The Drake Restrained Collection: Part 1 and 2 (The Drake Series Book 3)

by Lund, S. E.

  “Thanks for your support,” Ethan said, one hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure your father would hate to see you working behind the scenes at a Republican strategy session, but I’m really honored to have you as one of my supporters.”

  I shook my head and smiled at him. “There could never be any doubt that I’d support you, with my vote and checkbook. I know you’ll make a great Congressman.”

  He led me out of the study and down the hall to the living room where Elaine, Christie and Kate were seated. I was relieved that Kate stayed behind. It reinforced that she was interested after all, despite her reticence. I buttoned my jacket and entered the living room.

  Ethan seemed interested in delaying my departure and leaned in close.

  “Can you give my irritatingly independent daughter a lift home? She insists on taking the bus or subway, but I don’t like to see her out late at night all alone.”

  “Of course,” I said, taking my coat from the closet. “I’d be pleased to give her a ride home.”

  Kate stood and after kissing Elaine on the cheek, she came over to us.

  “What are you two conspiring about?" she kissed Ethan’s cheek and gave me a look I couldn’t quite decipher.

  "Us? Conspire?" Ethan laughed. "Just how to take over the world." He smiled and glanced at me. After one last goodbye, I opened the door and led her to the elevator.

  "I didn't think you'd actually wait for me." I pressed the button. "I thought you'd be long gone, so I'm pleasantly surprised."

  "I said I'd wait." I could see her brow furrow as she stood beside me, buttoning her coat.

  The door to the elevator opened and Kate entered first. I stood behind her and leaned past her to push the button for the basement. I couldn’t help but remember a passage in those books about elevators and smiled to myself.

  "Why are you smiling?" she said, bristling just a bit as if she knew precisely why.

  "Oh, let's just say that I have a hard time riding alone in elevators with pretty women and keeping a straight face these days."

  "Don't get any ideas."

  I chuckled out loud. "Kate, I've already had so many ideas. And that's what I wanted to talk to you about."

  She said nothing in reply, as if trying to avoid the conversation entirely.

  I helped her into my car once we arrived at the garage level and got in the driver’s side, still smiling, waiting her out.

  "Well, talk away," she said finally, reluctance in her voice.

  I drove out of the garage and onto the streets bordering Ethan’s building. I’d already been formulating my appeal in my mind as we drove.

  "I know it really upset you that I'm the one Lara was trying to match you with for your 'research'. You wanted anonymity and are embarrassed that I know who you are. I think we should still go through with the agreement you wanted – for one reason. Who could be safer than me?"

  "How are you safe?"

  I glanced at her, to check her expression. She was frowning. She was still afraid her father would find out she was interested in kink. She had to know I was as well.

  "I know and admire your father, so there's no way I'd want to screw things up with him. I admire you and don't want you to think less of me than you probably already do. I understand your need for anonymity, at least, for no one to find out what you're doing. You understand my need for secrecy, too. We're not going to expose each other."

  She said nothing as we drove down the street, unable to counter my logic, her face turned away from me as she watched out the window.

  "Look,” I said, trying once more to let her know that I was safe. “I know you're worried about your father finding out about your interest in BDSM but I'm well-respected in my field and I don’t want to screw that up. If people found out I frequent fetish nights and have submissives, it would hurt my reputation. You want to learn about the lifestyle and understand female submissives and male Dominants? I can help you,” I said as we stopped at a light. “We can pretend to be dating, and that way there'd be no reason that we couldn’t be seen together. We wouldn’t have to make up excuses in case anyone found us together. I won't do anything you don't want me to do. We can write it all out, formally in an agreement, and I'll stick to it. The only way anything will happen is if you want it to and specifically negotiate for the agreement to change. I am an honorable man in that respect. You can talk to Lara if you want verification."

  We drove along, but still nothing on her part. I was going to try another tack, but then she finally spoke, her voice hesitant.

  "Drake, it's just…"

  I watched her, noting her flushed cheeks.

  She shook her head and then continued. "I'm so embarrassed."

  "I know." I took her hand in mine and squeezed, wanting physical contact with her to show I was human and not some kind of scary monster. I also wanted to break down the physical wall between us as much as I could get away with. "How do you think I feel? Your father actually likes me. You don't know how much that means to me."

  Strangely enough, she didn’t jerk her hand away as I thought she might. She let me hold her hand and while I was tempted to stroke her palm, I decided against it and let her hand go much earlier than I wanted to. I wanted her to know I could control myself.

  "I know you and he don't really get along well," I said, remembering how upset she was at her father for what she felt was his interference in her life. "But he's like the father I wish I’d had. My own father was so self-absorbed and away from home so much that I always felt as if I was just not important enough. He was always, 'Hey, I love you man,' but I never felt it. If he had loved me, why was he always away?"

  We sat in silence at another stoplight. "Your father is maybe too involved in your life but as someone who felt neglected, I envy you that. When I met your father at my dad's funeral, he took me under his wing immediately because he and my dad were such good friends. So, if he found out about me…" I shook my head. "I've read some of his judgments. I know what he's like."

  "And yet you like him."

  I glanced at her, shocked that she was surprised that I liked her father. Did she really think he was an old bastard?

  "He's like a second father to me. He's smart and competent and powerful and has so much history with my dad. And he likes me, Kate."

  We arrived at her apartment and when the car stopped Kate jumped out of the car and started walking up the steps as if she couldn’t wait to escape me. I followed her quickly to the door, unwilling to let her get away.

  "Kate." I took her arm and tried to turn her to face me. "Don't run away. I want to talk. Straighten this out between us."

  "There's nothing to straighten out,” she said and tried to pull away. “We're square, OK? Let's just go our separate ways."

  I let go, discretion the better part of valor, and she opened the door and kicked the piece of cardboard aside that was holding it open. She slipped inside the door, and tried to close it before I could enter completely, but I was able to get in before she could.

  Yes, it was a bit forward on my part, but I knew if I could calm her down, we could make some progress. I didn’t want her to run away before I felt we were on the same page.

  "You said you wouldn't come in." She glared at my chin as if she couldn’t stand to look me in the eye and I realized that eye contact was difficult for Kate. It was intimate to her. I’d use that little tidbit and make her look me in the eye – eventually. When she came.

  "You said you'd talk to me,” I countered.

  "I did."

  "Kate…" I put my arm out and stopped her before she could leave and make it to the stairs.

  "Are you really going to try to stop me from going upstairs?" she said, still not looking me in the eye.

  "I want to keep talking."

  She exhaled in frustration. "Is this what Dominants do? Always try to control things?"

  "Yes." I took in a breath. "I like control Kate. I'm a Dom. It's what I do."

  She stood with her eyes fix
ed on the wall, her jaw clenched. I’d have to loosen her up if I was going to make it up to her apartment. And of course, that was the end goal. Her apartment. The rest would be a foregone conclusion if I made it there.

  "I'm listening."

  Good. She wasn’t going to force matters and leave without talking to me.

  "Write up an agreement,” I said, keeping my voice soft – the way you’d speak to a frightened animal. “Include anything you want in it, any terms, and I'll sign."

  She said noting for a moment, either to confirm or reject my proposal.

  "What is that?" she said and pointed to my wristband. "Is it some kind of kinky bondage thing?"

  I fingered it, remembering Kwesi, my first pediatric patient from Africa. The Foundation brought him to NYP for treatment.

  "This?" I twisted the band so that the tooling was visible. "No, it's not some kinky bondage thing, although I do have a real leather fetish. I love leather, how it feels and smells, and how really fine hide warms when it's against naked skin.” I smiled, thinking how delicious Kate would look with my leather restraints on her naked body. “I make my subs wear leather corset dresses, naked underneath, but I'm thinking of adding in a garter belt and black stockings with a seam in the back." I glanced at her and saw her expression, which was a mixture of shock and a bit of titillation. "And thigh high leather stiletto boots when we go to fetish parties, but maybe in your case, I'd settle for shorter heels..."

  She smiled at that, against her will for she turned her head away to hide her amusement. "Not fair.”

  "What?"

  "You trying to make me like you."

  I laughed out loud at that. Of course, I was trying to make her like me. I wanted her to lust after me, more than anything, but like was fine as well.

  "See? You do like me." I cleared my throat, trying not to gloat too much, at least, not yet. I’d gloat once I was between her thighs. Until then, nothing was certain. "Really soft leather is also nice for restraints, but you have to know how to tie them carefully." I glanced at her, and saw her wide eyes. She couldn’t help but listen and imagine what I described. "But this?" I lifted my hand and showed her the band once more. "This was a gift from a patient."

  "What does it say?" she said, her voice less defensive.

  "It's French. Here," I said and held my wrist so she could see it. "Do you read French?"

  "Just a bit." She took my wrist and examined the carving, peering down at it carefully.

  "It's from Fern Hill."

  "I know that poem,” she said. “Dylan Thomas."

  "You know it?" I said, a bit surprised, but she did study journalism. Maybe she took a few literature courses. "It's my favorite poem. The end especially."

  I recited the last line, which I remembered from my college days.

  She smiled shyly. "My favorite line was something about being easy under the apple boughs."

  Now it was my turn to be impressed. "That's the first line." I recited it as well.

  "Do you know the whole poem by heart?"

  I shook my head. "I can only remember the first and last stanzas. I memorized the whole thing once, back in college. I loved it because it made me think of my childhood. How happy I was and how unaware that soon, it would all come crashing down."

  "How did it come crashing down?" she asked, her pretty brow furrowed, genuinely interested.

  "Oh, you know. Life in general." I didn’t really want to talk about my youth. "I had a patient, a young boy of thirteen from South Africa. He suffered from inherited dystonia. A muscle contraction that makes the body contort. He had it all his life. It's hell, but he had such a great attitude. The Foundation brought him here a few years ago to do the operation and we became friends. He made this after he recovered from surgery and went back home. You know – touristy 'native' jewelry sold in the gift shops. I wear it because it reminds me why I became a doctor and a surgeon."

  "Oh, that's…" she said, hesitating as if searching for words. "That's so… nice."

  I smiled to myself. It was special to me – the young boy seeing me as a favorite uncle or father substitute. I never had children of my own and given what a neglectful father I had growing up, I wasn’t sure if I’d make a good father. Without any siblings, I had no nieces or nephews and expected I’d never marry so would die alone, some old bachelor living in a barren apartment…

  "But the quote?” she said, frowning. “How did he know to include that?"

  "He was here for six months and we arranged for him to have tutors,” I said. “He liked poetry the most of all his classes. He asked me what my favorite line of poetry was and I told him."

  This was getting far too sentimental. I cleared my mind of thoughts of Kwesi and returned to more comfortable topics. Like sex – specifically bondage and dominance.

  "So about our agreement,’ I said, raising my eyebrows, trying to inject a note of humor into the discussion. “You can include sex if you want, but remember I'm only so kinky. I have limits…"

  She didn’t smile or reply. Instead she frowned. Not what I intended…

  I decided to move things forward. "Give me your phone," I said, motioning to her bag. If she wouldn’t volunteer, I’d take matters into my own hands and put my phone number into her contacts. Then, I could text her. Texting might be less intrusive.

  "Why?"

  "Just give it to me."

  She reached into her bag, handing me her iPhone. I opened her contacts, entering my information. There. Simple. As long as she didn’t erase it before she got home, I’d be able to text her while she was lying in bed, thinking of the evening. I wanted her to think of me while she was in bed. I wanted her to connect me with her bed in her mind.

  "There," I said, handing her phone back. "At least consider what I've suggested. Draw up an agreement with whatever you want included and send it to me in an email."

  She took the phone and turned away without a word, starting up the stairs. Before she reached the top, I called out.

  "Remember, send me an email. I'll sign anything you want."

  "Goodbye, Dr. Morgan," she said without looking back.

  "Good night, Ms. Bennet."

  I smiled as I watched her climb the stairs. I’d gotten under her skin – I was sure of it. It was now only a matter of time before we were carrying on intimate conversations via text message.

  I went to my car and texted her right away, hoping to ensure she didn’t erase my contact info.

  You seem surprised that I like poetry. What you must think of me… I'm not a Neanderthal, Kate. Write up an agreement between us. Whatever you want. Include as much detail as you feel is necessary. I'll honor it to the letter. Your father would be only too pleased if we were to date and that can be our cover.

  At least he thinks I'm a decent sort…

  She responded, but not the way I planned…

  Imagine how surprised he'd be to find out how wrong he is…

  I made a face. Talk about not sparing my feelings…

  Ouch…

  She didn’t text back and part of me was upset that she’d threatened, in a passive kind of way, to reveal me to her father. But that would mean she’d have to reveal how the whole matter came up in the first place, and I was sure she wouldn’t do that.

  I was sure of one thing, and one thing only: she would never reveal to her father her interest in BDSM. She would never reveal my involvement in the lifestyle. She might not ever let me tie her up and fuck her, but she’d keep my secret safe for there was no way she would even know about it unless she was interested as well.

  I was safe with Kate. I just wish she understood that she was safe with me. I wasn’t the kind of Dom she feared – a sadist who would hurt and humiliate her. My only kink was leather and bondage. Other than that, I was pretty vanilla when it came to sex.

  I needed control. That was my true kink.

  She was perfectly safe with me. All she had to lose were her inhibitions. If she took a chance on me, I’d make sure she lo
st them and fast.

  She’d probably thank me for it in the long run.

  I drove back to my apartment in Chelsea and threw off my coat and boots, going to the kitchen for a glass of water before bed. I was still a bit up from my encounter with Kate – a bit restless and in need of some kind of release. I didn’t want to resort to masturbation yet again, feeling a bit like a failure for doing so since I was just outside her apartment building. Instead, I went for a late-night run to blow off some steam and drain off some of the pent-up sexual energy I’d been hoarding for Kate. When I returned, I checked my email and saw one from her.

  I sat at the island in my kitchen and read it over, surprised that she sent it to me so quickly, and that she apparently couldn’t sleep either.

  From: McDermott, Katherine M.

  Sent: November 07, 11:31 PM

  To: Morgan, D. L.

  Subject: The Agreement

  Attachments: The Agreement.doc (50 KB)

  Drake: I've attached the agreement for you to review and agree to.

  Please don't push any of my limits. I know it’s in your nature to do just that.

  If you do, I'm gone.

  Seriously.

  Kate

  I read her document over, noting how determined she seemed to be about keeping our distance, making our relationship one purely of research with me as an ‘informant’ and her as the ‘researcher’. I went to bed and lay awake for quite a while, considering how I was going to approach this. I wasn’t going to quibble with her about her document. Instead, I’d revise and send her my own version in the form of a submission agreement, based on one of the most popular documents currently in use in the lifestyle.

  I didn’t get to sleep very quickly despite the run, for now that I had her document, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d get her to accept and sign mine, which was far more explicit.