A Price to Pay

by Alice Raine

  A gasp rose in my throat as he stretched me, his cock sliding deeper and deeper until I could have sworn he was tapping at my cervix and stretching my opening wider than it had ever gone before. I’d been with well-endowed guys before, but Marcus might just be the biggest I’d ever had, and it took several almost-but-not-quite moments of stretching and pain until I was ready for him to begin moving properly.

  ‘OK, babe?’ he murmured, watching me so intently that I almost felt embarrassed by his scrutiny.

  I nodded and managed a soft reply of, ‘Yes,’ before he shifted his hips back and began to move in and out of me with slow, deep movements that were so perfect they shook me to my core.

  I swear to God that each thrust sent me to heaven and back. The stretch was exquisite, and he was managing to hit my clit and G-spot with every move. Add to that the sensation of his chest hair rubbing at my sensitive nipples and I was fast approaching the best sex of my life.

  Neither of us lasted that long, but I was the first to go, my second climax rearing up on me with force and causing me to shout out and wrap my legs around him even tighter as he continued to jab his hips into me over and over again in pursuit of his own release.

  Only after my orgasm had subsided did Marcus really increase his speed, thrusting into me a few more times and letting out a loud bellow as he jerked his cock deep into me and started to come. He pulsed inside me for several seconds, and then, with another low groan, he collapsed down on top of me, supporting most of his weight on his arms.

  Holy crap. Not only had that been the best sex of my life, but I’d felt a deeper connection with Marcus than I ever had with any of my previous lovers.

  Talk about a potentially life-changing encounter.

  We lay entwined and panting for what felt like hours. Snuggling, cuddling, or long conversations after sex had never been my thing; I’d usually been more concerned about how to get the guy to leave as quickly as possible so I could sleep, but tonight with Marcus those thoughts didn’t even cross my mind.

  I felt content, happy and replete, and in no hurry to leave at all. We talked a little, mostly Marcus checking that I was OK, and us both expressing how much we had enjoyed what had just occurred, and then we lay there connected in some little bubble of our own. He might be on top of me, but with the way he had his arms wrapped around and under me, he was protecting me from the full weight of his body and I could have quite happily stayed there all night.

  Finally, he peeled himself up. He gazed down at me for a second and placed a brief kiss on the tip of my nose that felt so intimate it made me blush, and then he slid from within me and rose from the bed to quickly dispose of the condom.

  I wanted to wipe myself off and eyed the box of tissues on the nightstand but, seeing as I was still tied up, there was no way for me to reach them. Marcus saw my glance, and with a sweet smile he grabbed one and did the job for me as I settled back into the soft pillows.

  Marcus disappeared into the en suite to chuck the tissue and condom and then retuned. He gave me a scrutinising glance and briefly chewed on his lower lip as if considering something long and hard.

  My brain felt seriously mushy after the amazing sex we’d just had. I could barely process even the simplest of thoughts so what he could be thinking so hard about I had no idea.

  ‘Would you… would you like to stay over?’ Ah. That was what he’d been pondering. I distinctly remembered him saying that “no staying over and no romantic lie-ins” were some of his rules, but he’d obviously changed his mind now, and that thought thrilled me. If he was relenting on that, then maybe he’d soften on some of his other rules and let me touch him at some point soon, too. I was dying to run my hands though his wild hair and explore the firmness of his muscles with my fingertips.

  Marcus’s tone seemed to hint that he was unsure about whether I’d agree, but after the mind-blowing time we’d shared so far tonight, and the connection we’d had while talking earlier, I certainly wasn’t in a hurry to leave.

  Perhaps his hesitancy was because of my one-night history with men, because I’d never exactly been a staying over kind of girl, either. I’m fairly sure he was aware of this, but whatever the cause, I decided to put his mind at rest by smiling shyly and nodding. ‘I’d really like that.’

  Marcus grinned at me, and then his expression shifted to one of anxiousness. That’s when things got even more bizarre.

  He moved to the bedside table and opened all the drawers in turn as if checking for something. After shuffling through them all he let out a deep sigh. He shifted the entire piece of furniture away from the bed and put it against the far wall.

  By this point, I was frowning in confusion and wondering what the hell he was doing, or looking for, but then he turned back to me with a contented and relaxed expression and came closer to remove the cuff on my left hand.

  After chucking it onto the armchair in the corner, Marcus paused and looked at me intently. My right wrist was still snugly wrapped in the leather cuff and attached to the bedframe, so I gave a cheeky smile and wiggled it. ‘You forgot this one.’ I giggled, but Marcus simply stood by the foot of the bed and slowly shook his head.

  ‘No, I didn’t. If you want to spend the night, then the cuff needs to stay on.’

  It took me several seconds to process his words, and when I did I found myself almost speechless. The cuff had to stay on? Had he lost his mind? ‘Excuse me?’ I retorted sharply, my voice coming out all strangled and high pitched from shock.

  ‘You heard me, Sasha. I warned you I had some extreme rules, and you said you didn’t mind. This is one of those rules. If you stay over, then the cuff stays, too.’

  My mouth hung open in shock. This was all so unexpected that, at first, I didn’t even know how to respond. Marcus remained where he was, butt naked and hovering by the end of the bed as he tilted his head and gave me a level look as if trying to work out what was going through my mind. He wouldn’t have to read my thoughts. Now that I’d processed his crazy request I was more than happy to enlighten him vocally.

  ‘Are you fucking crazy?’ I shrieked.

  He swallowed and looked across at me sheepishly. ‘Probably.’

  ‘So, if I want to stay over I have to be shackled to your bed like… like some sex slave?’

  He shook his head, sending messy chunks of his hair falling across his brow. Just minutes ago, I would have admired this and thought it looked sexy as fuck, but now all I could focus on was my shock and irritation.

  ‘No. You wouldn’t be a sex slave… but yes, you would be cuffed to the bed. Just one cuff… you’d have plenty of slack to sleep comfortably.’

  ‘Oh, just one cuff?’ I repeated, my voice slick with sarcasm. ‘Like that makes it better somehow? Are you some kind of caveman? Is this supposed to turn me on? Am I supposed to swoon at this show of… of… of…’ I was totally lost for words to describe the complete bizarreness of this situation, so I frantically waved my free hand in the air instead. ‘Of… whatever the fuck this is?’

  I ran my hand through my hair, leaped to my knees, lifted my cuffed wrist, and glared at him. ‘Take this fucking thing off my wrist right fucking now!’

  Marcus let out a heavy sigh and looked up at me, his expression almost that of a small, hopeful boy. ‘I want you to stay.’ His tone completely threw me. He sounded so torn up that it made me pause for a second.

  What the heck was behind all of this? ‘Tell me what this is about, Marcus.’ I deliberately softened my tone, hoping he might let me in on whatever was troubling him.

  His eyes grew visibly duller and he shook his head. ‘I can’t. Not yet. But I still want you to stay.’

  Swallowing hard, I shook my head. ‘I wanted to stay, too, Marcus, but not like this.’ I shook the cuff again to make my point.

  He stared at me for several long moments and then sighed. ‘I… I can’t do it any other way.’ He slumped his shoulders in apparent defeat, but his gaze stayed resolutely trained on the carpet as if he coul
dn’t bring himself to meet my eyes any more.

  ‘Fine. I can’t do it like this, either!’ I exploded, my earlier compassion vaporising and my voice sounding wavy as shock settled in and mixed with my anger.

  Marcus lifted his head and stared at me for several long seconds before frowning. ‘I tried to tell you earlier that I had more rules, but you said it wouldn’t matter.’ He paused and then added eight words which seemed almost wrapped in pain. ‘You said you wanted to be with me.’

  Something in my chest tightened at the achingly sad tone to his voice and I winced and had to drop my gaze away as guilt burned through me. I had no retort to his words, because they were true, I had said that, but I’d never in a million years thought that his rules would involve me being tied up all night long. It was a step too far. Scrap that, it was a fucking giant leap too far.

  Our silent stalemate continued, the air filling with an uncomfortable tension until Marcus pulled in a long breath and then made his way around the bed towards the dresser where his phone was. ‘I’ve drunk too much to drive you home, and I won’t let you get public transport at this time. Let me call you a taxi,’ he mumbled.

  I watched him with my mouth hanging open again – it was becoming a familiar expression this evening – but he was tapping away on his phone at this very second ordering me a goddamn cab. Jesus, he was really serious about sending me home? It was three o’clock in the morning! I’d thought that if I made enough fuss he’d take the cuff off and relent, maybe tell me why he’d felt the need for it in the first place, but clearly, I had been wrong.

  Chucking the phone aside, he risked a brief glance at me, his eyes still dark and troubled. ‘It’ll be here in five minutes,’ he murmured, leaning down and undoing the final cuff. ‘I’ll let you get dressed and then I’ll walk you downstairs.’

  When the leather slid free I jumped to my feet so rapidly that my head spun for a second, but it didn’t put me off dishing out some of my frustration. ‘It’s a little late for gentlemanly manners, isn’t it?’ I stared at his back with such intensity that it felt as if I was trying to throw angry sparks at him. ‘You tell me you don’t want me to go, and then you add the little delight that you want me to stay here chained up all night! I’ll walk myself out, thank you very much.’

  Marcus straightened his posture defensively, and he glanced over his shoulders at me and nodded tightly. ‘As you wish.’ There was a heavy silence as I dragged my clothes on, and then Marcus let out a long breath. ‘Maybe we should go back to avoiding each other. If I see you at the club, I’ll keep my distance.’

  I shoved my arms into my bra but paused as his mention of the club made me wonder something. ‘Do they know? Your friends at the club, do they know that you like to keep women tied to your bed like some abusive serial killer?’

  Marcus’s body tensed. When he turned to me next his eyes were dark with anger as if I’d touched on a sensitive subject. ‘I’m not abusive, and I’m not a killer,’ he grated, his face reddening with annoyance.

  My outburst must have hit a button, because it suddenly seemed like a completely different man was standing before me. The problem was he wouldn’t talk to me, so I had no idea what had triggered all this in the first place and therefore couldn’t help him. It was so exasperating that my frustration was quickly morphing into irritation. I’d finally opened myself up to a man and this happened – it was just bloody typical.

  ‘And in answer to your question. Some of them do, yes. It’s a sex club, Sasha. My need to restrain women is hardly the most perverse of habits among the members.’

  To be fair, he had a point there. I knew from my chats with Natalia that some really freaky shit went down behind the closed doors of the club’s private rooms, so Marcus’s penchant for a little bondage was mild in comparison.

  Sighing again, he turned away. ‘Take care of yourself, Sasha.’

  ‘Go fuck yourself, freak,’ I spat back, still feeling decidedly off-kilter from this whole exchange and deciding to resort to my good old defence of swearing.

  As he glanced back at me over his shoulder, his expression darkened. ‘I’ll pass, thanks, seeing as I’ve just fucked you.’ He stepped into a pair of boxer shorts and strode to the bedroom door, pausing on the threshold. ‘Thanks for the fuck. You might have lied about being fine with my rules, but at least you lived up to your reputation of being great in the sack. Must be all the practice you get.’

  His spiteful words were so unlike the man I’d come to know that they caused hurt to spread in my chest, and my mouth fell open in shock at his unexpected insult. He threw me another glance before leaving the room, but the look in his eyes didn’t back up his nasty comment at all. Quite the opposite, in fact; from the pained expression on his face I could only guess that his words had been thrown out in upset and haste.

  I’d obviously hit a nerve with my outburst, and he’d retaliated. His remark about me still hurt, though. I was well aware that I’d led a bit of a slutty lifestyle over the years, but I still didn’t want it thrown back in my face like that. Mind you, I’d hardly been complimentary to him either, had I? I’d called him a freak, abuser, and serial killer, and on top of that, he had tried to warn me that he had some extreme rules, and I had told him I didn’t care and then gone back on my word.

  What a fucking mess.

  A growl of frustration left my throat as I sought out the rest of my clothes. Rubbing my hands over my face, I cursed my stupidly short temper, which had no doubt been the spark that had fuelled the whole heated row in the first place. But even as I begrudgingly accepted that some of the blame for this debacle was on me I still couldn’t rein in my stubborn side enough to seek him out to apologise.

  When I let myself out of his apartment I found the cab already waiting at the kerbside and slid into the back seat with a heavy sigh as I replayed the last few hours in my mind again. The night had gone from amazing to amazingly confusing within a matter of seconds. And had he seriously thought I’d be fine with him cuffing me to the bed all night?

  What the hell was that about?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Robyn

  The chiming of the doorbell was almost instantly followed by someone hammering on the front door, and I frowned as I sped up my jog down the stairs to get to it. Oliver met me in the hall with a matching frown on his face and held out a hand to stop me.

  ‘Let me get it.’ He was obviously feeling protective, and to be honest, with the amount of noise our visitor was making, I was more than willing for him to open the door.

  Oliver checked the spy hole. He turned his head over his shoulder and gave me a surprised look. ‘It’s Sasha.’

  Sasha? We hadn’t arranged to meet up tonight, and I couldn’t for the life of me think why she’d be banging on the door like a lunatic attempting to knock it down.

  I went to Oliver’s side as he opened the door, and we were both almost bowled over as Sasha immediately barged her way into the hallway with a dramatic huff of breath. ‘About bloody time! I hope you’ve got some wine, we’re going to need it.’ Oliver and I exchanged a confused look as Sasha stormed off in the direction of the kitchen without waiting for an invite. ‘Why, Sasha, how lovely to see you. Come on in, make yourself at home,’ Oliver muttered to her retreating back with an amused look that made me giggle. ‘Looks like girl talk to me. I think I’ll leave you two to it.’

  He dropped a kiss on my lips, then winked and disappeared into the lounge, leaving me to follow behind my dramatic bestie.

  Entering the kitchen, I found Sasha already standing at the wine rack examining one of Oliver’s most expensive bottles of red and looking like she was about to crack it open. I dashed towards her, pulled the bottle from her hand, and selected a more budget-appropriate drink before guiding her towards the table.

  ‘Sit. Let me open this while you tell me what on earth is wrong.’

  Sasha flopped into a chair at the kitchen table and then crossed her arms defensively. ‘How do you know something
’s wrong? I might just be visiting.’

  An ironic laugh caught in my throat as I turned to her with raised eyebrows. ‘Just visiting, at nine p.m. on a Monday night? Firstly, we didn’t have any plans to meet up, so that’s unlikely. Secondly, you practically hammered a hole through the front door trying to get in, and lastly, you stated, and I quote, “I hope you have wine, we’re going to need it.”’

  Sasha screwed up her face at my observations, but still stayed silent. I unscrewed the wine, poured a generous portion into both of our glasses, and gave her an intent look. ‘So, did I jump to the wrong conclusion, or is something the matter?’

  She huffed as if irritated by my speculation, but then pouted. ‘You were right.’ Sasha grabbed the glass of wine from my hand before I’d even had a chance to put it down and practically drank half of it in one go before nodding glumly. ‘Something is the matter.’

  I joined her at the table. I’d brought the rest of the bottle with me – it looked like we’d be needing it – and I rested my elbows on the wood and smiled at her reassuringly. ‘Come on, then, spill the beans.’

  After another heavy sigh, Sasha pushed her glass away and met my eyes. ‘Marcus and me … we slept together.’

  Woah, I had not expected that! After all the uneventful months that had passed between them I’d started to assume nothing would ever happen. Clearly, I’d been wrong. ‘When?’

  ‘Saturday night.’

  Sitting up straighter, I put my hands on my hips indignantly. ‘Saturday? Why am I only hearing about this now?’

  She rolled her eyes and gave a thin smile. ‘It’s only two days later, Rob, and this wasn’t exactly the type of thing I wanted to discuss over the phone!’