Bound to Please (26 page)

For the second time in twenty-four hours, she contemplated what it would be like to dominate someone. She sank under the water, washing the question out of her head. The last thing she wanted was another
curiosity
creeping up.

But she couldn’t help that just the thought turned her on, and when she emerged she let her legs fall open, let the water caress her now-throbbing pussy. Her juices provided enough lubrication to withstand the bathwater and she slid one finger, then a second, into her vagina. She gasped, her legs twitching as she plunged her fingers deeper.

She continued fucking herself, finding a rhythm, gasping aloud, losing herself in the pleasure of it.

And she imagined Mark was there, watching her. Instructing her. Despite her little fantasy, she couldn’t deny how much she wanted to have him rule her. She craved it like an addict craves alcohol; that exhilarating freedom of giving him her power. How liberating it was to trust him fully.

She pinched her nipples hard enough to make her gasp, hard enough to make her sex throb. She moved her hand to her clit, touched a finger to that swollen tip. She pretended it was Mark St. Crow. Telling her what to do with her hands, her fingers.
Rub your clit harder, harder—don’t stop. That’s a good girl.

Her knees splashed in the water as she thrust them open. Her legs strained against the sides of the tub as she bucked against her hand, hearing his imaginary voice in her head.
Open up, baby. Fuck yourself for me. I want to see you come for me. Fuck yourself, baby, like it was my cock inside you. Fuck yourself, baby… Harder, harder, harder….

She cried out, her entire body going still against her palm. Her eyes popped open, and she focused on a crack in the ceiling as she came. Her core spasmed in nonrhythmic bursts; she momentarily stopped breathing.

She tried to drag the feeling out because it was so lovely there, floating in that tingly haze. Mark’s imagined voice still hung in her head, but as her breathing slowed and her body sank back against the ceramic tub, the words began to fade. It was like being awakened too soon from a magnificent dream. She wanted to go back to that place. But the reality was slowly returning.

When the tremors subsided Ruby noticed that the sun coming through her frosted-glass window seemed brighter; the noises outside came through the walls louder. Standing in the tub, she grabbed a towel. She loved her flat, but for some reason it seemed stifling today. She wanted to be outside, to see the open sky. She didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts.

After she was dry, she went to her room to get dressed. Twenty minutes later she was outside and on her way to the park.

She nearly ran into the tall, thin man as he came around the corner of her street. And when she jerked her head up to see Mark gazing down at her, she forgot everything and felt her smile turn up to full blast. She couldn’t help it.

“Mark! What are you doing here?” she asked, staring up at him.

He seemed to scan her entirely in the sweep of a single gaze. “I was worried about you.”

“So you just came to San Francisco? What about your band?”

His stare was unwavering, slowly drawing her in. “We needed to come back here today anyway. To finish recording.”

“Right. Recording.” Seeing him brought back all her raw feelings from the night before, had her head twisted in confusion. Angry and jealous, excited and scared; her heart beat madly as so many emotions rushed through her.

He dropped his bag, reached out and took her into his arms. She buried her face in his neck, inhaled his woodsy scent. He was long and hard, warm against her body, and it was heaven.

Lust hit her. Bone-melting, liquid desire for this man made her entire body go weak.

She felt his voice vibrating right into her body. “Listen. Let’s just be together right now. No promises, no explanations. Whatever happens, I’m here
now
.”

She nodded silently, her nose brushing the warm skin of his neck. He was here. He had gotten on a plane and come to her. No matter what he’d done while away, he was here. In San Francisco. He’d come to check on her, and that was something.

At the moment, it was everything.

She pulled back and looked up at him. “Do you have the day free?”

He nodded, his eyes dark liquid behind his glasses.

Butterflies were going crazy in her stomach. “What do you want to do?”

He glanced at his bag and back at her. “I have a few ideas.”

Chapter
Twenty-Two

T
he minute the door shut behind her he backed her against it, overwhelming her with his strength. His hands were everywhere, his lips hot and insistent as he kissed her mouth, her neck, behind her ear. He was pulling off her cardigan and sliding it down her shoulders, pausing to hold her arms beside her.

“Nothing happened last night,” he said, and his voice sounded hoarse. “With those girls.”

“I don’t care,” she said, but her heart felt lighter hearing him say the words.

He kissed her again and again, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. His tongue searched hers, slowly tasting, licking, sucking. She felt the kiss in her knees, her breasts, between her legs.

“I lied,” she said, pulling his shirt up and over his head. “I do care. I’m glad you weren’t with anyone else. Neither was I. I never wanted to be!”

“I know. I figured that out as soon as you hung up on me.” He started unbuttoning her shirtdress, and soon that was being pushed off her body as well. Then she was standing in just her bra and underwear and flats.

Laughing, she jumped onto him, wrapping her legs around his strong back.

He caught her, kissing her as he walked to the bedroom. Somehow he managed to get her bra off in the hallway, and by the time he put her on the bed her hair was a total wreck.

He pulled off one of her shoes and placed a kiss on her ankle. “I missed you.”

“Oh, Mark,” she sighed, resting on her elbows. “I always miss you when you go.”

Removing her other flat, he kissed that ankle as well. “I never realized it would be so hard. To leave someone, I mean.”

For a second she pictured herself and Claire, waving good-bye to their parents as they sailed away. She pushed aside the memory. “Take off your pants,” she said, smiling.

“Take off your panties.”

As she slid them down her legs he removed his boots and jeans and boxers. Then he climbed on top of her and gave her that cocky grin. “You are so much more agreeable about taking off your panties now than when I first met you.”

“I told you. You make me lose my mind.”

“Glad to oblige,” he said, sinking between her legs.

She paused, cupping his strong jaw in her hand. “I don’t even know you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know your middle name or where you’re from. I don’t know if you have any siblings. I don’t even know if you sleep on the right or left side of the bed.” So far they’d never slept together, one being, one body, all through the night.

“Rufus. Akron, Ohio. No siblings. Right side.”

She blinked. “Rufus? Seriously?”

His hand was on her hip, and his grip tightened. “Don’t laugh. It’s an old family name.”

“It’s… interesting.” She was trying so hard not to laugh her mouth hurt.

But it was him that chuckled, the sound reverberating from his chest and into hers. “I know,” he said. “That’s why you have to swear, right now, that you will never, ever, tell anyone that bit of information.”

She quirked a brow. “And if I don’t promise?”

He leaned down, his face looming over hers. He’d taken off his glasses, and now she could see the gold flecks in his brown eyes. “I’ll have to punish you, of course.”

His cock was already hard, pressing at her thigh. She wiggled until he was settled between her legs, just where she wanted him. She felt the metal of his piercings scraping her nipples.

The hot flesh of his erection felt heavenly against her pussy and she closed her eyes. “You feel so good, your skin on mine.”

“I want to feel you; I want to feel my cock in your body,” he said, kissing the crook of her neck, his warm breath making her shiver.

“I want that, too,” she whispered.

Her pussy was so wet, and he was so hot, hard. She moved just a fraction, just to feel him on her clit. One more tilt and he’d be inside her.

“Condoms,” she said. “Bedside drawer.”

He rolled off, leaving her panting. But then he was back, between her legs, and she imagined it was his own skin she felt, not polyurethane, as he slid the head of his cock from her clit to her entrance and back again. Teasing, sliding, he had her moaning within minutes. Then he entered her and she arched under him, his name on her lips.

He made love to her in a slow rhythm, caught her gaze with his. Now, there was no top or bottom, no dominance or submission, just Mark and Ruby, their uninhibited groans of pleasure mingling, the sounds of his body sliding into hers. There was the soft look in his eyes as he pulled out and slid back in, so slowly she couldn’t breathe. There was Ruby, unable to tear her gaze from his as she reached up to rake her fingernails across the small of his back, encouraging him deeper, deeper.

They came like that. Silent, sweaty, and still. And after, when he lay on top of her, his heart beating against her own, Ruby realized it wasn’t the D/s thing that had her freaked out, it was this. Raw, vanilla fucking. There were rules through submission, expectations. It had seemed so risky at the time, but nothing was as scary as this, as the feel of Mark’s damp breath under her ear, or the way she loved lazily tracing patterns on the slick skin of his back. He soothed her as no one ever had.

These moments were what she wanted.
This
was real.

And fleeting. Soon, he’d be gone, on tour, performing. Living in New York. She always knew he would go. She just hoped he would obey her wish and leave without saying good-bye.

When her doorbell rang on Friday night, she knew it was Mark. Earlier, he’d asked her to wait for him until he’d finished recording and she’d been anxiously waiting ever since. The next night was the Spring Fling, and so far they hadn’t discussed anything past that point.

Now, unsure, she answered the door with a smile plastered on her face.

He burst inside, and suddenly her apartment seemed to come alive from his energy. Yanking her to him, he kissed her, hard, and when he pulled back, his eyes were bright.

“We finished. The record will need some post-production of course, but we’re done! And this album kicks fucking ass.”

She pulled her sweater tighter around her shoulders. “That’s wonderful,” she said, trying to sound enthusiastic. But the fact was, she found it hard to be happy, not when they’d never discussed what would happen when he was done here.

“The guys are all celebrating, but I wanted to spend the night with you. Here.” He thrust a bag at her. “You’ll wear this tonight.”

Blinking, she pulled out yards of shimmery cobalt fabric. “Oh my God, Mark. Another present?” It was a wrap dress with a low neckline, and she recognized the designer as a name she’d seen only in
Vogue
magazine. “Mark! You’ve given me too much as it is. I can’t accept this.”

Casually, his glance dropped to the necklace at her throat. “You can. And you will.”

When he looked at her like that, like he owned her, her insides quivered. She got wet. She got off on it. And fuck it, at this point she couldn’t deny him anything. Or deny herself.

He stepped closer and kissed her, slowly. “Get dressed. I wanna go out.” He gave her a few more instructions before sending her off to get ready.

She had no idea what he had in store for her, but anticipation tingled through her veins. Because whatever he wanted, she knew she’d give it to him. She’d give him everything.

Minutes later, standing in her bra and panties, Ruby looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her skin was flushed pink and her eyes sparkled. Mark wasn’t even in the room, yet excitement coursed through her. He’d been very precise in how he wanted her to appear, and she wanted to please him.

She’d laid out her makeup in an organized row on the bathroom counter. Black eyeliner, black mascara, plum blush, and red lipstick. Although she’d never prepared herself like this for anyone, it seemed very ritualistic, almost sacrificial.

What a strange word to use to describe what she was about to do. Sacrifice. But it seemed appropriate; the description fit. After all, she was giving herself fully to a man she was certain would break her heart.

That didn’t matter. What mattered was now; knowing he was in the other room sent a shiver of something wonderful up her spine. Knowing he was waiting for her made her heart palpitate with eagerness. He’d been dominating her from the very minute he’d stepped through her doorway, and she’d loved every fucking minute of it.

Tapping his foot impatiently, Mark stared out Ruby’s bay window as he waited for her to get ready. He barely took in the view, he was too keyed up from what he’d just finished. The record had turned out fucking amazing; it was everything he’d wanted. He didn’t care if critics liked it or if it got played on the radio. What mattered was that they’d made a great album.

All he’d ever wanted to do was play music for a living. Everything else was icing on the cake. He’d been banging on the keys of his parents’ battered upright as soon as he was able to hoist himself onto the wooden bench. Nothing else had ever interested him like music did.

His father had been thrilled that his only child had shown an interest in playing the piano. After a few beers, Dad would begin to reminisce about the good old days. The days before he’d gotten married. The days before he’d given up touring for the responsibilities of fatherhood.

Maybe things were different in the seventies. Maybe life on the road was more exciting in the height of the sex and drugs and rock-and-roll era. Because sometimes Mark didn’t quite get his father’s nostalgia. Yeah, playing for a crowd was a huge rush. But Mark was always glad on the last day of a tour, standing onstage knowing he’d be back home the next day. He loved his loft in New York, could never wait to get back to the familiarity of his own bed, his own baby grand, his own life.