Bound to Love (2 page)

“No. She’s been trying to help. She did that tonight, if you can believe it. When she realized I wasn’t getting it, she stepped up her game to make the audience look at her. She acted around me.”

“How is that helping you?”

“The play won’t die just yet. People will come to see her. But I was a stick. A good-looking stick, but a piece of wood for all that.”

I reached for him, then let my hand fall on the seat between us. That wouldn’t help. “So it won’t be a flop?”

“No, but if I can’t get it together, I’ll quit. I can’t hold her back. She’s worked hard with me, Cassie. We got to a certain level, enough so the critics would say I was good. I want to be brilliant, but I don’t know if I’ve got it in me.” He shook his head. “I sound fucking pathetic.”

“You sound like an archaeologist who can’t find the one piece of pottery that will date a whole site,” I said.

He shot me a sideways glance. “Really? Pottery?”

“We’d rather find that than gold,” I assured him. “The right piece of pottery can put the whole site into context. You can’t do much with gold except look at the style and the way it was made. Laboratory dating is a bit of a bust.”

He raised a brow. “So the pottery is your buried treasure?”

“Exactly.”

He nodded. “Then that’s what I’m looking for. The piece of pottery.” Picking up his glass he gulped the wine. I sipped mine. Troy didn’t drink a lot, at least he hadn’t while he’d been with me, but he seemed to need it now. He hung his head and closed his eyes. “If I don’t find it, it won’t be the end of the world. Just of my acting career. I could find something else to do.” Opening his eyes, he glanced at me, and I saw the hurt there. “Are there any jobs in museums?” He shook his head. “No, don’t tell me. I already know. You wouldn’t be working as an intern if you could get a job, would you?”

“Have you been looking?”

“For you, yes.”

I found that incredibly touching. He’d looked for me? Museum jobs were scarce, but one would turn up one day. In the meantime, I was getting by with my waitressing jobs and the museum intern position. And sharing an apartment the size of a shoebox with Cindy.

Cindy! The last I’d seen of her was backstage at the theater as we’d left. I grabbed my phone from my purse and texted her.
Are you okay
?

The answer came back almost immediately.
I’m fine. You?

OK.

“Your room mate?” he asked.

I nodded.

“If you don’t need to go home—will you come to bed with me?”

By now I needed it as much as he did. I cleared my throat. “Yes.”

We had an unusual love life, I’d guess you’d say, but just this once I’d let him do what he wanted.

We went up to his bedroom. I liked the room here, with its low bed and the view down Fifth Avenue. He had one-way windows, so we didn’t need to close the blinds but tonight he touched the button by the window that lowered them. “Just you and me,” he said, his voice low. “I need you, Cassie.”

I needed him too, but I didn’t want to tell him, not yet, because of the up and down moods he’d been displaying lately. This could be our last time. I wanted to make the most of it. If he didn’t tell me why he treated me that way tonight, then I was still determined to walk away, however much it would hurt me.

“Come here.”

I crossed the room to him, and he took me in his arms and kissed me. I kept my hands by my sides, gripping my pants tightly so I wouldn’t make the mistake of touching him. He couldn’t bear it during the sex act. I suspected it had something to do with his concerns. Was it all bound up in the same thing? Was this fear stopping him acting?

He needed me, but I needed him, too. He devastated me. I didn’t know where I was with him, but when he took me to bed, he made me feel like I was the only person in the world that mattered.

He slid his hands down my arms, and took my hands in his, gripping them tightly as if afraid I’d touch him. Our bodies pressed together, the heat of his erection a living thing against my stomach. His kiss was fierce and possessive, his tongue thrusting into my mouth, taking all I was for himself. I gave it willingly. For this last time, I’d love him without stint and without fear.

When he lifted his head, he released one hand so he could cradle my cheek and jaw. It was a measure of how far we’d come that he did that, and trusted me not to touch him. As always, I wondered what he would do if I touched him. Would he lash out at me, or flinch away? And why couldn’t he bear this? Sometimes phobias can come from incidents we barely remember, or something that we couldn’t explain. I knew now, because I’d done some research, but nothing in Troy’s background indicated anything that would have made him this way.

Going to the chest of drawers, he took the familiar black box out of the top drawer. He dialed the combination and opened it. “Why do you keep them there?” I asked him.

He lifted the handcuffs. Four pairs, to shackle me. They had safety buttons so I could let myself out if I wanted to, but I hadn’t used them. I trusted him on that at least. On our first night he’d terrified me until he’d shown me the black buttons that would release me. What idiot let someone they’d only just met handcuff them for real? But he needed the fastenings. The jingle sometimes turned me on. Like I was Pavlov’s dog, my sex dampened, readying itself for him. I didn’t get off on being fastened, but what he did to me when I was in them—oh, mama!

As he walked to the bed with a steady, purposeful stride, he glanced at me as if to reassure himself that I was still there.

I began to undress. Sometimes he’d strip me, but I would have to stand still. I found I could bear not touching him most if I put my hands behind my back and clasped them together. But other times, like tonight, I’d undress myself and let him watch.

He turned on the lights by the bed, and switched off the others, except for the ambient light that gave the room a warm, barely-there glow. Undoing only a few buttons, he dragged his shirt off over his head and tossed it aside. Sometimes it made me smile to see how untidy he was. He had no concept of cleaning up. He’d been born into wealth and always had somebody to do it for him. That didn’t make him heedless of what the people who worked for him did, though. He always thanked his staff and ensured they were paid above average wages. Including me. I guess I’d been an employee, technically, because he’d paid the escort agency for dates with me, and his tips were staggeringly generous.

He didn’t have to pay for an escort now, and I knew he wasn’t seeing anybody but me.

Wide shoulders gave way to a broad chest with beautifully defined muscle. He would sometimes work out until he couldn’t move, but he’d been used to showing his body off. A bonus for me, but looking at that fantastic body and not being allowed to touch it held its own particular torture. Oh, he could touch me, but I couldn’t touch him.

Well fuck that, I thought on a spurt of defiance. If he didn’t tell me the reason tonight, I wouldn’t let him do it again. He could find somebody else to tie up and fuck. Seeing the women thronging around the stage entrance tonight, I knew he wouldn’t have to wait for long.

He dropped his watch and phone on the nightstand. I did the same, added my glasses, and put my purse by the side of the bed. “You’re not working at the museum tomorrow,” he said as he saw me put my phone down. I used the alarm when I stayed with him.

“No, but I am working at the restaurant.” I worked as a waitress in an upmarket, though pretty nondescript restaurant three nights a week, and worked days somewhere else when I wasn’t at the museum. “I’m on the afternoon shift.”

He sighed. “Lunch and dinner?”

I nodded. With a swift motion, Troy stripped the cover and top sheet down, exposing the thousand-count smooth white sheets. My hands went to my pants and I unzipped them, then paused, waiting for him to do the same. I wanted him to undress me, to remove my clothes piece by piece, but he didn’t, couldn’t.

“I wish you’d give it up,” he said.

“I can’t afford to.”

He didn’t say any more because we’d had this discussion before. I wouldn’t give anything up. He was in New York for six months, tops. We were temporary, and I tried not to forget that.

We unzipped and took off our shoes and pants at the same time. He smiled when I straightened. “Take off your bra,” he said softly. “Show me your breasts.”

I unclipped, and let the straps slide down my arms, hesitating before I let the garment slip. I turned and threw it over the chair, not just for neatness, but to show off my back, and to tease him a little longer. If he weren’t standing on the other side of the bed, I couldn’t do that. My hands would be free and he’d back off.

Turning back, I cupped my breasts, and lifted them, so he could see.

He wet his lips. “Touch your nipples. Pinch them.”

I did as he asked. Pleasure streaked through me, instant and fleeting.

“You’re so pretty, Cassie. So beautiful.”

I glared at him. “Not beautiful.”

“Yes you are.”

Although I didn’t believe him, I bathed in his compliment. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

“I know.” He said it sadly. Yes, of course he knew, he’d built a career on his looks.

But he brightened when I added, “And the sexiest.”

“And I’m yours, Cassie. Believe it or not, I am completely yours.”

That sounded so good, but I daren’t believe it, daren’t let myself wallow in the knowledge. I had to keep hold of myself, and know when I was getting out of my depth. When he went back to Hollywood, or wherever he was going when this play finished, then he’d leave and I’d be on my own again.

I didn’t comment, but tucked my thumbs into each side of my panties and slid them off. My breasts hung down, giving him a grandstand view. When I straightened, I opened my legs a little.

Troy groaned. “Honey,” he whispered.

I climbed on the bed and took the shackles from where he’d tossed them on to the mattress. I clamped them around my ankles first, securing them to the wooden rails at the bottom of the bed. That meant I had to spread my legs wide. I fastened the bracelets around my wrists, and then clicked one around the rails above my head. I lay ready for him. “You’ll have to do the other one.” My voice sounded loud in the hush.

Troy stripped off his underwear hastily and opened the nightstand, coming out with a strip of small packets. He ripped one free and opened it, sliding the protection over his cock. The women who had told the media about him hadn’t lied—Troy was built on generous lines and everything was in proportion. Wide shoulders, broad chest, narrow hips and big cock. His gaze flicked to mine, and he watched me lick my lips when I gazed at him. I wanted to touch it, to hold it and suck it, but none of those things was possible, because I would have to initiate it, I would have to touch him.

He straddled me, and swiped his fingers along my crease, collecting the juices I had made. “So wet,” he murmured before he brought them to his mouth. I gasped, my breath faster now.

When he did it again, he slid two fingers inside me, pressing against my G-Spot. I had gripped the upper rail so tight my fingers were hurting and my short nails dug into my palm.

“Steady, baby,” he said. The remaining handcuff clicked around the rail and I was cuffed, completely at his mercy. If I let myself out of the shackles, everything stopped. He’d told me that. But until I did, he would pleasure us both and drive me mad.

“I can tell you whatever I want to now you’re helpless,” he said. “I think you’re beautiful. I love touching you.” He smoothed his hand along my skin from my thighs to my throat. He circled his hand around my neck. “Delicate, like a piece of pottery.” He smiled. “Or maybe not. More like a diamond.”

“A diamond in the rough,” I said.

His smile broadened. “Just a diamond.” He snatched a kiss from my lips, fast and biting before he sat up and examined me with his hands, stroking me, cupping my breasts and taking the very tips between finger and thumb, pinching and rolling them into hardness. I groaned, and moved under him. He let me do that.

“I’m not that perfect,” I grumbled.

“Diamonds have flaws.” Bending, he licked my left nipple, his tongue as rough as a cat’s. I drew in a sharp breath. “The flaws make them even more beautiful. A pure diamond is boring without them. I like baroque pearls, flawed diamonds in weird and wonderful designs. They’re interesting and lovely, each of them in their own way. Like you.”

He couldn’t speak any more because he sucked a nipple right into his mouth and bit gently, securing it between his teeth while he licked it. I couldn’t do anything except groan, and whisper his name. I wanted him so badly, I was so wet for him.

Troy kissed down my body, lingering at my navel and the spot inside my hip bones that he’d discovered were extra sensitive. He played with my breasts with his hands, while he worked further down, placing gentle kisses on my belly, until he reached my crotch. Then he licked, tasting me, making a sound like a hungry man with a plate of bacon. He sucked my clit, making me squirm, sending powerful jolts of sensation up and into me, deep and strong. I cried out, each lap of his tongue taking me closer to climax.

He sucked and licked, and with one harder pinch of both breasts, I came, surging up faster than I could handle, my whole body filling with sharp, hard shots of ecstasy. He licked the juices I made, slurping with unashamed pleasure until he’d wrung every tiny bit of pleasure from me.

Only then did he come up the bed and press his cock along my crease, making me feel him. He kissed me, sharing my flavor with him. He found its way home, driving deep inside me, claiming me.

He moved with an abandon that told me how much he wanted to fuck me, without words. Only the sound of the handcuffs rattling the posts when I moved and our labored breathing filled the air. The room was eerily quiet for Manhattan, but I hardly noted in in the torrent of sounds that poured from me when he brought me up again, thrusting into me deep, then a few shallow jabs connecting with my G-spot before he slammed back in. “I’m going to come. Come hard, baby, let me feel you hold me tight like you never want to let me go.”