Indebted Heart (Windy City Book 3)

by Measha Stone

  "Not a nurse." She put the plates in the sink, facing away from them. "Business. I wanted to go into hotel and restaurant management." She sighed and went about clearing the rest of the table. She saw the two men share glances and braced herself.

  "Right. That was it. Why don't you do that? You can go to school and still work a bit." Paul said stilling her hand when she grabbed the plate of leftover pork chops. "Why not?"

  "Paul." She took a deep breath and continued, "I can't afford it, okay? It's expensive to go to school." She hated talking about money with him because if he could manage it, she knew he'd give her what she needed. He never let her pay him back either. When she was little she didn't mind the presents he mailed, the school clothes and supplies. But as she got older she saw it for what it was: charity. So she became more and more evasive when he asked how she was doing financially, not wanting him to send her anything. Just his friendship became more than enough as she got older.

  "If money is an issue—"

  "No!" She pointed to Alex as he began to speak, and instantly regretted it when his eyes darkened. "I mean, no. You don't have to do anything. I'm fine working where I work." She grabbed the potato salad.

  "You're already staying with Alex. Why not let him foot the bill on the rent and you focus on school during the day and work at night." Paul's logical tone irritated her. The two of them thought they could fix everything by just giving her things, and that was the last thing she needed.

  "It's temporary, my living with Alex." She turned from the fridge to face two glaring men. One was slightly less intimidating, but she was sure that was only due to the fact he wouldn't turn her over his knee. "My, such big eyes you both have." She adopted a mock-terrified expression. Paul's features were the first to crack into a smile. Alex merely relaxed but didn't find her as amusing. "Okay, I'll look into it. Really," she promised Paul while dragging her fingers over her chest. "Cross my heart."

  "I'm going to hold you to that." Alex stated firmly. "I put your bag in the front hall, did you want to get cleaned up?"

  "Yes. Thank you. I need to get this burger grime off of me. Where's the bathroom?" Alex offered to show her, and Alyssa didn't miss the grin and wink Paul gave his son as they exited the kitchen.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Alex didn't miss the comfort Alyssa felt with his father. A part of his brain had worried that there had been more to what his father had confessed to, but Alyssa squashed that fear. They carried on a friendly banter throughout the evening, and only when Paul would delve into her personal issues such as home and school did he become parental and her the rebellious child. He had been hopeful his father would help get Alyssa to understand that she didn't have to work two jobs, that she could go to school, and that she didn't need to live in a shitty ass apartment, but it would seem Paul was as wrapped around her finger as he was finding himself.

  There was no way in the deepest pits of hell that he was going to allow her to move out. Allowing her to have her own room was enough of a separation, and that irritated him. He would just do his best to keep her in his bed every night. Shouldn't be too hard, as that's where he wanted her anyway. He was aware that he was moving quickly, having her living with him already, but it didn't feel fast enough to him. He wanted to spend every second of every day with her, breathing her in, and kissing her senseless. Her lips called to him, even when she was being irritating and stubborn. Especially when she was being stubborn, her thrust upward chin was intended to show her indifference, but he saw it as an opportunity to get to her mouth.

  While Alyssa was showering Paul had gone on and on about how wonderful he thought it was that Alyssa had moved in. He even gave Alex a direct order not to let her leave, under any circumstances. It was only when Alex accused him of being an old busybody that he relented and changed the topic. But his father was right. It did feel good having her there, and he wasn't going to let that change.

  "I hadn't seen your dad in five years, he looks really good." Alyssa broke the silence as they headed home.

  Alex turned down the radio. "He seemed really glad to see you, too. I think I had the wrong picture in my head before, of what all happened."

  "Happened?" She took a long breath. "Alex, your father was sucked in by my mother's ability to find a drunk man down on his luck. I'm sure it was a huge shock when he told you, but you have to know he loved your mother. He never would have done anything to hurt her or you."

  "Do you remember that night? You were so young." He'd wondered ever since Paul confided in him about that night, if she had remembered it all and how many other men she had found sitting in her living room late at night.

  "I do," she laughed. " Your father was pretty lit up. At first he confused me for you, but I didn't realize that. I’d woken up from a nightmare and went looking for my mom. When I told him my name, he sobered up real quick and threw himself into protective mode. I think you get that from him." She gave a little laugh.

  He wished they weren't driving, and he'd be able to look at her as she talked, to see her eyes and explore her thoughts, but he also got the impression she felt more at ease with not having him stare at her.

  "He told me he checked in on you every year," he prompted. He wanted to know more about her childhood, more about her.

  "That convention of his came to town every year. The first year he stopped in my mother thought it was to see her; she was spitting mad when he turned her down—again—and asked about me. At first she tried to toss him out, but then she realized he'd brought me a gift. He had brought me clothes. Real clothes from a real store." She paused for a moment, turning to look out the window at the city lights as they drove past. "She let me keep them and told him he could do what he wanted. Every year he stopped in with a bag of clothes, and once school started he'd mail down supplies."

  "What about your father?" He slowed his speed as they were getting closer to his exit. She was opening up to him, and he knew once they were parked she'd clam up again.

  "I don't know him." she shrugged. "From what I could piece together through my mother's tirades, I was supposed to be her meal ticket. When she found out she was pregnant with me, she figured she'd found a way to tie him to her forever. He'd have to support her if she had his child, so she didn't tell him about me right away. She waited until it was too late to force her into an abortion. But she hadn't taken into account that he may not want to be tied to her—or some baby. He washed his hands of her, told her it was her own doing and her own problem." She sighed and Alex gripped the steering wheel even harder as she continued. "When I was in middle school she tried to send me to him, to keep me for the summer. I was so excited. Finally, I was going to meet my dad."

  His stomach soured at the tone in her voice. "She hadn't told him about you coming, did she?" he guessed, wishing he could pull her into his arms while she spoke.

  "No. She didn't. And he turned me away. His wife was livid. I heard her yelling at him from behind the closed door. Apparently, my mother had contacted him over the years, and the wife knew about me. She wasn't mad that I existed, she was mad I had shown up."

  The list of men Alex wanted to pummel to death on her behalf grew longer with her confessions. How she managed to want to be with any man after all these assholes did to ruin her, was beyond him. Every person she was supposed to be able to count on for love and support had let her down.

  "Baby, I had no idea."

  "It's okay." she turned to him, a smile encroaching on her otherwise solemn face. "It was what it was. It could have been a lot worse," she said. "I mean men were coming and going so often, I really could have been hurt. I see that now. I was really lucky."

  "The burn?"

  "One time. One guy. He'd been so put out by my mom having to administer some actual care for me he'd never called her again." She straightened in her seat and he felt the tension build again. The walls were starting to build.

  "The other time?" he questioned.

  She shook her head. "Not one of my m
om's boyfriends. A different guy, different situation. I'm better now. I'm good." She nodded. "Now, I believe you said you had plans for us when we got home, and you've circled the block twice. Park. Let's go home." Her hand rested on his knee, sliding upward in his lap, and he groaned as his dick instantly leapt alive at her touch.

  He turned the car into the garage and sped up the ramp to his spot. He did have plans for them. He'd been able to peel one layer of her armor away, and it was time to start the next.

  "Go into my bedroom, remove all of your clothes and kneel beside the bed. Keep your hands folded behind your back, and your eyes cast downward." He instructed, as he walked into his apartment. He removed her purse from her shoulder and relieved her of the dish of leftovers his father had forced on them when they left.

  She nodded and sauntered away. Looking over her shoulder she smiled radiantly before disappearing down the hall.

  She would be the death of him if he didn't get inside her soon, but it was a death he was willing accept. Only, he had other things in mind before sinking deep into her.

  He headed into the kitchen to get two bottles of water and some grapes. She would need both items by the time they were done, and he didn't want to have to leave her to get them. On the way to the bedroom he stopped at the linen closet to gather a few hand towels and tucked them under his arm.

  The door to his bedroom was closed and he paused before opening it. She was inside, hopefully exactly as he had instructed. The sight of it was going to entice him, and he needed to be in control, to go slow with her. He wasn't exactly sure what kind of experience she had, but from their short conversations he figured that spankings and a few floggings on her back were as much as she'd been introduced to. He had much more in store for her.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The door creaked as Alex swung it open. Alyssa remained with her eyes downcast as he'd instructed, but it took all of the willpower she possessed to obey his command. She'd managed to get to his room and get naked quickly, hoping he wouldn't arrive before she was ready.

  Not sure of what was to come, she had tried to anticipate what he'd want from her. The men at the clubs that she played with were really just friends who knew how to wield a paddle or flogger. It had never been truly sensual or sexual in anyway. Alex was different. He wasn't just a dominant who wanted rules and order. True, he expected her obedience, which was more difficult than she had originally thought, but he wanted everything else, too. He wanted to watch dorky movies late at night. He hugged her tightly whenever they embraced, and never once did he make her feel less than him. In fact, he always made her feel important, secure. She wanted to get this right for him, to set the scene correctly.

  She glanced quickly around the room for something to enhance the sight he'd find when he walked in. The warm cherry four-post bed took center stage in the room. The king sized bed, she'd expected nothing less for him, was not only extremely comfortable, but also looked to double as a toy in itself. The thick crafted posts stood straight to the ceiling, but from the end of each protruded delicately crafted wrought iron posts that met in the middle of the bed. She imagined being tied to the bed, standing and her hands bound to the iron posts above her. The things a person could have done to them in that position!

  She remembered seeing a black footlocker in his closet earlier and quickly padded to the closet to inspect it. No lock. She grinned as she lifted the lid to find a locker of treasures. Inside were several implements: paddles, mini canes, floggers and other boxes. She opened the one on top and found the exact thing that would add a bit of flare to their evening. A pair of leather cuffs that chained together. Acting quickly, she wrapped the first cuff around her wrist and secured it with the clasp, the left cuff proved to be a bit more difficult as the burn hadn't healed yet and the friction made it uncomfortable.

  Kneeling beside the bed, she put her hands behind her back and managed to hook the cuffs together. The door handle turned just as she finished putting herself into position.

  He entered silently, closing the door behind him but saying nothing to her. She wanted to look up at him, to see the pleasure in his eyes, the lust that always lingered there when he gazed upon her, but she managed to keep her eyes averted to the carpeting. His footsteps fell beside her as he made his way to the nightstand behind where she knelt. He placed several items on the table before he turned to her.

  The silence made her nervous; she wanted his words, his touches, and the lack of both worried her. Just as she was about to break her silence he stood in front her. His hands dug into her hair and he pulled her head back to look up at him. The pleasure and joy she expected to see eluded her. Instead firm, frank eyes glared down at her.

  "Where did you get the cuffs?" he asked.

  "The foot locker in the closet," she said, searching his expression. Anger did not lurk behind his words, but displeasure shone through his eyes.

  "What were your instructions?" he asked, releasing her hair and moving down to his haunches, keeping their eyes locked.

  "To come in here, strip, and kneel with my hands behind my back and my eyes downcast," she answered and before she could continue, he spoke.

  "And in those instructions where did I say to go into the closet and dig out a pair of cuffs?"

  "Nowhere, but I—"

  "You are trying to control the situation." His words were given in a soft tone, but the implication was harsh.

  "What? No. I was trying to add to it, to give you more of what you wanted." She wished they could have the discussion clothed.

  "What I want, what I desire, is your submission, your obedience. If I want your hands cuffed, I'll give you the instructions or I'll do it myself. You wanted your hands bound. You wanted to feel the cuffs on your wrists, bound, and waiting for me. Those were your desires."

  "Don't my desires matter?" she asked with an edge that she quickly regretted at the instant raise of his eyebrow.

  "Of course they matter. And I will always take your desires into account. When you submit to me, you trust me to give you want you want, what you need, and push your limits, but you don't control what happens."

  She searched his features. The casual, go-with-the-flow man had the expression of a serious dominant. Thinking on his words, she couldn't argue. She did want her hands bound behind her. She did love the feel of cuffs on her wrists. It was what she wanted, and she'd pretended she was serving him by doing so. She had completely tried to top the scene from the bottom.

  "I didn't think. I'm sorry. I was—"

  He shushed her with a kiss. His hands cupped her face as he continued to invade her mouth with his tongue. Her insides reacted as they always did when he took over in such a way. They melted to a pool of ooze. When he pulled away and looked at her, gone was the frustration and back was the lust.

  "You were topping from the bottom." He grinned. "You'll learn not to. It won't get you what you want. There are ways to ask for what you want. For example, if you had wanted this you could have asked me in the hall. You could have expressed your desire to be bound, and I would have either declined or accepted the suggestion. But since you didn't, I think these will have to go." He reached around her and unhooked the cuffs, bringing her hands forward. She watched as he unbuckled each one and removed it from her wrist. "Your burn. You've reinjured it." He tossed the cuffs onto the bed.

  "It's just a little raw, no damage," she insisted. She was ruining everything.

  He looked it over and then at her. "No binding until this is completely healed."

  She knew from his tone not to argue.

  "Eyes back on the ground. Hands resting behind your back." With no hesitation she positioned herself.

  When he returned to her side she heard two implements being dropped onto the bed and wondered what they were. What if she didn't like them, what if she wanted something else? Stephen had never accused her of topping from the bottom; he'd always gone along with her as had the men at the clubs. This new experience left her feeling both ner
vous and thrilled. She reminded herself that Alex wasn't a selfish man, and she could trust him, needed to trust him. A calming breath helped her refocus her attention to her surroundings.

  "Stand up, baby." His hands steadied her as she managed to get to her feet. "Link your fingers behind your neck. There you go. Good."

  She wanted his eyes. "May I look at you?" she asked her eyes remaining downcast.

  "Yes. You can look up now." When she did she found him grinning at her.

  "See? Not so hard." He gave her a quick kiss to her lips and leaned over the bed. A riding crop appeared before her eyes. "Have you ever experienced this?" His question focused her attention on the crop. It looked no different than any other crop she'd seen, so she nodded. "Anywhere other than on your ass or back?"

  "No," she answered feeling confused.

  "Take a few steps toward the windows, away from the bed." He moved himself in the same direction and she met him. "Tilt your head back for me, give me open access to those beautiful tits of yours." Only a moment's hesitation before she complied.

  Alyssa tensed in anticipation, knowing what he was about to do would sting. His mouth on her breasts surprised her. A hot, wet tongue twirled one taut nipple before moving to the other. A sigh of pleasure escaped her and he groaned at the sound. He stepped back and before it all registered in her mind, the crop landed sharply on her right breast. She squealed and gave a little hop, but did not lose her position.

  "Good girl." He moaned as he brought the crop down equally as hard on the other breast. "They bounce so fucking nice." The barrage of slaps continued alternating between breasts, but never striking the same place twice. He spared the peaks of her nipples at first, concentrating on the meaty flesh of her breasts, but once a blanketed heat covered her breasts he delivered two sharp slaps to each nipple, and she did move then. She kept her fingers linked, but folded inward, bringing her elbows in to protect herself.