Free and Bound (A Club Volare New Orleans Novel)

by Chloe Cox

  She heard a woman moan, and realized it was her. She felt her knees go weak, felt herself collapse into him, felt the hardness behind her.

  “Oh, what the hell do you to do to me?” she murmured.

  In answer he spun her around, into the room, against another wall in the dark. She heard a switch flip, saw the soft lighting, the comfortable furniture, the bed, padded benches, things she didn’t recognize.

  This was not a room for a debriefing.

  “Soren—”

  “Quiet,” he said, and lifted both her hands above her head, pinning her with one huge paw.

  Soren’s size blocked out everything else.

  No sound. Just the two of them breathing, in synch. She could feel the heat on her cheek. In her belly. Between her thighs.

  “You’ve been avoiding me,” Soren said.

  “I was busy,” she said. She looked straight ahead, at the little dip in his collarbone, and tried to keep her voice even. “I was doing research for the case.”

  “That’s an excuse,” he said.

  His free hand found her hip and stroked it, caressed it, felt the material of her skirt. Stopped when it found the zipper.

  “It’s true,” she said.

  “No, it’s only part of the truth,” Soren said, his fingers toying with the zipper on her skirt. “The rest of the truth is that you’re afraid.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Definitely.”

  “Fine. Definitely.”

  In the dim light he smiled. Then he bent down and kissed her.

  Not gentle this time. Heated. Hard. Hot. The kind of onslaught she could only surrender to, helpless to do anything but yield, anything but let it wash over her, until something caught fire in her. Cate almost felt like she was watching from outside herself as the hunger in her grew, as she kissed him back with equal ferocity, equal breathlessness.

  She’d never wanted anyone so badly in her entire life.

  She’d never been so mindless.

  Soren tore away from her with a growl, panting. Cate almost wailed; it felt like she actually needed him, physically, like she needed contact, as much of it as possible.

  “No,” Soren said. “I’m going to be careful with you.”

  “Please don’t be,” Cate said.

  His hands tightened on her hip, on her wrists. He exhaled slowly. “You’ll get what you need, Cate. Not what you want.”

  “How the hell do you think you know—”

  “I know,” Soren said, the word rough in his mouth. “I know you’re afraid to be yourself, and I won’t let that go on for long. I know that’s why you’re afraid of me, because you can’t hide from me. Look at me.”

  Cate swallowed, and forced herself to look up. He was beautiful, and intense, and frightening, because, goddammit, he was right.

  “I think we’re more similar than you know,” Soren said slowly. “And I’m going to take that fear and turn it into something more interesting.”

  Cate licked her lips. That…

  Oh God, that sounded…

  “I’m here for a debriefing,” she heard herself say, like some kind of career-obsessed zombie. Worse, the words had an effect on her. They reminded her of reality. “For the case. I have to go on television, and I have to do it soon, for your case. You have no idea how important—”

  “The club safeword is ‘red,’” Soren interrupted. “And it’s your safeword too. I dare you to use it. If you want this to stop,” he said, “use it.”

  “Don’t screw around with safewords, Soren.”

  “Who’s screwing around?”

  “It would be irresponsible of me! You need me as a lawyer, right now, Soren, not—”

  Soren gently kicked her legs apart and pressed his body against hers, the full length of him, his mouth only inches from hers. She could barely breathe. She could barely think. Every nerve screamed for more.

  “And you need to not have any more excuses to get inside your own head,” he said softly. “Don’t let it go, Cate. Don’t let this chance go. I don’t give a shit about the case, not with you in front of me.”

  “We have to do this briefing,” she panted.

  He grinned.

  “You submit,” he said, “and then I answer questions. That’s how it works. My rules, my way.”

  “Jesus.”

  “You remember my one rule?”

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  “It means you don’t get to hide.”

  Cate felt light-headed. He was too close, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

  “How,” she said. “How can you be so…open?”

  “What’s so difficult about it?”

  “How can you be sure you won’t be hurt?”

  “I’m not.”

  She felt winded, like she’d just run a 10k, her body straining against him. Craving. She looked up again, into his eyes, pissed off now that she was being held in this aching limbo. Couldn’t he just take her? Why did he need to get inside her head, too?

  “How can you even be so sure you want me? Really want me, who I am? Not just a fuck,” she said, spitting the word out. “You said there’s something you need to bring out of me. How do you know?”

  Those words, those words she’d said so quickly, almost angrily: they were the most honest she’d been with anyone in her entire life.

  Soren breathed in deeply, his massive chest expanding against her, and his hand came awake on her hip. She felt a quiet tug and then the sound of a zipper slowly, slowly coming undone.

  “I don’t know how I know, Cate,” he whispered. “But I fucking know. I know the way you shake when I touch you. I know the way I feel when I’m with you. I know that you get what I say without my needing to explain myself, and I know that I see more in you than you see yourself. I know that I see the signs that someone’s spent a lot of time hurting you. I know I can show you how wrong he was. And I know I want you more than I want my next fucking breath.”

  Cate had no words.

  None.

  She gasped. Cut it short because she thought she might make a sound, some primal, revealing sound.

  “Is that a yes?” He smiled. “Or a safeword?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Good,” he said. The zipper clicked slowly on. “From now on, you do as I say. You obey my orders. You let me in. You take the goddamn leap, Cate. You owe me nothing. No strings, no entanglements. You’re free to do whatever you want, but if you sleep with anyone else, you disclose it.”

  “And you do the same?”

  She hated how small her voice sounded. She hated even more that she asked the question. Soren smiled slightly.

  “Of course.”

  She should feel relieved. She did—she felt relieved. If he’d said anything else she would have felt trapped, panicked, sure the whole thing would end up like it had with Jason, even though she knew Soren was a different man.

  But she also felt like she’d lost something.

  “Of course, I’m not going to have much time for that,” Soren said into her neck. “I could die an old man before I’ve done all the things I want to do to you.”

  Cate shivered. There. There it was. It was the way he wanted her. She’d never felt anything like that, never allowed herself to expect anything like that. After Jason, after the things he would say about her, to her…

  She wasn’t sure she knew how to be wanted. But Soren wanted her.

  And Soren was taking off her skirt.

  “Step out of it,” he said.

  This time, she didn’t hesitate.

  “Keep the heels on,” he said. He was smiling. He was looking down at her, in her black lace panties and her black and white heels and her bare legs, and he was smiling. “Damn.”

  Suddenly he thrust his hand between her legs, gripping her there, driving his fingers into her folds through the fabric. She had soaked through her underwear sometime around the time he’d pinned her to the wall, and she heard him grunt when he felt it.
>
  “What are you doing?” she choked out.

  “Take it all off,” he said. “All of it.”

  He let her hands go for the first time since they’d entered the room and Cate felt weirdly adrift. She liked being pinned by him. Being held down. She missed it.

  “Oh God,” she whispered.

  “Strip,” he said.

  The voice.

  Soren took a step back, as though to get a better view, and Cate felt an unfamiliar pang of self-consciousness. Her self-esteem had been so thoroughly wrecked by Jason that she’d lost the ability to envision herself as sexy, as desirable. “Strip” was one of those words that turned her on like crazy, but that she didn’t quite know how to apply to herself.

  It was ridiculous. It was…it was definitely ridiculous. She was standing in front of this man who’d had supermodels in her underwear, Louboutins, and a barely-there top, and she was doing it because he obviously, obviously wanted her, and she was unsure of herself?

  Goddammit.

  “Cate,” he warned.

  Cate looked at him. She took a deep breath. She counted to three. And then she looked down.

  Oh my, was he hard. Those jeans didn’t hide anything. He was hard, and he was huge, and holy shit.

  “Yes, sir,” she said. And she let her top drop off one shoulder, then the other.

  Soren’s eyes glinted in the low light.

  “Keep going,” he said.

  Shaking, Cate felt behind her for her bra clasp, thankful that for once she didn’t struggle with it. Another few seconds and it was off. She was naked.

  She was one-hundred-percent naked.

  “Christ,” Soren said.

  Cate almost moved to cover up, just out of instinct, but Soren caught her hands. She forced herself to look at his face, and what she saw there took her breath away. Again.

  He looked hungry. Starving. His eyes roamed up and down her body, drinking her in, appraising, appreciating.

  “Come here,” he said softly and pulled her out from the wall, into the center of the room. Into the light. “Stay.”

  Every moment like this, naked and on display, every moment with his eyes on her, pushed Cate further. She didn’t know toward what, exactly; that was what made it so frightening. The unknown. Her heart was beating a mile a minute, and she was sure she was close to hyperventilating, and she felt overheated, even in this cool room, and hypersensitive, like every sensation she had was on high alert, every nerve ending reaching out, demanding to be touched.

  Her whole body craved it. And every moment she didn’t get it drove her even further.

  “Soren,” she said. It came out a strangled sound.

  “I like to see what’s mine,” he said from behind her, his lips close to her ear. “Goddamn I am a lucky man.”

  “Soren, what are we doing?” she said, her words hurried. Needy. “Please, just…”

  “You are doing what I tell you,” he said. “And I am doing what I want. And what you need.”

  Cate closed her eyes. Right. This was the deal. She could do this. She wanted this. She wanted to learn how to balance on this tightrope, wanted to learn how to stop being afraid of falling. Of being exposed.

  “Open your eyes,” he said, and put his hands on her hips. She jerked her eyes open, the sudden stimulation of his touch lancing through her, and took in the room as he turned her around.

  “Do you recognize any of this?” he asked.

  She did. Wide-eyed and staring, she did. It was a room full of equipment. Comfortable, padded, and stylish, but still equipment. She only recognized some of it, and only from online sites and stories. There was what looked like a spanking bench, and some sort of table with restraints on it, and what definitely looked like a fucking machine, and at the back there was a St. Andrew’s Cross. Plus all of the stuff hanging from the ceiling.

  And a swing.

  “Holy crap,” she said. “Soren, I can’t…I mean, not all of this…”

  “Shh,” he said. “Just want to see what you react to.”

  “All of it,” she stuttered. “How can I not react to all of it?”

  He laughed.

  Then he smacked her on the ass.

  “Forward march,” he said.

  Startled, she jolted forward, confused because he hadn’t told her exactly what to do. Which in and of itself was new and confusing: in this brand new sort of situation, she relied on him. Totally. And now he wanted her to…?

  She didn’t know.

  But she moved forward.

  And found herself drawn to certain…elements.

  She ran her hand over the material of the spanking bench, and found herself shivering at the cool, textured leather. She stared at the fucking machine for several long moments, seriously wondering what, and how, and for how long, and why. She looked down to find herself fondling a riding crop while staring at the St. Andrew’s Cross. And she had to stop herself from strapping herself into a set of leather cuffs, just to see what it would feel like.

  It was a little bit like being in the secret adult garden for the first time. She wanted to laugh.

  “Have you ever told anyone what you want?” Soren asked.

  The sound of his voice was so close. She suppressed a shudder, and smiled as she fingered the cuffs some more.

  “Almost. Once. Kind of.”

  “Who?”

  Cate stiffened. The answer was Jason. Back when she’d been naive enough, or stupid enough, or simply in enough denial to believe that there problems were mutual. That it was a relationship issue, that it was something that could be worked on, that “communication” would help. She’d gone against every instinct she had and forced herself to tell him that she wanted to be tied down, because she thought it would help her marriage. Jason’s reaction had been weird—almost like he was intimidated by it, and that made him angry.

  He’d have just used it against her the next time he wanted to make her feel like shit. Thank God they hadn’t actually done it. Thank God.

  “That’s not a great memory for me,” Cate said.

  “No shit,” Soren said, and then his arms were around her. From behind, he wrapped his arms around her, covering her with his warm body, his hard strength, his wild scent. Cate sighed and sank into him, leaning her head back against his shoulder, letting him hold her.

  God, that felt good.

  Almost like she could forget what they were talking about.

  “No hiding, Cate,” he said. “Did he use it to abuse you?”

  “No,” she said. “Well, yes. But not physically; we never actually did any of it, thank God. Emotionally, I guess. Later on, when…”

  Damn. She didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to tell him that it was her husband, that she’d been dumb enough to be married to someone like that, that she was still, technically, married to someone like that. She was different now. She didn’t…

  “It’s in the past,” Soren said. Like he knew.

  “Yes,” Cate said, and she didn’t know if her heart was beating so fast because she was lying, or because of Soren. Or because when she was with Soren, it did feel like the past.

  His hands began to move across her naked body, to roam and rove, to explore. Cate’s breathing became a stuttered, staccato thing, reacting to every touch, every stroke, like she’d never felt anything like it before. Maybe she hadn’t. Soren cupped her breast and pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and she moaned.

  “Let’s give you a new memory, then,” he said.

  And then he let her go.

  She was dazed, missing his touch again. She wanted to curse.

  Until he dragged her over to the spanking bench.

  “Spread your legs, bend over, and grab the handles,” he ordered.

  He didn’t sound gentle anymore.

  “Now,” he said. He clapped one hand on her shoulder and the other between her legs from behind, and forced her forward. Cate gasped, the feel of him cupping her there shooting through her to
every last buzzing nerve, and stumbled forward on her heels. He would take his hand away soaking wet, she knew that.

  She tottered a bit, still unsure of herself, and somehow felt his presence behind her—and that was enough. She spread her legs, lowered herself over the bench so that her stomach was resting comfortably, and grabbed the handles in front of her.

  It felt obscene.

  Aside from how exposed she was physically—and ‘exposed’ didn’t really cover it; she was completely open to anything he might do, and she wouldn’t see it coming—the bench had been designed so that her breasts hung free, with easy access to anyone who might play with her from behind.

  She could feel her wetness begin to seep down her thighs.

  And she just stayed like that. For what felt like forever. Balanced precariously on the edge of…something.

  Finally, he spoke.

  “Do you feel exposed?” he said from somewhere behind her.

  Cate laughed harshly. “What do you think?”

  “As exposed as you did before, when I had you naked under the light?”

  She was mildly stunned. She wouldn’t have thought of it, wouldn’t have put it that way, but now that he’d said it—dammit, another thing he was right about.

  “No,” she said.

  “Because your face is hidden.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  “I guess so,” she said. “I wouldn’t…I’m not sure.”

  She exhaled her frustration. There was something so unfair about even a tacit admission that Soren might know more about her reactions than she did. Unfair, and a little embarrassing, and a lot arousing, for some reason.

  She was so wrapped up in that that she jumped when he touched her. He placed his hand on the back of her thigh and slid it upwards, laughing softly when she let out an explosive breath.

  “Then you’d better thank me for letting you stay like this,” he said.

  “Thank you?”

  The hand disappeared and then landed again on her ass with a decisive slap.

  He had…spanked her.

  Cate shook her head. Her body’s reaction was immediate, and visceral, and undeniable. She wanted it again.

  “I’m cutting you some slack today, Cate,” Soren said easily. “First day and all. But after this, I won’t. Not at all. Discipline is part of the deal. And I’m damn good at it.”