TangledBound (3 page)

Sam stilled after a few more harsh words. He lowered her
feet to the floor and eased from her body. Still clinging to the fantasy,
Melanie kept her eyes closed while he disposed of the condom and raised his
zipper. The tingling in her hands slowly brought her back to reality, along
with the voice of the pilot announcing their estimated time until arrival in
Las Vegas. No longer able to pretend she’d just experienced anything more
profound than sex with a stranger on a plane, she flexed her fingers and opened
her eyes.

The green light from the lavatory bulb cast his handsome
features in weird shadow. Overcome by a sudden wave of uncertainty, she looked
away and fumbled to cover her bare body. Sam left her to fumble for a minute before
he brushed her hands away and straightened her dress, pulling the hem down and
the bodice up. Her panties were a challenge she couldn’t handle due to space
limitations, so she kicked them aside and wrote them off as a loss.

“Your hands will work again soon.” He gently massaged her
forearms. “Once the blood returns to your fingers.”

“All passengers must now return to their seats.” The pilot’s
voice interrupted whatever else Sam was going to say.

“We should get back,” Melanie murmured. She could ignore the
pain now. It was dull, little more than discomfort. And her knees were only
shaking because she’d come so hard.

Sam cursed. “I shouldn’t let you go yet.”

“So don’t,” she suggested tentatively. “We’ll both be in
Vegas, right? We could have dinner, try
this
again….”

His expression closed off as she spoke. She let the words
trail off, averting her eyes so she didn’t have to see his refusal.

“I meant I should get you put back together,” he said.

“Oh. Um. I think this is as presentable as I’m going to
get.” She urgently needed to escape the tight space and the reality of what
she’d done—submitted to a stranger who wanted nothing to do with her after now
that the physical stuff was over. Twisting away, she unlocked the door and
hurried back to her seat.

Chapter Two

After she left, Sam Fletcher raked his fingers through his
hair, hard enough to hopefully drive some sense into his head. What the hell
had gotten into him?

When the little blonde suggested they follow up with a
repeat performance on the ground, the image of her kneeling at his feet in a
casino was so vivid and so right that he’d almost agreed. She was obviously a
new submissive, uncertain of her path and uneven at the edges, nowhere close to
his perfectly behaved preference. For an instant, her status hadn’t mattered.
He’d trained many women to accept and embrace total ownership. He was confident
he could successfully lead her down that road and shape her into his personal
pet, a lovely creature he wouldn’t be giving back to her Master at the end of
their time together.

He’d wanted to agree. Wanted to introduce her to the reality
she wouldn’t find between the covers of a novel. Wanted to put an end to his
long search for someone like her, a fresh soul not yet scarred by the emotional
games he so often witnessed in the fetish club environment that lately ruled
his life.

Something held him back. Fear. He wasn’t ashamed to admit
that his unexpected attraction to a stranger on a plane had shaken him down to
his boots. He appreciated beautiful women but beauty didn’t affect him on this
level.

Bracing his hands against the narrow bathroom door, he spoke
aloud for the realness of hearing the words. “Boredom. Exhaustion. Too long
between lovers, and you’re getting old. Too old to torture yourself with a
sub-curious little girl who will probably change her mind and decide she’s
actually a lesbian instead of a submissive. You’d get a few months out of her
at most. Not worth the effort. Once was all you wanted when you started this. A
responsible Dom doesn’t backtrack on his decisions.”

Sam prided himself on his sense of responsibility and the
care he took with educating and guiding when asked to do those things.
Sometimes when not asked.

He’d
needed
the irresponsibility of a fling with a
neophyte, something new and clean to refresh his increasingly jaded outlook,
but he still maintained a measure of control. He’d used a condom, he hadn’t
made any promises he couldn’t keep, he hadn’t taken her so deep that she
couldn’t recover quickly, mostly on her own.

“Time to be responsible again,” he told himself.

A knock sounded on the other side of the door. Sam
straightened and opened it, ignoring an echo of disappointment when he found
one of the flight attendants instead of his blonde.

“On my way,” he said before the attendant could remind him
to return to his seat.

She backed up and he stepped out into the aisle. Dread
settled into his stomach. Sam chalked it up to the aftereffect of mistakes. He
didn’t make so many, not as far as treatment of submissives went, that he was
overly familiar with the sensation. He
never
made mistakes he didn’t
immediately attempt to rectify, but as he lowered himself into the seat beside
her, he didn’t have the first clue how to begin.

Melanie sat through the remainder of the flight in silence,
not making eye contact with Sam. He was restless and several times she thought
he was about to say something, but he seemed to understand it was over. The
“over” part was exactly what she didn’t want to deal with, but what other
choice did she have? He hadn’t even asked her name.

When they finally landed, Melanie turned on her phone to a
reply from Brooke. She’d talk to her friend later. For now, she fired off a
text to her brother, who responded with a promise to meet her at the
baggage-claim carousel. Despite her dark mood, she smiled. David was getting
married, and she couldn’t wait to call Jovanna her sister.

Sam was busy texting someone too. Probably a girlfriend or
something. Melanie waited anxiously while he finished his exchange and
retrieved his carry-on from the overhead compartment. When he finally stepped
out into the aisle, he hesitated. She deliberately turned her back on him in
order to grab her own little suitcase and dawdled until he had no choice but to
move forward at the insistence of other passengers clambering to debark.

The minute she was free of the plane and Sam’s presence, her
mood brightened. She couldn’t shed the lingering sensations of being recently
pleasured, or the strange low spirits that followed her foray into submission, but
she did try to ignore them. Dwelling wasn’t her style.

After she stopped in the ladies’ room to smooth her hair,
wriggle into a pair of clean panties and make sure she didn’t look like she’d
just been fucked, she headed for the baggage area. She spotted Jovanna’s sleek,
dark-plum ’do almost immediately. Jovanna stood alone, fingering one of her
dangly silver earrings and watching the ebb and flow of people. Jovanna saw
Melanie a second later and a smile lightened her focused expression.

“Where’s David?” Melanie asked, dropping her bag and
throwing her arms around the other woman. “Did you come to your senses and
decide to dump him for me?”

Jovanna laughed and returned the embrace. “He’s here
somewhere, meeting another guest. You were both on the same flight so he’ll
probably show up down here soon.”

They parted and Melanie retrieved her carry-on from the
floor. “How many more people are you waiting for?”

“Just you and Sam. Your parents arrived yesterday. That was
a weirdly awkward dinner last night, by the way. Nobody told me your mother’s
romantic interest only speaks Portuguese. Oh there’s David.” Jovanna raised her
hand in a wave and Melanie closed her eyes, filled with a sinking sense of
dread. She’d barely heard anything after
his
name.

“We got waylaid by the slots,” David said behind her. “Sam
made a killing in nickels. Dinner’s on him.”

He draped his arm across her shoulders and she didn’t have
any other choice but to open her eyes and pretend to be normal. Jovanna gave
her a strange, questioning look, which Melanie ignored. Fingers crossed just in
case luck might be with her, she turned in David’s embrace and prayed for
David’s Sam to be someone she’d never seen before.

When she met Sam’s unforgettable green eyes, she finally
knew just how much God hated her. Recognition flared Sam’s nostrils, but he
didn’t react otherwise except to hold out his hand in a polite gesture.

“Sam Fletcher,” he said.

“Melanie Burke.” She accepted his hand for a brief moment
that took an eternity to pass. Her heart skipped a beat, the damn thing, and
her body tried to heat and soften for him.

“Have you seen your luggage yet, Mel?” David asked.

“I haven’t gotten that far.” She retreated from Sam’s hold
and focused on her brother. “Why don’t you go be a manly man and get it for
me?”

David snorted and dropped his arm, only to nudge her toward
the circling conveyer belt. “Because I’d lose my manly man status if anybody
saw me carrying your flowery pink suitcase.”

“I’ll get it,” Sam announced unexpectedly. “You three do
your family catch-up thing and I’ll be back.”

Without waiting for anybody to protest, he turned and walked
away to join the crowd of passengers impatiently watching the empty conveyer
belt. Melanie exhaled and dodged Jovanna’s curious stare by focusing on David.
“Jo says Mom and Dad are both here? What happened to ‘secret Elvis wedding’?”

“He convinced me that our union should be witnessed by
people who matter,” Jovanna answered for him.

Ah, there was her chance. “Sam’s somebody who matters? I
haven’t met him before.”

Again, Jovanna answered. “You’re David’s witness and Sam’s
mine.”

“For the paperwork,” David added, giving Jovanna a
look
,
the nature of which Melanie decided was none of her business.

“Oookay. That’s cool.” She’d just work on her poker face and
avoidance techniques. She’d need the blank expression for the gaming tables.
“Anyway, I’m starving. I missed dinner while in the air. Where are we eating?”

“I made reservations for a late dinner at the Eiffel Tower
Restaurant,” Sam said, rejoining them in time to catch the end of her question.
“I didn’t realize we would be four instead of three, but I already put in a
call to change the seating.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Jovanna protested.

Sam shouldered Melanie’s pink garment bag and gestured
toward the exit. “This is an occasion to celebrate. But Melanie and I should
probably check in at our hotels and clean up.”

“We’re all in the same hotel,” David said. “Come on, I’ve
rented a car.”

Five minutes later, Jovanna waved Sam into the front seat.
She climbed into the back beside Melanie. While David and Sam settled
themselves and talked man-talk, something about a nightclub opening in Seattle,
Jovanna leaned over and said, “Don’t go down that road until you understand
exactly where it will take you.”

Too late. Not quite sure what to say, Melanie bit her lip
and turned her attention to neon scenery outside.

* * * * *

Two hours later, Sam found himself alone at a table with
Melanie while David and Jovanna rode the elevator to the top of the Eiffel
Tower. Melanie wore another strapless dress, this one a slim-fitting black
sheath that hugged her curves from knee to sternum. Despite his earlier claim
that he’d bare her to be shared, he now fought a possessive urge to cover her
with something. The tablecloth would do.

The dress zipped up the back, easy to remove for a man
standing behind her. As he waved the maître ’d away, refusing another bottle of
wine, Sam worked on thinking about something—anything—besides all the things he
could do to his little submissive from behind.

The fact was, he couldn’t do anything. Shouldn’t have done
what he already did. Wouldn’t repeat the experience, not knowing who she was.
Even if she weren’t Melanie Burke—
Burke
, for Christ’s sake, of all the
damn coincidences—he wouldn’t be going down that path again. His actions on the
plane were a whim, driven by a desire for someone and something he wouldn’t be
responsible for after it was over. He shouldn’t have indulged, no matter how
hot it was watching her flush and nibble at her bottom lip while she read
erotica beside him.

Melanie twisted her napkin anxiously and broke the silence.
“Will you please stop looking at me like that? I didn’t do anything to deserve
anger.”

He hadn’t been looking at her like anything, had been
deliberately looking at everything except her whenever he could politely get
away with it. Now he met her eyes across the table. Her helpless, confused
expression twisted his gut.

“I’m not angry with you,” he said, hoping to put her at
ease. His error in judgment wasn’t her fault. “I do wish I’d known who you
are.”

She dropped her gaze to the table. “You didn’t ask.”

“I behaved irresponsibly on a number of levels.” He
hesitated before adding, “I also behaved disrespectfully. I apologize.”

“Well, you used a condom and you didn’t leave me hanging, so
I figure you fulfilled your obligations.” She shrugged with studious casualness
that didn’t fool Sam for a minute.

“I’m not talking about STD and pregnancy prevention. I took
advantage of your curiosity about submission.” Her cheeks flushed bright red
and Sam cursed beneath his breath because his body reacted to her response.

“You didn’t take advantage of anything. I wanted to have sex
with you so I did. I’m a big girl. I get to drink and vote and make decisions
like whether or not I should follow a man into an airplane bathroom.” She was
back to strangling her napkin and staring so intently at her lap that Sam
couldn’t see her face past a curtain of her shiny blonde hair.

Not quite sure why he couldn’t let it go, he said,
“Decisions have consequences.”

“I’m a big girl,” she repeated.

Her phone vibrated and she snatched it off the table like it
was a lifeline. Sam leaned back and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“David,” Melanie said. “He and Jo decided to take off. He
says sorry and thanks for dinner.”

She put her phone back on the table and bent to retrieve her
handbag from where she’d stashed it at her feet. While Sam considered this
development, Melanie produced a Frommer’s pocket guide to the city and flipped
it open to a bookmarked page. From where he sat, he could see part of a map of
the Strip.

“I’ll see you back to the hotel.” Sam didn’t bother asking
if she was ready to go. She’d refused dessert earlier and he’d already taken
care of the check.

Melanie didn’t look up from the book. “You don’t have to do
that. I think I want to walk anyway. I have a map. You should just take a cab.”

“If you’re walking, I’m walking.” He stood and pulled her
chair away from the table, not giving her room to run. “In this, you don’t get
to make the decision.”

She visibly struggled with a desire to accept his authority
and a need to regain her independence. Sam had seen the same array of emotions
on countless faces as new subs battled with their instinct to defer power and
the conditioned teaching to take charge of their own lives. In his experience,
the response was prevalent in women.

Melanie would bow to her instincts instead of her
conditioning. He patiently waited for her to come to terms with the situation.
He didn’t have to wait long.

“Fine. Do whatever you want.” She stood with an annoyed sigh
and started for the exit.

Sam suppressed an urge to bring her to heel by reminding
himself that she didn’t belong to him. He had no rights even though she’d
conferred them upon him by acknowledging his position. Brooding over the
distasteful concept of her unchecked freedom, he followed her from the
restaurant.

Outside, desert heat wrapped around them. Melanie stopped on
the sidewalk and closed her eyes, a small smile playing over her lips. Sam
watched her, enthralled by the unabashed expression of joy displacing her
recent irritation.