by Lisa Henry
“What the hell is that?” I asked.
“A spool of rope.”
What the fuck clashed with Oh my God in my brain.
He opened the top of the box and reached inside, pulling what he’d said out enough so I could see—a spool wound with electric-blue rope. “Perfect,” he murmured, his voice soft and too sexy for the office.
I swallowed, my throat desert dry. Something about his expression, maybe that evil glint in his eye, told me he wasn’t using it for macramé. I dropped my voice to a near whisper, too. “That’s a lot of rope.”
The smile he gave me wasn’t innocent at all. “Two hundred yards.”
“You could wrap a body with that.” Why the fuck had that come out of my mouth? Heat swam to my cheeks.
Gabe’s grin didn’t help. “Yes, I could. Several, actually.”
Oh shit. I shifted in my seat, my jeans suddenly a whole lot tighter than they’d been a moment ago, and my blood was fucking on fire. Again.
Gabe chuckled and lowered the spool back into the box. “You should feel it.”
On my skin. Over my wrists and ankles. Across my chest. I whipped back around, and stared at my monitor, breathless and far too warm to be sitting in a cube at work.
A moment later, my IM pinged. Gabe, of course.
Didn’t mean to freak you out.
I licked my lips, and typed. You didn’t.
Then what’s up?
My cock. But I wasn’t about to say that over the corporate network. Hell, this conversation shouldn’t even be happening. But my fingers had a mind of their own.
I . . . didn’t realize you were into rope work.
Across the cube, Gabe huffed a laugh.
This a problem?
No.
Then what?
I couldn’t answer. Because the rope in that box? I wanted someone doing to me what I suspected Gabe did with that. My IM dinged again.
Thomas. I expect a reply.
Thomas. As if I weren’t hard enough. I put my shaking hands on the keyboard. I didn’t think I could be so lucky.
Gabe’s chuckle was dark and delicious.
Doomed. Thank God there weren’t any meetings soon. Maybe I could calm the fuck down before I had to stand up again.
My screen flashed.
There’s a party I want to take you to on Saturday.
Heat raced down my spine, followed by ice. Party could mean board games and beer, or whips and racks—it had been at one of the latter types that I’d met Dominic. Want and fear clashed and goose bumps covered my arms. I was glad I’d worn a long-sleeved button-down to work.
Gabe had never been an asshole. I clung to that and let desire win all the way.
Rope?
Yes.
Oh fucking hell.
Code, Thomas. And breathe.
I sucked in a breath. Then another, and after a few minutes, I could even wrap my head around the text on my screen. All I had to do was make it to five o’clock tonight.
Just that. With Gabe and a large spool of rope sharing my cube.
I sucked in another lungful of air and put my fingers on the keyboard. Easy, right?
So very doomed.
I wasn’t sure how I made it, but the end of the workday rolled around and my brain hadn’t exploded. I’d even finished coding one project and fixed three bugs in some legacy code. Not bad for being completely out of my head most of the time.
That box. Gabe. Rope. A party.
All of that ran around my head as I rode the elevator down to the garage, holding the box for Gabe. Parking was expensive, but Gabe had won a free year’s worth at the last holiday party. I usually took the bus out of town, but he’d offered me a lift in exchange for carrying his spool of rope. At least that was the story spoken out loud. We both knew we needed to talk. I wanted to find out more about this party, and I needed something. A kiss, a touch. Whatever he was willing to give, other than that amazing grin plastered on his face. Too bad there were three other people in the elevator. They all got off at the garage level too, damn it.
I followed Gabe to his car. He popped the trunk and took the box out of my hands. “Doors are unlocked. Hop in.”
I slid into the passenger’s seat, closed the door, and belted myself in. A moment after the trunk thudded shut, Gabe sat down in the driver’s seat and shut his door. “You survived that nicely.”
I let out a laugh. “Barely.”
“I think you did remarkably well.” He belted himself in. “I’d even kiss you, but I’m not quite ready to let the office know we’re dating.”
I flinched. “How are we going to handle that?” Wasn’t there some golden rule about never dating coworkers, especially ones of the same gender?
He shrugged. “We let Fred know, basically. Then it goes from there.”
But where? Sure, our boss was a decent enough guy, and yes, I’d read the policy, but I didn’t believe it. Far easier to fire people than to let an office romance get in the way, especially between two men. And Pennsylvania was an at-will employment state—they could let either of us go for no reason whatsoever. When I’d announced I was moving, half a dozen queer coworkers had warned me not to come out at work. Pennsylvania wasn’t California.
Gabe gripped my knee. “I enjoy seeing you strung out . . . but in lust, not in worry. It’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.” My horrible relationship track record notwithstanding, I was hoping Pennsylvania was better, at least for me.
He patted my leg.
I cleared my throat as he maneuvered his way toward Bigelow Boulevard. “So, about this party?”
“It’s exactly what you probably thought. A bondage party, specifically shibari. You familiar?”
“Yes.” My voice shook. “I’ve never been t—” I caught my breath and shifted in the seat. “I know what it is. Been to some demos in San Fran.”
Gabe’s hand still rested on my thigh. I wanted it higher. Hell, I wanted it wrapped around my cock. Or my wrists. Something.
“It’s a smallish gathering,” he said. “Maybe two dozen people. Private house up near Zelienople. I’d like you to come as my date.”
God, my pulse. I wouldn’t need my cardio workout. “To watch or . . . um . . .”
“Up to you.” He squeezed my leg, his hand still too damn far down. “Don’t get me wrong. I want to tie you up. Badly. But your first time? In public? After we just started dating?” He shook his head. “You have to decide if that’s in your comfort zone. I can’t make that decision for you.”
I exhaled a shuddering breath. It was a fair answer and a kind one. The sign of a good Dom. We hadn’t had a chance to talk boundaries yet. Or safewords. Hell, anything. Technically, we’d been dating less than a day. Of course he wouldn’t force me into anything. The games we played last night? Flirting. Foreplay. Being bound shibari style? I was fucking shaking at the thought. I wanted Gabe’s hands on me. His rope. His control.
In front of other people? I . . . didn’t know. Everything was still so damn new. “If I came and watched, would you still bind someone?”
We stopped at the light near the Consol Energy Center, and Gabe was silent for long enough that I knew the answer before he said it.
“Yeah. I promised I would a month ago. It would be one of the guys I’ve worked with before. No sex—never at the party—and he’s got a master besides. But yes, I’d tie him up.”
He was breathless. Agitated. Much like me.
I didn’t fucking like the hollowness in my heart or in the pit of my stomach at the thought of Gabe binding another person.
“I’d much rather it be you.” The light turned green, and he moved us onto the ramp to Bigelow. He needed both hands for that, though, so his touch vanished.
Up yet another hill we went. I wanted it to be me, too. But . . . “That’s a lot to ask for our second date.” I pushed the words out through a tight throat.
His sigh was long, and his knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel. “I know. Th
at’s why I’m not asking.”
Only he was. Not entirely. I still had a way out. I’d just have to watch him do to another man what I desperately wanted him to do to me.
“I’m not going to think any less of you if you say no,” Gabe said. “I just . . . want you to be there. With me. None of this has to be kinky.”
“I like kinky.” I pulled the elastic from my hair, then gathered it back into a ponytail and retied it. Too much kink had killed my relationship with Sherri, and Dominic had nearly beaten the desire from me. Gabe controlling me? Tying me up? What if this went horribly wrong too? I flexed my hands, wanting something to grip. “I want kinky.”
Gabe remained quiet. But he did squeeze my knee again.
God, I loved his touch. He’d always been a source of calm for me at work, an anchor when I first moved here. I liked and trusted him, which was probably why I was falling so damn hard, so fast.
But a scene? At a party? I looked out the window and caught my own reflection staring back. And man, I was terrified. “I’ve never scened in public.”
“Oh,” Gabe said. “Wow. Um . . .”
“Shit?” I suggested.
He burst out laughing. A moment later I joined in, and that broke the tension between us.
“Yeah. Shit. Dude. I can’t ask you—”
That was all it took, that consideration, the worry on his part. I trusted that, trusted him. “I’ll do it.”
And fuck if I didn’t make Gabe squeak. “What?”
“You said it’s a demo, right? Well . . . can’t get any more green than me.”
We got to the part of the drive where he needed two hands again, but I felt the tremor in his arm before he pulled away. “You’ve had a Dom before, right, I mean . . .?”
And now there was fear in his voice. Understandable. He’d made the basic assumption, which given our flirting and IM conversation, made complete sense.
“I’m not that green. I had a master for about a year. Broke it off several months before I came here.” And ran away from that mess.
He let out a breath. “Good.” A heartbeat later, he asked, “What happened?”
We were close to my apartment. “Wanna pause this and come up? I could make dinner.” Maybe we could have a real conversation about this rather than a broken one in the car.
“That’s probably smart.” He found a spot on the street near the building and parked. We got out of the car, and he locked it.
I took two steps, then halted. I couldn’t stop thinking about the coil in the glove box, the spool in the trunk, and what I’d said I’d do. “Gabe?” My voice sounded strange in my ears, kind of floaty and lost.
He placed his hand on my shoulder and turned me toward him. “Yeah?” Concern in his eyes. Curiosity too.
“Do you want to bring some rope up?”
Man, that smile. I would never get enough of that. He caressed my cheek. “Wait here.”
I didn’t move.
He popped the trunk and took out a small duffle bag. After locking the car, he was back at my side. “Let’s go.”
“Not the spool?”
He laughed. “Needs to be measured and cut to the proper length, then coiled.” He hefted the bag onto his shoulder. “And that’s going to take you hours to do.”
Oh. He nudged me in the direction of my apartment building. Odd to lead Gabe, but what else could I do? I let him in the small brick building, and we walked up the three flights to the top apartment.
He sat his bag down in the living room and looked around. “This is nice.”
It was. A kind of loft deal. Big open living room and kitchen with lots of windows and light. A reasonably sized bedroom with a master bath in the back. “Yeah. I was really lucky to find it.” And the rent? Holy shit. No wonder people were moving from San Francisco to here. Dirt fucking cheap. In a year or two, I’d have enough saved up to buy a house.
Gabe walked around the living room slowly, as if drinking everything in, studying the furniture. The table. The chair legs. It took me a moment, then my mouth went dry. Gabe was looking for anchor points, studying the height, and gauging the strength of the pieces. He paused by the dining set, which had a Frank Lloyd Wright feel to it. Simple lines. Solid and sturdy. Chairs with narrow, straight slatted backs and elegant arms.
I sucked in a breath and put down my keys. “I’ll get dinner started.”
He nodded. “May I?” He pointed back toward the bedroom.
“Sure.” It came out as a whisper. I had no secrets. I didn’t want to keep secrets from Gabe.
Rather than head to the bedroom, he came straight to me, slid his fingers into my hair, and kissed me. My ass hit the edge of the kitchen counter, and I groaned when the bulge in his jeans pressed against mine. He freed my hair from its elastic, then broke the kiss. “Hair down from now on.”
That was most definitely an order. But— “While cooking?”
Except for a few locks around my face, all of my hair fell about one-third down my back. He ran his fingers through the length of it and brushed it behind my shoulders. I shivered when his fingers skimmed against my neck.
“Well, you can put it back up, if you’d like.”
I shivered again, because the tone of his words said, You could disobey me, if you’d like.
He chuckled.
“We haven’t—” My voice broke. Everything had been grand up until now. But negotiating a Dom/sub relationship? Done that before. Didn’t work out well the last time. Agreements on limits, I discovered, hadn’t meant much to Dominic. I didn’t want Gabe to be the same.
I tried again. “We haven’t discussed punishment.”
The amusement vanished in an instant, and he nodded. “You’re right, and we should.” He stepped back and handed the elastic to me. “I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s just that—” His voice held the trace of a quaver. “I really want this, Tom.”
Tom. Not Thomas. Equals. The thrum of my pulse settled a bit. “Check out my bedroom. I’ll start cooking. We’ll talk.” I put my hair back up and stepped toward the fridge. Chicken breasts. Tomatoes. Mushrooms. Onions. All things I’d seen Gabe eat. I had angel-hair pasta in the pantry.
“Nice bed,” Gabe called. “Like the handcuffs.”
I dropped the ingredients on the counter and took a breath. Shit. I’d forgotten those were still hanging on the brass rails. “Thanks.”
I shouldn’t have been embarrassed. This was Gabe, who’d seen me face-plant while snowboarding on the bunny slopes. Whom I’d invited in to tie me up and fuck me. He stood leaning against the doorframe to my bedroom, grinning the same way he had when I’d come up sputtering snow. He sobered. “So. Your former Dom . . .”
Here we go. I focused on chopping the vegetables. “Master Dominic. Complete asshole.” Gabe didn’t say a word, just moved into the kitchen and sat at the breakfast counter, so I continued. “Obviously, I like bondage. Submission. I’m not big on degradation. I’m not a very good masochist.” I pushed the chicken into the skillet and added some olive oil. Turned on the heat.
“Not into pain?” No disappointment in Gabe’s voice. That was, well, unexpected.
Most of the Doms I’d met were sadists. I set the spatula down and turned. Gabe sat with his elbows on the counter, hands under his chin. Curiosity in his face, his eyes . . . and only then did I realize how tense I’d become. I uncurled my toes and relaxed my shoulders.
“Some pain.” I cleared my throat. “I like a good, hard fuck. Don’t even need much prep.”
The left corner of his mouth drew up. “I can give you that.” Soft, soft words.
There went my pulse again. The chicken sizzled, so I stirred, turned down the heat, then added the veggies. Added salt and pepper, then poured in a bit of sherry too. Put a cover on.
My lungs were so tight. I wanted to believe Gabe, to trust him. Dominic had shattered that all to hell. Still, I pressed on. “I also like cock and ball torture.”
I gripped the counter because Gabe’s expr
ession alone nearly took my legs out from beneath me. A full-on grin at that, as if he’d just won the freaking jackpot. He practically purred the words, “Oh good.”
“I don’t like whips,” I blurted. “Canes. Beatings. That sort of thing.”
Fuck if he didn’t nod. “Different kind of pain.” He cocked his head to one side. “What happened?”
With Dominic. I scrubbed a hand over my face. “We set the ground rules, the dos and don’ts. And we agreed he’d only whip me as punishment. Which was fine. For a while.”
Gabe frowned and folded his hands. I checked the chicken, and forced myself to breathe. I hadn’t really thought about those last days with Dominic much. Mostly because I was so fucking glad to be three thousand miles away. “Except he kept finding reasons to beat me. Setting goals I couldn’t possibly meet. Finding fault with everything.”
I pressed my palms against the granite surface. Closed my eyes. “I safeworded the last time he caned me. Three times. And he didn’t fucking stop.”
I heard the stool fall over, and I knew Gabe was behind me. The heat from his body warmed my back, his breath sent shivers over my neck, but he didn’t touch me. “Tom.”
“When he took me off the cross, I punched him in the face and told him if he ever touched me again, I’d kill him. Then I left.”
“Tom.”
“I’m fine. I’m—” I took a deep breath and turned around. Looking into Gabe’s blue eyes and seeing the worry, the anger there? I couldn’t say it. Because it wasn’t entirely true. He opened his arms, and I stepped forward into his embrace. I tried not to break. I was tired of those emotions. I’d come here to escape them, to move on. Not to relive it again, and certainly not with Gabe.
I broke anyway.
Gabe held me. After a moment, he spoke. “I’ve pretty much wanted you from the moment we met. Figured you were straight. And I am so fucking grateful we became friends because it meant I could be around you anyway, you know? You’re just—a great guy.” He gave a choked laugh. “The perfect guy.”
I wiped my eyes, and he pulled away enough that I could see his face and damned if his eyes weren’t wet too.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. And if this is going to—”