maybe the vinyl bustier was overkill? Or the fishnets? Or the paddle in her hand…

She tried to kick the flogger under the table, but the action only drew his eyes to it.

Running a hand through his hair, Emmett came toward her, slowly, as if he was afraid of her.

“Um, Meg. What’s going on here?”

She pushed herself to standing. “No questions. I want you to take off your clothes and service me.” She felt her cheeks burn. And the look he was giving her, as if she was insane, wasn’t helping.

With a quirked brow he sat on the sofa and crossed his arms over his chest. “Service you?”

“Yes. You know… service me.” Humiliation coursed through her. This was not going anything like she’d planned. Why wasn’t he stripping? Why wasn’t he obeying her?

“Meg.” He patted the seat next to him. “Come here and tell me what’s going on.”

She remained where she stood. “I’m just trying to give you what you want! See, I finally figured it out. You want to be dominated.” Her voice turned into a whisper. “I was just hoping you wanted to be dominated by me.”

His eyes went soft. “Sweetheart, come here.”

She hesitated.

“Now.”

Shouldn’t she be the one doing the ordering? Tears in her eyes, she dropped onto the sofa beside him, her vinyl boots squeaking and creaking as she sat.

He took the paddle out of her hand and inspected it. “Do you know how to use one of these things?”

Her cheeks burned. “I had a little lesson at the sex shop…”

His eyes got big again, but then he took her hand and kissed her fingertips. “Listen. I really appreciate the effort, and I gotta tell you, you’re partly right.”

She jerked her head up. “I am?”

“I do love it when you take charge.”

“But why…” She gulped and her throat was painfully tight. “Why don’t you want to have sex with me anymore?”

He cradled the side of her face in the palm of one warm hand. “Oh, sweetheart. You don’t know how wrong you are.”

She laughed hoarsely. “It’s been almost three months since we, you know, made love. Don’t you want me anymore?”

“Listen. This has nothing to do with me being attracted to you. I am. But you just seemed so obsessed with making a baby it wasn’t about sex anymore. It was about me being a sperm donor.”

She thought of her calendar and all its little red x marks. Baby-making days. “I thought you wanted kids.”

“I do. But I want you more. I want
us
more. I don’t want sex to be a chore.”

“So you turned to porn?”

“I wanted to tell you this fantasy, but you were so preoccupied with getting pregnant, there never seemed to be an opportunity.”

Tears ran down her cheeks. “Oh, Emmett. I’m sorry. You should have said something.”

He shrugged. “We were trying to start a family, and it seemed your number one priority. I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to let you down. Also, it’s kinda hard for a guy to tell his wife he wants her to be controlling when it comes to sex. It’s emasculating.”

She thought about how emasculated he must feel sitting next to her, next to his wife who was dressed in full-on fem-domme regalia, who had invested $400 in sex toys but had no idea how to use them.

Glancing at the jam-packed coffee table, she scanned the items she’d purchased that day. Edible massage oil, candles, and handcuffs. Nipple clamps and a vibrating cock ring. A ball gag.