Bound to Please (23 page)

“Oh, God. Emmett, I’m so, so sorry—”

“Don’t be. I’m glad you did this. We needed to talk.” Grinning, he leaned in to kiss her. He took his time, slowly licking her lips before pushing his tongue inside her mouth. Instantly her sex started to throb. Her body had always been so responsive to him. That had never changed.

He pulled back slightly. “But you know what?”

“Mmm?” she murmured against his lips.

“I gotta tell you that just sitting here next to you has made me so fucking hard, and it’s made me think of this one fantasy I’ve been having lately.”

Her breath hitched. She wanted him to tell her so badly she had goose bumps on her arms. “What is it? What’s your fantasy?”

He held up the paddle in his hand. “You don’t need this.” He grinned. “Not now, anyway.”

Her pussy dampened, and a wonderful shiver raced up her spine. “Tell me, Emmett. Please.”

He reached inside her thighs and touched the zipper of her left boot. “Maybe I should show you. How does that sound?”

“Yes. Please.”

He spread her legs and knelt between them. Unzipping the thigh-high boots, he placed soft kisses on the insides of her thigh, at the edge of her newly exposed fishnet stockings. Her trembling legs fell apart.

After the first boot was off he unzipped the other one and pulled it off her leg. Her foot wrapped in his hand, he looked up. “You’re beautiful, you know.”

“Stop it.”

“My beautiful wife.” He pressed his thumb on the arch of her foot. Hard. “You’ve had a hard day, miss. On your feet too much. I need to massage your poor feet now.”

Holy shit. Her husband had a foot fetish, too? She blinked but caught herself. “Oh, yes. You do. And call me ma’am.”

He raised a brow but then, “Yes, ma’am. Tell me how you like your massage.”

She slipped easily into the role. “First, take off my stockings.”

He slowly peeled one, then the other down her legs. She saw the way his breathing went off rhythm when she spread her legs a bit more, giving him a peek of what she had on under the short skirt, which was exactly nothing.

She tried to look stern and it was surprisingly easy. “Now, take off your clothes.”

He stood and stripped before her, removing his high-tops, his sweater, his T-shirt, his jeans. Her gaze fell on his erection, strong and hard and telling her everything she needed to know. He was loving this as much as she was.

She picked up the bottle of vanilla-scented massage oil and handed it to him. “Massage my feet.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He dropped to the ground and lifted her leg. One hand encircled her ankle and the other started kneading her arch. Her tension drained away in a heavenly drift as he rubbed her heel, her arch, her toes. Her nipples tingled, strained beneath the vinyl bustier. She lifted her right breast out of the cup and beaded a nipple between her fingertips. She had no idea her feet were such a responsive erogenous zone.

He looked up, and his gaze landed on her exposed breast. His eyes went dark in the candlelight, his erection leaked a drop of white cream out of the tip. A powerful, erotic thrill hummed through her, making her nerves tingle. Because she was in charge now, and the rush of it took over.

He was naked, on his knees. Before her.

“Kiss my feet. Now.” Just saying the words made her sex clench.

She saw him exhale before he brought one of her toes to his lips. He kissed the tip of her toe, and then he pulled her deeper into his mouth, using his tongue to lick her even as his hand found a tender spot just under the ball of her foot. The sudden combination of his mouth and his hand sent her arching off the sofa, moaning.

Her toes still in his mouth, his warm tongue licked her, sucked her, teased her. It could have been her pussy he was making love to, and her sex throbbed, slick and wet.

She felt his hand trail up the inside of her leg, higher and higher, until he brushed the edge of his fingers against her labia.

Resting her other foot on the edge of the sofa, she opened herself to him fully. “Touch me. Use your fingers.”

He continued to play with her foot as he slid his finger into her pussy.

“Yes, harder…” She clutched the sofa cushion with her left hand and used her other to tug at her nipple. Soon she was moaning aloud for him, watching the way he loved her foot, shocked at how the image made her skin burn all over.

But he was starting to move his own hips now, moving as if he was looking for something to fill. Her pussy would do.

“Emmett, come here and fuck me.”

He raised both her feet to rest on his shoulders and pulled her hips toward him. In one move he was inside her, fucking her. “Harder. Faster.” She couldn’t believe the words were coming out of her mouth; she couldn’t believe how much it turned her on to say them.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, smiling. He thrust into her again and again until his own groans joined hers. And then he turned his face to the side and took her other foot, the one that hadn’t been kissed yet, and brought a toe into his mouth.

Their gazes locked as he sucked and fucked her. She couldn’t believe they were doing this. That she and her husband were doing this taboo thing, that the intimacy of it, the deep connection of the experience, sent her over the edge.

She exploded. The climax tore through her, and she knew he wasn’t far behind. She knew his signals, the way his lids lowered and his grip on her tightened. She knew her husband’s movements like she knew her own face.

But this man, this man who’d been harboring his secret desires for so long, was a stranger. This new Emmett wanted to be dominated and wanted to suck her toes. This new Emmett was probably open to letting her try out her new paddle.

This new Emmett loved her.

“You look happy.”

Meg dropped a pile of willow branches onto Ruby’s desk. “I took your advice.”

Ruby eyed the sticks. “We need more. I want this party to look like a spring wonderland.”

“I am so glad you talked James out of that rock-and-roll theme.”

“So am I. But the party is one week from tomorrow, and we have so much to do! Anyway, what advice did you take?”

Meg grinned. “I got kinky with Emmett.”

“I take it things went well.”

“Yup.”

“So, your husband’s not gay?”

“Or bi,” Meg said.

“I told you,” Ruby said with a smile.

Meg dropped into the chair opposite Ruby’s desk. “How about you? How are things with you and the rock god?”

Music thudded through the walls, a constant, reverberating reminder of his presence. She picked up a stick and snapped off a sharp edge. “Well, last time I saw him was Thursday. We’d just had sex in a public bathroom, and he had to rush off to some interview.”

Meg looked incredulous. “Are you joking?”

“Sadly, no. But it was for his job. I know better than anyone what sacrifices need to be made to build a successful career.”

“Still, leaving you like that? It’s kinda jacked up.”

“Whatever. It’s for the best. I told him not to call me again. After the Spring Fling is over, he’ll be out of my life.” A life that, Ruby had to admit, sounded extremely boring without Mark in it. She never knew when he was going to show up, when he was going to pull her into a broom closet or ring her doorbell. It was enlightening how much she liked that sort of spontaneity.

“Anyway.” Ruby stood and pulled a can of glitter spray paint off a shelf. “It’s not like he made me any promises.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

She shook the spray can, the sound pinging around the office. “I don’t have any choice, and, anyway, he’s the worst possible man for me. He’s young; he leads an unpredictable life; he’s constantly leaving. He’s everything I don’t want in a relationship.”

“You sound scared.”

“I am not! I don’t think.” She barely knew anything about herself anymore.

Meg came around and put her hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “You know, I’ve known you a long time. And whenever you get close to someone, it freaks you out and you push them away.”

“That’s not true. Ash cheated on me! What was I supposed to do?”

“You’d mentally separated yourself from him long before that happened, honey.”

Ruby shrugged. “Whatever. It really doesn’t matter, does it?”

“Of course it matters. Let me ask you something. Do you think you could ever have a normal relationship again? I mean, a non-kinky one? ’Cause I gotta tell you. I know I’m new to all this, but I really can’t imagine going back now.”

“A few weeks ago, that answer would have been yes,” Ruby said. “To be honest, now I’m not so sure.”

Meg smirked. “You do seem to end up with kinky guys.”

“Twice. It’s happened
twice
. And I’m not ruling out the kink, I’m just saying that I don’t know if I need it.” Maybe if she said it enough, she’d begin to believe it.

“So. If James Cleaver asked you to marry him, you would? Even if he’s the most vanilla man on the planet?”

“Definitely.” Ruby picked up a large twig and headed for the door. “I mean, theoretically speaking, of course. I barely know him. But stability is more important than anything else.”

“Even love?”

The repetitive beat of Mark’s latest tune thrummed down the hall, vibrating through the door handle into her palm. “Not everyone falls in love, Meg. And if they do, it’s often with the wrong person, or it’s just
wrong
. Period. My parents were in love, and look at them. They abandoned their kids to go sail the world. Their love didn’t help their family. Where did their love leave everybody else?”

Meg’s gaze softened. “That was then, sweetie. You’re an adult now. A gorgeous woman who is finally coming into her own sexuality. Do you really want to give up now just because you’re scared of getting hurt?”

“What do you propose I do about it? Start hosting sex parties in my flat?”

Meg’s eyes sparkled. “Not exactly.”

Chapter
Nineteen

T
his is going to be so much fun!”

“I still can’t believe Emmett is okay with this,” Ruby said as the cab pulled up outside a nondescript building.

Meg paid the driver and followed her onto the sidewalk. “Don’t worry about Emmett—he encouraged me!” She teetered on her stilettos and grabbed Ruby’s arm for support. “He wants me to have a flogging lesson.”

“I created a monster,” Ruby muttered.

Meg winked. “Two of them, actually.”

So now, here they were, dressed like hookers, staring at the address listed on the flyer. Although Meg had talked her into coming, Ruby couldn’t help but feel a little bit excited about venturing into her first fetish party.

It was being held in a brick building in the SOMA District. Decrepit warehouses mingled with sparkling new high-rise condos, creating a place where yuppies could feel cool because they lived in such an edgy neighborhood.

And so they tolerated things like raves and fetish parties, which was why Meg and Ruby currently found themselves staring at a large wooden door on Harrison Street. After a second a man emerged from the warehouse. He wore a suit straight out of Brooks Brothers, but tattoos covered his hands and neck. Eyeing Ruby and Meg, he pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit it. He took a deep drag. “You gals goin’ in?” As he spoke, the man exhaled a surprising amount of smoke through his mouth and nostrils.

“Absolutely,” Meg said.

The man perched on a stool that had been placed outside the door. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two at one of these parties before.”

“It’s our first time.” Ruby tugged at the hem of her miniskirt.

“Cool.” He moved on to smoke rings. “So what are your roles?”

They just stared at him. “Pardon?”

Another deep drag. “Bottom, top, or switch?” More smoke rings.

“Top. Definitely.” Meg nodded.

But Ruby felt her cheeks heat.

“I’m a bottom.”

Deep inhale. “You sure?”

“Why?”

Deep exhale of smoke. “No reason.” He held out a hand. “I’m Rich. I manage these things.”

She shook his hand. His palm was warm, his grip surprisingly gentle. “This is Meg, and I’m Ruby.”

He closed his eyes and took another deep drag off his cigarette. Then, with his lids still shut, he began to sing “Ruby Tuesday.”

It wasn’t as if she’d never heard the Rolling Stones song before, but somehow it sounded new coming from the burly bouncer. The words struck something deep inside her, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was.

He opened his eyes. “Ruby.” He fell silent, as if singing the rest of the song in his head. Then, “House rules. Don’t intrude on anyone’s scene. In case you don’t know, a scene is anywhere someone is actively playing. If someone asks you to join him or her in a scene, feel free. You’ll find cleaning supplies at stations set up at various locations inside. Please sterilize any equipment you use. Safe sex is up to you, but you’ll find condoms located throughout the premises.”

Ruby put a hand to her belly. The thought of sex with a person who wasn’t Mark made her stomach turn. She coughed. “Um, we don’t plan on having sex with anyone.” She was just here to support Meg and check out her options. Meg had been right—it was time to move on and embrace her sexuality.

He sucked deeply on his cigarette. “Well, in case you change your mind, you know the rules. If anyone gets too close to you, you just come and get me and I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you.” She eyed the man’s tattooed hands. They looked quite capable of taking care of any troublemakers.

“That’ll be twenty dollars.”

“It’s on me.” Meg reached into her purse and handed him the money. After pocketing the bills, Rich slid off the stool and held the door open. “In you go, girls. Have fun.”

Ruby’s heart hammered as they stepped inside. After checking their coats, she and Meg began to wander through the mazelike setup. The lights were very low, and electronic music played from hidden speakers.

The warehouse had been set up in such a way that partitioned-off sections were devoted to different themes. Each room seemed to be dedicated to a separate fantasy. They passed a medieval torture chamber, a jail cell, a hotel bed. They passed a man chained to an X-shaped cross. He was on the receiving end of spanking being delivered with gusto by a brunette in garter belts who was an obvious transvestite.