The Bound Heart (24 page)

Jamie looked at Olive’s face as they entered and their coats were taken. There was a small crease between her brows. She was not a woman to hide her thoughts or her feelings, and the last couple of days after he asked her to leave his bedroom had left some deep undercurrents.

“I think you’ll enjoy it, Olive. Just imagine a tavern, but more opulent.”

She scoffed at him. And well she should, given the space they were in.

Blackburn’s foyer was grandiose, and highlighted a magnificent curved staircase with polished mahogany balustrades and positioned directly opposite the large entrance doors. The space was gleaming with electric lights and a half-dozen standing candelabras. The combined effect on the ebony marble tiles looked as though they all stood and walked over a midnight sky bursting with glowing orange stars.

Lush, towering potted palms were in bright shiny brass pots.

Olive looked back at the front door, her telltale signal of discomfort.

The first time Sensei had brought him to a house like this, a house where the owner had more funds than most men would ever dream of acquiring, he’d felt excited and sick to his bootlaces.

“Don’t be nervous.”

“Everyone will know I don’t belong,” she whispered under her breath.

The accent was of the street, broad open vowels. He’d taken years to get rid of his; and now that Olive was taking lessons, she was painfully aware of it. She didn’t realize yet that accent like the rest of her, was all part of her earthy, open, and guileless charm. That and her open honest manner disarmed anyone who had the chance to talk with her.

“They didn’t at The National Gallery and they certainly won’t here.”

She looked so eagerly hopeful at his words his chest lurched. He made out to put a stray strand of hair right.

Seeing her, the glow of the foyer’s lights, the shiny ebony floor under her, a fey creature floated down from the heavens. She looked remarkably beautiful, unlike anyone in the room in her marvelous self-made embroidered jacket and full black skirt. Her hair, which shone clean and bright, was fashioned with Japanese hairpins and a black lacquered sliding comb. The pins were from Okazaki, but the sliding comb he hadn’t ever seen Okazaki wear.

“Is the comb new?”

“Yes. It came today.” She looked away.

The clothes Okazaki had bought were slowly being delivered to the house. Olive had been so embarrassed at the first arrival and mortified the next day when a further batch arrived. The third, she had started to send away until she saw the shoes it contained. Shoes that had been adjusted to make one sole higher than the other, the effect was that her limp was almost unrecognizable.

“You look strikingly, Olive, and your jacket will be the most original and eye catching in the room.”

Her neck showed its betraying red. While her face beamed with pleasure.

That lurching sensation rippled through him again, a beaming Olive made his world quake.

“I still feel like I shouldn’t be here.”

“Remember what I said in the carriage; this is not a belonging type of gathering, Olive. People from all backgrounds are here. Many of them are very wealthy, and many like you and I came from the streets. You will meet some eccentric people and quite a few artists, performers, and models.”

“I just didn’t expect this.” Her gaze moved around the room.

It was spectacular; but then again, Blackburn took his climb to power very seriously and that meant he used all the tools at his disposal to impress and influence. And he certainly was making a sound start of that tonight.

Waiters dressed as harem boys with turbans, billowing pants, and shoes that curled at the toes offered glasses of champagne to guests. Jamie reached out and took two glasses.

“Here, try this. It will calm your nerves to have something in your hands.”

“I’ve never had champagne before.” She took a sip and smiled. “I like the bubbles.”

His hand clutched the flute tighter as he watched her take another sip and screw up her nose at the effervescences.

“You ready?”

“As much as I am going to be.”

She had so much courage. She was stepping into his world in giant steps and hardly a falter. He’d retreated to his small room more often than not those early months with Sensei. He’d just waited for everything to come crashing down and him being sent back to the brothel. There was some of that in Olive. The sense that she had to stay mentally prepared to head back into the hell that had been their lives.

It was smart.

There was no telling where this between them would go.

That she’d pushed the rules and her stubborn determination for two years at the workshop forewarned him she was not done with her need to go where he would never go.

He slipped his harm under her elbow.

“Here we go.” He whispered down to her.

They made their way through the large double doors leading off the grand foyer into a ballroom. However, unlike how it would be set up for a ball, with a large open space for dancing, the space was filled with seating sections.

Olive took in an audible breath.

Jamie had to admit it was spectacular.

The room was turned into a giant Bedouin tent with a false-fabric ceiling, which looked to be suspended using the second story balconies to create a sense of intimacy in the great room and an amazingly grand tent.

“Oh.” Olive stepped forward and stood gazing at everything.

The seating sections were comprised of large couches and chairs placed around an oriental rug with palms and candelabras and side tables. These islands were layered through the whole room forming areas of congregation and lounging that guests could move between.

A strange ripple moved through his gut and he felt a tightening, a foreboding.

Many guests had already arrived; and as he expected, in amongst the formal traditionally dressed were those more eclectic in their presentation like he and Olive. He wore Sensei’s black Japanese Haori with the Kobayashi family crest over formal pants and a collarless white shirt with vintage white cravat.

Olive grabbed hold of his arm.

“Jamie… look…”

He followed her gaze.

One of the couch clusters had a party in leather. Men and women covered from head to toe in tight body clasping leather, even faces were partially covered in leather, some with metal embellishments. A woman was crawling along the back of the Chesterfield with cat ears and bright red lips. Another held a large whip with two men prostrate at her feet while others simply lounged with glasses of wine and champagne. They sent out a pulse of hard play and hard sex.

He patted her arm.

“See, you can relax now. You are not likely to be the one to stand out tonight. Next time, we’ll have to try harder.”

She turned and beamed up at him.

Instead of the warmth that usually spread across his chest at the wonderful sight, his gut did that strange twisted thing again.

Jamie looked up and scanned the room, and there he was, Sato.

Sato lifted his head from the other side of the room, met his gaze, and then smirked.

Heat curled in his gut and coiled his fingers into a fist. What he would give to be able to walk up and wipe that smirk from Soto’s face. Last time their paths crossed, Sato had lured away his model; and in his usual overzealous way, pushed the rope so far he’d caused permanent damage to one of her wrists, numbness and loss of sensation into a few of her fingers. He’d gone over to teach Sato the lesson that no one seemed willing to deliver and found that Sato had left, had taken a ship back to the port of Yokohama in Japan.

Sensei had banned Sato from rope for a year. No displays, no photos, no private shows. To all appearances, it looked as if he’d done as he was told, but Jamie just didn’t believe that to be the case. Sato could slip over to Korea, over to China, and no word would reach them of his doings.

The consequence was that Kobayashi-sensei made Jamie his successor. Sato knew that Sensei didn’t want him taking over. That Sensei was planning on cutting him loose and only begging from Sato about too great a loss of face had stayed Kobayashi’s hand.

Olive’s hand tightened on his arm. He patted it and Sato’s gaze moved over Olive like stain.

A dark tightness twisted in his gut. He should have left Olive at home. Made sure that she and Sato never met. It was already bad enough they had when she went shopping with Okazaki; but any more meetings, and the worm that Sato was, would start to reach out to Olive just to spite him.

“Stick close to me tonight. Even if I’m talking with someone, stay close.”

Jamie gazed around the room for the host and spotted him.

Blackburn, a tall dark haired man with a face that showed no emotion. And if he did you could be sure it was orchestrated. Blackburn was possibly one of the most dangerous men Jamie had met. His host left a group to the side of the doors and came forward, a blonde-haired woman on his arm.

Jamie found himself looking overly long at her, at the hand that Blackburn held over hers as it rested on his arm. Blackburn never had a woman on his arm. And if he was seen at an event like this and he was with a woman, she was never a respectable-looking woman, and this woman was exactly that. Attractive with large grey eyes but not the usual theater set, courtesan, or widowed luxuriant who was Blackburn’s usual social accessory.

Blackburn bent down and whispered something to her; and with what seemed like reluctance, he lifted his hand from hers as she unthreaded herself from him and moved off.

“Blackburn, the room looks spectacular. I didn’t realize you would be having a showing as well tonight.” Jamie motioned his head to the pedestals along the front.

Blackburn’s eyes hooded. “Yes. We have a few Painted Sisters in town with their Collectors, and I am showing the preliminary work on my own Painted Sister, a canvas in the making.” His eyes followed the blonde as she disappeared out of the large room. “I hope you are both resilient as it will be a long night.” He leaned closer. “And at some time you, Sato, and I need to cover some ground. Sooner rather than later.”

Jamie nodded. “Let me know and I’ll make my way over.”

Blackburn nodded. “Very well. Now, if you will excuse me.” He bowed to Olive and headed off in the same direction as his disappearing blonde.

A footman came a few hours later. He and Sato had circled each other around the great room, neither of them pre-empting the meeting.

Jamie looked around. The room was full and in certain dark corners, the entertainment had taken on a whole new level of freedoms.

Olive was talking to a group of women at one of the coaches. And, handing out cards. Her face was flushed with pleasure and she held herself with confidence when she spoke about her work whether she was speaking to an opera singer or one of The Collector’s elite women.

It helped that they had grown up where they had. You see everything quite young and consider everyone is entitled to his or her own way. That view made it easier for him in the early years to head in the direction of the rope and he saw again that ease again now with Olive as she faced people displaying with their unique characteristics and twists of passion.

Jamie walked over to her and caught her eye, and as smoothly as any educated debutante, she made a gracious exit and joined him.

“Are we going home?”

Home. It was her home. Hearing her say it so naturally did two simultaneous things; it sent a wave of pleasure through him and, at the same time, twisted his gut.

The altercation about her sleeping in his room was going to be the beginning. Her feelings for him had never been a secret and it was very clear that she wanted more. That the rules he had carefully constructed were in jeopardy and not just from her.

The tip of his tattoo showed at the wrist. He knew what leaving the rules lead to. And that was not for him.

‘Don’t glare at your mum Jamie, I’m just like every other woman out there, you’ll find that out soon enough.’
She’d pushed him out of their shared room while the john behind her undid his trousers. Jamie had liked that better, being out in the cold night rather than pretending he slept in the corner and watching what happened. There were people who stole kids, stole them and sold them to do much worse than the consensual acts he’d seen all his life. The girls thought it better he stayed in their rooms if they worked late than wait outside while he was young, once he got tough enough he was pushed out the door to wait. Two sides of a devil’s life.

He’d learnt the most important things about sex, power and eroticism in those rooms. He learned that women were always working toward what they wanted. His rules were a strategic battlefield designed to make sure he remained his own man, that he was a better man than his father.

Rule that now stood on shaky ground.

“No, I have a meeting.” His arm slipped through hers. “I’d like you to wait for me outside the room. I don’t want to be worrying about anything happening to you here without me.”

“I can hold my own, Jamie.”

It made him smile and he squeezed her arm.

“I know you can. It’s for me. I’ll be distracted if I’m worried where you are. Things start to change as the night wears on.”

Giant human sized birdcages were being wheeled out of Double doors at the side of the room as they spoke.

“Are those people in there?” Olive asked as he guided her to follow the footman.

“Yes. It’s a human Avery.”

Olive looked over her shoulder at the glimpses of skin sequins and feathers as they left the room and then walked up the grand staircase in the foyer to the second floor. What she and Jamie did started to feel less shocking.

“This may take a while.” he looked concerned; he’d been preoccupied through the night. He and Sato circling the room and never coming close.

“Take your time. I need a bit of a rest anyway.”

Olive sat on a small sofa on the landing and Jamie, entered the room.

She fingered the cards in her jacket pocket. Jamie had nodded with approval when she’d shown them to him in the carriage.

Raised voices came from the room that Jamie had entered.

After some time. The door opened and Jamie strode out. Mr. Sato followed him.

Suddenly, she knew she’d done the wrong thing. Had chosen the wrong way to push him.

Olive stood, her hand reached for the comb to pull it out, to hide it. Jamie reached for her hand and took hold of it. He tucked her close against him as Sato stopped in front of them.

“Miss Thompson, how pretty you look tonight.”

Sato took a step and his hand reached out to her hair.

Jamie flicked his hand away.

“Don’t touch her.”

“Why, I’m just admiring my gift. It sits wonderfully in your hair, Miss Thompson. I’m honored you chose to wear it tonight.”

Beside her, Jamie went still.

Sato’s gaze slide over her and then up to Jamie’s as he laughed at Jamie’s face.

“You’ve got till the count of ten, Sato.”

Sato laughed and slowly walked over to the stairs and started down.

“Ten,” Sato called out as he leisurely took the steps down. “Nine, oh, I am so frightened Jamie-san will try and hit me, eight.” Then followed a string of guttural Japanese that made Jamie take a few steps towards to stairs. Olive reached out and clasped his arm.

“Jamie, he’s not worth it. They’re just words.”

Half way to the foyer, Sato’s two girls ran up to meet him and he slipped an arm around each.

Jamie moved to the railing, looked at Sato as he moved to the doors of the ballroom, and entered. Then Jamie turned and looked at her.

“The comb was his?”

“Jamie, I didn’t realize…”

He tilted his head and shook it no.

“You realized Olive. I just didn’t expect it of you.”

Her chest twisted and bile rose in her throat.

“I think it’s time to leave.” He coolly led her down the stairs, collected their coats, and called for a cab.

In the cab, she tried again.

“Jamie, I made a mistake; I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Olive.”

The usual closeness, the rub of their shoulders was absent as he sat far enough away so they didn’t touch.

Then he reached out, took the comb from her hair, slide open the carriage window, and threw it out.

Her stomach twisted. She knew when it arrived she should have sent it back. And she definitely knew that Jamie would not be happy when he found out she was wearing it. But she wanted to push him. Get him to step out of that tight pattern of rules, just reach out and connect with her. Connect with her like they did with the rope.

The cab stopped at the house. Jamie paid and guided her to the door.

The foyer was lit and she went to walk towards the back, head to her rooms and let Jamie have his space.

“Goodnight, Jamie.”

She moved down the darkened corridor. Heat pricked at her eyes.

A firm hand clasped around her upper arm.

“Not so fast, Olive.”

Jamie firmly guided her back and into the receiving room off the foyer. No lights were on. But the open door let the hall light shine into the room.

He maneuvered her back against the wall and pushed his body up against hers.

“Do you like him, Olive; is that it?”

He ground his hips against her.

“Does his oriental look send your heart a flutter?”

“Jamie, no.”

His fingers pressed over her lips silencing her. A kiss to punish, a kiss to brand.

He lifted up, bit at her lips, as he spoke.

“Or do you want to be in his ropes. Do you want to feel the tug as he tightens you into his harness and hauls you up? Is that it, Olive?”

She shook her head ‘no’. Then his lips came down on hers hard. A fierce kiss of anger and need.

His tongue pushed in and tasted her. Slid over hers and she sucked it in, sucked on it as her arms went around him.

He groaned and pushed his hips against her in rhythmic thrusts.

Heat and want coiled between her legs, curled in her body like unfurling frons in the rain and sun.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry” She whispered into his mouth.

He tugged her arm from around his, brought her hand down between them, and pressed the flat of her palm over the hard length of his cock.

“Take it out,” he bit hard on her lip.

Her hand fumbled with the belt then the trouser buttons.

Then he was loose. Her other arm came down and she tugged down his trousers,

His gaze was raw as he held her face between his hands and kissed her. Then leaned back and licked around her lips making them wetter than they were. Then he pushed down on her shoulders. Pushed her to slide down the wall at her back and him in front of her. Pushed her down onto her knees.

“Suck me, Olive.”

His knees pushed at her shoulders pinning then to the wall ensuring she couldn’t bring her hands up.

His hips moved forward and his cock bumped over her mouth. She stuck out her tongue, licked at his cock as he swayed, rubbing it across her lips, her cheeks, her chin.

Her breasts were tight; the tips of her nipples scraped at the fabric of her clothes.

Jamie stilled, his cock right there against her lips. She opened her mouth and he slid the head of himself in. Her lips slipped around him, sucked as she ran her tongue over the head. He moved in a little deeper and she sucked in her cheeks. Started to move on him as best she could without her hands to hold and guide him into her mouth.

Her eyes darted up. He had his hands flat against the wall holding his weight as he leaned over her, boxed her in between him and the wall.

He was looking down at her. Eyes darker and hungrier than she had ever seen then, fueled by his anger, but also something else.

She pulled her head back; he came out of her mouth with a plop, and then he pushed his hips forward, pushed back between her lips and slid over her tongue.

“Make me wet, Olive. I’m going to fuck you.”

Her heart jumped and a blistering ache twisted between her legs.

She licked all along his shaft. Knowing where he liked it to go. Knowing there would be no salve tonight, the wetter she got him the more comfortable his entry would be. She pushed her face against him; the musky curls of hair tickling her nose and her cheek as she made him slick.

“Enough!”

He moved back.

Then bent down and helped her up.

Deftly he worked at her skirts, until they and her petticoats fell to the floor, and then he reached between her legs and ripped open her draws at the crotch.

His fingers slipped into her mouth she sucked at them and then he slipped them between her legs slipped them into that tight puckered space. Pushed them in and slowly pulled them out.

She was used to this now, her body humming with need, her muscles loosening and welcoming. Then she felt the head of him there, the pressure as the width of his cock pushed, and then the dark fullness as he was in.

He pressed her into the wall. His mouth at her neck, at her ear. Kissing, biting as he started to move in her.

“This not enough for you, Olive?”

One arm looped around her waist and held her tight.

“Am I half the man not to fuck your sweet little pocket? Not enough that I eat it, stroke it, and finger fuck it till you come?”

He started to move faster.

“Jamie…”

All she could do was cry out as pleasure pushed through her with each trust. She wanted to tell him sorry; she wanted to tell him Sato was no one to her. Wanted to say it could be enough if he let her in. Let her close. Let her past his arm’s length rules.

His hand slapped against the wall as he growled.

“Fuck, Olive.”

She turned her head and his mouth was right there, his tongue pushing into her mouth, licking at her as he thrust. The pressure built, coiled out between her legs, tightening, building. Her breasts pressed against the wall, her nipples rubbing with every thrust.

His arm tugged her closer.

“Are you ready, Olive?”

His arm around her waist loosened.

Then his palm slapped her between her legs; she screamed as a bolt of sensation shot through her. He slapped in small sharp slaps on her lips, her cleft. The pressure as he thrust into her from behind, the bursts of sensation with each well-judged slap sent her screaming over the edge. Every muscle contracted tight as pleasure exploded through her body.

He shouted behind her and pushed deep into her in jerks.

His arms came around her, pulled her back up against his chest as they stood there panting. He kissed her neck, nuzzled her, bit into her shoulder as the final ripples of pleasure moved through them.

“What are you doing to me, Olive? Hey? Are you enjoying this?”

Her heart pounded. He was still deep inside her, her chest crushed by how tight he held her to him.

She felt him. Felt he was right there that vulnerable Jamie he kept hidden away was just within reach. The Jamie that usually only the rope showed glimmers of.

“I like what you do to me, Jamie.”

He bit her ear lobe.

“Are you really that naive? I have to wonder, Olive…”

After a little while, his arms loosened. He eased back and slipped out from her.

Olive reached out and steadied herself on the wall.

His hand ran down her back.

The light from the foyer showed the tiredness on his face.

She reached out, cupped his jaw.

He tugged out of her hold then bent down and picked up her clothes.

“Come on; let’s see if Okazaki ran us a bath.”