in the well-lit living room in front of the huge window. He bunched the robe his hands and threw it back at the sofa, well beyond her reach. And then he just stood near her, not touching her, looking down at her as she held her hands up to her chest, trying to cover herself somehow in front of that big window.
“Will you tell me what they were?” she asked, her eyes cast downward. She couldn’t stand it.
“They were about what I’m going to do to you.”
She felt something in her belly flutter. “When?”
“When I feel like it. Soon. Maybe now.”
“But I don’t know what I agreed to,” she said, hugging her arms to her chest.
“That’s right,” he said, reaching up to push a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Of course, you don’t need to know. You’re mine, remember?”
That phrase, “you’re mine,” felt like something strong, something she could grab hold of to help her stand up when she was feeling so weak. He hadn’t touched her in what seemed like forever, but she was still feeling overwhelmed. He always had her number. He was always the only one who could see through her crap, and apparently he still could. Ava realized that he’d wanted her exhausted, mentally, too strung out to fight him, or herself.
“Smart man,” she whispered.
He pretended not to hear her. Instead, he kissed her, quick and hard, crushing her naked body into his. Then he let her go.
“Cuff yourself,” he said, gesturing at the handcuffs on the floor. He walked past her. She could hear him messing with something behind her even as she bent down to retrieve the cuffs.
“If you want to know the questions you’ve already answered,” he said from somewhere behind her, “you’ll answer a few more. This time, real questions, real answers. Otherwise, you’ll just get a bunch of surprises.”
Apparently he remembered how she hated surprises, too. Smart, smart man.
Ava stared at the handcuffs, glinting silver in the light from the overhead, wondering at what they meant to her. A week ago she might have fantasized about this, but only in a strictly theoretical sense. She never would have allowed herself to be in a position to be confronted with the actual, real life possibility of being handcuffed by a man who was about to fuck her. If asked, she would have said maybe, one day, but it was a big step.
That step didn’t seem so big now, up close. Or maybe it was Jackson who made it feel normal, less terrifying. It just seemed…inevitable.
Stop thinking, Ava.
She cuffed herself and turned to show him.
He looked down at her cuffed wrists and attached a length of soft black rope with a clip on the end to the cuffs with a definite clink . The rope extended to the other side of the room, where it was attached to a pulley that he’d hung on an eyehook that protruded from the wall. She jerked at the rope and the pulley gave slightly. There was some slack on the line. She followed it, and saw that Jackson held the other end in his hand.
He looked at her right back. Then he looked at her hands, cuffed, but still held up so they covered her breasts. His eyes flickered to the window and back to her.
“Close the chest and sit on it,” he said, and returned to his seat on the sofa opposite her.
Bewildered, Ava did as he said. Part of her felt like this was ridiculous. She was naked and restrained in plain view of much of Manhattan. And he hadn’t touched her since he’d come back. She’d been aching for him for hours now, and the more she thought about it, the more the pressure behind her clit grew. It was making it hard to focus, hard to think.
She remembered what he’d said only that morning, when she’d tried to run out: You’ve been thinking for ten years. How’s that worked out for you?
She looked at the grey eyed man who sat across from her, his face giving nothing away. Could he really know her that well? Still, after all this time?
“Spread your legs for me,” he said, and began to slowly gather the
“Will you tell me what they were?” she asked, her eyes cast downward. She couldn’t stand it.
“They were about what I’m going to do to you.”
She felt something in her belly flutter. “When?”
“When I feel like it. Soon. Maybe now.”
“But I don’t know what I agreed to,” she said, hugging her arms to her chest.
“That’s right,” he said, reaching up to push a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Of course, you don’t need to know. You’re mine, remember?”
That phrase, “you’re mine,” felt like something strong, something she could grab hold of to help her stand up when she was feeling so weak. He hadn’t touched her in what seemed like forever, but she was still feeling overwhelmed. He always had her number. He was always the only one who could see through her crap, and apparently he still could. Ava realized that he’d wanted her exhausted, mentally, too strung out to fight him, or herself.
“Smart man,” she whispered.
He pretended not to hear her. Instead, he kissed her, quick and hard, crushing her naked body into his. Then he let her go.
“Cuff yourself,” he said, gesturing at the handcuffs on the floor. He walked past her. She could hear him messing with something behind her even as she bent down to retrieve the cuffs.
“If you want to know the questions you’ve already answered,” he said from somewhere behind her, “you’ll answer a few more. This time, real questions, real answers. Otherwise, you’ll just get a bunch of surprises.”
Apparently he remembered how she hated surprises, too. Smart, smart man.
Ava stared at the handcuffs, glinting silver in the light from the overhead, wondering at what they meant to her. A week ago she might have fantasized about this, but only in a strictly theoretical sense. She never would have allowed herself to be in a position to be confronted with the actual, real life possibility of being handcuffed by a man who was about to fuck her. If asked, she would have said maybe, one day, but it was a big step.
That step didn’t seem so big now, up close. Or maybe it was Jackson who made it feel normal, less terrifying. It just seemed…inevitable.
Stop thinking, Ava.
She cuffed herself and turned to show him.
He looked down at her cuffed wrists and attached a length of soft black rope with a clip on the end to the cuffs with a definite clink . The rope extended to the other side of the room, where it was attached to a pulley that he’d hung on an eyehook that protruded from the wall. She jerked at the rope and the pulley gave slightly. There was some slack on the line. She followed it, and saw that Jackson held the other end in his hand.
He looked at her right back. Then he looked at her hands, cuffed, but still held up so they covered her breasts. His eyes flickered to the window and back to her.
“Close the chest and sit on it,” he said, and returned to his seat on the sofa opposite her.
Bewildered, Ava did as he said. Part of her felt like this was ridiculous. She was naked and restrained in plain view of much of Manhattan. And he hadn’t touched her since he’d come back. She’d been aching for him for hours now, and the more she thought about it, the more the pressure behind her clit grew. It was making it hard to focus, hard to think.
She remembered what he’d said only that morning, when she’d tried to run out: You’ve been thinking for ten years. How’s that worked out for you?
She looked at the grey eyed man who sat across from her, his face giving nothing away. Could he really know her that well? Still, after all this time?
“Spread your legs for me,” he said, and began to slowly gather the
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