Show Me The Ropes ~ Lothario Series ~ Book 2 (6 page)

Her hand traced the ropes across her abdomen, over her stomach, around her breast and over her chest to the collar around her neck. She threw the towel off and looked at the intricate patterns covering her. The white nylon ropes dangled from the railing where Richard had restrained her. Now she understood. It wasn’t about control or domination. It was about freedom. By binding her, he’d given her the freedom to experience to the fullest, to fly, knowing she was safely tethered to earth.

Richard had negated her need to cling to even a shred of control. He’d given her complete freedom to experience her body’s release, as well as the freedom to safely express herself during it. It was a gift worth more than gold.

So why had he left her? Was he afraid she wouldn’t understand? Afraid she wouldn’t want to see him after? After the most incredible experience of her life?

The shade cover billowed in the sea breeze, indicating the ship’s change of course. Fallon found her discarded sarong and pulled it around her, slipped her sandals on her feet and stood to peer over the railing. The
Lothario
would sail aimlessly around the Caribbean for several more days before making it to the one port of call, a private island owned by Richard and Ryan. No other ports welcomed the ship with its erotic, everything goes, sexual theme. She let the wind whip her hair around her face, loving the new sense of freedom he’d given her. The only thing missing was him. She wanted to share this with him, tell him she understood, that she loved him.

Hours later, she closed her laptop, satisfied with the new direction she felt compelled to research. Would Richard allow her to stay onboard long enough to research another book, one about rope bondage? She needed to think it through some more before she approached him with the idea, needed to see where this week would take them as a couple, and as employee and employer.

* * * * *

The pain had subsided, mostly. After spilling himself into the sink, he’d found relief in cool cloths and an ointment with a topical painkiller. An image of Fallon, bound and gagged, flashed into his mind. He went semi-erect, a reassuring state, since he’d feared permanent damage from his earlier full-blown erection. “Down, boy.” He massaged his cock through the intricate rope pattern. “No more of that tonight.”

Probably no more of that for the rest of his life. He should have stayed to see about her, seen to her, but self-preservation had been the only thing he’d been capable of, and barely even that, at the time. When he came out of the restroom, she was gone. The small deck would never be the same. He’d never be able to find peace there again. Memories of Fallon bound to the railings, the jewel of her body exposed to him, trusting him, would haunt him for the rest of his life. He took the time to untie the knotted ropes and return them to their satin envelope, but when he came to the gag she’d had to remove for herself, he nearly choked on his own stupidity.

He had to put an end to the insanity. He had to give her the choice he denied her at the outset. Continuing without her full consent wasn’t an option, especially after his behavior this morning. He’d gagged her, for Christ’s sake. As if binding her hadn’t been enough, he’d taken away her ability to end the session. There were soundproof rooms on the lower decks, rooms where she could have screamed to her heart’s content and no one would have heard, but he’d rejected the idea of taking her to one of them in favor of seeing her in the sunlight, in the one place he felt free. Instead of setting her free, he’d imprisoned her.

The only way to make it right was to give her the key. Let her have the choice to unlock the ropes binding her body. He fingered the key hanging on a thin chain around his neck. Tonight he’d give it to her, and let her decide whether to continue or not. Tomorrow he would give her the rest of the ensemble if she chose to use the key, or one more piece if she chose to continue.

She let him in to her cabin, a good sign, he surmised, but refused to hope. Dressed in the silk sarong all the other female passengers would be wearing tonight, she glowed. The knotted gold rope peeked from the V-neck. His. Possession warred with tenderness. He held out a small black box. “I brought you something.”

“Another gift? Richard, you shouldn’t have.” She made no attempt to take the box, so he opened it and thrust his hand toward her.

“A key?” Comprehension dawned on her face. “You’re giving me the key? Why?”

“Take it, Fallon.”

“I don’t want it.” Hope soared in him. He squashed it down.

“I want you to have it.” He closed the distance between them and grabbed her hand, turning it palm up. He dumped the key in her palm and closed her fingers around it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. . . I should have given you the choice from the very beginning. I’m sorry I didn’t, but I’m doing it now. What I did this morning was unconscionable. Gagging you. . . It was insane. . . It was against everything I promised you.”

“Richard, don’t. Don’t apologize. I have to admit, when you tied the gag I felt a little flutter of panic, but as soon as you touched me it went away.” She reached up, ran a fingertip across his frowning lips. “I get it. I understand. . . the ropes. . . everything. What you did this morning was a gift. I understand that now. What I don’t understand is why you left me alone afterward? I wanted to share that time with you, the man who’d given me the gift.”

“You weren’t horrified?”

Her thumb played along his bottom lip. “No, Richard. I wasn’t horrified. I was. . . flying. I’ve never felt so free, or so safe, in my life. You gave me that, and I wanted to share it with you, but you left so fast.”

The
why
was there, unasked, and to remain unanswered for now. “I can’t tell you why. I just had to go. Next time I won’t leave you.” Next time. There was going to be a next time. Pain, sharp and sweet, bit into his groin. Maybe he could tell her everything soon. “Keep the key.” He took her hand, pried open her fingers. He hooked the key on the same ring with the key that would unlock his own private gates of hell. “If you choose to unlock the ropes, I’ll understand.”

“Okay. I’ll keep the key, but I won’t be using it.”

“Your choice, Fallon. It has to be your choice.”

“Thank you.” She fingered the keys at her throat.

“I have to go to the show tonight. It’s a new troupe, a bunch Ryan hired.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Thanks. I could use the company. No more tonight, Fallon, I promise. I’ll bring you the next piece of the ensemble in the morning, if you want it.”

“Not going to tell me which piece it is?” she teased.

“No. You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

* * * * *

As far as cruise ship entertainment went, they weren’t bad. The band and vocal talent had their stuff together, could probably make a decent living on dry ground. How the lead female belted out a ballad while being fucked by the bass guitarist, Fallon didn’t know. Neither one had missed a note, as far as she could tell. The guy had continued to play after he pulled out of her, spraying cum across her stomach to the beat of his guitar. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” Fallon leaned over and whispered in Richard’s ear.

“Me either. Ryan said they were good, but I didn’t expect this. I think the audience is about to erupt into a group fuck.”

She glanced around the theatre. Several people had gotten a head start on the group. “You might be right.”

“Want to stay and watch, or have you seen enough?”

“I like the music, but I can do without the orgy.”

Richard stood. Fallon followed his lead. “I’ll have security keep an eye on the situation, just in case. It seems peaceful enough for now.”

After a stop to consult with the discreet security team at the back of the theatre, Richard took her hand and led her to the deck. The stiff salt wind took her by surprise. “Why are we going so fast? The ship’s usually practically dead in the water this time of night.”

“Sean has some idea about the previous ‘accidents’ being related to our shore day. He wanted to change things up to see what would happen, maybe force someone to make a mistake. We’ll be stopping at the island a day early.”

“Does he think the accidents are the work of someone on the ship?”

“Maybe. He doesn’t say much, but since we don’t have anywhere else to go, it doesn’t matter which day we stop at the island.”

“What if nothing happens? What then?”

“I don’t know. Sean’s the security expert. I’ll let him handle it.”

“You sound as if you don’t care.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I care. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. You know how seriously we take security, how strict we are about following every rule, every maritime law. It’s just. . . I don’t know. . . I just don’t have the same enthusiasm for the ship that I had when we built it. I don’t know if Ryan will ever come back to it, and I don’t know if I want to stay if he doesn’t come back.”

“What changed? I thought you loved this lifestyle.”

“No. Not for a long time now. The new wore off real quick.”

“Tell me.”

He stopped walking and leaned against the rail, drawing her to his side, using his body to block the wind. “You have to understand how Ryan and I came to build the
Lothario
. You know about R & R Romance Registry, the dating website we created when we were in college? We sold it the day after we graduated, and suddenly we had more money than two twenty-something’s could ever spend, and believe me, we tried to spend it. We were on the cover of magazines all over the world. Women crawled out of the woodwork. We screwed our way around the world, literally.”

“Yeah, I remember. I’d never heard of you, and then suddenly you and Ryan were everywhere. All the celebrity magazines had stories on you. I was buried in research and writing my dissertation, and I still heard about you.”

“You heard about me?”

“I did, and I hardly came up for air in those days.”

“That’s good to know, that you noticed me even then.”

“Go on, tell me the rest.”

“We were half drunk, make that mostly drunk, one day, and we saw a cruise ship from our hotel room window. One of us, we can’t remember which, said we needed our own cruise ship so we could screw all the women we wanted, any way we wanted. It sounded like a good idea at the time. There were women everywhere, most of them wanting to pin us down, mostly for our money. When we sobered up, the idea was still there. We could get away from the women who wanted our money, make them pay for the privilege of perhaps screwing us, and turn them in for a new batch every seven days. What wasn’t to like about the plan?”

“So what went wrong?”

“I can’t speak for Ryan. He freaked after the first cruise and practically became a monk.”

“I remember. You called him that often enough.”

“He’s happy now. I think he found what he was looking for in Candace, pardon the pun.”

She punched him on the shoulder. “That was bad. What about you?”

“You. It was you that did it for me.”

“What?”

He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t bear to see the. . . whatever it was that would be in her eyes.

“What are you saying?”

“Nothing. Let’s call it a night, okay?” He pushed away from the rail. He’d said too much. Her hand on his arm stopped him.

“When? How long has this been going on?”

“Since the day I met you. The day we set sail.”

“Two years?”

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell her she’d driven him insane for two years. How pathetic was that?

 “And you didn’t say anything?”

“Say what? You made it plain you wouldn’t compromise your research, wouldn’t get involved with the boss. That’s why you’re not an employee on this cruise.”

He swept his arm around her waist and led her inside. She allowed him to steer her through the hallways to her cabin without further comment. He’d done it, he’d told her. It wasn’t the whole story, but it was enough. From the frown lines on her face when she shut her cabin door, he’d said too much.

His words rang through her brain like a dozen fire alarms in the night. What game was he playing? She’d taken one look at him two years ago and, like the cliché, had fallen in love. Her grandmother had a saying.
Looking for love is like searching for a dandelion in a cow pasture. You’d better watch where you step.

She’d stepped on the proverbial cow turd, Richard Wolfe. Of all the despicable people in the world, she’d fallen for one of the lowest. He admitted to his despicable behavior, had confessed to it a few hours ago out on deck.

For two years, she’d watched him with women of every description. He’d wined them, dined them and bedded them, and all in front of the woman he now claimed had changed him.

Changed him? Into what? When? Had she missed something? Sure, he’d changed his tune somewhat. He’d quit pursuing her while he had another woman on his arm. She understood the demands of his job, and eventually he’d come to respect hers, she thought.