Bound to You

by Bethany Kane

  “What are you doing?” she asked, laughing.

  “I’m looking for those Certs you mentioned.”

  “Are you trying to tell me something?” she wondered wryly as she reached in her left jacket pocket and found the half-used roll of mints. She placed them in his hand.

  “No. You smell great,” he said. “I was just going to give you dessert.”

  “After cooking me that gourmet meal, I get dessert as well?”

  “This is a classy joint.” She heard him rustling in the darkness and the sound of tearing paper.

  “Lean back,” he coaxed a moment later, his left hand opening along her jaw and urging her against his shoulder. He smoothed back her hair, taking time with his task. “Now open your mouth.”

  She parted her lips. Anticipation swelled in her for some reason. He placed one of the mints on her tongue. “Close,” he said, his hoarse voice near her ear making her shiver. She pressed the hard mint between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, agitating it slightly back and forth. The sharp flavor of peppermint and the sweet taste of sugar filled her mouth.

  “Hmmm,” she murmured. She’d consumed two or three of the mints almost every day for the past decade, but she’d never really tasted one until now.

  “Good?” he asked, his mouth not far from her right cheek. She caught the scent of peppermint on his breath and knew he was sucking on one of the mints too.

  “Yeah, really good,” she said, a trace of surprise in her voice.

  “Some things are better in the dark. The darkness doesn’t have to hide nightmares.”

  She paused in her sucking, hearing something in his tone.

  “Do you want to tell me about it?” he asked quietly.

  Her heart seized and resumed beating. He was referring to it. The reason for her irrational fear of the dark. She clicked the candy against her teeth in a nervous, rhythmic gesture, then stopped.

  “It happened on the set of the first movie I ever had a significant part in. It was called Duplicity. It was a spy espionage film. Completely forgettable.”

  She paused when she realized how stupid she’d sounded. Filming Duplicity had become the single most unforgettable experience of her life. John said nothing, but she sensed his focused attention.

  “There was an elevator action scene that I was in with another actor—Jessie Aims,” she began, the volume of her voice just above the sound of the trickling water that filled the cave. “The scene took place in a Los Angeles high-rise and the special effects department had rigged up an elevator. We’d already done six shoots of it, but Charlie Jawankowski, the director, wanted one more.”

  She swallowed thickly, resisting a wild urge to open her eyes and scatter the toxic memory. There would only be darkness there, as well. John touched her neck and stroked her, reassuring her.

  “There was a cameraman who was in the elevator with us for all the close-ups,” she continued quietly, calmed somewhat by John’s touch. “His name was Dustin Shremer, but everyone called him Dust. He was young. In fact, we both turned twenty-four while we were shooting Duplicity. Our birthdays were two days apart. The crew gave us a mutual little cake and champagne party. Dust was like the resident kid on the crew. Everyone rode him, but they were proud of him too. It’s not easy to get a cameraman position on a major motion picture, let alone for someone so young. I wasn’t great friends with Dust or anything, but I liked him. Everyone liked him.”

  She held her eyelids clenched tight, but the images were unavoidable.

  “It all happened really fast. Jessie and I were in our places on the elevator, and Dust was the last to come on.” She paused and bit at the mint, causing it to splinter in her mouth. “I’m sure you’ve heard the story about what happened then.”

  “Just the bare essentials I recall from the news story. It happened five or six years ago, didn’t it?”

  “Seven years ago this summer,” she rasped.

  “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he said, his fingers stroking her hair. “I only brought it up because—”

  “I know why you did,” she said in a pressured voice. She exhaled and tilted her head further back on his shoulder. “I want to tell you.”

  She took a deep breath.

  “Dust came walking onto the elevator and the doors shut on him. They aren’t supposed to do that, of course. There was some kind of technical malfunction. Jessie and I tried to pry back the doors, but they wouldn’t budge,” she said in rush, the image flashing crystal clear in her mind. “He was caught around the shoulders, but as he struggled to back out, his neck got stuck between the doors. At first, Dust was sort of laughing, but then the doors started to choke him. He began gasping for air. I can still see the expression on his face—” She made a shaky sound. “We were trying to so hard to pry back those damn doors, but . . . then, the elevator car started to go up.”

  “Jesus,” John muttered.

  “The elevator dragged Dust’s body with it. There was . . . this . . . sound. I can’t describe it, but I’ll never forget it. I wake up to it a lot of nights, hearing that sound. That’s when all the lights went out.”

  “Only go on if you want to, Jennifer,” he said quietly, but she continued.

  “The carriage jerked really hard. I was sure the car was going to fall down the shaft. We were fifty-eight stories up. Then the elevator started going up again. It eventually got stuck between two floors.”

  “All I remember ever reading was that you were in an elevator accident on a set, and that a crewmember had died. It mentioned you were stuck on the elevator for quite a while. How long did it take for them to get you out of there?”

  “About four hours. Four of the longest hours of my life.”

  He exhaled deeply. Jennifer was pressed so close to him, she felt his movement as if it were her own. She sensed his presence next to her like a lifeline.

  “It was pitch black in there,” she continued in a hushed tone. “We had no means of communication with the crew, although we could hear them yelling to us after a while. I was in shock. Jessie was hysterical. I couldn’t say anything that would calm him down. It was like he couldn’t even hear my voice when I tried to talk to him. Eventually, everything shut down inside of me. I sat down in the corner of the elevator, and didn’t try to intercede with Jessie anymore. He’d go quite for a while, then he’d start up again. He kept screaming and cursing that he was soaked . . .”

  Her voice broke. She turned her face into his chest and sobbed quietly. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against him.

  “I didn’t realize why until later. When they finally pried back the elevator doors and we could see . . . it was horrible. There was blood everywhere. Dust’s blood. It was all over me too. I just hadn’t noticed because of the shock, I guess. His head had been severed from his body when the carriage dragged him up.” She gasped and turned on her hip, putting her face more firmly in John’s chest. She couldn’t stop tremors from wracking her body. The image was blinding her. “It was there. In the elevator car with us,” she said against his warm skin. “Most of it, anyway.”

  * * *

  John blinked, horror and compassion rising in him in equal measure when he realized Jennifer was referring to the cameraman’s head and brains being in the elevator with them.

  No wonder she was terrified of the dark. For most sighted people, the dark became fertile territory for the imagination. Horrors could fill the void. But then the light came on; everything returned to normal again. Fears could be laughed at. Dark, ominous shadows were proven to be a lamp or a scarf blowing in the breeze.

  Jennifer’s experience had taught her different. She’d learned that whatever terrors could be conjured in the dark might be far worse when the light came on.

  He pulled her closer and stroked her back, feeling her body quaking against him.

  “I can’t imagine how awful that was for you,” he murmured near her ear. “But you don’t have to be afraid of that. You’re
here with me.”

  A puff of warm air struck his chest when she laughed. “And you can see in the dark.”

  He gave a sad smile. No. History had shown he couldn’t see what counted in the dark. “I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that the scariest thing happening in this cave at this very moment is maybe a few spiders crawling around. Are you afraid of spiders?”

  “Well I don’t love them, but no, I’m not afraid of spiders.”

  “What about dirt? Are you afraid of dirt? Because we’ve got plenty of that.”

  She shook her head while her face was still pressed against his chest. He felt her small smile.

  “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

  She lifted her head. He touched her damp cheek, marveling at how smooth it felt. “No. I’m not afraid of you. But John, what if we can’t get out of here?”

  “We’ll get out of here,” he said firmly. He waited, feeling the tension in her body, wondering if she’d believed him. Her body sagged against him.

  “I just hate the dark. I wish I could see you,” she said in a pressured whisper.

  He brushed his thumb downward over an eyelid. “Then close your eyes.” He leaned down and kissed her mouth. Part of him was sad to feel the way she instantly responded to his offer of passion. She was so desperate to forget her circumstances.

  Another part—a bigger part—was all too glad for the opportunity to possess her, no matter the reason.

  * * *

  His mouth, his stroking hands, his virile body—all of it was a delight to her. She couldn’t recall ever enjoying kissing a man more. Was his taste so addictive, his stroking hands so masterful, because of their emotionally charged, frightening circumstances? Or was John somehow unique to her?

  Whatever the reason, his touch was electric. She whimpered into his mouth when he slid a large hand beneath her jacket and fondled a breast. She felt his cock leap next to her lower back and experienced a sudden wild urge to take him into her mouth again. He broke their sealed kiss, but continued to pepper her mouth with small, nibbling kisses.

  “Your . . . nipples are . . . so responsive,” he murmured next to her lips as he lightly pinched and plucked at the pebbling crest.

  “Thank you,” she managed, preoccupied as she was with coaxing him back to a full-fledged, intoxicating kiss. He leaned back slightly, depriving her of his mouth. He pulled her into his lap, facing him, and unbuttoned her jacket enough to expose both of her bare breasts. She shivered at the impact of the cool air on her nipples, and then moaned when John resumed caressing her, this time stroking both breasts at once.

  “Tell me what it feels like when I touch them.”

  She inhaled sharply, recalling what he’d said earlier about how arousing he found her voice. “Your hands are warm. Your fingertips are a little calloused. The . . . the way you’re touching them is making me shiver, it’s making the nipples pull tight.” She kept her eyes clamped shut, trying to focus on the rioting sensations his touch created in her so that she could put it to words. She swallowed a cry of excitement when he pinched both peaks at once . . . not hard, but sufficiently enough to cause a jab of arousal to go through her.

  “Too much?” he murmured, gentling his caresses.

  “No. I felt it all the way to my pussy,” she whispered.

  His tweaking fingers stilled for a moment before he gathered both of her breasts in his palms, continuing to pluck and tease the stiff nipples with thumb and forefinger.

  “Have you ever climaxed from having a man play with your breasts?” he asked, his voice sounding low and rough.

  She laughed shakily. “You mean just that? No. Is that even possible?”

  “Sure it’s possible. Rare, but possible.” She gasped when he ever so gently slapped at the lower curve of her left breast. Excitement shot through her, hot, sharp and forbidden. John resumed molding her breasts to his palms and finessing her nipples.

  “Bad or good?” he murmured.

  She knew he’d referred to that little slap. Her clit twanged in arousal. Her breast still stung a little. She wanted him to do it again.

  “Good,” she mumbled, stroking his neck.

  He gave a satisfied grunt and lifted a hand to touch her cheek. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, honey. Liking a little pain with your pleasure doesn’t make you a pervert. It’s exciting.”

  She blushed harder. It was true. He really could see in the dark. “Do you mean you think it’s exciting?” she asked, her attention fracturing when he resumed playing with her breasts again with both hands.

  “I think a responsive woman is exciting. I think a woman who isn’t afraid to explore her desires is exciting, yeah. I’d like to discover more things that excite you.” He took the weight of her breasts in his hands, lifted her and let her breasts go, immediately touching her again as if he wanted to feel the tremble in her flesh. He gave a grunt of arousal. “You’re very firm. Perfect shape,” he mused, sounding distracted. “What I’d like to do is spank your bottom with my hand, and then my cane, and see if I can’t make you come after that by playing with your nipples.”

  Jennifer’s stroking fingers froze. It’d been like a flash of brilliant light in the darkness. Had she been hallucinating? He’d sounded so casual, so matter-of-fact. Her pussy had gone molten at his words. If another lover had mentioned it, she might have grown excited, but she wouldn’t have followed through. With Everett, for instance, she’d been too uptight about the idea of playacting during sex . . . of really losing herself in the moment. There really was something singular about John or this situation or both. She found herself fervently wishing she hadn’t been imagining his proposal.

  “Jennifer?” She sensed him waiting for her response even though his hands were filled with her breasts, his forefingers curling around the crests, caressing the aching tips against his thumb.

  “I . . .”

  “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. We could just . . . talk about it?”

  She laughed softly and resumed caressing the cords of muscle in his neck with her fingertips and subtly moved her hips in a circular motion, stroking his cock with her pussy. He gave a small grunt and she knew he’d appreciated her caress.

  “Talking is nice,” she said breathlessly. “Doing is better, with the right person anyway. Maybe . . . maybe we can do both?”

  His masterful fingers faltered for a moment.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I think so,” she said shakily.

  He suddenly released her breasts and hugged her to him, tight. She gave a little squeak of surprise at the sudden gesture of warmth, but then returned his embrace wholeheartedly.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. Not now. Not ever. You can tell me to stop at any moment and I will,” he said gruffly near her ear. “It’s just a little dare. To make you forget the darkness.”

  She lifted her head and touched her forehead to his. She kissed his mouth. Their lips clung.

  “I’ve already forgotten it, John,” she whispered against his lips and felt his smile. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Hmmm,” he murmured, as if he considered her question with the seriousness a diplomat afforded world peace talks. His deep, gravelly purr made her pussy tingle. He released a breast. She heard him rustling in the coat that lay beneath them. A moment later, he surprised her by pressing his fingers against her lips. She parted them, and he deposited something cool and round on her tongue.

  “An M&M,” she said, enjoying the sugary taste filling her mouth. “I must have been a good girl.”

  “Nope.”

  “No?”

  He put his hand behind her head and brought her closer to him, speaking next to her ear.

  “You’ve been caught in the act of eating candy. You’re a bad girl.”

  Her eyebrows shot up as she caught on to his play. “Oh, yes. I . . . I forgot.”

  “You know what happens to girls who get caught eating candy.”

  “T
hey get sent to the principal’s office?” It surprised her to hear the genuine tremor of anxiety in the midst of her playacting.

  “That’s right.”

  She pressed forward several inches, brushing her bare breasts against John’s chest, thrilling to feel warm skin beneath the opening of his shirt. “And . . . are you principal?” she whispered.

  “Don’t you recognize me?” She couldn’t quite read his deep voice, but she felt the tension rise in his body as she rubbed her breasts against him.

  “I do, Sir. You scare me a little,” she said near his ear, excitement making her voice tremble. “You’re so tall and mean and . . . hard. And I’ve heard about what you do to girls in your office.”

  “What I do to bad girls, you mean?” Jennifer smiled, because this time she heard both the rich amusement and arousal in his voice. Who would have known she would forget her naked fear so easily when talking dirty and playing games?

  “Yes,” she whispered, moving her head back. “I am a bad girl.” She pressed her mouth to his and slipped the melting M&M into his mouth. “I’ve been caught,” she admitted guiltily.

  His cock lurched against her thigh at the same moment that he gave her bottom a swat. She gave a little yelp of surprise.

  “Don’t try to tease me,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You know I’m in charge here.”

  “Oh, yes,” she agreed, chastised.

  “Now it’s time for your spanking.”

  “Is it true what the girls say? You give . . . bare-bottomed spankings?” she asked, barely suppressing her laughter.

  “You’ve heard correctly,” he said, beginning to unbutton her jeans. Jennifer bit her lip to prevent a moan when he brushed her clit with long fingers. “Bad girls have to lie across my lap and get it bare bottomed. Really bad girls have to take off all their clothes and bend over for my cane.”

  “Which kind of girl am I?” she asked.

  “You tell me,” he said as he pushed her jeans down over the top of her bare ass. He paused to caress the cheeks, and she shivered.

  “Well . . . sometimes I’m bad, and sometimes I’m really bad,” she said contritely.