Bound (Bound Hearts #1)

by S. N. Garza

  I got them pierced for my twenty-first birthday. It was such an impulsive move and when Gram asked why they felt so tender, she thought I might’ve been pregnant. When I said no, (of course I did! One-I wasn’t pregnant, Two-Hello! My grandpa was right there-I said it was menstrual stuff) I told her I had to tell her something. When we got to my bedroom, I told her-‘don’t freak out, I’m gonna hurry and get it over with’. I whipped my shirt up and showed her the nipple piercings. She was shocked and I thought she was about to have a heart attack, but she laughed instead. Yes, weird I know. Here I am in like the bible belt of America where if you didn’t have a drink, you were a prude, but after downing the first one you were labeled an alcoholic, and here, Gram just accepted my piercings. I asked her why she wasn’t more weirded out and she told me about growing up in New York.

  I thought to myself, Thank God. Only my Granddad was from Georgia, and he definitely didn’t need to know about what I did. I was his grandchild for goodness sakes.

  I ought to have known better than to let some guy maul me, but let’s face it. I hadn’t had sex with a man in over a year. My b.o.m. (battery operated MAN, I was not gonna use battery operated boyfriend, come on. I’m twenty-seven for crissaskes, I wanted to think it was a man. In my head, it was), was great way for a quick release and it always got me off, but I was just missing something. That emotional connection a woman has when intimate with her man. I had relationships. Kinda. They just didn’t seem to last. For multiple reasons too. Main one being I wrote ‘mommy porn’, ugh. I hated that slander. And the fact I had my nipples pierced, was another reason. I mean, really? Was it that big of a deal? Men got their nips pierced. The fact I have a vagina means I’m what? A chick who likes kinky fuckery? Eh. No. Woman who has a problem with self-image? Not that either. I loved my body. For the most part anyway. That’s what happens when men run a world. Yeah. That’s my bit of feminism. Fist pump to all the feministic women out there.

  But then, for some sick, twisted unknown reason, it seemed like I picked guys who reminded me of the man I thought was my father. Well, most guys I picked anyway. Insert eye roll here. Typical classic story.

  Not good. Not good at all. After any relationship progressed into more intimate situations, it just seemed forced and naturally, not satisfying.

  For one of my novels, I had researched BDSM, or really, bondage and dominance/submission. There was a club called ‘The Portrait’. (Yeah, weird name, until you looked inside. The club was full of nude paintings from every time period, past to present.) It could’ve been a museum if it hadn’t been for the various stages of sensual acts happening. Membership to one of these clubs was way over my income, but I was lucky that one of Susie’s older brothers was an enforcer and had petitioned my research to the owner.

  The owner, Dash Maxwell, was ‘intrigued’. I’m pretty sure by the look on Susie’s brother’s face, it was a totally different understanding, but when I met the owner, he was something out of every woman’s fantasy. The rules at The Portrait were severe. Everything had to be consensual and the NDA I had to sign, after reading, understanding, etc. Dash was very informative. I’ll leave it at he knew how to worship a woman’s body, but command it to do his every demand.

  That relationship-yeah I called it that-I was having sexual relations with the guy, it was a relationship, of sorts-only lasted a month, but he treated me like a lady in and out of the bedroom. Never once did I ever feel strange, I set my boundaries and we compromised. He said for a man like himself that was hard. He liked having complete control, and he did. For the most part. But it wasn’t true feelings. I didn’t fall for him.

  I didn’t fall for any of them. I was still waiting for that ‘oomph’. That gut squeezing, butterfly-tingling, goose-flesh sensitizing, and red-hot-passion-along-with-an-emotion-provoking-feeling you only get once in a life time.

  I thought I felt it that night ten years ago, with Courtland, but that was a teenager’s crush. I hadn’t really thought about him like that until that night he took me to see the planes. I had wanted him to save me. To take me far away from my miserable life.

  What I felt earlier, was uncontrolled and wild. What I felt, as his hands wrapped around me and his mouth took me in a lustful haze, I knew I never wanted to forget anytime soon. How could it be, that the one guy who abandoned me, could make me feel what I thought I’ve been missing? That ‘feel it from the tips of your toes to the ends of your hair’ type sensation. I was almost close to begging the guy to take me somewhere, but then, he just had to open his mouth.

  I almost made it to my Nissan Rogue, when a firm but nonthreatening hand, gripped my upper arm.

  “Adelaide. Three basic rules. One. No hitting. Two. My balls? Really? That certainly wasn’t fair. Three. Never let another man touch you like that. One and three are non-negotiable.”

  I knew he wasn’t referring to himself, the louse, when he told me the third ‘rule’, but I was about to state the obvious. “Oh, you mean the way you handled me? Are handling me right now?” I yanked my arm free, “Get your grubby mitts off me. I don’t know who you think you are-

  I didn’t see it coming, but he took my upper arms in his hands and hauled my lips to meet his. With his height, he had lifted me up high, so I had to grab on to something before losing balance from being on my tippy-toes.

  My hands were on his shoulders, my arms on his biceps, and I could feel the hard steel muscle beneath. I didn’t get a good look at him, but I was dying to.

  The kiss was passion personified. Heat, burning desire, his tongue skirted my lips, begging me to let him in. And let him in I did. Our tongues found a rhythm and I reached further into him. He was nothing but warmth, security and hot as lava. I mated my tongue with his and he leaned his body into mine where my back brushed the cool steel of the driver side door. The cold of the door made me hiss, but that didn’t stop me from grabbing onto him tighter when he tried to retreat, and drag him back to my lips. I was desperate for more and my leg crawled up his thigh where he shifted a hand to my back upper thigh, bringing me closer to the iron-clad, jean-covered erection he was presenting me with. I felt it rubbing against the lower part of my stomach and holy macaroni, I knew I needed to stop this.

  But there it was. Fuck. My. Life. It was a total sucker punch to the gut. That ‘oomph’ every girl dreams her first kiss to be like. It was…it was-too much.

  Way too much, way too damn soon. Or ever. I really didn’t need this. I wasn’t staying.

  I whispered, “Stop.”

  Courtland instantly obeyed and brought his head back, and he lowered my thigh to the asphalt. I had to close my eyes. I didn’t want to see the green emerald eyes staring back at me. Probing. Asking. Demanding.

  Then the abandonment of those ten years were shoved right in front of my face. I steeled against those feelings. I let go of the embrace I had him in and moved to open my door.

  “Adelaide. Don’t even think about getting in that car.”

  I laid my sweat beaded forehead against the coolness of the window and breathed in and out like my therapist told me to do. She always felt that I had left over feelings for Courtland. That I really hadn’t said goodbye to one of the most important people in my life.

  But in all honesty, didn’t I? When he never tried getting a hold of me and me asking JR what was happening to Courtland, and him never telling me the truth. Didn’t I say good-bye? I knew I hadn’t said good-bye to my past concerning my so-called dad. I had to deal with that soon. After what he said to me earlier? I needed to deal with it before going back to Georgia. Going back home. Because that was the only real home I knew.

  One of Courtland’s hands brushed my dark mane to the side and traced the words I had scripted over the Phoenix tattoo. The coolness of the summer air cooled the lingering heat I was feeling, and I started to relax.

  “Addy?”

  “I’m sorry. I just can’t. Please.”

  “Let’s go grab something to eat. Just me and you. Nothing more than just
two people eating. We don’t even have to talk if you don-wanna.” His voice dropped low and I knew I was close to giving in.

  He leaned his head down between my shoulder blades and his hands were loosely caging me in. His breath danced across my skin, tingling the nerve sensors throughout my body.

  “Adelaide. No pressure, just food with someone you once knew.”

  Sighing, I knew he wouldn’t relent. I nodded my head and he stepped back gliding his hands down my body, before squeezing my hips and letting go.

  “I guess I could eat.” Turning I gave him a shy smile. I didn’t quite look in his eyes.

  “Look at me.”

  For some reason. I couldn’t. I didn’t have the normal confident stamina I possessed. I felt weak and vulnerable in front of him.

  “Adelaide Claudette. Look at me now.”

  He just had to say my middle name, didn’t he? Not only was my first name out of some musical, my middle name was a namesake from my dad’s mother. Who was evil incarnate-Uncle Chet really had no idea about his family. That old bat was still alive and kicking, too.

  I clinched my jaw and upturned my face to look up into his. He sure as hell was tall. I had to almost crane my neck all the way back.

  I did my best to look calm, cool and collected. He must have seen my efforts, because he smirked, shook his head then cocked it to the side.

  “Took you long enough.”

  The emerald color of his eyes were smiling, full of mirth and confidence at getting what he wants.

  I knew mine flared at that jibe, because he laughed and whispered, “Simmer down.” Ugh. I’ll give him simmer down with my knee in his dick, instead of a hand. I smiled at that thought as I looked down at the subject at hand. There was still a very noticeable bulge and holy macaroni- did it just twitch?

  “Don’t even think about it, you little blue-eyed witch. Let’s go eat. Please?”

  Witch came out like an endearment and I rolled my eyes. His voice came out gentle and sweet.

  “Ha. Alright. I’ll follow you.”

  Four

  Courtland

  If I hadn’t known better, I would have believed she would have really nailed me in the balls again. She sure grew the hell up. What the hell happened to my thoughts of revenge and torture? One look at the vulnerability in those blue cerulean eyes and I folded like a piece of paper. I just couldn’t do it. Damn.

  That only meant one fucking thing. I still had feelings for her. I didn’t think it was love. Not like the love I felt ten years ago. Maybe that was a young man’s love though. I did say she was mine. And if given the chance? No doubt. Was I a pussy for saying I was gonna fall for her? Who knows? I really did want to find out what happened at her parents earlier today though, and ten years ago. What she said about Chet flipping if he ever really knew his brother, stuck in my mind, just as I knew it stuck in his. There was something really bad going on or went on that Adelaide wasn’t saying. Whether she was scared or nervous.

  I didn’t like her dad back then, didn’t care for him now. He thought he was such a righteous man on his pedestal or alter. Like he was God’s own son. Something about a man like that didn’t sit right with me.

  I also wondered what she did for a living. When she was on the phone, it sounded as if it was something that was scandalous and naughty. I didn’t even know where she called home. Why did I tell JR not to talk about her? I would know all this, or most of it. As far as I knew, no one knew what she did.

  On the drive to an IHOP off Interstate-10, I prayed and hoped she would open up to me. She didn’t seem willing to talk very much. She gave the impression of a closed and hidden book. She said ‘I love you’ to the person on the other line (still praying it wasn’t a man-by the passionate kiss she gave me-I took that as an affirmative hell no) made me think there was someone she cared for. I never once heard her say those three words to anyone here. Not me, JR or his parents.

  I got out of my truck, and waited at the tailgate for her. She parked in one of the spots behind me and seemed to be debating if she should really get out of the car. She looked at me through her windshield and I just cocked my head in a ‘come-on’ gesture and gave her the sexiest smirk I had. Her eyes brightened and her leather clad shoulders bounced with laughter. Shaking her head, she exited the vehicle and came to me.

  “You really are something else Courtland,” she said as she play-punched my arm.

  Faking, I clutched my arm, “Ow, woman. What did I ever do to you?”

  “What did you do? You called me by my middle name! That was all sortsa wrong. Especially when I don’t even know yours.”

  Hmmm. She didn’t? I tapped my pointer finger on her nose, in which her eyes crossed, looking to see if I left a mark and I chuckled, saying, “And you won’t either. You’ll have to beg. Plead, by all means to get it out of me too.”

  “Hmm.” She skimmed her pointer finger around her lips, slowly. Seductively.

  “Little witch, don’t try teasing your way. That ain’t gon-work darlin’.”

  “Ain’t it?” I knew she was trying to get a rise out of me for letting my thick Texan accent out. Most of the time, I didn’t know I was talking like that. It must be where she lived, that thinks she can make fun of me.

  “Girlie, you only been gone ten years. Lived here all your life. Can’t help the way I speak, baby.” Even the years in North Carolina, and being in the Marines, didn’t change my Texan accent. I had no problem where I came from. Now.

  I dealt with my past. My youth, that time I spent under a pimps hand and the woman who was supposed to love and protect me and didn’t give two shits who I was or what was happening to me, was just a memory. The pimp that controlled her finally got arrested for skin trafficking, and it left my mother nothing but a shell. An empty body with nothing left. She died five years ago and out of respect for the girl who birthed me, I went and paid for the funeral. At the end of her life, she gave me a letter (just had to be a letter didn’t it? Insert eye roll.) It was about forgiveness and understanding. Asking for it.

  I knew when I was a teen, I probably would have said ‘fuck it’, but as a grown man, there comes a time when you have to forgive those who did you wrong, so you could move forward. I did. Her bad choices as a young girl got her mixed up in heavy shit. I didn’t blame her. She didn’t choose that life. The life under a man’s thumb who forced sex on her on a daily basis was a hard hand to hold on to. I just hoped she had peace in the end, and knew I forgave her. Forgave myself for having all that bitterness and anger.

  Hopefully, while Adelaide was here, she could deal with hers. Although her eyes were alive with mischief, I could still see that young girl, thirsty for something more than she was given. A woman who needed to be taken care of and cherished like the treasure she was. I didn’t know if that man was me, but thinking about another man taking care of her was not an option for me.

  I held out my elbow for her to take and she took it. As I opened the door for her to proceed me, she laughed, said thank you and smiled that sweet honey innocent smile she had.

  “Aren’t you the gentleman?”

  “I try.”

  I got us a seat in one of the more secluded corners and let her get in, so I was sitting on the aisle side. I didn’t want her to feel caged in, but I didn’t want to sit across from her. Felt too detached, and I sat next to her at the edge and propped an arm along the back rest.

  “So, where you been all this time?” I wasn’t going to mention the letter. Not right now at least.

  “Georgia.”

  “Damn. Only about 400 miles from me.”

  Her head turned quickly and she looked at me with shock. She didn’t answer right away and I gave her a moment to think. She seemed to need it. She turned her face downward in deep thought and the waitress came up to take our order. Adelaide didn’t answer, so I made her order for her.

  “Two ‘Split Decisions’ please.” As long as her preferences didn’t change, I knew she’d be satisfied with the or
der.

  “What do you mean only 400 miles?” I could barely hear her whisper the question, but she seemed genuinely shocked.

  “That summer I ended up enlisting to keep out of jail. It was either that, or two years for trespassing. I was in jail for a week while Joe pulled some strings and I made a choice. What was in Georgia, Adelaide? What made you move so far away from everything you know?”

  She played with the cloth napkin and if it was paper, it would have been torn to shreds by now. Her mind seemed to be weighing something heavily.

  “Addy, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I meant what I said. If all we do is eat, then that’s all we do. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or nervous or shy or even embarrassed. You never have to feel that way in front of me. As kids, it took you a few months to get used to JR and me, but when you realized we weren’t out to hurt you, you let us in. Well, let us in enough. So please, don’t make this into something more than what it has to be. Food. Conversation. And tasty Pancakes.”

  “My Grandparents. That’s what was in Georgia. On my mother’s side. I spent that summer saving everything I could and when I had the amount I needed, I packed my meager possessions and left the first chance I had, while he wasn’t looking.”

  I nodded, because I knew who the emphasized he was. She didn’t get along with Mr. Hunter. Only JR’s family and I knew their relationship was strained. Just not how far. For now though, that was enough for me. I didn’t want to dig too deeply at this point. I knew the girl she once was, and I knew that wouldn’t have changed, no matter how many tattoos she had or piercings or any badassery she thought she was packing. I knew her. Deep down to the bone, knew her.