The Commitment (The Unrestrained #2) (28 page)

"
Katherine
, how can I be expected to stay in proper Dom headspace when my sub is so easily given to mirth?"

"Sorry," I said, only half-meaning it. "It's just that—"

He bent down once more, turning my face to him and kissed me to silence me, but I felt his grin against my mouth, his kiss very unsuccessful from stopping me.

"You make me so happy," he whispered. Then he kissed my neck, my shoulder, my cheek, his still semi-erect cock wet against my lower back. He kissed me once more, his kiss deep and long. "Stay here, my love."

He pulled away finally, kissing my shoulder as I lay there with my eyes still covered by the blindfold. He rose up and I heard his footsteps as he walked to the bathroom, imagining his beautiful toned body, his hair messy. I wanted to remove the blindfold myself but I didn't, letting him decide when it should come off. The water ran in the sink and then the shower started. In a moment, he returned and began to clean me off, wiping away his semen and fluids, and then washing me all while I was still blindfolded. I was glad he kept the blindfold on, a bit squeamish about the whole process.

"I would have liked to have had a photographer here, you looked so delicious lying there all bound and wet."

Finally, he stood me up and removed my blindfold and turned me around, removing the leather bindings, one by one. They left faint red lines crisscrossing my flesh, around my breasts and between my thighs. I stood before him for a moment as he admired his handiwork.

"You look absolutely well-fucked, Katherine," he said, a fiery expression in his eyes.

He led me to the bathroom and we stood in the shower together, facing each other, his hands soapy, washing me off, every inch of me, his fingers tender, his lips pressing against my cheek, my neck, my shoulder. This meant so much to him – I could tell by how gentle he was being, how tender and loving.

When we were finished, after he'd gently washed between my thighs, we left the shower and he dried me off, his hands soft, his eyes soft as well. We returned to the bed and he sat on the edge and pulled me onto his lap, his arms around me, my hands on his shoulders. His hair was still wet and tousled, his lashes clumped together.

"So," he said, running his fingers down my neck to my breasts, which were still crisscrossed with thin lines from the leather bindings. "How was that?"

"Can't you tell?"

"I want to hear your assessment. You were anxious."

I inhaled. "I was afraid," I said, remembering my fear. "I knew it was supposed to be painless when done properly, but those were just words I've read or assurances from people. I was afraid you were too big for me. You
are
larger than average."

"I am," he said, grinning a bit, his expression amused. "But that meant I had to take extra care to prepare you, make sure you were completely ready and relaxed. I would never do anything that hurt you, Kate. As long as we communicate freely and you trust me enough to relax, it won't hurt."

I nodded, not meeting his eyes. He tilted my chin up so I couldn't avoid him.

"So, you enjoyed it? It didn't hurt?"

"It
almost
hurt," I said. "It did burn and there was intense pressure…"

"You were right to tell me when it was starting to be too intense. I pulled back, took more time, used more lubricant. At the first sign of discomfort of any kind, you have to tell me. I'll adjust what I'm doing."

"You
really
enjoy this?"

He nodded. "I do. We won't do it a lot, because it's like a fine caviar, to be enjoyed only occasionally."

"I was surprised that I could come," I said, wonder filling me. "I didn't think I could come the first time we tried. I thought it would take a lot of practice."

"It can be very powerful for a woman, if done properly. For me, while the tightness adds to my pleasure, it's really the trust factor – the submission factor – that gives me pleasure. You trusted me enough to do it, despite your fear. You almost asked me to stop, but I pushed a bit and you gave in, letting me have my way. This was something you were reluctant to do. Doing it anyway to please me, aside from the pleasure we both got from it – that's what I enjoyed the most. It meant you submitted completely."

I sighed. It was all about trust for Drake. Complete submission was complete trust. I trusted him not to hurt me even when I was totally under his control, tied up, bound, blindfolded, helpless. He trusted himself enough with me that he could tie me up and have me helpless, at his mercy and all that would happen was that I would experience pleasure I never believed I could feel in ways that I never imagined possible.

He kissed me then, deeply, passionately, his arms pulling me against him, squeezing me so tightly. When he pulled back, he held my face between his hands, his gaze moving over my face.

"Now you're mine – every part of you.
Completely
."

I
was
his completely – he'd claimed every inch of me as his own.

He was right. This was a barrier of mine he'd broken down, a line he'd been able to cross, to erase. One of the acts I'd been so reluctant to try again, one I said I'd never enjoy, I'd let him do it to me and I
had
enjoyed it. I was shocked at how much. It was at once carnal and pleasurable, forbidden and now, an act that had broken down even more firmly the last vestiges of the wall between our complete intimacy.

I was completely free of my fear of anal and it was only in being completely helpless, tied up, under his complete control, that I felt free.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The next morning, Drake woke up with a bad cold, his nose plugged and his throat sore. I was sore as well, from our previous night.

"I think I've come down with the flu," he said, pulling the covers around him even more tightly.

I felt his forehead. "You're hot. You have a fever. I'll get you some Tylenol," I said and left the bed. While I was in the kitchen, I checked my email. There was one from my father asking me to call him.

I picked up my phone and dialed his number.

"Hi, Daddy," I said when he answered, his usually gruff voice sounding strained, his nose stuffed up. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes, sweetie. I'm under the weather and need you to go to a fundraiser, represent me there and provide a donation on my behalf. Do you think you and Drake can attend? It's tonight from 5:30 to 6:30 and there's a dinner afterward but you can duck out of it if you want. Usual rubber chicken event. Sorry for the short notice, but both Elaine and I have come down with a nasty virus. I thought I'd be better by now but I feel terrible."

"Oh, Daddy, I'm so sorry. Drake must have the same thing you and Elaine caught. He woke up with a fever so he won't be able to come with me. I'll go alone."

"Great. Heath is out of town and you know Christie. There should be some people you'll know from Doctors Without Borders, so it won't be all bad. Besides, Nigel will be there, so you won't be totally alone."

"No problem."

"I'll send the limo to pick up and give the driver the check as well as my comments for you to read out when you hand over the check. Thanks for this, sweetie."

I returned to the bedroom and gave Drake the glass of water and pills.

"I have to go to a fundraiser tonight for my dad," I said, watching him while he swallowed the pills, grimacing because his throat was sore. "Both he and Elaine are sick too and can't go. He was going to present a check and so he wants me to go on his behalf. Do you mind? It'll only be for an hour."

"No," Drake said, shaking his head. "By all means, go. I feel like total crap. I'll watch those funny home videos or something."

"Nigel will be there so I won't be totally alone. My dad said I could stay for the wine and cheese portion of the night, and skip the dinner."

"Stay with Nigel for the dinner if you want," Drake said. "But if you're bored, skip it by all means. Don't come back just because of me."

"I don't want to stay without you there," I said and stroked his forehead. "I want to come home and make dinner for you and then lie here and watch some old movie."

"Sounds like a date to me."

I went to the studio for only a couple of hours while Drake slept, doing some work on the second canvas. When I returned to the apartment in Chelsea, Drake was still on the couch watching television. I dressed quickly, and left him with a box of tissue on the coffee table, cough lozenges and hot tea with lemon and honey in a mug and went to the street to wait for my father's limo.

I looked forward to seeing Nigel again. I always enjoyed his company. He was so boisterous and jovial, always happy to see everyone and meet new people. When we were together at an event, he'd tell me snippets of gossip about everyone of any note who was in attendance and his observations about their character were hilarious. No wonder he had his own show on television.

The limo dropped me off at
Zone
, a bar and club on West 39
^th
in the Empire district. It was sleek and high end, and hosted the Doctors Without Borders fundraiser. I entered the sparkling interior and made my way up to the second floor bar where the fundraiser was being held. There were already two dozen people there standing around in small groups, drinks in hand and a smartly-dressed waiter circulated with trays of appetizers. I saw Nigel's head high above the rest of the people and made my way to his side. When he saw me, he turned away from another guest and his face lit up.

"Katie, my darling girl! Your father said you’d be coming in his place. How good to see you!" We hugged and as usual, he picked me up off the floor and then let me down, kissing both my cheeks. I couldn't help but smile in response to his overly-ebullient greeting.

"Where's that handsome boyfriend of yours?"

"He's at home, suffering from the flu and couldn't come."

"Oh, that's too bad," Nigel said, his face suddenly somber. "Ethan told me about his son and the donation. Shame to find out about him when he's so sick, but so wonderful that Drake was able to help."

I stood with Nigel for a while, grabbing a glass of wine as a waiter passed by. Nigel knew how awkward I was at these events, needing a drink to loosen me up so I could enjoy myself. He knew to stick beside me. About half an hour in, after he'd gossiped about everyone in attendance, telling me who was currently sleeping with whom, who was a secret alcoholic, and who made his money as a slum landlord, it was time to do the check presentation.

The host of the event, Doctor John Donnelly, a pediatrician on the executive board of the local chapter of DWB, took my hand and led me to a spot at the front of the bar with a microphone. Someone with a video camera recorded me handing Donnelly the check, saying a few words of thanks to DWB for their charitable work in Africa and around the world. I glanced down at the piece of paper in my hand, which the driver gave me in an envelope, and read off my father's greetings and words to the group on his behalf.

Once the check exchanged hands, and some flashbulbs went off, I shook Donnelly's hand and went back to Nigel. Another donor took my place and I was glad to return to the background, where I was more comfortable.

I went to Nigel's side and was ready to turn back to watch the next donation, when I noticed a man standing beside Nigel.

Kurt
.

Flyboy himself. Kurt Johansen. Former Marine aviator. Volunteer with DWB who swept me off my feet in a heated whirlwind romance a year earlier. Who wooed me with attention, who showered me with pretty words, and who eventually tried to handcuff my hands to the bed frame, and who wanted to play out a game of mock rape and try anal.

A shock went through me that he was there, right beside Nigel, making my legs a bit weak. It wasn't his good looks, although he was handsome, with blond hair below his collar and warm brown eyes, a square jaw to rival Drake's and hip black clothes. It was seeing him again after so long and after such an embarrassing break up.

I'd been a fool, breaking up with him in a fit, and then calling him and texting him over and over, apologizing for my behavior and almost begging to have him back despite everything. Not one of my more stellar moments.

I'd been depressed for a year after my return from Africa, and being with Kurt was exciting. I finally felt something with him, slowly opening up again after shutting down. But I wasn't ready for him and his attempts to introduce BDSM into our relationship.

He caught my eye and smiled. "Kate," he said, his voice warm and affectionate. He moved closer to me and looked like he was ready to embrace me. "It's been far too long."

I forced a smile and stepped away quickly, completely unnerved. All I could think of was escaping as soon as possible. I did
not
want to have to talk to him and moved a little closer to Nigel.

"Sorry to have to leave so quickly," I said to Nigel, speaking up a bit over the clapping for the next donor. "I want to get home. You can understand."