I hugged her to me, assuring her no such pity from Jessica was necessary. So what if our first two fantasies had some hiccups? We rocked our room off its axis last night.
“Who sets the risqué scale?” Presley asked as Jessica guided us down more rows of doors.
“Grant. He gave Inhibitions a soft opening before making it available to the public. For months he brought in experts and their spouses, and a selection of randomly chosen couples to take part in the experience and had them rate certain items. Their responses on comfort levels—paired with his extensive assessment of their personalities—helped him establish a somewhat universal scale. Of course, there are always exceptions, but it’s mostly been pretty accurate.”
Crazy that a former rock star turned out to be the perfect love guru and entrepreneur rolled into one. I’d have to thank him when this was all over—I don’t know if Presley would’ve happened without this place. The voice in the back of my head whispered I knew better, but I honestly don’t know if I would’ve made a move without an opening. This place had woken me up to what was right in front of me.
“Any more questions?” Jessica asked.
We shook our heads.
“All right. The key will open any room you choose. Just be aware of the occupation colors. You don’t want to walk in on anyone.”
“Right.” We both said at the same time and then chuckled.
“I’ll leave you to it. Anderson or myself are always around if you need anything further.”
“Thanks, Jessica,” Presley said as she walked off.
I clapped my hands together once she was out of sight. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“The Spy Suite?” she tapped the blue key card against my chest.
“Yes.” I pressed my forehead against hers before we took off to check its availability.
“Lucky boy,” she said when we saw the white light indicating it was vacant. “Are we ready for this?”
“I don’t know,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “How is your stomach feeling?”
Her mouth popped into the perfect shape of an O, and I cracked a grin.
“I had to,” I said.
“You always have to.” She rolled her eyes and slid the card against lock. After a moment of reading the data, the lock popped, and we pushed through the door. “Whoa,” she said.
“Nice!” I said, stepping further into the room.
A bright blue overhead light illuminated the room, and it was easy on the eyes but gave off a completely otherworld feel. The walls weren’t adorned with nature paintings like in normal hotel rooms—instead these were lined with thin shelves holding a variety of objects from handcuffs to chains to silk neckties. There was a bed in the farthest corner of the room, held up by a wrought iron frame—perfect for tying someone to it. The room also had a couch, several lone black chairs, and a bar. Plus, the bathroom with a deep end Jacuzzi tub too.
Presley’s heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she ran her fingers along a wall of chains. She arched an eyebrow at me, looking my way over her shoulder.
My heart thudded against my chest as I wondered what she had in mind and how off base I might’ve guessed her toy of choice in here. She cracked a grin, walking to the wall of ties. I huffed out a sigh—not that I wouldn’t have let the woman chain me to the bed if she’d wanted, but ties were familiar. Ties I could do.
I stalked toward her, pointing to the tie she selected. “That almost looks like the one you rode in fantasy number one.”
She quickly covered her face, her hair falling onto her shoulders. “I can’t believe I did that.”
I tugged her hands away from her face. “I can.”
She licked her lips and handed over the tie. “Today is your turn.”
“I must’ve been a good boy to be so lucky.” I teased.
“It must be a change from the bad boy you’re used to playing.” She winked and kissed me quickly before pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it in the corner. “Me on the other hand,” she continued, slipping off her pants but sliding her feet back into her red heels. “I’ve been very bad. Haven’t let you get one fantasy completed. Maybe you should lock me up.” She held her wrists out to me; the soft skin upturned in submission.
All the blood went straight to my dick, begging me to sink it into her without any preamble. I inhaled a long, slow breath, trailing my eyes up and down her gorgeous body. With nothing but her bra, panties, and heels on, she looked beyond fuckable, and with the tie in my hand, it was all I could do to maintain control.
Stripping down to my briefs, I guided her to the bed and gently laid her down. I savored her skin with my tongue, teasing her over the lacy fabric of her bra before I gathered her hands above her head. Slowly, I wrapped the tie around her wrists as she nipped at my chest. I glanced down when I secured the tie around the wrought iron frame. “This okay?”
She nodded, her chest rising and falling at a more rapid rate, her complete submission and trust in me only fueling the throbbing in my dick. Despite wanting nothing more than to get inside her, I took my time. There was something about making her wait that drove her crazy, which made me even crazier.
“Owen,” she sighed my name as I kissed down her chest, her stomach, all the way to her pussy. I peeled away the lace panties but left her heels on and buried myself between her legs, dying for another taste of her even though I’d had her just this morning.
She arched beneath me, welcoming me, giving herself over to me completely. That, plus her scent, her taste, was fucking intoxicating. Better than any drink I’d ever tasted, it was like Presley was made specifically for me.
Gripping her luscious ass, I worked my hands down her thighs, following with my tongue. I planted kisses down her legs all the way to her ankles where her red pumps waited and back to her wetness again. “I think red may be my favorite color on you,” I said against her, loving the way she trembled from the vibrations of my words.
“Color?” Presley was breathless. “Color!” She tensed a second before she jerked up so fast she kneed me square in the jaw. The motion clocked my head back, ringing me almost as if I were practice-sparring with Craig.
“What the—”
The sound of the lock on the door popping cut me off, and I bolted off the bed like I was an Olympic pole vaulter. I slammed into the door just as it opened enough for Quinn to get an eyeful of Presley tied to the bed. It was a blink of time, but enough for him to shout fuck and for me to smack the door in his face.
I pressed my back against it, holding it closed, my chest heaving. “Occupado, man!”
Presley burst out laughing from the bed, her arms still secured above her head.
“Sorry, bro!” Quinn shouted from the other side.
“Seriously?” I accused Presley after I’d heard them shuffle off outside. “You couldn’t remember to plug in the key-code?”
“You didn’t either!”
“I didn’t unlock the room!” I chuckled as we whisper shouted at each other. After retrieving the key from the pocket of my pants on the floor, I snuck half-out of the door and entered the key-code, sighing when the iPad’s screen turned red.
Sinking back onto the bed, Presley knitted her eyebrows at me. “Sorry about your jaw.”
I rubbed it, the sting reverberating up my skull. “You’ve got a hell of a kick.”
She pressed her lips together, eyeing her arms tied to the bed. “Maybe we should try again another time? I’ve kind of killed the moment. Again.”
The illusion had been a little broken the second she nearly sent me to the floor in a TKO. I reached up and worked to untie the silk.
“How much do you think he saw?” She asked as I slipped the tie off of the rails, releasing her.
“Oh, nothing. I was fast,” I lied. He probably saw enough to forever paint a mental picture anytime he saw her. She didn’t need to know that.
She shifted on the bed, lightly pressing her lips against my shoulder. “I�
�m pretty awful at this.”
I tipped her chin up. “No, you’re not. We are.” I kissed her softly. “We’re new to this. We just need practice.”
“You think?”
“I know. And though it will be hard and apparently dangerous…” I growled at her while grazing my teeth over her neck. “I’m willing to put in the hours. As much practice as you can stand.”
11 Presley
I dangled from a rope, my hands bound with zip-ties, and a blindfold covered my eyes. Sweat popped from my brow as I hyperventilated, the adrenaline coursing through my veins not entirely pleasant like I’d imagined. Perhaps this fantasy was a little too real.
Grant had said they would increase in reality and elaborateness as we got further into the program. But this?
That morning, two men wearing black ski masks had taken me on my way to meet Owen for breakfast after his private session with Grant. I’d never made it to him. Anderson had prepped me—if you considered him saying today’s fantasy is crazy-intense, try not to pee your pants—prepping me. I’d laughed at him.
Now I really was trying not to pee my pants.
The bungee-like cords that wrapped around my core dug into my stomach, my weight acting against me as I slightly swayed in the air, body horizontal and faced down. The men hadn’t said a word, despite my barrage of questions and attempts to fight them off—instinct overrunning the knowledge that this had to be part of fantasy number three. If it wasn’t I was so fucked.
Ice cold fear snaked up my spine, the blood rushing in my ears almost enough to cover the sounds dominating outside—birds chirping like it was a typical day, the wind blowing through the trees with enough force to rock me back and forth in the air. I’d gotten a glimpse of our location when the blindfold had slipped as the faceless men hoisted me up—after what felt like thirty minutes of expertly, and silently, wrapping my body in cords.
The peek at the surroundings only made the terror whispering in my ear louder. We were somewhere on the resort grounds, in what looked like an unfinished warehouse. With only half a roof it let in the natural sunlight, but there was nothing cheery about seeing the concrete floor fifty-feet below me. Nor was it romantic to hear the boots of the men clacking back and forth on the metal grate floor behind me where they’d tied me up and then pushed me off the safety of its solid support.
I was shocked I hadn’t puked yet.
And I was kind of regretting all those consent forms I’d filled out after we’d checked in. I remembered thinking, what kind of harm could come to me while teasing Owen with feathers or allowing him to eat whipped cream off my nipples? I snorted to myself in a panicked sort of way. I’d been way off base on how deep these fantasies would go, or how deep Owen and I would go too.
A flutter of excitement momentarily soothed the icy fear locking my teeth together. I’d never imagined we’d be so perfect for each other. Never imagined he would hold the key to my happiness with a look, a touch, a word. He’d always made me happy…but this, this was different. What we were now—well, I didn’t have a clear-cut term on the matter, but I knew it was real. More real than I’d ever had with David.
I cringed at his name, unable to stop the memories that flooded me and melded with the present. He would’ve made us leave after I’d knocked over the chair and smacked him in the head. And he most certainly wouldn’t have taken care of me after I’d gotten sick in the Gondola. I’d had the stomach flu once when I was with him, and he had used words like disgusting and good God stay in the bathroom until you’re better. He ended up getting a hotel for the weekend, no doubt entertaining the twat he had cheated on me with.
I sucked in a deep breath. Fuck. Owen had always told me what an asshole he was, but I’d thought he was simply afraid of losing me as a friend once I got married. Turned out, Owen really was always right. Not that I’d tell him that.
The tips of my fingers started tingling, and I wiggled them as much as I could within the tight bounds.
“What the hell kind of fantasy is this?” I asked the void around me. The pacing boots behind me stopped for a moment, and I swore I heard someone chuckle under their breath, but I couldn’t be sure of anything from my position.
The longer I hung there—my ribs protesting from the pain and my heart racing from lack of sight—the longer I contemplated using the safe-word Grant had given us at the beginning of our stay to put an end to all of it.
Suck it up; this will make one hell of a story.
At least that was true. Pamela would get the spread of her dreams and it would have my name all over it. I mentally thumbed through the crazy amount of notes I had back in our suite, using the distraction to keep my mind off the pain. Of the unknown of how this would all play out. I mean, what the hell was Owen going to do? Fly in here and fuck me in mid air?
Suppressing another panicked chuckled, I tried rotating my wrists to give them some relief from the tight bounds. It did little good, and as more minutes ticked by, I found myself less and less in any kind of mood and more and more afraid that this wasn’t a fantasy. That this was actually some crazy fucked up case of mistaken identity and I’d been kidnapped and would be killed any second.
A shaken breath escaped my trembling lips, my body quivering from the fear and adrenaline. That couldn’t be true…this was all part of the fantasy. Right?
“Could one of you cough or something if you’re with the resort?” I asked, my voice barely penetrating the vast place we were inside.
Silence.
Terror shot through my blood, racing straight to my brain and triggering the fight or flight response. Both of which, I wasn’t in a position to do.
“No, seriously,” I urged in a whisper. “This is all fake right?”
More silence.
Peeing my pants sounded like a good idea again.
I swallowed hard and cleared my throat, firming up my shaking voice so they wouldn’t misunderstand the safe-word. This was so not my idea of foreplay. I parted my lips, the safe-word on the tip of my tongue, but was cut off by the warehouse cracking with sound.
Gunshot sounds.
And screaming. From all around me, from more people than what I had originally thought were there.
Jerking back and forth, no longer caring if it sent me plummeting to the cold hard floor below, I used my shoulder to shove the blindfold aside. After some crazy work that would put Grant’s yoga poses to shame, I successfully pushed the thing down until it hung around my neck.
My eyes stung, the brightness temporarily blinding me. They cleared after a few moments, if not slightly foggy. There were six men in black ski-masks now, not two, across from me on the grated metal floor. They ducked and popped behind the railing, shooting at something I couldn’t see.
Tears stung the backs of my eyes. This was real. I’d somehow stumbled into one of those movies and was probably going to be sold at auction to a sex-slave-driver. I darted my eyes around the area, surveying the ground first. I wouldn’t survive if I dropped.
Loud cracks of gunfire made me flinch as they filled the air around me. Two loud thumps jerked my attention back to the men. Two of them were splayed out on their backs, the handguns clattering across the metal floor. I wriggled in my bounds, panic forcing me to move. To do something before I became a news-story and the dumb blond writer who got in the middle of some fucking mountain-man territory war.
Trying to flip over to grab the rope above my head was useless, so instead I flung myself forward and back, hoping the momentum might at least let me connect with one of the rusted metal rails that lined the area where the men still shot back and forth.
Somehow, I finally gripped the rail with sweaty, nearly-numb fingers. The muscles in my hands seared as I clutched it harder and I groaned as I pulled myself closer, enough to throw one elbow over it for a better hold. Luckily they hadn’t bound my ankles, and with some effort I wrapped a leg around the rail, securing my position.
“The package is trying to escape!” One of the masked
men shouted as he aimed his handgun over the opposite rail and squeezed the trigger.
“Hoist her higher!” Another one answered before a loud whirring sound momentarily covered the cracks of gunfire and shouts.
A force I couldn’t fight propelled me higher, and my thighs burned against the effort to try and hold onto the rail. The ropes around my middle tugged, the machine controlling them unable to hear my yelp. Two more seconds and I’d lost the battle, flying up higher in the air to hang over the masked men.
“You’re too late!” A man screamed at the same area he pointed his gun. “I’ve already found a buyer!”
A sharp keening ripped from my clenched teeth. Was it the cops fighting them? Or an enemy who wanted to take me himself?
Two more shots. Two more bodies dropped on the floor. And I hated the relief that flooded my veins at seeing the masked men, their guns silenced, their bodies unmoving. Crack. One more down.
Now there was just one man left, his image blurred by the tears that rolled down my cheeks as he aimed his gun above him, directly at my head.
Owen. I love you. I’m sorry.
“I’ll kill her. I’ll do it!” The man shouted, his head darting back and forth, taking in his men on the ground and then back to the void where whoever had shot them was.
A loud clanking of metal on metal sounded as if someone had dropped something heavy. The breath stalled in my lungs as I hung above the masked man, completely helpless, his gun still aimed at my head.
He laughed, slowly lowering it.
A body barreled at him so fast I could barely see his face. He tackled the man so hard he knocked the gun out of his hand. It went sailing over the edge, falling to the floor below. It didn’t make a sound as it hit the ground, but I only spared that a thought as I watched the fight taking place beneath me.
The man who’d done the tackling was in a tuxedo, and though I could only see his back, I would know the right hook he’d just swung anywhere.
Inhibitions Page 12
