It wasn’t until she took the turnoff for Fredonia that she realized she had been on autopilot to Emerson’s house. Charlie paid more attention to her driving now, watching traffic and the street signs for her turns. When she pulled into his drive the porch light was on as though he was expecting her. A moment later, the front door opened.
“Charlotte?” a voice called from behind the light as she stepped out of the car.
She forced a smile. “Hey, Emerson.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Who says anything’s wrong?” Her voice cracked. “Can’t I just come see my big brother?”
“Come here.” His arms surrounded Charlie as tears spilled down her cheeks. “Hey, it’s okay. Give me your bag. Let’s go inside.”
Emerson remained quiet for a few moments, measuring her. He handed her a mug of coffee and sat in the recliner, giving her some space on the couch.
“What’s his name? What did he do? And where can I find him so I can kill him?”
She snorted softly. “What makes you think it’s a man?”
“It’s barely daylight on, and you’re crying. You only cry about guys.”
“I do not.” She stuck out her lower lip.
“You do when it’s serious. Talk to me.”
She sighed and took a long sip. “Let’s just say the past is rearing its ugly head.”
“Are you sick? Your face is red.” Emerson felt Charlie’s forehead.
“I don’t think so” Charlie insisted.”
“Well you don’t seem to be running a fever. Wait… you’re blushing aren’t you?”
“Shut up! I am not!”
Emerson snorted, “You had sex. Hot, dirty sex.”
“Shit.”
“Hell, I was just guessing.” He grinned. “But now that you’ve admitted it, what don’t you like about hot, dirty sex?”
Charlie grimaced, “What do you consider hot and dirty?”
“Well, um …”
“Whose face is red now?”
“Touché.”
“You were explaining hot and dirty sex?” She set her mug on the end table.
“Fine. Obviously, anything that is fast and rough.”
“Obviously.” She grinned. It would be more fun getting him to admit his little secret himself.
He glared at her. “Some dirty talk as well. Maybe a little hair pulling. Not on the bed, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I’m being serious because you asked.” He took a drink. “Not your typical missionary.”
She held up her hands. “Oh, this definitely wasn’t missionary.”
“Vanilla?”
“What’s that?” Oh, how I love goading him. He considers me his naïve little sister. I’d be happy to let him believe it … At least for a few more minutes.
“Well, uh, your typical sex. Usually missionary or doggy style. Or cowgirl with her on top.”
“What do you call atypical sex? Chocolate? Neapolitan?”
Emerson laughed. “You’re like to research things. Don’t you know?” He took another sip of his beer. “Kinky, Charlie. It’s called kinky sex. BDSM. Control, ropes, and spanking. Shit like that.”
She lifted her coffee mug to her lips, but it couldn’t hide the corners of her mouth as they turned up.
“Are you shitting me? You knew what I was talking about?”
Charlie smirked and tipped back the cool liquid with delight. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so embarrassed before. Priceless. It was worth it.”
“Anybody ever call you a tease?”
“Yeah, well, they used to.” Charlie sobered up a little, her melancholy returning. And before she could stop them, the words spilled out of her mouth. “I need some advice. I knew I could come to you. I may or may not be in trouble.”
“Charlie?”
“I’m starting to get in pretty deep with this guy. It’s getting intense. And just when I was starting to feel safe being back in a relationship, this guy from before comes back into the picture.”
He sat forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Are you okay?”
She shrugged. “I will be, eventually.”
He was silent for a long time, rubbing his thumbs over the condensation on his bottle. He kept his gaze on the floor when he spoke again. “How long have you known about me?”
Charlie blinked. That was an unexpected question. “Well, a few years now.”
“What gave it away?”
“A comment you made after you read one of the books I was working on that time I came home for Thanksgiving. Something about how the heroine should have been more submissive in the bedroom. You gave me some suggestions that implied you had firsthand knowledge of the topic.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“So, Charlie, are you into kinky sex?”
Oh hell, just get it over with. “Yeah,” she mumbled against the glass lip.
“Is this too much for you? I mean, you’re my little sister.”
“Damn it, Emerson, I’m not a baby. I’m twenty-four years old.”
He rolled his eyes.
“I won’t go into details if that was what you’re asking me to do.”
“Good.” He sat back, shaking his head as if he was still in disbelief that they were having this conversation in the first place. “Can you … will you tell me what about it made you drive all this way to see me?”
She thought for a moment, trying to find the right words but failing miserably. Charlie curled into the corner of the couch. “I guess I liked the feeling of not being in control. Of being restrained. Being told what to do. But I am worried he will be like the last guy, I don’t know.”
“The last guy? What the hell …” Emerson almost choked on his beer.
“It happened in college. He was a teaching assistant. I was crazy about him. He said he would mentor me, train me. Things changed between us in a way I didn’t expect.” Charlie shifted gears. “How long have you been involved in the lifestyle?”
“Don’t tell Mikki. Or Mom. Definitely not Dad.”
Charlie crossed her heart. “I promise I won’t.”
“It wasn’t a question, Charlie.”
“I still promise.”
“Ten years.”
This time she did choke on her beer. Emerson rushed over to pat her on the back as she coughed until she could breathe. Well, damn.
“Secret is finally out. There are two of us kinksters in the family now. Except that you’re just a novice.”
“I take it you’re a Dominant?” There was no response. “A Master?”
Emerson laughed and gave her a look that warmed her. He was fucking serious.
“Holy hell,” she whispered. “So you know what a typical Dom should do? How he should act?”
“Charlie, it’s not like one comes off the Dom assembly line. No two Dominants are alike, just like no two people are alike. There isn’t some sort of federally mandated Dom checklist of requirements.”
“What about you, what are you like?”
“Um, enough about my kink. Let’s get back to your issue. You subbed a teaching assistant?”
She nodded her head. “Yes.”
“Charlie?” Emerson moved to sit next to her on the couch. He laid his hand on hers. “Did he hurt you in a way you didn’t want?”
Charlie sobered and frowned. She didn’t want to share any particular memory. She couldn’t. “No, not at first. He was sweet and patient, and I was willing and compliant. Eventually though things changed. He would get drunk, hold me down, and rip me open until I was bleeding and passing out from pain. He would punch me in the face and the stomach; leave me black and blue, not remembering a thing in the morning. He would tell me I am ugly and worthless and make me clean up my vomit from the amount of pain he had caused me. He would lock me in his room alone for hours at a time while he snorted lines.”
Charlie’s big brother remained silent. His face clouded, his eyes dark, his jaw jerk
ing slightly as he clenched it.
She broke the silence. “He became a different person. It was like I was a whipping post or an object.”
Emerson’s voice was low and fervent. “He sounds like he saw you as a vessel, not a partner. I’m sorry your first experience wasn’t all you had dreamed it to be. Honestly, I don’t think they ever truly are. Even a vanilla relationship isn’t always good. Throwing a kinky wrench into the mix makes it harder. What were his basic rules?”
“Call him, Sir. Not speak unless spoken to. Not to touch him unless he gave permission. Trust him blindly. Obey him blindly. No contract. And if I used the safe word, he was done with me. Oh, and …”
Emerson looked at her with the full force of his gaze. “This lifestyle needs to be about being safe, sane, and consensual relationships. Trust me. You did the right thing by walking away. Especially with a guy like that. You have to see people for what they are, not what you want them to be.”
Charlie tried to hide her dismay. Emerson was not usually wrong when it came to people. “You obviously know more about this lifestyle than I do. I never thought I’d be getting this sort of advice from my brother, but hey …”
“I love you, Sis.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“And now the piece of shit is contacting you again after you ended it?”
Charlie pulled out her phone and showed Emerson the texts she had received.
“You’re worried he’ll come after you, aren’t you? What does your new Master say about all this?”
“He doesn’t know. Wait how did you …”
Emerson took his sister’s hand in his and turned it to expose the bruises on the inside of her wrist. “These told me.”
They were both quiet for a long time. Charlie liked being able to talk to someone about her life without having to mask who she was.
Emerson’s voice broke through her thoughts. “If it were me, I would suggest you tell him. But it has to be your decision. I can’t make it for you. Don’t let the past hurt you. It’s past. It’s done. It can’t hurt you unless you allow it to.”
It wasn’t true. She felt the past at her back always, ready to destroy the fragile world she’d made, but she blinked and tried to smile. Though she knew, it didn’t fool her brother. “Yes, you make a good point … ”
Her brother’s eyes softened. “You know, you don’t have to do this alone. There are people who can help.”
“Yeah?”
“If you’re willing, I could introduce you to a couple of friends I trust. One is another Master, unpartnered. The other is a female sub. You could talk to both of them. Ask questions. They’d be more than happy to help you get past the demons and feel comfortable in your new relationship.”
“So sort of a mentoring thing?” She felt sorrow, relief —too many things. She frowned suddenly. “Would you be there?”
“Only if you want me there. You don’t need to answer right now. In fact, I don’t want an answer tonight. Don’t rush it.”
“Okay.”
“How long are you staying?”
“I don’t know. I took the week off. At least overnight. Maybe a couple of days. Is that a problem?”
“Not at all.”
“Thank you. It means a lot to me.”
“Anytime. Let’s get you settled into the guest room, and we’ll talk more when I get back from work this evening, okay?”
She nodded and reluctantly got up from the couch to follow him down the hall. This weekend had definitely not gone the way Charlie had planned. But she was so exhausted, all she could think about right now was crashing in a soft bed with warm blankets cocooning her. It was all she wanted to do. To lie there and be comforted and think of nothing and go nowhere.
Chapter Eleven
Declan pretended to sleep as Charlotte slipped out. She left a note on her pillow. If he had his choice, he would have followed her. He would have followed her all the way home. His protective instincts were off the chart when it came to making sure she was safe. Charlotte pushed all the right buttons. But he knew he had to let her have some time. If he became too possessive, too protective she would freak out. And then she would run for good. Charlotte was a runner.
He had always hated runners. Declan could deal with brats, fighters, weepy women—hell, even whiners. But runners were too much damn trouble. Hard to catch. Then once you caught them, you’d have to bring them out of hiding. Charlotte was in this group. She hid behind her nerd girl image, but she was something special when she let that guard of hers down. And when she flashed a glimpse of what was really inside her, it did something to him.
But so far that’s all she’d given Declan; glimpses. There had been moments when he thought they would make a complete breakthrough and she would come out of hiding for good. He could see it on her face, but then it disappeared just as quickly.
I can go slow. If she needs to see self-control, I can show it to her. Fuck, I don’t think I can slow down much more. But it isn’t working. She still has one foot out the door. What the fuck?
Declan would give her up if he thought he could or if she didn’t respond to him. But that’s the thing, she submitted without even realizing it. She had no idea she was doing it, and it was the most beautiful fucking thing he’d ever seen. And that’s why he ’couldn’t let her go.
His cock twitched as a brief image flickered through his mind. The image of Charlotte sucking him off in the car before work Friday came into sharp focus. Thoughts drifted to the feel of her sweet pussy milking his cock dry after their session last night. God, she’s so perfect.
He’d only been away from her thirty minutes and already he was craving her. It was like quitting smoking.
Fuck, it’s going to be a long few days. Why the fuck am I going to Owen’s cousin’s place?
Declan knew the answer. He needed to give Charlotte the chance to run. Until she stopped hiding, the only way to know if she was being true to herself was to give her the opportunity to get away. If this situation is wrong for her, she won’t be able to keep herself from running. But it’s not wrong. It’s so right; it scares the shit out of me.
***
Halfway through his Monday, Declan caved and called Charlotte. It didn’t matter that it went to voicemail. He had to hear her voice. Something about it calmed him.
He considered blowing off Owen’s invitation to the munch Monday night, but in the end he made himself go. If for no other reason than to talk to Owen and get his take on things. It couldn’t hurt. There were five cars in front of Owen’s uncle’s house. Declan recognized hers right away. He tried not to cringe.
Declan walked up to the house and greeted Becker first. Becker was Owen’s cousin. Becker was his last name, and Declan had no idea what his first name was. That was something you adjusted to in the lifestyle with most people. Nicknames or last names only. For people who relied on building trust in their partner, they were an untrusting group. Declan knew of a couple who had been play partners for over a year before they knew each other’s given names.
He had no idea how involved in the lifestyle Becker was or had been. Right now, he was just a loner who lived in an old farmhouse in the country. His wife had passed away five years ago. As far as they could tell, Becker hadn’t dipped his toes back into the dating pool since. It seemed like a waste because he was a great guy.
“Hey, Becker. How’s things?”
“Pearse, hey. Things are good. Owen and everyone are out that way.” He pointed toward the west. “Better light this time of day.”
“You joining us?”
“Nah. My shoulder has been bothering me lately. I need to take a break.” Becker rubbed his right shoulder, wincing a bit.
“Caught yourself a girl, yet?”
“All the time. Catch and release.”
Declan nodded. Becker had been saying the same thing for as long as he knew him, which was going on four years. He figured it was Becker’s way of politely telling him to fucking mind his own business.
He walked through the side door and spotted the group. A moment later, he heard Owen’s whip crack. Declan knew it was his by the loudness of it. They were the only ones in their circle who invested serious money in their implements. They both had handcrafted French Martinet twelve plait whips made from Latigo leather that tapered to thin crackers at the end, producing a wicked sound. The other regulars sported mostly shorter stock whips or synthetics. They worked well but weren’t nearly as impressive sounding.
Declan tried not to notice Katherine as he approached, but she was like an old bad habit. Every once in a while your eyes are bound to shop even when it’s not what you want anymore. She was most definitely not what he wanted. Unfortunately, she caught him looking in her direction. Fuck!
He stopped and stood a comfortable distance from where she was standing, focusing his full attention on Owen. He was explaining something to Ford about timing, which was so critical to the more advance cracks. Declan ’guessed he’d arrived at the end of his mini lesson because the other guys who’d been listening were starting to palm their whips and spread out. He created his space and started his warm-up routine.
About ten minutes later, Declan spotted Owen out of the corner of his eye making his way toward him. He coiled his whip in one hand and turned to face Owen.
“Hey, glad you could make it.”
Declan nodded.
“Where’s Charlotte?”
“She’s out of town. Family issue.”
Owen nodded. “You been seeing her a lot?”
“Yeah. We spent the weekend together, actually.”
“That’s great, man.” Owen was one of the few people who knew him well enough to know he didn’t date anyone regularly. “How’s it working out?”
Declan shrugged. “Slow. She’s, uh, complicated.”
“Isn’t everyone?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess. She’s just harder for me to figure out.”
Push (Bound #1) Page 12