Push (Bound #1)

by Olivia R. Keane

  Who was he calling? He spoke, softly, keeping his voice hushed. Charlie couldn’t hear most of his conversation, except all of the sudden his voice picked up, sounding panicked. It was a subtle tinge of a change, but Charlie recognized it immediately. She strained to listen in on the conversation.

  “ … I took care of the situation,” Charlie heard him say. The person on the other end of the conversation spoke, and then Declan said, “Everything’s under control.” Declan’s voice relaxed as the conversation continued. Charlie closed her eyes quickly when he looked her way and kept them closed. She’d convinced herself that he shouldn’t mind if she listened in, but when it came down to it, she still didn’t want him to know she was eavesdropping. At one point, he laughed a bit, sounding more relaxed. He sounded better, no longer anxious. Charlie wondered why he was earlier.

  Everything’s under control. What did that mean? The fire near her feet warmed her, keeping her mind in a blanketed haze, and she couldn’t think much about anything.

  The phone conversation stopped and Charlie heard the beep signifying that Declan ended the call. He whispered to her, smiling faintly, “My Charlotte.” He laid back down next to her.

  They spoke more, but what about Charlie didn’t care . She just wanted Declan to lie down with her so she could cuddle with him. And he did. She placed her hand on his chest. Relaxed against him, Charlie nuzzled her nose against his neck.

  He tilted his head toward her and smiled. “Still sleepy are we, Ms. Flynn?”

  “Are we?” she asked coyly. “I am but are you?”

  “Perhaps I’m tired, but not sleepy.”

  “Stressful week in Toronto?”

  “Yes,” Declan said. “It was a difficult week, but we did get a lot accomplished.”

  “Did you go … ” ’

  “Go where?”

  “You know?” And of course, he didn’t know. She hadn’t asked anything. He furrowed his brow. “To your BDSM places?” There. I said it.

  He smirked. “My BDSM places, Charlotte? So is that what we are calling them now?”

  “Yes, very technical, I know.” Charlie laughed.

  “There are clubs in Toronto, of course,” he said, grinning at her. “I have no use for them as I am otherwise occupied.”

  “Are they fun?” Charlie asked.

  Declan eyed her curiously as if it was a strange question. “What do you mean?”

  “The scenes? Are they fun to watch?”

  “They can be entertaining. I enjoy learning different techniques, and they can be a good point of beginning for those new to the field.”

  “Maybe I should go,” she said. “You could take me.”

  “No,” Declan said, shaking his head. “My Charlotte, those … those places are not for you.”

  “You know I like what we do together,” she muttered.

  “It’s not about that,” Declan spoke. “That is controlled. It’s different at a club. Not that I would ever allow you to participate, but still.”

  “I’m just curious,” Charlie said. “I would like to go once to see it, but maybe you’re right.”

  “You’re too curious by far but, of course, that’s what makes you an excellent researcher.” Declan moved his arms, squeezing her closer to him. “A club is quite terrifying and wonderful all in one.”

  “Why is it so terrifying?”

  “You could get hurt.”

  “I know you’d never hurt me though.” Charlie knew this wasn’t exactly what Declan was trying to say, but she wanted more reassurance from him.

  “I would never intentionally hurt you, Charlotte. You know that.” Declan spoke quietly. “Most people never set out to hurt anyone, and while I don’t want to hurt you, I can’t honestly say it won’t happen at some point. We are all flawed, and imperfect people do eventually hurt each other in some form or another.”

  “Nope,” Charlie said, sticking her tongue out at him. She wanted to lighten the solemn mood Declan had imposed.

  “Stop that, will you?” Declan poked her tongue with his finger. “You don’t know that I won’t.”

  “Very true, but what if we make some sort of bargain?”

  “What sort of bargain?”

  “Well, for your side of it, you will do your level best to not hurt me.”

  Declan frowned at Charlie, his lips twisting downward, like a petulant schoolboy. “Ms. Flynn, I believe I’ve already stated that I cannot promise that.”

  She pouted. “Fine. If you do ever hurt me, you will need to apologize.”

  “All right.” He nodded. “Wait, how will I know I’ve hurt you?”

  “I’ll make sure to tell you.”

  “Oh, you are such an impertinent girl.”

  “Will you punish me?” Charlie feigned tears.

  Declan laughed, watching Charlie. His eyes twinkled with mirth. “Do you know what we call this, Charlotte?”

  “Who is we?” Charlie played along.

  “Myself and those who frequent ‘BDSM places,’ as you described them.”

  “Oh. No, what do they call it?”

  “Topping from the bottom, my sweet girl.”

  “We’re both on the floor though.” Charlie couldn’t resist being a bit of a smart-ass.

  Declan stared at Charlie for a moment, blinking rapidly, and then he laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  Declan swooped in and kissed her on the forehead, leaving her feeling intoxicated. Her body tingled, ready for him, wanting him. He finished laughing and pressed his lips near to hers. “If I punish you because you ask me to, it’s hardly me controlling you, now is it? The punishment should be about what I want.” His voice was lower, more seductive.

  He pushed Charlie onto her back, rolled atop her, pressing her into the floor with the entirety of his body. “I will apologize when I have hurt you, but I will punish you whenever I like, Charlotte. What do you think of that?”

  Charlie nodded quickly. “Yes, Master.”

  “Perhaps I shall punish you right now,” he growled.

  She nodded faster.

  “I don’t think I will though. You’d like that too much, and I have no reason to do it at the moment.”

  Charlie stilled.

  “Though,” Declan’s hand slid down her side and he wrenched the cloth of her pants down. “Perhaps … I’ll have my way with you right here, right now. What do you think of that?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Declan grabbed one of her wrists, and then the other with his free hand. He pulled Charlotte’s hands above her head, pressing the backs of them against the floor.

  “We’re going to try something new this evening,” Declan said. Charlotte opened her mouth, but before she could respond, he cut her off. “Don’t speak.” He removed a hand from one of her wrists, placing it across her mouth. “Imagine my hand is a gag. I will remove it, but the gag will remain unless you need to tell me no or you ask me to stop. Do you understand? Nod your head if you do.”

  Charlotte nodded, and Declan removed his hand.

  He pushed her hands to the ground against the floor, her knuckles scraping against the Persian rug. “These are shackles on the ground. I’m binding your wrists with them right now.” He released her wrists and grinned. “That is all, Charlotte. Simplicity works best in some circumstances. You may struggle from side to side if you wish, and you may moan into your imaginary gag, but unless you require me to cease our activities, you will not move your hands and you shall not utter one word. If you do, I will stop immediately.”

  Declan leaned back and admired her as she nodded her acquiescence. She kept her hands above her head, clasping her fingers together, and her lips remained tightly pursed together. Spreading her legs with his hands, he held her thighs in place. He then traced his hands upward toward her hips but stopped. He lifted her legs, pushing them forward with his hands until her knees bent. The fire behind them crackled and sparked, heating up the room. Charlotte warmed beneath his touch too. He bent her le
gs until her knees hovered over her stomach. Her sex parted for him. She squirmed, wriggling back and forth. He held her thighs tight. He leaned down, looming over her. “Stop fidgeting, Charlotte.”

  She gifted him a confused look but didn’t speak.

  “Stop thinking,” he commanded. “I want you to just feel. I adore your intelligence, the way your mind works, but at this moment, I am forbidding you to think. All I am allowing you to do is feel.”

  Declan released one of Charlotte’s thighs and unzipped his pants. He shifted them down until they gathered at his knees. Moving closer still, he touched the head of his cock against her slit, rubbing it up and down. He relished teasing every whimper, every moan, every response from Charlotte. Soon she bucked and spasmed as Declan teased her into submission.

  ***

  Declan watched Charlotte as she lie sleeping in her bed, admiring her beauty. She looked so serene and tranquil. He adored her soft features and the little noises she made as she exhaled during slumber.

  He thought of the night before and their game of imaginary bindings in front of the fireplace. He sifted through the images of Charlotte enraptured. The look of unadulterated bliss on her face, and the briefest of gasps at his shaft’s intrusion into her inner depths. Looking down at her while she climaxed, the small pearl of her clit contracting in and out excitedly. He loved the way she gave over everything to him last night. She gifted him with complete control. It was no longer an illusion for him.

  For Declan, control had always been a fantasy. For him control came in many forms. In his daily life, the fantasy of control laid within organizational porn he consumed. It was in the day planners, the life hacks, the promise of a fresh Moleskin, and a brand new Waterman pen. The smell of the unused pages, the perfect weight of the pen in his hands all spoke to him. They seduced him with a promise of stopping the chaos. They whispered We are the tools you can use to transform the maelstrom into a beautiful ballet. Declan’s ideas about control fused into one thought—dance, don’t scramble. Dance required precision and control to appear effortless, as did control.

  The fantasy took different shapes within his kink. It rested in the ability to lift a finger, give a slight nod, or have another respond instantly and correctly with the outcome he desired. Sometimes it took the form of a position, and the stimulus and outcome were like a finely tuned dance. Sometimes it was a pragmatic result, like a perfectly made espresso or lips wrapped around his cock. Sometimes it was as simple as it was last night; Charlotte’s face registered how much she shared the other side of the fantasy of control.

  Declan realized that Charlotte was the only one that could ever bring him back to himself, to give him that fantasy of control. She alone allowed him the full freedom to shape the fantasy of control for both of them.

  ***

  Declan’s words soothed her. “Don’t trust me because I tell you to do so. Trust me because you find me worthy of your trust.” The Friday after Thanksgiving, he held her hand, leading her to a room adjacent to his office. He flipped on the lights and closed the door behind them.

  The room was odd. It looked like a massage therapist’s room had mated with a personal library. A lush massage table held court in the center of the room and the surrounding walls lined with filled bookshelves. There was a locked cabinet to the side of the massage table.

  “Charlotte, remove your clothing,” Declan commanded, giving her no time to inspect the bookshelves or anything else for that matter.

  “What?”

  “Remove your clothing,” he repeated.

  “What if I don’t want to?” Charlie asked.

  “Regardless of whether or not you want to continue with what I am about to introduce you to, I still demand you to be naked.”

  “Oh,” Charlie said, and in a moment of blondness added, “Are we going to have sex in here?”

  “If you don’t wish to have sex with me, then feel free not to remove your clothing.”

  Excitedly, Charlie stripped out of her clothes, laying them in a pile on the cushioned table. Declan admired her; Charlie blushed under his gaze. She didn’t mind being naked in front of him, but he was still fully clothed, so it seemed bit more uncomfortable. A good sort of uncomfortable though. Her stomach tightened, and her heartbeat raced as he took her in.

  The silence between them heightened her anxiety further. “Are you going to remove your clothing too?” Charlie asked, her words penetrating the solitude.

  “All in due time, Charlotte.” Declan walked around her, seemingly content to take in her bared curves for the moment. “Tonight’s lesson is about trust. This is why I had you disrobe while I remained fully clothed. I asked you to bare your flesh to me, rather than force you to go through physical aggression, ripping the clothing from your body,” Declan detailed. “Had I done so, you would have complied. You would have stood here, shaking and nervous, but you would have not pulled away.

  “I didn’t want to use my hands though. I wanted you to offer me what is mine, what you have given to me, and yet continue to shy away from showing.” Declan moved Charlie’s clothing to the top of the cabinet. “You profess your trust in me, and I do not doubt your words. I want more though. I want you to use actions.” Declan strode to the iPod device on the wall and selected some music. “Lay on your back on the table, Ms. Flynn.”

  “Yes, Master.” Sitting on the table, Charlie swung her legs up, then laid down, staring at the ceiling. Suddenly the space reminded her of a doctor’s office, and she felt relieved that Declan’s table didn’t have stirrups. “What song is this, Master?” Charlie questioned him in an effort to shake the medical fetish thoughts from her mind.

  “Be still,” Declan answered as he moved toward a bookcase in the corner to retrieve something. “It’s a song by The Fray. Do you like it?”

  “I do, Master. It’s quite relaxing.”

  “What candle scent is your favorite, Charlotte?” he asked. “I have lemongrass sage, maple sugar, and sandalwood amber.”

  “I think the maple sugar,” Charlie said.

  “Feeling festive are we, Ms. Flynn?” Charlie could hear the amusement in his voice despite his formality.

  “Yes, Master. I do like to get in the holiday spirit.” Charlie laughed.

  Declan retrieved some candles. He arranged the four of them in a circle on the smaller table closest to Charlie. He quickly unscrewed the lids off each candle, proceeding to ignite each wick with his lighter.

  The smell filled the room as the flames melted the scented wax. “How many candles do you have?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t really keep track. I like to keep a variety on hand to suit my tastes.”

  “So far this is incredibly relaxing. I don’t quite understand how it is a lesson though.”

  “Ah, well … ” Declan smiled and came up alongside Charlie, placing his hands on her stomach, kneading her skin lightly beneath his strong fingers. “I will explain that too as we proceed.”

  Charlie wanted to speak, but she found herself only able to nod. Her stomach filled with fluttering, and with the addition of Declan’s hands on her body, she felt as though she would burst like a confetti-filled balloon, ready to release all her eagerness at any moment.

  Declan slowly caressed her stomach, teasing at her belly button. One of his hands roamed upward near her bared breasts while the other wandered southward.

  “I am going to start by covering your body in baby oil, Charlotte. Think of it as massage oil if you will.”

  “If olive oil comes from olives, where does baby oil come from?”

  “Really, Charlotte? Quoting George Carlin?” Declan couldn’t help but grin a bit.

  “I’m sorry, Master. I’m a bit nervous. I thought it might be good to ease the tension a bit.”

  “The oil is completely safe, although very slippery. Just think of it as a massage.”

  “I still don’t see how all of this seduction provides a teachable moment,” she said.

  “No, I don’t sup
pose it would seem like that,” Declan agreed. “The oil is necessary for two reasons. It heats as the wax is applied, increasing the sensation. It also serves to ensure the wax comes off more easily.” His fingers slid down Charlie’s body, dancing down to her slit, and carefully spreading her open. “Especially when it comes to this.” He gripped what little trace of pubic hair she had left in the thin strip.

  Charlie gasped aloud, her hands gripping the edges of the table as Declan pushed a finger inside her. “Apparently not all of you needs to be oiled. You seem quite slippery here already.” Declan kept going, pushing all the way inside her, his finger exploring her depths. “I like this,” he said, brushing his thumb over the strip of hair.

  “Master,” Charlie panted. She wanted to let him know that she was enjoying this far too much for it to be some sort of punishment or lesson, but then she thought better of it. If he wants to teach me something this way, who am I to complain?

  He grinned at her, almost as if he knew her every thought. “As I was saying, the oil acts as a barrier to the melted wax.”

  Charlie tensed at the pleasant feeling of his finger rubbing inside her. Her mind was a mess, distracted by his finger. Wait, what was he saying? “Melted wax? Ummm … ”

  “Yes, Ms. Flynn, melted wax.”

  “Will it be very painful?”

  “I promise you it won’t hurt. It might become somewhat uncomfortable at times, but that is fleeting.”

  “I … ” Charlie wanted to believe him, to trust him, but this was candle wax, melted and hot.

  Declan picked up one of the candles and held it alongside the table next to Charlie. She stared at the flame as it danced, moving like a belly dancer to and fro. A pool of wax had formed beneath the engulfed wick as they talked, expanding outward toward the candle’s glass confines.

  “Trust me, Charlotte.” He moved the candle closer. “Dip the tip of your finger in the wax quickly and remove it.”