Bound by Ivy

by S. Quinn

  ‘What have you been eating?’ I ask, somewhat dreading the answer.

  ‘Cheap bacon sandwiches from the burger van on the industrial estate.’

  ‘What’s Sammy been having?’

  ‘Milk and a bit of my bacon roll.’

  ‘I’ll go shopping again later. Get some proper food in.’

  ‘Would you write down a few meals that I can do for Sammy?’ Dad asks. ‘Simple things. You know. That even someone like me can do.’

  I smile. My dad can make the simplest cooking complicated. He tried to make sausage and mash once. I still shudder at the places I found mashed potato.

  ‘Of course I will Dad, but you needn’t worry for the time being. I’m going to stay here a few days.’

  ‘You are?’

  ‘Of course. I’m not going to leave you and Sammy alone.’

  ‘You’ll still do your shows, won’t you love?’

  ‘Yes. I can’t let the audiences down. But I’ll make sure I leave you and Sammy with a good meal and instructions for his bedtime. Do you have someone who can babysit when you’re out working?’

  ‘I’m not working right now. I need to get my head together.’

  ‘I wish you’d called me before. What did you think? That I’d turn up on Christmas day and not notice what a state the house was in?’

  ‘I thought I’d have it cleared up by then.’

  ‘Ever the optimist.’ I smile, and I’m happy to see Dad give me a tired smile in return.

  ‘Something like that.’

  19

  After I’ve cleared away the breakfast things, I hang out the washing and spend the rest of the morning stocking up on supplies and playing with Sammy.

  I make a simple lunch of soup and sandwiches – finger sandwiches with marmite for Sammy, and cheese and pickle for Dad and I, washed down with mugs of milk from the local farm.

  While the three of us eat, I watch my dad and realise how glad I am to be here taking care of him.

  This last week must have been really stressful for him. He doesn’t have a clue when it comes to housework and cooking.

  He loves Sammy to bits, but he’s all fingers and thumbs when he changes diapers, and he can never quite remember how much milk Sam should have, and all the other practical things about looking after a baby.

  It’s really not his fault. It would be like asking me to drive Dad’s taxi. I’d have no idea how to work the metre, or the best route from the high street to the train station.

  ‘I wish I had time to get you a Christmas tree,’ I say, looking at the empty corner of the lounge where we’d usually put a real fir. ‘We went to the village earlier, but the grocers had sold out.’

  Dad chews a mouthful of cheese and pickle sandwich. ‘Sorry love. I meant to get one, but somehow Christmas Eve came far quicker than I thought it would. So when’s your fella coming to stay?’

  ‘Marc? I’m hoping he’ll come tonight. After the show. It’s going to be weird having him as a guest here. But good weird, I hope.’

  There’s an awkward silence.

  ‘Are you angry at me?’ Dad asks. ‘About not giving the two of you my blessing yet?’

  ‘Not angry,’ I say. ‘Just … I guess a little confused. I love him so much, and he loves me. I don’t know how you can’t see it.’

  Dad sighs. ‘Genoveva and I moved in together quickly. And now I realise that maybe I didn’t know her at all. For her to leave Sammy like that … she’s not the woman I thought she was.

  ‘I couldn’t stand for you to be in the pain I’m in right now. You and Marc … it all seems very … I don’t know. Sudden. He’s so much older, and you’ve hardly known each other five minutes. I don’t want you making a mistake.’

  ‘When you know you know. Isn’t that what you always said with Mum? That you were young, but you both knew you wanted to be together forever?’

  ‘And is that what you want? With this Marc fellow? A forever kind of thing?’

  ‘More than anything.’ I look down at my sandwich. ‘He’s the most amazing person. So amazing. Sometimes I wonder what he’s doing with someone like me.’

  Dad laughs. ‘Haven’t you seen the way he looks at you? He’s crazy about you.’

  ‘But maybe one day he’ll realise that I’m not anyone special.’

  Dad drops his sandwich and reaches across the table to take my hands. ‘You’re very, very special, Sophia Rose. You’re one of the most special people going.’

  ‘Thanks Dad, but I think you might be biased.’

  ‘I can see that the man cares about you. But maybe you should take things a bit slower, that’s all. Go easy. There’s no rush. To talk about marriage already … it seems a little crazy.’

  ‘It doesn’t feel crazy to me. It feels right. But I need your blessing as well as your permission. I couldn’t marry him without both.’

  ‘I didn’t say I wouldn’t give my blessing, exactly. But … there are certain things I’d need to be assured of before I said yes.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Marc and I can talk about that on Christmas Day. What does he drink? Brandy? Port?’

  ‘Whisky, I guess. And champagne. But he’s not a big drinker.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’ Dad tags a swig of milk. ‘So. What are your plans for today? It’s Christmas Eve – don’t you and Jen usually get up to something?’

  I twiddle my hair. ‘Marc was going to take me shopping, but there’s still more washing to put on so … I was just going to stay here, keep you company.’

  Dad sighs. ‘At the risk of completely going against what I just said, I don’t want you stuck here cleaning the house on Christmas Eve. You go out with your fella and enjoy yourself. Did you say he was going to take you shopping?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Don’t you hate shopping?’

  ‘This is a different sort of shopping,’ I say. ‘I’m helping him choose presents.’

  Dad pushes away his empty plate. ‘You enjoy yourself, love. Don’t stay here with me, moping.’

  I lean over to wipe Sam’s face. ‘You’re sure? You won’t be too lonely? And you’ll be okay with Sammy?’

  ‘I’m going to have you all day tomorrow. That’s more than enough.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Absolutely positive.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll leave some snacks out for Sammy. And I’ll leave supper out for the two of you, and clean bottles for Sammy’s bedtime.’

  ‘You go out and have fun, love.’

  ‘I’d better call Marc.’

  20

  Marc says he’ll pick me up at three o’clock in the limo.

  At half two, I pace around the garden, checking my watch every minute and watching time tick by.

  When the limo finally pulls up outside the cottage, my chest begins to flutter like there’s a nest of birds inside it.

  I run out of the house, flinging my coat around my shoulders.

  Before I can get to the car, the back door opens and Marc steps out.

  He’s wearing a fitted black suit, black shirt and black tie, and his hair is thick and loose over his forehead.

  Reaching me in two short strides, he lifts me clean off the ground and buries his head into my neck.

  ‘God, you smell good.’ He inhales deeply.

  ‘I missed you,’ I whisper, holding him equally tight.

  Marc scoops me into his arms and carries me to the limo. When we’re inside, he places me on the seat and kneels in front of me, his chest pressed close to mine, arms around my neck.

  ‘I’ve been driving myself crazy thinking about you,’ Marc says.

  ‘Oh? And what you have been thinking?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about you tied up, gagged, begging me to fuck you.’

  I swallow. ‘And they say romance is dead.’

  Marc gives me a deadly smile. ‘What isn’t romantic about making you come over and over again?’

  The limo pulls out onto the road, and I sway in Marc’s arm
s.

  ‘You do realise what a dangerous situation you’ve just walked in to?’ says Marc.

  ‘I thought your job was to keep me safe,’ I reply.

  ‘From everyone but me.’

  ‘Luckily I don’t want to be safe with you,’ I murmur. ‘Exactly how unsafe had you planned on being?’

  ‘I hadn’t made any plans at all,’ says Marc. ‘Except to fuck you in the back of this limo.’

  ‘Here?’ I whisper.

  ‘You had no complaints before.’

  ‘I did, if you remember.’

  ‘Ah yes.’ Marc slides my hair behind my shoulder and starts running his lips along my neck.

  I shiver.

  ‘Our first argument,’ Marc murmurs against my skin. ‘I remember it fondly.’

  ‘What else do you remember?’ I whisper, melting as his lips do their work.

  ‘Fucking you that night, even though I swore I wouldn’t. Being amazed by how irresistible you were. How you broke down my self control.’

  ‘You were pretty tough to break,’ I say, feeling shivers run down my neck as Marc works around it, grazing the skin with his lips. He pushes his lips firmly against my throat and sucks gently.

  I give a little unexpected ‘oh’ as the pressure does its work.

  Marc sucks harder, running his tongue back and forth. Then he slides my coat from my shoulders until it’s bunched up behind my back.

  Underneath I’m wearing a long red sweater and my usual skinny jeans – dark black today. I’m not wearing Converse, though. It’s too cold. Instead, I’ve chosen scrunched up grey ankle boots in suede leather.

  Marc works both hands under my buttocks and pulls me too him, kneeling higher so the hardness at his groin presses between my legs.

  He pulls off his tie in one elegant movement and holds it up in front of me. ‘Hold out your wrists.’

  21

  ‘Marc, really? Here?’

  ‘Now,’ Marc barks.

  Oh god. It’s such a turn on when he takes charge of me.

  Obligingly, I hold my wrists out, and Marc takes them in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over the delicate white skin. He presses his thumbs tight against my pulse points until I let out a little moan.

  His eyes hold me, watching me with such intensity that my insides are turning softer and softer.

  Still looking straight into my eyes, Marc presses the insides of my wrists together and holds them tight with one strong hand. Then he strokes the tie back and forth over the backs of my hands, teasing me.

  ‘Are you going to tie me up?’ I whisper, feeling hot to the point of exploding.

  ‘Do you want me to?’ Marc asks, with a quirky tilt of his lips.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then tell me.’

  ‘I want you to tie me up.’

  Marc groans, and his eyes cloud over, going all soft and carnal. His lips drop open. ‘God, I love hearing you say that…’

  He looks down at my wrists and wraps the tie tight around them, pulling the two ends hard so my wrists snap against each other. Then he ties a complicated knot with a long, loose end.

  ‘Another quick release knot?’ I say, my voice hoarser than ever.

  ‘Of course’

  ‘You must have been a great boy scout.’

  ‘Funnily enough, I never joined.’

  ‘So where did you learn to tie knots?’ I ask.

  ‘Someone taught me.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘A woman.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Marc runs his fingers up and under the sleeves of my red sweater, slowly and gently. ‘It’s okay. It’s not what you think. I worked backstage when I was a teenager. Between acting jobs. I’d help set up the stage and move equipment. There are a lot of knots backstage. The stage manager gave me a first class course in knot tying.’

  He moves his hands back down to my wrists. ‘It was very useful training.’

  ‘I guess it would be,’ I murmur, feeling his fingers through the cool silk of his tie.

  ‘God,’ Marc moans, gazing at my bound wrists. ‘You look so good tied up like that.’

  I feel him throb between my legs.

  He fixes those deadly blue eyes on me, then in one swift movement he lifts my arms high above my head.

  ‘Oh!’

  He’s bound my wrists in just the right way, so when they’re above my head they feel like they belong there.

  There must be a suit hook in this part of the car, because when Marc lifts my wrists they catch on something, and when he lets them go, I’m held in place.

  I pull my wrists left and right to test the theory and I find I’m held fast.

  Marc’s eyes darken. ‘Is it wrong that I like seeing you struggle like that?’

  ‘Only if I wasn’t into it.’ And I am. Oh god, I am. Being restrained like this, with Marc watching me like a tiger about to pounce, totally helpless and at his mercy … I can already feel how wet I am, and Marc has barely touched me.

  Marc is breathing hard, watching me. His eyes are hungry, and I know mine are too.

  When the car turns a corner and I’m thrown around a little, his breathing gets even harder, and he lets out a moan and dives forwards, tugging off my boots, unfastening my jeans and flinging them off. He rips my panties off too, and lifts my jumper and my bra so he can play with my breasts, squeezing them together and pushing his lips against my nipples.

  I can feel him so hard between my legs that his trousers must be straining to bursting point.

  ‘Oh Marc,’ I moan, as I feel his warm mouth and strong fingers on my breasts.

  He responds by pulling back, taking a condom from his pocket and freeing himself from his trousers. I watch, completely turned on to see him working on the condom, the rubber straining all over.

  I’m breathing so hard that I think I might faint, and I just don’t think I can bear another moment without him inside me.

  ‘Please Marc,’ I whimper.

  The car turns another corner and I’m thrown forward into him, my body loose and limp against my restraints.

  Marc pushes his body against mine. He puts his lips to my ear and breathes, ‘I was going to tease you. To make you wait. But I can’t. You’re completely irresistible to me, Sophia Rose. Irresistible.’

  He plunges all the way inside me in one stroke, and I gasp and let out a moan of pleasure.

  Then he begins to pump back and forth, effortlessly, smoothly, his breathing quickening with every movement.

  I’m in a world of pleasure, bound and held captive while he does what he wants. Which also happens to be just what I want.

  Oh god, oh god.

  He’s moving stronger and deeper now, pressing his groin harder against me, rubbing so tingles of pleasure shoot all over my abdomen.

  After a few hard strokes that leave me breathless with pleasure, he stops and pulls back, panting and pushing thick brown hair from his forehead.

  ‘Marc, please—’

  But before I can protest, Marc lowers his head between my legs. His tongue begins circling just above where he entered me in quick, electric strokes that drive me absolutely wild. But it’s too raw. Too sensitive. And I’m almost in pain.

  ‘It’s too much,’ I beg. ‘Please. Stop. I can’t take it.’

  Marc lifts his head. ‘I know exactly how much you can take.’

  ‘Marc, please.’ Restrained as I am, there’s absolutely nothing I can do but endure the sharp shocks of pleasure that are shooting up and down my body. I wriggle and fight, but Marc simply holds me steady with one hand and continues his torture.

  ‘Oh, oh. Please Marc. Please stop.’

  Little by little, the sharpness begins turning sweet, until soft waves of pleasure lap around my thighs.

  ‘I’m going to come,’ I moan. ‘Oh god Marc. Oh god.’ I can feel my neck and cheeks are flushed, and my eyelids are half closed and flickering

  Marc pulls back. ‘Not yet.’

  He kneels up again so his groin is leve
l with mine, and I see him huge and hard, inches from me.

  God, I want him inside me. I’m absolutely aching for him. But he doesn’t slide in. Instead, he puts his hands under my buttocks and pulls me towards him so I’m slouching in the seat.

  My chin is almost touching my chest, and my arms are stretched up, up.

  Marc opens my legs wide apart. Then he opens up my buttocks, and I realise what he has in mind.

  22

  ‘Marc,’ I gasp. ‘You can’t be serious. In the car?’

  ‘You’re ready for this,’ says Marc. ‘And from where I’m sitting, you’re not in much of a position to argue.’

  ‘If I did argue, would you listen?’

  Marc frowns. ‘You know I would. Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.’

  I bite my lip, and feel my buttocks throb at the thought of him inside me.

  ‘Don’t stop.’

  Marc moves in closer, widening my buttocks with his hands and sliding himself between them. ‘I’ll pull out if it gets too much.’

  ‘Ooohh,’ I moan as he begins to work his way inside, little by little.

  ‘Feels good?’

  ‘Y—yes.’

  Marc’s eyes begin to close as he inches in further.

  ‘Oh god. Oh Sophia, I can’t—’ He hesitates, breathing hard. ‘Wait,’ he says, more to himself than me. Then after a moment, he says, ‘Okay. Okay.’ He begins inching further inside so slowly and carefully that, although it’s a little tight and sore, it mainly feels good.

  Marc moves his thumb between my legs, where his tongue was a few moments ago, and begins pressing and circling until I’m absolutely out of my mind with pleasure.

  ‘Oh. Oh. Marc. Oh. Oh.’

  When he begins to slide in and out of me, I can’t take any more.

  ‘Oh Marc. I’m coming. I’m coming.’

  I come in places I never knew I could come, and the pleasure that washes over my body is like nothing I’ve ever known in my life.

  I feel like I’ve been dipped in syrup, and the intimacy of what we’re sharing … it makes me feel closer to Marc than ever.

  Marc groans and gives one last little push inside me, moaning into my ear, shouting my name and wrapping my hair around his hands.