Leather Bound

by Shanna Germain

  As he helped me into the house and shut the door behind me, I figured that was exactly what he was going to ask and I steeled myself against it. He had every right to; I’d practically run away from him and hadn’t looked back. I still didn’t know what I’d say, but it was time to face it, to stop running away from it, whatever the consequences. He deserved that, and probably much more. Definitely much more.

  I turned as he locked the door from the inside, my shoulders square, prepared. Instead of being met with a question, I was met with a surprisingly close view of Kyle’s face. His green gaze was raking me, taking in the red dress, the stockings. I could feel the cold of it, not faraway cold, not angry cold. Not even really cold, but it was the only way I could think of to describe the intensity, the laser-focus with which he was looking at me.

  ‘What?’ I asked.

  ‘I want to know,’ he said. ‘why you have a client that takes you to the Cat House. I want to know why you’re dressed the way you are, because it’s hot as hell. And I want to know if your ankle is OK. Mostly, I want to know the answer to the question that I asked you days ago.’

  ‘I have some questions, too,’ I started, but he put one finger to my lips, silencing me, clearly not finished.

  ‘But right now, what I really really want to know is why you aren’t kissing me.’

  He leaned in and kissed me, deep and hard, bringing me towards him with a single clasp of his hands around my ass. He tasted of sweet milk and honey, his tongue a welcome and gentle explorer of my mouth. His kiss was totally different from Davian’s.

  And yet I wanted him just as much.

  * * *

  ‘I don’t,’ I gasped, forcing myself to pull away from the kiss. ‘I can’t. I mean, I want to, but I feel –’ God, why did I always have to feel so bad about things? Why did everything have to have so much weight?

  Kyle held my face in his hands, the heat of his palms. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I know what you’re going to say. I know you can’t. I know it was stupid. I know. I know. I know. So shut up for now and kiss me, OK?’

  I did. I kissed him. It was hot and sweet and a little sad, but I closed my eyes and I knew I wouldn’t cry. He tasted like cinnamon and sugar, a sweet spice that let my mind go momentarily silent. His hands in my hair, so familiar, so desired. The way I anticipated his moves, his fists tightening in my loose curls, the soft push of his tongue. His sigh was a remembered pleasure. I’d missed it, even though it had only been a few days.

  I swept my fingers down and dragged them over the front of his dark jeans. I found the hardening length of his erection with my palm and cupped it, swirling my thumb over the tip until he groaned and pushed into my hand.

  ‘Come with me,’ he said. He tugged me towards the bedroom and laid me down on the thick green spread. Same colour as his eyes. You’d think I’d have noticed that before. He lowered himself down beside me, one hand tracing the curve of my hip down over my thigh.

  ‘One of my favourite places,’ he said.

  My hand found his cock again, harder now, lengthening beneath the fabric. ‘One of my favourite places,’ I said. Which almost made me burst into tears. I was tangled in guilt and confusion and something else that I couldn’t identify.

  ‘Stop,’ he said. ‘Save it for later.’ He clearly meant it, and I let myself trust what he was saying.

  ‘OK,’ I said. And I went back to kissing, to touching, to getting lost in the feel of him. His lips. His fingers brushing over the fabric of my dress. The push of his cock against my hips.

  He tugged the neck of my dress open as far as it would go, tucked two fingers beneath the fabric and circled them over my nipples. I groaned, pushing against his touch, asking for more. Needing more.

  ‘I’m going to have to take this off you,’ he said, voice so close to a growl that I shivered involuntarily.

  ‘Please, please, please,’ I said. We fumbled getting the dress over my head, leaving me in nothing more than a bra and stockings. I was bare beneath the black nylons, and he drew in his breath.

  ‘Oh,’ he said.

  His gaze was enough to send me tilting, to make me arch my hips up towards him.

  ‘Touch me,’ I begged. It was as though agreeing to let the questions between us stand, at least for now, had opened me back up to the lust that was heating every part of my body in tiny pulses. I gave in to it.

  When he touched me, it wasn’t what I ached for, the press of his fingers to my wet centre. It was to pull the stockings down over my ass and hips in the slowest move I’d ever seen. Watching me being revealed. Funny how I can’t stand to be exposed out in the open, but having one person watch me with such fierce desire nearly brought me to my knees.

  ‘Oh, my God,’ I said. ‘You’re killing me. Killing.’ I was almost gritting my teeth, the desire to be touched was so strong. I fumbled for him, to show him what I wanted, touch upon touch upon touch, but he interrupted my gesture by sliding one finger ever so slowly along the outer edges of my pussy. I bloomed at his attention, my wet lips opening, granting access, asking for more.

  Without waiting, he thrust a finger into me, curling it, a tap-tap-tap against my g-spot that I couldn’t resist answering. I squirmed, slipping into the perfect position, letting his touch against me roll through my body.

  ‘You’re so wet,’ he said. Still thumping my g-spot, he leaned down and caught my clit in the suck and pull of his lips.

  ‘Aurr,’ I said. Nothing at all like a word. He laughed against me, the heat of his breath on my clit contrasting with the cooler air. Another finger. Or two. It was hard to tell from up here. All I could tell was I was wet and filled, aching to be taken fully, to be taken over the edges of whatever Kyle was about to offer.

  He suckled harder, pulling the tender bump of my clit into his mouth before tonguing me. His fingers curled and curled, drummed and drummed. Every touch a sensation higher, a little more pleasure, until they ran together, all those zings of yum, into one big shudder. My orgasm stood on the cliff, just waiting for the right moment to jump and fly.

  Kyle knew it. He caught my gaze, those gorgeous green eyes drilling into me.

  ‘Come for me, Jae,’ he said. The sound of my name, his name for me, caught up with the rolls of pleasure, and I came, jumped over the cliff, pleasure and noise and ohmygods and him groaning as my body tightened around his fingers. It was delicious and quick, and then I was panting and giggling.

  He waited until I was nearly still, my breathing falling back into itself, then he slid his fingers from me, the slick sound of my pleasure loud in the room.

  ‘I seriously want to fuck you,’ he said.

  ‘That’s funny, because I seriously want you to fuck me.’

  A second later, ‘Need,’ I amended. ‘I need you to fuck me.’

  Laughter from us both as he reached for the condom box I kept on the dresser. And a twinge of sadness too. He was the one man in my life who knew where I kept the condoms. No one else in the world knew that right now.

  The deep thoughts slipped away as he rolled the condom slowly over his erection, his cock filling the rubber sheath. It was a beautiful sight. A sight that I wanted. I rolled a finger along the soft hang of his balls, watched his erection respond to the touch with a jump.

  I tugged my stockings all the way off and dropped them on the floor. He positioned himself over me, giving me a gorgeous view of his beautiful hips, his sheathed cock, the long muscles of his arms. Then he was in me, my pussy so open that there was no moment of pause, just first I was empty and then I was filled with him. His tip hit my sensitive g-spot, slid over it so that I mouthed a low groan.

  Cupping his ass in my hands – who could resist that warm skin, the way the muscles bunched lightly as he thrust into me – I pulled him tighter against me, as if he could actually go deeper than he already was, and he uttered a low ‘fuck, Jae’ that nearly sent me over the edge.

  Then he stopped moving. The lack of friction made me feel crazy, needful, edged.


  ‘Givegivegive,’ I begged, pulling him inwards, trying to bend his body to my needs.

  ‘If I move, I won’t last,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t care.’ My voice was all breath, a drumbeat of want in the back of my head.

  He shifted, moved away from me, then plunged back in. I wanted to wrap my legs around him, tight and capturing. But he was already moving, driving me back against the bed. Every time he backed away, he was almost completely out of me, some part of him hitting my clit with each withdrawal until it was a maddening ache.

  ‘Come for me, Jae,’ he snarled, his words caught between his teeth, ending with a soft grunt of pleasure. ‘Come for me so I can come for you.’

  He shifted once more, slid out of me and in, my clit coming fully alive. I came with a low keen that rose and rose. Kyle joined me, his voice lower, and I felt him pull away from me, his ass flexing beneath my grip as he came, saying my name.

  He lowered himself against me and we stayed that way for a long moment. This is the last time I’ll lie beneath this man, I thought with an odd, sudden certainty, although I didn’t really know why. After all, we might stay lovers. Or whatever it was that we were. Right?

  Then he sighed and shifted, giving me a kiss on the cheek before he rolled away, onto the bed beside me. That moment was coming, the one I’d been avoiding. I could feel it barrelling toward us.

  ‘You don’t want to marry me, do you?’ he asked.

  God. That was one of the things I always appreciated about him. He spoke his mind. But sometimes it felt like a steamroller.

  I shook my head, afraid to open my mouth because I knew tears would come. I didn’t want to cry. I would not cry.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. And not like that.’

  The tears came anyway, despite no words, making his face a watery blur. I tried to stop them but, as soon as I blinked, they cascaded down my cheeks.

  He reached out a hand and wiped them away. Which somehow made me cry more.

  ‘I’m not crying. I just have allergies,’ I said, an old joke, waving my hand in front of my face as though it would help.

  ‘Well, stop it then,’ he said. ‘Before your tongue swells up and you choke to death.’

  He wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me close. We were still sex-sticky where our bodies came together and I was tear-sticky where my face rested on his shoulder. When I knew I could speak without crying, I said, ‘I just wasn’t expecting it. And … I don’t know. Isn’t what we had enough?’

  ‘Had,’ he said. Musing. My heart panged hard in my chest. I was fucking this all up.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. Tears threatened again, but I swallowed them back. Stupid eyes.

  He ran a hand through my hair. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I just thought, I don’t know. That we were moving someplace else. Toward a future. I don’t want a casual thing any more. I want a serious thing. A forever thing.’

  He pulled away slightly so he could look at me, running his gaze over my face. ‘With you.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said again. Wishing I had something better to say.

  I could tell from his eyes that he heard everything I meant to say in that phrase.

  ‘You’re a good guy,’ I said. I meant it. ‘Far better than I deserve.’

  ‘Nah,’ he said. ‘We’re just different. We need different things.’

  I watched him while he got dressed. He turned away to put his pants on, and I got thinking how weird it is to go from being lovers to people who have sex to … whatever we were now. People who turned away to hide their naked bodies from each other.

  I pulled my dress back down over my head. ‘Do you want to talk some more?’ I asked.

  ‘Not right now,’ he said. ‘I’m kind of all talked out. Besides, you need to get going if you’re going to make the show.’

  A quick glance at the bedside clock told me he was right.

  ‘Shit,’ I said. I’d completely forgotten about the Cat House. It wasn’t like I was going for fun. I needed to be discreet, or at least professional. What I didn’t need was to show up late, looking like I’d just been well fucked. Or maybe that was the perfect way to show up. Who knew?

  ‘Do you want to come with me?’ I asked. ‘It’s work, but it also might be sexy. We have to hurry, though. I have to stop by Cream on the way.’

  ‘Well, get dressed then,’ he said.

  I jumped out of bed, only remembering the ankle too late to be careful of it, but it didn’t even let out a tiny twang.

  I dressed fast. The only difference is that this time I pulled on a pair of boots without heels. They didn’t look quite as good with the dress, but they’d protect my ankle, and that felt more important at the moment.

  ‘Ready?’ I asked. Kyle was back in his jeans and jacket, his hair only slightly less sexed up than mine. It looked good on him. Sandy-coloured, a little mussed and, as always, falling across his eyes. Fuck, he was hot.

  Even as I looked at him, I got an odd feeling in the bottom of my stomach. Something was wrong with me, wasn’t it? That I didn’t just say yes to this beautiful, smart, kind man. That I didn’t want what everyone else in the world seemed to want. That a marriage proposal sent me into dithers instead of making me all warm and fuzzy. Jesus. Was I broken somehow?

  ‘Ready,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

  I opened the door, reflexively looking to make sure there weren’t any more surprises on my doorstep. When I was certain the coast was clear, we stepped out and I locked the door behind us.

  We walked fast. Well, as fast as I dared. I didn’t want to tweak my ankle, but the boots I had on seemed to do a great job of keeping everything in place. The sun had set and the tiny streetlights entwined in the trees lit our way.

  I was still all tingly from good sex, the insides of me all melty and warm, the outsides buzzing with leftover pleasure and arousal. But that softness was mingled with confusion. Had we made some kind of decision? Were we still together? Was Kyle really as OK with all of this as he said he was?

  He walked comfortably beside me, not seeming at all concerned that we hadn’t talked more about the marriage thing, and that made me feel better. I slipped my hand into his and grinned when he squeezed it lightly.

  Sometimes life was good enough that you had to bask in it for a little while. Especially at those times when you can hear bad coming around the corner, its little footsteps making their way toward you.

  We were almost at Cream when something occurred to me.

  ‘Wait, Kyle, how did you know we’d be late? Did I tell you what time the show was?’

  He didn’t hesitate with his answer and he didn’t falter in his step, but that was a Kyle trait. If you wanted to hear the truth, he told it to you. He wouldn’t tell you things you didn’t want to know. But he’d told me right from the beginning that if I asked something, I should want the truth, because he was going to give it to me. It’s like he had the truth brimming in him all the time, and, if you so much as made a little hole for it to escape, it was likely to explode all over you.

  ‘Cat House shows are always on the same day of the month and they always start at the same time,’ he said.

  Now I was the one to stop walking. ‘How do you know about this place when I don’t? I mean, not that I don’t expect you to know things that I don’t, but I’ve never even heard of it and I’ve lived in this city way longer than you.’

  He stopped as I did, still holding my hand. ‘Some of my clients go there.’

  There was more. There was always more with Kyle. One of the reasons I liked him so much was that he was complex and deep, always had a million things on his brain, even when he was making me laugh. Or making me dinner. Or making me come.

  But just this once I wished I could get him to say everything that was in there, everything that I wanted to know without prompting.

  As though he’d read my mind, he nodded. ‘Your eyes are so full of questions they’re about to explode. How about this? I promis
e I’ll tell you the whole story after the show, OK? Everything I know. And I won’t even make you ask all the questions. Deal?’

  I traced the love line in his palm with my thumb, or at least what I thought was the love line, feeling its deep length. Feeling bad, but also hopeful.

  ‘Deal,’ I said. ‘And I really am sorry.’

  ‘I know,’ he said.

  His kindness was breaking my heart into little bits.

  ‘Why do you have to be so nice about it? Why can’t you just be a big fat jerk so I can hate you?’

  For once, he didn’t answer. He just kissed my forehead.

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Let’s go find us a Kitty.’

  He lifted his eyebrows at that, about a second before he burst into laughter.

  ‘You don’t have any idea what we’re about to experience, do you?’ he asked.

  ‘Purr?’ I responded.

  ‘Yeah, we’re in so much trouble,’ he said.

  CHAPTER 7

  From the outside, Cream was the kind of place that looked like any other coffee shop. Almost. If you didn’t notice that, on the sign over the door, the font of the word CREAM was made up of naked people curved into letters.

  Or if you didn’t look through the windows and see the erotic art that lined all the walls.

  ‘I’ll be fast,’ I said. ‘Want coffee?’

  Kyle shook his head. He still looked a little dazed about everything, as though he was a man who’d expected a punch in the jaw and then got a kiss instead. Which, now that I thought about it, was pretty close to what had actually happened. But he was clearly still waiting for the other punch. So, it seemed, was I.

  ‘I’ll wait here,’ he said. ‘It’s nice out.’

  ‘Back in two shakes,’ I said.

  I stepped inside the shop and was instantly inundated with the scent of fresh baked goods and well-made coffee. Almost as good as the smell of paper and leather.

  Cream was tiny, just room for a couple of tables up front and the long counter behind which two of Stefan’s baristas worked. A new art show featured black and white photos of body parts. Nipples tightened between clamps. The corner of an eye with long false eyelashes. The very tip of someone’s erect cock. The natural wood floors and walls, combined with the beautiful, sexual artwork, did a lot for the place.