by Alice Raine
Humming my disapproval of her tardy gossip transferral, I sipped my wine and then tilted my head as I observed her. ‘And this is a problem how, exactly? I thought you fancied the pants off him?’
‘I did!’ Sasha lowered her head and rested it on her forearms, still looking decidedly glum. ‘I do,’ she added softly.
So, she still liked him, and they’d progressed their relationship to a physical level… I was really struggling to understand why she looked so down.
‘Was he not up to your usual standards in the sack?’ I speculated.
Sasha’s head snapped up and she fired a hard glance at me that shocked me so much I shifted backwards on my seat. ‘I was a slut, I get it.’
Where had that harsh reply come from? It seemed like I’d offended her, but that hadn’t been my intention at all. Besides, Sasha was normally the first person to make a joke about the loose way she led her sex life. Her choice of the word “was” was an interesting one, too, as if she had now decided to put that part of her life into the past tense.
‘Sasha, that’s not what I meant, babe,’ I murmured soothingly.
Letting out a long sigh, she plopped her head into her hands again and then shook it so loose waves of her long hair fell around her face. ‘I know. Sorry. It reminded me of something Marcus said which upset me.’
My shock instantly turned to a frown. ‘He called you a slut?’ I’d always thought of Marcus as a good guy, but if he’d said that to my friend I’d be rapidly reassessing my view of him, not to mention having a bloody big word with him next time I saw him.
‘No. Not in so many words. It all got a bit heated and I think we both said things we regret.’ Lifting her head again, Sasha met my gaze. ‘I know I did,’ she added softly.
I was stunned to see her expression was glassy with unshed tears. Sasha never cried. Never. In fact, the only time I had ever seen her close to tears had been because of Marcus Price, so he obviously registered as something pretty damn serious for her if he was triggering emotions like this.
Getting details from her had always been like drawing blood from a stone so, hoping I didn’t upset her again, I decided to try to be more specific with my questions to get to the bottom of it all. ‘So, you slept together, but now things are terrible. Were you just not compatible in bed?’
‘No, it was incredible. We had amazing chemistry. God, Robyn, it was the best sex I’ve ever had.’
The best sex she’d ever had? Wow. Coming from Sasha, who has had a lot of sex in her life, that was quite a statement. Sitting back, I frowned again, completely lost. ‘I’m so confused. You fancy him, you shared an amazing connection and the sex was great.’ I lifted a hand and scratched at my head as I tried to work out what I was missing. ‘What exactly is the problem, then?’
‘We used handcuffs…’ Sasha admitted, twisting the stem of her wine glass as a distraction. ‘I enjoyed it, a lot… but afterwards… he…’ She seemed to be struggling with how to explain it. ‘Afterwards, he wanted me to stay over, and I wanted to as well, but… but then he said I had to stay cuffed to his bed all night.’
Sasha’s peculiar confession occurred just as Oliver decided to walk into the kitchen with an empty mug in his hand.
Oliver winced and drew to a sharp stop, apparently having overheard her last sentence. ‘Dios. Sorry, bad timing, I’ll come back in a minute.’
‘No! Oliver, wait, please, you might be able to help me make sense of all this mess with Marcus,’ Sasha pleaded, causing Oliver’s brows to pinch into a frown.
‘You were talking about Marcus?’ He seemed as astonished by her random confession as I was and flashed me a wary glance as if he weren’t entirely comfortable with being involved in a gossip session about his close friend.
Sasha nodded, and Oliver relented, coming to join us at the table with an even deeper frown on his brow. She gulped her wine and stared at the table top as she spoke. ‘To recap, we slept together, then I was going to stay the night, but he said I had to stay cuffed to the bedframe.’
‘He wouldn’t let you go?’ Oliver asked, his tone low and disapproving.
‘No, that makes it sound worse than it was,’ Sasha sighed. ‘Let me try and explain… things were great before and during, but afterwards… he asked me if I wanted to stay over, and I said yes, but then he got this really strange expression on his face and told me that if I slept over I had to keep one hand cuffed to his bed.’
I spluttered in shock, so surprised that Marcus – one of the friendliest, most laid-back guys I’d ever met – had acted in that way.
‘Yeah,’ Sasha agreed, flashing me an ironic smile. ‘That was pretty much my reaction, too.’
Oliver leaned on the kitchen table, his expression intense. ‘Did he give any reasons for his request? Was it part of a scene you two were playing out?’
‘Nope. It wasn’t like that. We had dinner and then things moved to the bedroom. There was no scene, no kink, really, we just had some fun with the cuffs.’
Oliver rubbed at his chin and shook his head, apparently at a loss. ‘I have no idea why he would ask that of you. I know he used to like a bit of bondage, but as far as I’m aware he’s never been into sex slave play.’
Sex slave play? My eyes widened at Oliver’s casual use of the phrase, and once again I was reminded of just how starkly imbalanced my level of knowledge of BDSM was in comparison to Oliver’s vast experience. It was never a thought that sat very comfortably with me, so I pushed it aside and concentrated on Sasha.
‘Was that what it was? He wanted you to be his slave?’ I asked in a whisper, slightly horrified by the possibility, and once again having difficulty in matching up these descriptions with the Marcus Price I thought I had come to know.
Sasha shook her head and helped herself to a top-up of wine. ‘I don’t think so. I asked him if it was something like that, and he said no. He just said, “If you want to stay over then this is how it has to be.”’ She shrugged. ‘Oh yeah, and he moved the bedside table right across the room away from my side of the bed, too. It was weird. I have no idea why he’d do that.’
After several seconds of tense silence, Oliver stood up and folded his arms over his chest. ‘I’m afraid I can’t offer you any further insights into why he behaved that way, either, Sasha. I assume the evening didn’t end well after that?’
Sasha’s face scrunched up into a grimace. She shook her head and took another huge gulp of her wine. ‘No. You both know that I have a bit of a temper and a deeply rooted stubborn streak…’
That was an understatement if ever I’d heard one. Sasha was the most single-minded and stubborn person I knew. She was even less flexible than Oliver, and that was saying something, because my man really liked to get his own way.
‘Once he said I had to keep the cuff on I might have kinda freaked out a bit.’ Which I took to mean she had definitely freaked out, big time. ‘There was a lot of shouting, and we both said a few hurtful things.’
‘But he did release you?’ Oliver questioned again. ‘He didn’t keep you there against your consent?’
Sasha immediately shook her head. ‘No. Once I said I wasn’t willing to wear the cuff all night he took it off.’ She smiled sadly and twirled her wine glass in her hands. ‘Then he called me a cab because he didn’t want me getting public transport and he’d drunk too much to drive me home.’
Chivalrous even during a time of stress – now that sounded more like the Marcus I knew. His behaviour really didn’t seem to make any sense at all.
Pulling in a deep breath, Sasha rubbed her hands over her face, seemingly attempting to hold back tears. ‘Things were pretty tense. It was horrible.’
I could see how much Sasha was hurting. Since this was my bestie who had never shown even the remotest emotion about any of the guys she’d been with before I felt I had to push her just a little. ‘If you both like each other, isn’t it worth sitting down and talking with him? Maybe there’s a simple explanation, or some way you can work around th
is?’ I asked, certain I’d seen some really potent chemistry between Sasha and Marcus and hating that it might all just fritter away.
Sasha flicked her hair off her shoulders. ‘Nope. He’s not willing to compromise, and neither am I. I’m not being chained to his bed like some animal; it’s fucking ridiculous.’
Her tone held a note of such cold finality that I knew I wouldn’t be able to persuade her to change her mind. I completely understood what she was saying. I loved the kinky things I did with Oliver, but if he’d told me early on in our relationship that he wanted me chained up all night every night I’d have walked away, too. There was no way I’d consider something so extreme.
‘So how did you leave things?’ I was fairly sure I knew the answer to my own question, but I figured it was worth asking anyway.
‘We decided it would be best to just stay away from each other from now on.’ Sasha glanced at me and gave her first real smile of the night. ‘Then he disappeared off somewhere, slamming doors as he went, and I stormed out. It was all very flouncy.’
Flouncy? Oliver and I winced as we looked at each other. Oh dear. It didn’t sound like there was any hope of them working through their issues. All I could hope was that it wasn’t going to make things at the wedding uncomfortable for them both… or us.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Marcus
I’d been in a full-on foul mood all week; swearing under my breath at the slightest thing, hitting out at the gym punch bag until my knuckles had bled, and being short and snappy with anyone brave enough to speak to me.
Saturday night with Sasha had been at once both the best and worst night of my life. I’d felt a connection with her unlike any other before, and the sex had been bloody incredible, but then I’d gone and fucked it up with my insecurities by chaining her to my bed like some animal.
I growled under my breath as I recalled her fierce reaction, and once again chastised myself for my fucking weaknesses. And God, did she have a mouth on her when she was pissed off. A small amused smirk briefly curled my lip as I recalled her outraged swearing, but then I frowned, still irritated with myself about the way I had treated her.
Regardless of how the night had ended, her fiery streak was such a turn-on for me that even now my groin gave a twitch of arousal.
I had been tempted to call her on several occasions and try to apologise, but I just hadn’t been able to think what to say to her. If I’d called her I’d have had to tell her about my past and the reasons for my obsessions, and that seemed too monumental to tackle, especially over a phone call. Unsurprisingly I’d had no contact from her, either. After my behaviour I very much doubted that she would ever want to hear from me again. It was going to make going to the club a hell of a lot more awkward, too, seeing as we were both members and regular visitors, but I guess that was something we’d have to deal with when it happened.
At least now it was Thursday, so I could vent some of my frustrations in my squash game with Oliver. Hopefully smashing a ball around the court for an hour would help me clear my mind a little, even if my thoughts were being dragged back to Sasha every few minutes.
I was midway through unzipping my squash racket when Oliver spoke. ‘So, I overheard Robyn and Sasha talking this week.’
Shit. Sighing, I nodded in resignation. I’d suspected that Sasha would have spoken to Robyn about what had happened between us, and I’d also prepared myself for the fact that Robyn might have then confided in Oliver. What I wasn’t prepared for was having this conversation now, on a brightly lit squash court.
Trying to play it cool, I kept my eyes averted and shrugged. ‘Oh yeah?’
‘Yeah. So, you and Sasha finally got it on, huh?’ I could hear the interest in his tone but decided that I would try to get the game started quickly to divert him from asking too many details. Clearing my throat, I pulled my racket out and rolled my shoulders to warm them up.
‘Yeah.’ Maybe Sasha hadn’t mentioned what had happened at the end of our night, and Oliver was just interested in dishing the dirt about the fact that we’d finally had sex. ‘You want to serve first?’
‘No, I want to talk.’
Glancing over, I noticed that Oliver hadn’t even got his racket out yet and stood with his arms folded, making no effort to warm up or prepare for the game.
‘What was with your use of the cuffs?’
My shoulders slumped. Fuck. So, it would seem she had mentioned my freak-out. ‘You know I like bondage, Oliver, that’s nothing new,’ I replied, hoping that if I used a casual tone he might drop the subject and let us move away from it.
There was a long pause, and then Oliver shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. ‘I know that, but she said you wouldn’t let her go, Marcus.’ Straight to the point; that was so Oliver. He’d never been one to beat around the bush.
Closing my eyes, I allowed myself a second of calm before turning to face my friend with a frown. ‘I did let her go. I ordered her a taxi for fuck’s sakes.’
Oliver was still standing completely still. He didn’t look interested in playing squash in the slightest, and I started to realise that I might not get the workout I’d been hoping for.
‘You know what I mean, Marcus. She said she was going to stay the night with you, but that you told her she had to be cuffed to the bedframe while she slept.’ Tilting his head, he observed me with a frown. ‘I know you used to enjoy bondage during sex, but cuffing her all night? That’s pretty extreme, mate.’
It was, and even though I knew it was born from my deeply rooted insecurities, I still felt some sense of justification in what I’d done. I’d warned her I had rules, and she’d said she was fine with them. It wasn’t my fault she’d changed her mind. Or perhaps it was. My brain was so screwed up over this that I didn’t know what to think any more.
‘Have you developed some new tastes recently? Slave play, that sort of thing?’
‘No!’ My reply was instant and forceful – I had no interest in that type of scene – but it was easy to see why he’d jump to that conclusion. I raised a hand and rubbed it over my face. ‘It’s not like that… but it’s difficult to explain.’
Oliver must have seen the anguish on my face, because the next second, he was across the court and standing at my side. He placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a supportive squeeze. ‘You wanna talk about it?’
I did, and I didn’t. Talking would mean confessing my biggest, darkest secret, and as much as I knew that I needed to get this out, I wasn’t sure I could do it. I’d kept it hidden for so long that it felt like it was festering inside me. It was now starting to affect my life, and the people around me, and it had become clear to me after spending the night with Sasha that I couldn’t live the rest of my life as a celibate man, so I needed to deal with my baggage somehow. Perhaps it was time to get it off my chest.
‘You know that whatever you tell me stays between us, Marcus. I wouldn’t even tell Robyn if you didn’t want me to.’
I nodded and swallowed, but my throat was so tight with nerves that it felt as if it was full of glass shards. ‘Can we skip squash and grab a beer somewhere? Not the club… somewhere quiet where we don’t know anyone.’
Oliver dipped his head in agreement and gathered up his belongings before leading me from the court.
Twenty minutes later, we were changed back into our normal clothes and walking into a small backstreet bar just a short walk away from the gym. After buying two bottles of beer we found a quiet table at the back of the room and took our seats. I’d wondered if Oliver might prompt me again, perhaps give away more of what he’d overheard Sasha saying, but he didn’t. He stayed silent, letting me reflect on where I should start.
I guessed the beginning was probably the most sensible place. I lowered one hand and rubbed briefly at my belly, easily able to feel the ridged skin of the scars beneath. ‘You remember the scars on my side? You saw them once after squash, but I wouldn’t tell you how I’d got them.’
Oliver’s brow dipped into
a frown, but he nodded in recognition.
‘This is all linked to them. The reason I cuffed Sasha to the bed… I don’t like to be touched during sex, nothing beyond holding hands. I can’t cope with it.’ Even saying the words brought a panicked sweat to my brow.
Oliver took a slow sip of his beer as he digested my words, but his confusion was written all over his face. ‘Are they painful, or are you worried about people touching them?’ he asked, misunderstanding me completely.
Running my fingers roughly through my hair, I shook my head. ‘No, it’s neither of those things. Sorry, this is really hard to explain.’ I swigged down half the bottle in my hand and decided to just get it all out there. ‘This goes back to when I was in the US with Celia. She liked a little kinky stuff in the bedroom, too. Sometimes she took charge and tied me up.’ I saw the shocked look from Oliver and laughed dryly. ‘Just because you like to be in charge in the bedroom doesn’t mean we all do, Oliver. From time to time I like it when a woman takes control. Well, I did. I doubt I’ll ever trust like that again now.’
Tapping my fingers on the table in agitation, I took another large gulp of my beer and placed the bottle down. My hand was shaking, and from the deepening of his frown, Oliver noticed it, too.
‘So, this one night she had my hands tied to the bedframe and she was riding my dick. It was all incredible, and then suddenly she stopped, jumped off me, and started digging in the bedside drawers. I had no idea why, but I figured she was looking for a sex toy or something to spice things up a little more, so I waited. I couldn’t really see what she was doing, but a few seconds later when she came back to the bed she had something behind her back.’
Pausing in my tale, I looked at my beer sitting on the table and wished I’d ordered something stronger to help me get through this. ‘She’d always had quite an explorative side, and she’d been hinting about anal for a while, so I assumed maybe it was lube, or something she’d hidden in there earlier like chocolate sauce or whipped cream.’