by Ace Gray
Just before I came, he pulled away. I was left gasping, hands balled where they were cuffed, hips writhing as much as they could with the way I was tied, praying he’d come back to my body. Instead, I saw him shuffle to the side of bed and reach back into the bedside drawer. A matching satin blindfold tickled over my skin as Nick leaned in to tie it. I caught the unearthly slate of his eyes just before my world went dark.
I would have asked him about it, even here, even now, if he hadn’t roughly taken my lips. This kiss was harsh and tender all at once, just like his touch had been. He bit down hard on my lower lip and when he broke skin, he whimpered. I gasped, feeling both my heart jump and my stomach clench.
His tongue took advantage and slipped into my mouth. He explored and tangled, desperate to taste and leisurely enjoy my mouth the same way he had the rest of my body. Every once in a while he came back across his bite mark on my bottom lip and lapped at it.
MMMmmm.
Without warning, he scrambled and his cock replaced his tongue. His signature salty, sweet softness pierced my lips and pressed in, all but choking me. I simply hollowed out my cheeks and sucked. His hips quivered over top of me. The warmth of his flesh radiated across mine and his constant groans of pleasure filled my ears. I let him piston against my lips. I even twirled my tongue and let him lace his hand into my hair to pull me up to meet him. When his fingers went rigid, I figured he was going to come.
But he pulled away leaving me panting. My heart was thundering—freakishly so—and sweat coated my body, staying clammy on my skin and making the ribbon stick where it wrapped my skin. I was pinned and I couldn’t feel my fingertips or toes.
All the shit was long gone. The gala, Christopher, Nick’s eyes; my brain had officially blanked, consumed by only the picture of Nick’s body lowering to mine.
When he finally settled between my thighs, I gripped him with my knees as best I could and shoved my hips up to meet his.
“I love you,” I stuttered between erratic heartbeats.
“Not as much as I love you.”
His words were still fragmented, anguished even. The feeling that always balled up in the pit of my stomach was trying to cut through the sexual fog. But Nick’s thrusts were so perfect, his rolling so expert, I got lost in the movements. In the taste of him. And the feel of our skin against each other.
Nick’s lips moved between my lips and breasts, his fingers between my clit and ass, and because of both soft satin ribbon and steely cuffs, I was powerless to stop him. I wouldn’t have even if I were free. I was building toward some sort of spectacular orgasm as both of our bodies bunched and coiled up against each other.
“You’re the love of my life,” he whispered, never breaking pace.
“Nick…”
“Remember that always.” For the first time today he was sharp with me; his voice was low, sexy, domineering, but again, different. I got the impression that he needed me to understand deep in my core, down in my bones, like he wouldn’t be there to remind me. My heart popped against my rib cage.
“Always.” I gasped. “Forever.”
His lips pressed above my left breast, over top of my jagged heartbeat while his hips kept moving perfectly against mine. Nick lowered himself flat, pressing his full weight to me. One hand gripped my ass, his other arm wove further around my neck, and those fingers snaked down to flick my nipple. I don’t know if it was the actual moves or the sheer closeness of our bodies that shoved me over the orgasmic edge.
My restraints protested as my arms and legs and hips tried to move. It was excruciating to be pinned and absorb the waves that wracked my body. My cries got more intense and the chattering of the metal handcuffs echoed in the room. My body was desperate to hold him and prepared to break steel to do it.
“You were mine,” Nick growled as he came brutally inside of me, even slipping out part way and shooting hot cum onto my skin. My body tingled everywhere. Everywhere that I hadn’t gone numb anyway.
I didn’t even notice the past tense.
Nick collapsed on me and I wasn’t sure how long we stayed there. Every so often he’d nuzzle against my skin or kiss my jaw where he could reach. I would have let my fingers comb through his hair or trace circles on his back but he hadn’t unlocked the cuffs. Or untied either ribbon.
“Just this once can I keep you chained to the bed like I’ve always wanted?”
His breath was warm against my skin. I could tell this was a plea more than anything. Even post climax, Nick was distraught. My compulsion to soothe took over.
“Yes,” I breathed. “Anything for you.”
“I’d do anything for you, too. You know that right?”
I nodded as Nick found new spots to kiss me, wandering leisurely across my skin. I sighed repeatedly, pulling every once in a while on the cuffs, knowing full well there would be bruises tomorrow. If I were being honest with myself, I would have wondered if the emotional ones were going to match.
I had to be dreaming.
I was completely unbound from both steel and silk, and my engagement ring was gone, though the sting of bruises was noticeable on my wrists as I reached out for Nick. Every bone in my body ached as I patted across the soft fabric.
A hand caught mine and I let out a deep breath, my eyes closing tightly. Nick gently twisted my arm and kissed the inside of my palm. He followed it up with a kiss where my ring had been. My body instinctively moved closer to the hand but there was still no matching hard body there to curl into.
“Nick,” I moaned into the night air.
Something in my stomach flipped when he didn’t answer. Suddenly it seemed critical to open my eyes, but I couldn’t; sleep still weighed heavily on them. I tried to pull on his outstretched arm too, but my body was too weak to move him. The softest, saddest sound left his lips in response.
“I knew you were too good to be true,” he murmured and I gathered he was sitting in that same side chair he’d slept in so many times while watching me.
Things were far worse than I suspected.
Open your eyes Kate, look at him.
“I never deserved you,” Nick continued.
Oh shit, open your eyes!
“And my selfishness almost cost you everything.” His voice broke.
Kate! For the love of God! Wake the fuck up!
“For the briefest moment I had you and I was happy. But I’m not meant to be happy.” I’d only heard it twice before but that tone was etched into my being; it accompanied Nicholas Bryant’s tears.
This wasn’t a dream, this was a nightmare. My worst nightmare. My body wouldn’t move again. My eyes wouldn’t open. Nick’s voice was so real, the sheets beneath me so soft. Even the dread churning inside me was normal—awful, but normal.
“I’ll always be yours, even if you can’t be mine,” he whispered oh-so quietly.
Please, please, please wake up, Kate. Pry your mother fucking eyes open!
A new agony appeared alongside the dread in my stomach. This pain was lodged squarely in my chest.
He pushed his hand through my hair. His fingers wove into my long, tangled strands. When he cradled the back of my head my body nuzzled into his touch.
“I love you, Kate Elliott.”
My body thrummed like it always did when Nick was close. The sounds of him moving only preceded his lips brushing against my forehead, down beside my eye and across my jawbone by a heartbeat. Then his lips pressed against mine. I willed mine to respond. Just like my arms and eyelids, they wouldn’t, instead staying limp while he chastely planted a trembling kiss to my lips.
I love you Nicholas Bryant.
My body finally allowed me to react. I was allowed to cry. The tear tracks started wet and warm down my cheeks. Then, with just one deep breath, it was all gone. Nick, the tears, everything faded into the dark.
15.
Oh holy mother of God it hurts.
I shot up in bed, clutching my heart. There was a very real, very sharp pain shooting through my che
st. I was gasping for breath as first light showered the apartment in rosy hues.
“Nick!” I could barely yell, pain firmly lodged in my throat. Nothing stirred in response. “Nick!” This time I put everything I had into shouting.
My call just seemed to echo even deeper into the cavernous apartment. A pain closer to lightning than anything else shot through my heart.
I need to go to the hospital.
I shoved out of bed when the realization came crashing down on me. I wasn’t handcuffed to the bed anymore. I wasn’t bound by ribbon either. The chair was exactly where it should be if my dream had been real. A snifter sat on the floor.
No!
My mind wouldn’t—no, couldn’t—process that the nightmare had been real. Those words couldn’t have been uttered. The goodbye couldn’t be real.
The lightning in my chest rolled again and my hand clawed at my skin. That’s when I realized my engagement ring was back on my hand, diamonds and emeralds exactly where they should be.
What the fuck is going on?
“Nick!” I screamed this time, letting all the terror welling in my chest screech out.
Now I was scrambling from the sheets, desperate to figure the mystery out. I snatched a robe and started wheeling about the house in between horrific heartbeats. I was about to call out in the living room when I saw it, or rather didn’t see it. The photo, my photo, the one I’d given him as a symbol was gone. I knew damn well that meant Nick was missing.
My knees gave way and I crumbled gracelessly to the floor. Why had he left? What had happened? What had he said last night? Why the fuck hadn’t I been able to open my eyes? I could have made him stay!
I squeezed tighter across my chest and held my body together until I caught my breath. Even after that I sat, staring dumbfounded at the spot where my photo had been.
I’ll be damned if I’m losing him again.
Clumsily, I stumbled over to the phone. I jammed on the buttons hard enough to chip a perfectly manicured nail. It was the least of my concerns as his cell phone rang. And rang. And rang, and rang, and rang. I dialed the office next. To my surprise, and despite the early hour, there was an answer.
“Bryant Venture Group, Julien speaking.” The familiar voice of Nick’s assistant came across the line.
“Julien, it's Kate.” I muffled a pained wail. “Is he available?” I was only asking as a formality.
"Ummmm…"
“Julien,” I begged.
"I'll check, Ms. Elliott."
Ms. Elliott?
I waited for Nick's voice, unsure if it would be icy or abrupt, or timid, but wanting the reassurance that coursed through my veins when I heard him regardless.
"Ms. Elliott?" Julien was back on the line. “He's unavailable."
"What?" My mouth fell open and I stuttered, “Ahh.” My heart thudded, and I wasn’t sure if Julien caught the ragged sound.
"He's unavailable,” Julien repeated but his voice wavered and he added in a whisper, "I'm really sorry, Kate.” He hung up before I could collect my thoughts and respond.
I sat staring at the phone as if it had betrayed me. Nick always took my calls. I called his cell phone again and even left a desperate voicemail. He didn't respond to that attempt either. It was 9 a.m. before I gave up. Nick hadn't called, Jaime hadn't come to collect me. For the first time since meeting Nicholas Bryant, I was actually alone. My heart started crashing about in my chest and my hand clutched at it.
My fingers dug into flesh or fabric above my breast as I got ready. The only time my hand left my chest was when I got woozy and needed to steady myself—something that happened far too frequently. Out of habit I called out for help when I tumbled to my knees after a particularly painful thump. The hospital still sounded smart but I was running late and Vesper responsibilities won out.
Even in the office, I couldn’t shake the pain in my chest. My hand kept digging into my heart and rubbing, hoping to keep it from busting straight out of my rib cage. With each mini-heart attack, either my face scrunched or my knees went weak.
I was rolling my palm into my skin, face contorted, as I walked down to the conference room for a staff meeting.
I wonder if he’ll show?
“Ahhh!” I had to steady myself against the wall at the errant thought.
“Kate! Are you alright?” Gemma rushed to my side.
“Is he here?” The words came out through clenched teeth.
“What?”
“Is he here?” I snarled, still massaging my aching heart.
“Not that I’m aware of.” She frowned. “Jaime didn’t mention anything.” Gemma wasn’t overly concerned with the boys, she was fully focused on my frantic movements. “Are you all right? Perhaps I should call him? Or a doctor?”
“No.”
I shoved off the wall and shuffled into the conference room. I began without pretense and had to check myself a few times from screeching in pain or adding flippant comments about Nick’s absence. I had to hold back tears for the exact same reasons, too.
Nick didn’t come to the staff meeting. Or Vesper. Or home. All week. My heart was horrible the entire time, reminding me every thirty seconds or so that Nick was gone. My temper and my tears warred with each other the whole time.
Each time I called Nick, my heart would start racing, my breath got short, and the pain picked up. Eventually, his voicemail would pick up and fury would override everything. When I’d gone and gotten real worked up, usually mid-tantrum, the cadence of my heart would become worrisome all over again and I’d plop into the nearest chair to practice deep breathing. I should’ve learned my lesson—or gone to the hospital—but instead, I stayed at One Madison and kept right on calling.
There were about eight million other should’s throughout the week too. I should have laid off the coffee. I should have checked my temper. I shouldn’t have ripped up half of the fall line sketches in front of Elena’s face. I shouldn’t have smashed Nick’s favorite scotch glasses. I should have tried to sleep. And I definitely shouldn’t have cried alone against the big glass windows of the living room every night.
The bags were worse under my eyes Thursday evening, a deeper more phenomenal purple than I’d ever seen. Even the bruises from our most dirty exploits hadn’t been that dark. The thought made my heart hurt. Literally.
My fingers started dialing Nick’s number before I even thought about it. His brisk “This is Bryant, leave a message” greeted me. Again.
“I don’t know why you’re doing this. I honestly can’t fucking figure it out. I’ve tried.” My voice broke. “I really have. I know you have a reason. I’m sure you think it’s a good one. But bottom line is, it doesn’t matter. Please come home.” A single sob strangled my voice. “Please.” I hung up, wrapping my arms around myself, wishing desperately they were his instead.
I need you Nick.
In bed, I stared at the ceiling and started counting panels. 82. I counted the window panels in the room and then all the ones on all the buildings nearby. 147. I even counted the stones in my engagement ring as I twirled it around my finger. 18 circles, 12 tiny emeralds, one massive stone.
Thursday night faded to gray, and Friday morning turned to a light pink—gray hurt my heart and I never was a pink girl. I glared at the sky, wanting to rail at it too, but it set my heart thundering.
The mood I eventually left the house in most closely resembled that of a starving animal, one forced to stare at food out of reach. I actually snarled at my doorman. When Gemma’s hand trembled slightly while handing me my coffee and a thick black envelope, I sagged.
“I’m trying to rein in the temper, I really am, it’s just…”
“He’s still not home?”
I shook my head and slumped onto the edge of her desk.
“I need him Gem, I really need him.”
I popped open the note, knowing damn well I didn't want to read what was inside.
You think a desperate plea is going to change his mind? He’s
making it too easy for me to have my way with his whore.
Christopher!
The letter broke me. It was all far too much. Particularly because I didn’t have Nick to turn to. A solitary tear ran down my cheek. I tried to wipe it away before Gemma saw but I wasn’t quick enough. She threw her hands around me.
“I can’t today Gem, I just can’t.”
She nodded against my shoulder and reached for the phone. One hand kept rubbing my shoulder while she busied herself punching in numbers and canceling appointments.
“Anything else, boss?” She smiled at my puffy face when she wrapped up the last call.
“I know you and Jaime speak.” I cleared my throat, almost choking on the ball of emotion there. “I need you to get this to him.” I handed her the letter, unconcerned with whether she read it or not.
I picked up my coffee, my Birkin, and the sorry excuse that was myself and headed back out to the snowy street. I wandered to Prada and Chanel and even Alexander McQueen but I couldn’t focus on anything. The word Nick was rattling in time with my jittered heartbeats. Eventually I found my way to S&C.
Laura.
For the first time in a few days, I genuinely smiled. As soon as I was upstairs, she waved me into her corner office. She was wrapping up a phone call as I plopped down and threw my feet up on her desk. She rolled her eyes at my dramatics and then pulled a smug smile into place.
“Taking the day off? That’s…” She let out a quick short laugh. “Odd.”
“Fuck you.”
“Language, Kate. That was uncalled for and the curse word was just unnecessary.”
“I’m having a shitty day, Laura. No, I’m having a shitty week.”
"On a scale of one to ten how bad is it?"
“Shitty.” I arched my eyebrows and enunciated every letter.
"Scotch or Tequilla?” She arched an eyebrow right back.
“Remember that time we were eighteen and killed a bottle of Fireball?” I asked and she let out a low whistle.
