Free and Bound (A Club Volare New Orleans Novel)

by Chloe Cox

  Declan held her hair and made sure she was looking at him.

  “Not with any other sub. Just you. But the rule is you fucking talk to me when you feel something like that. I don’t know why I got it anyway, but it’s not safe, to rely on something like that, and I’m not playing games with your safety. Or mine. You fucking tell me when you feel something like that in the future, you understand?”

  Molly licked her lips. Afraid and aroused. And brave.

  Man, she was a woman.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “You liked getting spanked too damn much,” he said. “Next time I’ll have to do it in front of an audience or something if I want to get my point across.”

  Oh, that got a reaction. He’d never get tired of how big those brown eyes could get.

  Molly wiggled her hips, just enough to tease his rapidly hardening cock, and Declan tightened his grip on her hair.

  “Careful,” he warned.

  She was smiling. “So how does this work now?”

  “Now you get more rules.”

  “Do you get more rules?”

  He smiled. “No.”

  “Hmm. I dunno about that,” she said, though her body said otherwise. Molly seemed to know it, too. She tried to look stern. “I have a job to do.”

  Declan tried not to laugh.

  “Think of it this way,” he said. “Domination and submission explores your stuff. Interviews explore mine. Your mind is your own, except when you’re naked.”

  She scoffed. “As if it would be any other way.”

  Declan sat up suddenly, hauling her up with him so that she straddled his erection. He made sure she could feel it nestled in her folds. She groaned slightly.

  “That’s one of the reasons I like you, sweetheart,” he said, moving her hips for her to wet his cock. “The reason I trust you as a sub. Your mind is your own. But your body…”

  And he flipped her over onto her back, pinning her arms above her head, letting her feel the weight of him between her legs. She was so slick, moving against him mindlessly now, making tiny little sounds while he held her down.

  “Your body is mine. Always. At any time. Mine.”

  Her breasts rose and fell rapidly with her shallow breaths, and he could see her fighting to keep the thread of the discussion. Damn, he loved to screw up those complicated, intellectual thoughts of hers.

  “But not during interviews,” she finally managed. “Otherwise this will always happen, and I won’t get anything I can use, and I’ll be a huge failure, and I just cannot…”

  Declan growled. It made sense. “Not during interviews. But there’ll be a time limit, because fuck me, Molly, but if you think I can handle being alone with you in this room for too long without being inside you, you’re insane.”

  Her breath hitched.

  Big brown eyes. Rosy pink nipples. Wet lips.

  Damn.

  He reached for the nightstand again. “Put this on me,” he ordered gruffly, giving her a condom. “And say thank you.”

  Her fingers shook with excitement and he had to help her. It was…he never thought he’d use the word ‘adorable,’ but Jesus, that’s what it was. He was going to take that adorableness and turn it inside out before he was through. As soon as they got the condom rolled down he pushed her down, flat on her back, grabbed her legs, and hauled her down to him. Then he lifted both of her legs up to her head and sunk slowly into her, as deep as he could go.

  That’s when she said thank you again.

  Molly felt like she was hallucinating. She’d never come that much or that hard in her entire life. She’d never even allowed herself to hope that she could experience anything like that with anyone else, and then bam, one after the other. Declan freaking Donovan.

  She actually might be delirious from the whole thing. He’d barely given her any time to rest, only to check in, see what she was feeling. As if he didn’t already know. He was right, though: she needed to actually say it, even if the idea made her feel kind of queasy with anxiety. Still, she felt completely, unreasonably safe.

  And satisfied. Oh God, so satisfied. And yet she still wanted more. That shouldn’t be possible, should it?

  He hadn’t even left her in peace in the shower. Instead she’d felt a hand come between her legs, and then she was pressed up against the shower wall, wet and slippery and screaming.

  She’d barely had time to think. And that, honestly, was a good thing. Molly didn’t trust her brain with this, not even a little bit. That same anxious tendency to try to control for every little contingency that had gotten her through the bad times would only screw her up now. Overthinking this would just…she could already feel the panic. And yet, when she let Declan guide her in this one area, she felt…serene.

  Maybe this was exactly what she needed to write this book. And to move on in her own life. Maybe this was exactly right.

  For now.

  She just had to make damn sure to protect her heart. Like, for example, not getting weirdly jealous about whomever it was Declan texted every day. Which was absolutely not what was happening. Molly just had a professional curiosity. There was still so much she didn’t know about Declan and what had happened to break the band up that anyone important to him was a possible lead. Anyone who had known Declan before he became famous, anyone who might have seen him develop those walls he’d built so high around himself.

  Someone like Soren.

  Molly watched Declan on his phone, oblivious, that look of worry on his face. She’d ask him about it eventually. Find out who it was. Strange that she felt ok about asking him about his mom, but somehow she knew that this, whatever was happening with the person he texted with, this was a tender thing. She had a hunch it was because his mother’s death was in the past—as much as it could be, anyway; Declan felt like he’d dealt with it, the way he’d talked about it. He’d said it couldn’t hurt him anymore. Molly wasn’t sure she believed that, but she had a feeling that whatever situation kept him tied to his phone for a few minutes each day—that still had the power to hurt him. And she didn’t want to contribute to that.

  She had to wonder about what he’d said: domination was a release for him. Was it a release the same way submission was apparently a release for her, at least so far? The only tangible, meaningful thing she knew about his past kept floating to the forefront of her mind: his mother’s suicide.

  Jesus. Yeah, that was a big one. She couldn’t even imagine, feeling that kind of loss, that kind of abandonment. How would that shape a man? Is that where he learned to watch people so intently, so carefully? How to read people?

  Molly felt a tiny twinge that maybe Declan’s ability to read her moods and thoughts was tied to the most traumatic incident of his life rather than some innate magical connection, but she quickly snapped out of it. Don’t be so selfish. Whatever experiences had shaped Declan in the end he had chosen to become the man he was. Molly firmly believed in free will.

  And she definitely believed in Declan’s will.

  And she trusted him.

  Oh, fuck it.

  “Who are you texting?” she asked.

  He looked up sharply. “You’re already working on question credit,” he said. “That’s gonna have to wait until you earn some more.”

  “Evasive,” she said, propping her head up on her elbow. She was wearing one of his shirts and her cutoffs, though it looked like she was wearing nothing at all, the shirt coming to mid-thigh. She kind of liked the effect. She could tell he did, too.

  “Women who test the rules,” he said, giving her that wicked smile. “Get disciplined. And you’re probably a little sore already.”

  She was, in fact.

  And she kind of loved it.

  So much so that she’d kind of forgotten that they were on a tour bus, in the middle of a tour, with a bunch of other guys on the bus. Right up until it stopped.

  Sixteen

  Molly hadn’t realized how close they were to the next show, another surprise showing
at one of the first clubs where Savage Heart had ever played in Hoboken, New Jersey. She also hadn’t realized how close they already were to New York City—and to the original Club Volare.

  Declan had said they’d go there. And now she’d be there as a sub. His sub.

  How on earth was she supposed to think about anything else?

  She’d better figure it out. She only had so much time to corner the rest of the guys and try to get as much out of them as possible, and that time was running out. Now was actually kind of a great opportunity—they were stopped at random buffet restaurant somewhere off the highway in Ohio before they headed on to New Jersey.

  Ugh. The guys.

  They obviously—obviously—all knew exactly what she’d been doing in Declan’s bedroom for…God, how many hours? She’d avoided them, going straight to her bunk to get a shirt and then just kind of hiding, and now, at a freaking buffet line off I-70, was the moment of truth.

  Never mind that she hadn’t totally figured out how she felt about everything. Declan had blown her apart, and she was still putting the pieces back together, trying to figure out what it all meant, or if it had to mean anything. But now she had to do it in front of an audience, too.

  The guys were all heaping their plates as high as they could. All of them millionaires, and all of them still excited by all-you-can-eat buffets. She shook her head. At least Declan wasn’t there—he was talking to a roadie about something involving equipment. For some reason, she really felt like she had to navigate this alone. She didn’t even know how she and Declan would interact in public now, but she needed to set a tone for herself.

  Molly took a deep breath and braved the salad bar.

  Brian—being Brian—was the first to say something, taking precious concentration away from the shrimp pyramid he was carefully constructing.

  “Long interview, huh?” he said, smiling evilly.

  Gage coughed. “You must’ve gotten his whole life story. I mean, you’re done, right?”

  Erik, poor, sweet Erik. He gave her a look of picture perfect innocence and said, “You must have enough for a book now.”

  Then he smiled.

  “You guys are all assholes,” Molly said, laughing in spite of herself. She stabbed at some cherry tomatoes, a motion she found weirdly soothing, given her embarrassment. She knew her face was at least that red.

  “It’s about time,” Erik said.

  “We do not need to know any details,” Gage said, inspecting some ribs. “You know, whatever kinky shit you’re up to, don’t feel like—”

  “Speak for yourself,” Brian said. He looked genuinely offended. “I need some fucking details.”

  Molly threw a cherry tomato at him. “You know, Brian,” she said, as sweetly as she could, “you’re about due for another interview.”

  He grinned back. “One of your special interviews? Sign me up.”

  “Never in a million years, Brian,” she said, nudging him over to a secluded booth. “Now get your ass over there.”

  Brian was leering at her.

  Well, of course Brian was leering at her. He was Brian. Molly was pretty sure he had a compulsion to leer.

  “Is it really so incredible to think that I had sex?” she asked him.

  “No,” he said. “It’s incredible to think that it wasn’t with me.”

  Molly popped another tomato in her mouth and considered this. She didn’t know how Declan would react to a statement like that. She and Declan hadn’t actually discussed exclusivity or possessiveness or whatever beyond the way he’d made his feelings about what belonged to him abundantly clear.

  Mine.

  She felt a shadow thrill, just the remembrance of Declan’s massive dick sinking into her, and tried to hide her smile. He could turn her on remotely now, no touching required. Just memory.

  “You gonna talk like that in front of Declan?” Molly asked.

  “You think I’m suicidal?” Brian laughed.

  “So you don’t want me to tell him you were hitting on me during an interview?” she said.

  “Oh shit, Molly, I was kidding,” Brian said, looking vaguely worried. “I don’t know what you two have going on, but I know it’s not normal groupie shit.”

  “Normal groupie shit?”

  “He would care, is what I’m saying. Not like with…”

  Brian caught himself and tried to trail off, like it didn’t mean anything. Molly’s brain went into high alert. “Not like with Bethany?” she guessed.

  “Ah, shit,” Brian said, hanging his head. He picked at another overcooked french fry. “Yeah, not like with Bethany.”

  “What happened with that?”

  “Nothing. It wasn’t a big deal. Declan had a brief thing with her, nothing serious. He broke it off, and then she and Soren had a thing. Everyone was cool with it.”

  Brian was possibly the worst liar Molly had ever seen. Like, he redefined ‘shifty.’ He was squirming in his seat like he had a skin condition, and his eyes looked everywhere but at Molly.

  “This has something to do with why he kicked Soren out, doesn’t it?” she asked.

  Brian threw up his hands. “No idea. Not saying anything. Invoking omérta.”

  “Ok, let’s try something else,” Molly said, stealing a french fry. Brian put mayo on them. She might as well try it. “Do you know anything about Declan’s family?”

  The mood changed. Brian gave her a serious look, which, coming from him, was particularly disorienting. He turned his plate so she could get at some more fries and looked at her, hard.

  “Listen to me. You need to ask Dec about that.”

  “He told me about his mom, Brian,” she said quietly. “I’m asking you your opinion.”

  He crossed his arms. “Feels like you’re asking me to betray a friend.”

  Molly stopped. Maybe she was. That hadn’t been her intent, but she could see how it might feel that way. Even look that way.

  “Ok, wait. No. I’m not trying to get any family dirt that Declan wouldn’t give me on his own. I’m just… I know Soren was there for him then, and I’m trying to understand the two of them, that’s all. How they worked, how they looked from the outside, before everything went to hell.”

  Brian was quiet for a second. He pointed at the fries that they were now sharing. “You like the mayo?”

  “Yeah, but don’t tell anyone. It’s like eating a heart attack.”

  “I know, right? Gross, but fucking delicious. I picked this up in Amsterdam.” He slathered another fry in mayo and chomped on it. “It was Soren who turned me on to it. You know, I didn’t really think this tour was going to happen? Dec said we could keep it going without Soren, but the minute it all happened, I thought, fuck no, it’s all over. We’re done. I just couldn’t imagine Declan without Soren, or Soren without Declan. And I was right, too.”

  Molly cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

  “Declan was messed up until right before that first show at Volare in Venice,” Brian said. “A fucking mess. And then…something set him right.”

  “Something.”

  Brian crossed his arms. “Yeah. Something. Not saying any more, because contrary to popular opinion, I am not a total idiot.”

  “Oh, c’mooooon.” She smiled.

  But Brian just shook his head. “He’s not the same, obviously, he’s different. But you’ve seen the shows. He’s got something working for him, that’s for damn sure. Something different. I didn’t think it could happen. I mean, it’s not the same, we all miss Soren, but…Dec’s got some mojo back. And so we didn’t have to cancel the tour.”

  The tour had almost been cancelled? Molly tried to process this information. She couldn’t quite conceive of Declan being forced to do anything he didn’t want to do, of being wounded, damaged enough that it would cost him his music. It frightened her.

  “Brian,” she said, suddenly serious, suddenly thinking about the fact that they were talking about Declan, the guy who’d just turned her world upside down
so sweetly, so savagely, the guy she couldn’t bear to think about hurting. And this, this was something that hurt him every day. “What happened?”

  “You ask me that like you think any of us really know,” he said. It clearly scared the crap out of Brian, too. He was only playing with the fries now. “Here’s the thing. They were like brothers, right? Brothers fight and shit, but you never question whether they’re gonna be around, you know? Until now. Soren’s family history wasn’t anything like Declan’s shitshow, but it’s not like it was happy, either. Declan is Soren’s family, too. Or was. You gotta think about what’s big enough to undo something like that.”

  “What would be big enough?” Molly asked. “For you.”

  “If it were me?” Brian looked genuinely surprised by the question, like it was something he’d never thought of before. “I guess…shit. Something that made me question everything I knew about them, you know? That made me think they weren’t the person I thought I knew.”

  Molly stared at him. “You’ve been through that before.”

  “Lots of people have.”

  “What do you think changed between Declan and Soren?”

  “I don’t even know, Molly, I don’t go there.” He was lying, and Molly felt bad for him. This was a terrible position to be in. He said, “This band is my life. I’m not gonna rock the boat.”

  “You know part of the story,” she said. “It’s hurting him, right? Having this big, gaping wound?”

  “It hurts everybody.”

  “Don’t you want to help him?”

  “Them? Yeah. I’d like to help them both. Doesn’t mean I can.”

  Brian was avoiding her eyes again. Molly thought about it. Brian was a goofy, womanizing, drinking rocker with a surprisingly sensitive streak and a desire to see everyone get along. He’d felt so bad when he’d found out that Sierra was Ian’s girlfriend that Declan had had to convince him not to call Ian and make it worse with effusive apologies. She bet he was a middle child.