Bound to You (5 page)

Lunchtime couldn't come soon enough after all the errands I ran. Jesse kept texting and calling me as I knocked out assignments like crazy.

“Are you sure you don't want me to do a few of these?” he asked me, his Alabama accent coming in thick through my cell.

“Oh, believe me, you'll have all the
fun
starting tomorrow.” As a recent University of Alabama graduate, Jesse came to me looking for
any
job. Running errands, taking out the trash in my microscopic office in Cambridge. He'd moved here with his girlfriend less than a year ago, only to get dumped and left behind when she moved back to Nashville. Now he had a condo he had to pay for and marketable skills in advertising. So I put his Southern charm to work with my clients.

I have to tell you, the ladies in Back Bay and Beacon Hill
love
a Southern gentleman.

Naturally, in the middle of this mad dash to empty my to-do list and dump the majority of it on my assistant, I had an important lunch to attend.

“Are you really going to use Skype during our lunch?” I asked Carlie over the phone as I weaved through a heavy crowd of diners at the Murder of Crows Diner. Restaurant Row in the South End neighborhood was abuzz at this time of the day. Most of the folks I passed on Tremont Street were out and about to enjoy lunch.

Catching my friends wasn't hard; all I had to do was look for the tall Indian girl wildly gesturing and I'd find everyone.
Gotta love my roomie Penny.
Ever since we were kids in foster care in NYC, she'd had a problem with volume control. She didn't give a damn who heard her either.

“The bitch is crazy, Griff.” Penny's hand swung forward so fast, I waited for the drinks to go flying.

“Hey, everyone!” I slid into the free seat next to Griffin. Sitting next to Penny's flying hands wasn't wise.

“Good to
hear
Penny is present,” Carlie added.

Griffin flashed me the look. The one he always gave me when he wanted someone to change the topic of conversation.

“Who's crazy, Penny?” After my long day, I had to know what golden advice she was bestowing upon Griff.

“It's the new lady he hooked up with,” Penny began. “She's not kinky like us, but she's got something going on that smells like stalker.” In addition to friendship, I share similar tastes to Carlie, Penny, and Griffin. While Penny and Griffin frequented the Boston BDSM club scene, Carlie and I didn't.

“Wait, what about the girl from last month?” I asked. “The one who called you talking about how she hadn't had sex in ten years and would hump the hardest thing she ran into?”

“I really need to stop letting you guys play matchmaker,” Griff said with a snort. He tossed a chip into his mouth with a hard crunch. I didn't know why Griffin had such a hard time finding a serious relationship. Most women fell hard for his light brown eyes, short curly hair, and smooth brown skin. Like us, he grew up in the foster care system and didn't know his background.

Griff sighed. “We didn't even make it to the restaurant. She tried to unbutton my pants on the way.”

“Way to go, Griff!” Carlie shouted from the phone. She sounded like she was munching on something. Maybe chips.

“If you weren't my best friend, Penny, I'd make you stop this madness.” He appeared gruff about the matter, but he was never mad at her for long.

Carlie spoke with her mouth full. “Oh, c'mon! You couldn't hook her up for like
ten
minutes?”

“Ten?” he mouthed to me, apparently insulted.

Even I was a bit insulted. He looked like at least a fifteen-minute man, but I'd never tell him to his face.

The waiter came by and took our orders.

Our food arrived and no one spoke while we ate—until the one person who didn't have a meal couldn't keep her mouth shut. “So everyone, did Sophie tell you she's moving to the U.K. to work with me?” Carlie said.

Penny's spoon stopped on the way to her mouth.

“I didn't say yes yet, Carlie,” I said.

“Not
yet,
you haven't,” Carlie replied with a flourish.

“So you're leaving?” Penny asked.

“Not surprised,” Griffin said softly. “First Mackenzie, now you.”

I swallowed in a sigh. Our lunch crew had shrunk over the past year. “Mackenzie hates the snow.”

“I get a free meal once a month. Is that gonna end now?” Penny asked, and I waited for the questions to begin. Not a single person paid for the food at this table thanks to me. Well, minus Carlie, but since we referred high-class clientele to Restaurant Row, we reaped the benefits with free food and drinks.

“If it's a great opportunity, you should take it,” Griffin remarked, giving me his best smile.

Briefly, I leaned the side of my head against his wide shoulders. “Thanks, Griff, but I said I haven't taken the job yet.” I caught Carlie's noise of disapproval. “I have a growing business here in Boston and right now might not be a good time to leave.” There was no way in hell I was mentioning Xavier. Keeping him on track would take all my resources this month and preparing to relocate would keep me from doing my job.

As hard as I tried not to think about Xavier, he had come to mind. Why did my insides quiver thinking about a man I'd just met yesterday?

“This is the next step up, Soph.” My best friend's image wavered, but I caught her expression clearly. Her olive-green eyes flashed with an inner strength I wish I had and her cherry-red lips pursed into a confident grin. “I've already established my business here with exclusive clientele. This is the land of more than businessmen and media moguls. I've got
royalty,
m'dear. They've got money to burn and I've lined them up for you to pick them off the berry bushes.”

Penny slid closer to the phone. “So how come you haven't offered me a job, Carlie?”

“I'd bore you, sweetheart.” Carlie ran her hand through her blond hair. Not that she needed to. Her hair was always perfect since her life was her work. She wasn't as social as Penny. Carlie and I knew what Penny wanted: she wanted to settle down as someone's wife, but she also wanted someone who lived a kinky lifestyle.

“That's true,” Penny admitted. “I've got a really good thing going here. In a few months, I might find the right guy and be married.”

A strange ache settled in my chest, but the feeling left as quickly as it had come. I would've done anything to hear a marriage proposal from Sato, even if our relationship hadn't been a conventional one. After one year seeing each other, we rarely spent a night apart—whether it was his place or mine. Except when he traveled to Japan. Back then every word he'd said seemed to have promises settled at the end of each phrase:
Someday I'd like for us to get a place together,
he had said back then.
I don't like you living alone. Someday I'd like to introduce you to my parents.

But he'd left me, so that conversation had been a moot point, so now marriage was an afterthought. Just like me.

Carlie kept going and it was hard to miss her remarks. “You coming here is a no-brainer. With your contacts in the northeastern U.S., we could shove aside the snotty bitches who think an American can't cut it among the Brits.”

If I could close my ears, I would. This wasn't the time to contemplate the benefits. A new place might do me some good, though.

A new land and a new start.

Maybe by the time I started working with Carlie, I'd forget about my new client for good.

But just one errant thought of Xavier—his brooding gaze, his imposing presence—left me wondering if forgetting was even possible.

A perfect morning could be made with the perfect egg dish.

With the weight of Carlie's offer on my mind, I settled into my Sunday morning routine. First and foremost, I worked on accomplishing the most important task of the day: crafting the perfect Eggs Benedict. And I'm not talking about just flipping some eggs onto an English muffin and calling it a day. For me, life was about accomplishing goals. A few years ago, I had a goal to achieve near fluency in Japanese. On any given Sunday, you'd find me perched on the end of my bed going over Japanese verbs with flourish.

I go. I went.

Watashi wa ikimasu. Watashi wa ikimashita.

Over and over again until I babbled Japanese in my sleep and I could communicate with Sato in his mother tongue. I am fluent now, but speaking Japanese was just a reminder of all the work I put into a man who casually pushed my love aside.

Today, my aspirations were a bit simpler: conquer all the recipes in a worn old cookbook from the library called
Excellent Eggs and You
. I have to say it's a pretty deep, thought-provoking book from cover to cover.

Every step in the recipe, from preparing the sauce that went over the eggs to the garnish added on top, set my mind at ease as I worked barefoot in the quiet kitchen. This dish was just another tidbit of knowledge to share with my clients. Another conversation piece in my arsenal. 'Cause who didn't like to talk about food?

By the time I placed the exquisite sauce on my egg, my cellphone beeped with a new message. I ignored it and admired my masterpiece. Until the phone beeped again, so I snatched it off the counter to peek.

The text from my old friend Franklin read:

You owe me.

About time he came through for me. When I moved here from New York, one of the first people I connected with in Boston was Franklin. At sixty-five, he was one of the oldest vintage gown tailors in the area. With the right budget, he could cram you into the best designer dresses your money could buy. Clothes made the woman, and in my industry, I had to fit in.

He added:

Don't bother eating for the rest of the day, Sophie.

I sighed. I had a great deal of money right now, but finding the right gown at the last minute put me in a bind. For a brief moment, I considered making up an ailing distant cousin who was recovering from cat lady syndrome, but Xavier needed me.

He wouldn't accept it anyway.
I don't take no for an answer unless there is a logical reason,
he'd said when we'd met.

Other than avoiding him due to this attraction I couldn't shake, I had no excuse.

My phone rang and Penny's picture, along with the name
PENNY RULES THE WORLD
showed up on the screen. That name was her doing—not mine. I let the phone ring again before I took the call. “Hey, Penny.”

“Did you miss my last message, Soph?” Penny sounded breathless, too. Her voice sounded far away for a second. “I sort of need a favor.”

I had yet to get any message from her this morning.

“Most favors aren't of the
sort of
type.”

“I found someone
perfect
for Griffin.”

Again?
“Sounds great.”

“Anyway, one of my friends in Back Bay has a close friend who is here on business from St. Louis. She's into kink and my friend says she's a sweetheart. We're meeting this afternoon to chat, but I kind of made the mistake of arranging the meet-up during my job.”

Her job, as in her
at-home phone-sex operator
job.

“Oh.” I rummaged through the cupboards and found two-month-old protein bars.
You're a cruel man, Franklin.
The Eggs Benedict smelled so damn good.

“All you have to do is step in like the last time you did this for me,” Penny said simply. Taking over this kind of thing wasn't simple.

“I don't know. I have a lot to do.”
Like hope and pray I won't have to be sewn into my dress.

“The last time you were in a bind I was the Indian girl who stepped in to help you with that Hindi event.” With expert precision she tossed the race card into the conversation. She was my go-to girl for such questions.

“What time?” If I said yes, I could wrap up this conversation quickly.

“I'll send you an email with the particulars. Show up in my private chat room at four and be ready with your toys. He likes to be tied up and spanked for all the naughty things he did during the week.”

We finally ended the conversation and I wondered what the hell I'd gotten myself into. With a sigh, I rotated the plate and admired my handiwork.

The food—which now I couldn't eat—seemed perfect. My mood, not so much.

Not long before four
P.M.
, I prepped for Penny's phone call. I'd already made the trip to Franklin's boutique and now I had one beautiful black dress. Nothing as fancy as what many of my clients would wear, but it was floor-length, strapless, and if anyone asked, I could say the dress was made by Alexander McQueen. That name alone said haute couture. No one needed to know the gown was from a collection from more than five years ago.

Now that my dress was set, I had to look the part. While I added large curlers into my hair, I prepped for the call, placing my supplies on my desk. The short hand on the clock was quickly approaching four. I surveyed my equipment: a riding whip, a thick belt, and a chain about the length of my wrist. The equipment of a budding Foley artist.

At the appointed time, I picked up the phone and made the call. I didn't have to wait long for Penny's client to click in.

“Hey, stranger,” I said, trying to sound like I was cheerful and not someone who was filling in for a friend.

“Is that you, Pretty Penny?” a man with a thick Southern accent asked. Even Jesse wasn't that hard to make out.

“Your pretty little Penny is getting…polished at the bank so I'm here to take care of you.” I introduced myself as Shelley and I learned his name was Bill.

“Your voice is making me hard already, sweetheart.” His voice was kind of sexy in a way. Deep and thick. “I've been so bad this week.”

Time to pull out the toys to play. The sooner Bill got off, the sooner I could finish getting ready for the opera at six. Xavier was picking me up at 5:15.

I grabbed a belt and flicked it to produce a hard
thwack
. “A naughty cowboy like you should get tied up nice and proper.”

In exquisite detail, I described over the phone how I'd blindfold him first. “I'm going to run a silk scarf across those shoulders of yours, then over your hard nipples.”

Being blindfolded by Sato was one of the many pleasurable experiences I'd enjoyed. As a sub, I loved a partner who loved to be in control. My anticipation built faster. My orgasms became earth-shattering. Every minute he delayed the inevitable turned me on even more. Since I didn't know what was coming, every inch of my body tingled, wishing he'd touch me. My patience was legendary for the reward he offered. Just thinking about those pending orgasms made my toes curl.

Bill groaned. Time to get back to work.

“Yes, please….” Bill gasped.

“Feel good?”

“Mmm. I like that, baby.” He moaned, most likely clenching the flesh of his erection while he listened to me.

Now that Bill's eyes were closed—I wasn't sure about that in reality—but now I could move on to the fun part. Next came the chains and sounds of ropes getting yanked and tied. Time to tie my cowboy to the post for playtime.

“What naughty things have you done this week, Bill?” I slapped my rider's whip on the table. A nice sharp sound.

I hoped and prayed Lana was still studying. She'd had her headphones on and she was doing an air guitar move over her mountain of books when I'd grabbed a bottle of water.

“I can't stop jacking off when I get home from work. The gal at the department store is getting suspicious about all the lady lotions I'm buying.”

Umm, okay…

Flick!
I slapped the table again. “You like it when I make those ass cheeks pink, don't you, Bill?” I purred.

“Yes, ma'am…”

While I was telling Bill about how long and hard I'd spank him, I got an email from a sous chef regarding the approval for the catering of an Old West–theme barbecue.
Ha! Go figure!

With a pleasurable sigh, Bill finished stroking his little cowpoke to completion—right as my bedroom door opened.