Dangerously Bound

by Eden Bradley

  “Allie . . .”

  “It’s okay. I need to hear it, and maybe this is the only time I’m going to be brave enough to ask.”

  “Do we need to rehash ancient history?”

  “Yes,” she answered simply.

  He knew she was right. But damn it, he did not want to do this.

  He tightened his arms around her. “If this makes you bottom out, I’m going to feel like shit.”

  “And if that happens, I know you’ll take good care of me. Just tell me,” she insisted.

  He pushed her long, silky hair from her face, stroked her jaw with his thumb, checked her eyes. It was clear she was still pretty full of endorphins. But it was also clear she knew exactly what she was asking.

  “Okay. But you know a big part of why we haven’t been together is because I haven’t wanted to have this conversation.”

  “I know,” she said softly, her tone laced with hurt.

  “And you’re asking me now because you know damn well I can’t say no to you when you’re sitting naked in my lap, and you know how badly I want you.”

  She smiled a little. “Well, I’m sure it doesn’t hurt.”

  “Oh, it hurts. Princess, you sure know how to get your way.”

  “Not always, apparently. And you’re stalling.”

  “Yeah.” He paused to gather his thoughts. How the hell did he say something to her he’d purposely kept from her for nearly eleven years? Something he’d never fully admitted, not even to Jamie? Where did he begin?

  “All right. You know how in high school I always told you how sweet you were? You know that was truly how I felt. You always had this sweetness about you. You were so . . . fresh is the only word I can find. And I’ve always had these demons. This darkness. These urges.”

  “Do you still see your urges for kink as dark? As demons?”

  “As dark, sure. Maybe not as demons anymore. I’ve worked some of those out of my system.” He stopped, shrugged. “Some of them are still there, though, if you want to know the truth. But being a Dominant has helped me to control them. That’s how I got into rope. That part of me needed to be kept in check, and the rope . . . it’s a symbol to me, maybe. The binding, the restraining, restrains my own darkness. I know it doesn’t make much sense.”

  “No, it does. I get it. Go on.”

  “It’s more than that. It’s a sense of connection with the bottom, an extension of my hands, myself. There’s control in the patterns. In the elegance of the knots.”

  “Yes, that’s one of the things I love about it, too,” she agreed.

  “But it’s the way the rope requires control. It’s mathematical, even. It’s discipline in itself to bind someone properly. And it’s that sense of absolute discipline that keeps me on track. That’s not something I discovered until a few years after I last saw you, and it’s only been in the last couple of years that I’ve come to understand it more completely. I’m sure I still have more to learn.”

  “Don’t we all? But tell me how this relates to us. To what happened.”

  He did not want to go there. His gut was in knots. But he was going to do it. She deserved that much from him.

  “Back in high school I told you all the time that you were too good for me.”

  “Which was crap, Mick. Pardon me for saying so, but it was.”

  “I felt that darkness, though, Allie. I didn’t want to sully you with it. You were so innocent.”

  “Mick, even in high school we were doing things that weren’t entirely innocent, even though you wouldn’t help me lose my virginity.”

  “Help you? You say that like it would have been a good thing.”

  “Only with you,” she said quietly.

  He couldn’t believe she still thought so. That adulthood hadn’t brought her more hindsight, especially knowing what she did about him.

  “It would have been a disaster.”

  “I don’t agree. I loved you.”

  Hearing her say it made his heart twist painfully.

  “We were teenagers, Allie. What did we know about love?”

  “Maybe not very much. I only knew what I felt.”

  “So did I. Fuck it—you’re right.” He stopped, ran a hand over his hair. “And I felt it was wrong to have you follow me down that road. That’s why when I left for college, I knew leaving you to find another kind of life—a better life without me in it to screw things up for you—was the only right thing to do.”

  “That is so . . . all kinds of messed up. Did you never think of me after that, Mick?” she asked, her brown eyes burning with gold fire.

  “I thought about you all the damn time.”

  They were both quiet for several moments.

  “But you never came back for me.”

  “I knew I couldn’t do that to you. And then there was the accident.”

  The fucking motorcycle accident that had ruined his life, ruined his future, ruined his sense of self and his place in his family.

  He had a flash of that sick, skidding sensation, the world blurring, no control—no fucking control! Intolerable pain, then blackness. Waking up knowing he had fucked up, but not how badly. No, that had come later, when the doctors told him his leg would never be the same again.

  “I’m sorry, Mick. I knew it must have been so awful for you, but you refused to see me when you were in the hospital, and after you got home.”

  “Because I was ashamed,” he admitted. “It was damn stupid of me. I threw away everything that was important to my family. My opportunity to serve my city in the way my father and grandfather had. In the way my brothers do now. I couldn’t stand for you to see me like that. Defeated by my own fucking foolishness. It was bad enough things had had to end between us the way they did. I couldn’t face you. I couldn’t face anyone. I’m still ashamed, if you want to know the truth. It fucking haunts me. And that’s not something I say to anyone.”

  * * *

  IT HURT HER to hear him say it. To hear the old pain in his voice. To feel his body tense up.

  “I’m sure they don’t hold it against you,” she said.

  “I do.”

  “Oh, Mick.”

  She stroked the back of her hand down his cheek just to feel it, to let him know how she felt.

  “Don’t pity me, Allie,” he said gruffly.

  She pulled her hand back. But she knew him well enough not to feel wounded by his tone. “It’s not pity. I feel for you, that’s all. Does your leg still hurt you?”

  “Yeah, it gives me some trouble, but I deal with it.”

  She knew that was what the bare-knuckle fighting was about, that he felt he had to prove himself. She’d caught a glimpse or two of his limp, but he was still the strongest man she knew. He had nothing to prove to anyone. If only he could see that.

  “Change of subject,” he suggested.

  “Okay. I want to hear about what happened in college, when I came home. When we were together.”

  “Fuck. Really?”

  “That’s what this conversation was coming to.”

  He scrubbed at his closely cut goatee. “That night never should have happened. It was all wrong.”

  “It never felt that way to me. Other than the part where you left and never turned back.”

  “Allie, you were twenty years old,” he protested. His arm was around her waist, holding her in his lap, and his fingers flexed hard.

  “Yes, Mick, I was twenty. I wasn’t a child anymore, and I wasn’t a virgin by then. I’m even less a child now. And that night was everything I’d ever wanted. Not just the sex, but all of it. Being tied up with your belt. The smell of the leather. The biting. The spanking. The roughness of it all.”

  “That can’t be true. You couldn’t have known back then.”

/>   “You did. From what you’ve said, you knew in high school. Wasn’t that what you were trying to protect me from? But can’t you see, Mick? Once you gave me a taste for it, that was my fantasy, too. You gave me that tempting little bit, then you took it away. You took yourself away from me, too.”

  “You cried that night after we had sex,” he insisted, his tone going harsh. “I saw the tears.”

  “I was crying because that night with you was the fulfillment of every fantasy I’d ever had!” She almost wanted to cry now. “Fantasies I’d had when I was practically a child, things I didn’t understand until much later. But I loved it. I loved the passion of it, the intensity. The pain.”

  He shook his head. “No, that’s not right. It can’t be.”

  She took his face in her hands and gazed into his eyes. His were dark, shadowed, his brows drawn. He was so damn beautiful it made her ache.

  “Mick, I wanted it. I wanted you, and I wanted all those things you did with me that night. You say you feel those desires were some kind of demon. If that’s true, then I have demons, too.”

  He tried to shake his head again, and she tried to hold it firmly, but he took her hands and pulled them down.

  “Don’t say that, Allie.”

  “How can I explain this to you? It’s as if my being here with you, you knowing my kink history, counts for nothing, even though you said it did, that it’s made you think, but here we are again with you protesting my desires, Mick! That’s what it comes down to—with you still doubting that you can be with me.”

  “Look, Allie . . . it isn’t only the stuff around the breakup in high school. A lot of it was—and maybe still is—the accident. That was something I couldn’t come back from. It only proved what I’d always known about myself. You deserve more than that. And what happened between us later, when we slept together . . . that was a mistake. I know I didn’t handle it well. I know I was an asshole. A lot of it was because I had demonized myself for wanting the kink, and it was only later that I learned to accept that about myself. But us not being together then was the right thing, Allie. You weren’t ready for full-on kink at twenty.”

  She watched him in frustration. His face was shutting down again, a veil of stubbornness over his handsome features. But she wasn’t done with this conversation. “Mick, this is something I’ve been turning over in my mind for years. I’m going to tell you how I see it. You know that for those who are born to New Orleans, it’s in your blood. It lingers there no matter where you go. BDSM is the same sort of thing. If you’re born to it—the way you were, the way I was, whether or not you want to accept that—you can never shake it. It shapes the way you think, the way you respond to . . . everything. And those who were a part of unleashing those desires . . . you never forget them, either. That’s what you did for me, Mick. For me, not to me.”

  “Christ, Allie. I can’t accept that.” He looked like he was fuming inside, color high on his chiseled cheekbones.

  “Do you think there’s something intrinsically wrong with kink? Do you?” she demanded.

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then why is there something wrong about the combination of kink and me? I’m not that sweet teenager anymore. I’m not delicate. Haven’t I shown you that? What do I have to do to get past your relentless inflexibility, Mick? I would have thought you’d outgrown it by now.”

  “I have. Some. I guess we’ve both changed a lot since high school. I just need some time to absorb it.”

  “We have changed. And you need to learn to see me for who I am now.”

  He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and some of her anger dissolved under that small gesture.

  “And you need to see me for who I am now, too,” he said. “You were so driven to play with me. You started to ask about us starting over. But Allie, do we even know each other anymore?”

  He had a point. Was it Mick as he was now that she was in love with, or some image she’d carried in her head all these years? The idea made her stomach go tight.

  “Some, yes,” she said, trying to figure it out even as she spoke. “I believe some parts of us never change. I know you’re still loyal to a fault. That you love your family. That you can still be grumpy as hell.”

  A shadow of a grin quirked his mouth. “Yeah, you’re right on all three counts. I’m also more stubborn, maybe. More set in my ways. I’m sure I’ve developed a few more character defects over the years.”

  “Probably,” she said.

  “I should spank you for that.”

  She batted her lashes. “Yes, please.”

  “You are one bratty sub.”

  She smiled. “Yes, I am.”

  “What am I going to do with you, Allie girl?” he asked, his gaze narrowing. But his features had relaxed. So had his hold on her waist.

  She laid a hand on his chest over the silver cross he never took off, felt the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath her palm. This was still Mick, wasn’t it? “How about getting to know me all over again? Letting me get to know you?”

  “You make way too much sense for a woman who was deep in subspace only a half hour ago.”

  “Then can we?”

  His tone dropped until she had to strain to hear him. “When you look at me like that, I can’t refuse you.”

  “Then kiss me, Mick. Please.”

  He stared at her, that intense gaze seeming to look right through her. Then he bent his head and brushed her lips with his. So soft, at first, then he did it again, his hand coming up to hold her cheek, his thumb slipping under her chin to hold her still. To take control.

  He pressed his lips to hers hard, making her moan. Pleasure and heat spiraled in her body, and her heart raced. His arm around her waist pulled her in tighter, the blanket falling away as he crushed her to his chest until the buttons on his shirt dug into her bare breasts, until they were crushed against the hard wall of his chest. Until there was no doubt in her mind that he was claiming her as his tongue slipped into her mouth.

  Oh, it was good—his lips pressed to hers, his sweet tongue searching, twining, demanding. She gave him everything he asked for, with her mouth, with her pliant body, with the surrender she felt in every muscle and bone and cell. Desire surged, expanded until she was wet and wanting.

  He pulled back and studied her face closely. Her heart was beating wildly.

  “Allie?”

  “Mick, I need you. Need you. Can we just . . . start there?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.” He leaned in to feather his lips across hers once more.

  Somehow they got up and together they got her clothes back on. He bundled her out the door and into his truck. He was gunning the engine and pulling onto the dark street before he asked her, “Your house?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  He glanced at her, then back at the road. “You’re right. It doesn’t. It never has.”

  He reached over and took her hand, kept it in his as they moved through the city, down Magazine Street past the warehouses, under the Pontchartrain Expressway and into Allie’s neighborhood in the lower French Quarter. He made a turn onto Orange Street, then they were in front of her house, and he parked.

  She waited while he walked around the truck to open her door. He lifted her down, his big hands around her waist, and his touch burned into her, making her need all the more acute. She could barely stand to wait as he led her up the walkway, up the steps, took her keys and opened her front door.

  He grabbed her wrist, encircling it with his strong fingers.

  “Bedroom,” he demanded. “Or it’s going to be right here on the hall floor.”

  She nodded and led him down the narrow hall.

  He was on her almost the moment they passed through the doorway, stripping her down until she was naked and barefoot once more. He
r pulse was a hot, thready beat in her veins, her chest, between her thighs. Desire was something solid, palpable, nearly unbearable.

  She put her hands on his chest, tried to unbutton his shirt.

  “Mick . . .”

  He took her wrists in his hands and pulled them down to her sides, held them there as he looked into her eyes, and she understood, her mind shifting gears. If they were going to be together right now they would be in role, submissive and Dominant. She understood his need to leash his desires. Understood how dangerous he felt he was to her.

  She would show him tonight she could take it. That the full darkness inside him was exactly what she wanted, yearned for.

  He moved around her, one hand on her body, sliding over her stomach, her side, her back. He stood behind her, and she waited for whatever would come next, her heart hammering, her body aching for more.

  When he wrapped his arm around her neck and tightened just enough to restrict her breathing, she felt his command with an enormous sense of relief.

  Oh, yes.

  She closed her eyes as he pulled tighter. With his other hand he swept her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck tenderly. She loved the combination of roughness and gentleness. Even trusting him enough to do this bit of breath play with her was erotic. Her body flooded with desire, her legs going weak. Even weaker when he bit into her skin, just hard enough to hurt.

  She moaned.

  “Yeah, baby girl. I want to hear it now. I want to hear everything you’re feeling. Every groan. Every panting breath. Give it to me.”

  She leaned her head back onto his shoulder, and he slid his hand into her hair, grasped it at the roots and pulled tightly.

  “Oh . . .”

  “You like this. It makes you feel taken over, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I like the way your whole body bows when I pull your hair. The way I can see your yielding in the way you move. It’s beautiful. And so, so hot.”

  He pulled harder, the pain making her gasp.

  “You like that, too.”

  It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway.