Bound to Please(72)

Mark glanced out the window. “I think the problem is more of me making her happy.”

“So why are you pushing her away?”

“I told you. She doesn’t want to get hurt.”

“And you’re so sure you’d do that?”

He thought of his parents. Yeah, they’d made it work, and there had even been happy times. But there was always that quiet resentment between them.

And Mark thought of the band, of how with each success the stakes got higher. “I’m not sure I wouldn’t hurt her. She deserves better.”

Yvette reached out and touched his knee. “Honey, you’re the best there is.”

They pulled up in front of the hotel. Seconds later the driver opened the door for them, and Mark followed Yvette into the lobby. They didn’t have bodyguards and generally hadn’t needed any, but Yvette had a few crazies that came out of the woodwork every once in a while, and Mark always made sure he had her back.

Once in the elevator, she turned to him. “You want to come to my room for a drink?”

He considered it. Thinking about Ruby had made him feel restless, and he wasn’t ready to wind down yet. But having a drink with Yvette didn’t seem appealing for some reason. The only thing that sounded good was talking to Ruby.

He touched his cell phone, thinking he’d call her when he got to the room. Even though she’d told him not to call, it was fucked of him to leave the way he had. He owed her an apology.

The elevator stopped at the top floor, and they stepped into the hallway. “Nah. I think I’m gonna crash.” He waited until Yvette’s door clicked shut, and then he went a few doors down to his own room.

He paused outside the door. A muffled female voice seemed to be coming from inside his. And he could have sworn she was saying, “Help.”

Sliding his card into the lock, he burst inside. The lights were low, but he could make out the form of a woman on his bed.

“What the fuck?” He flipped on the light.

“Mark! Help me!”

“What the hell is going on here?” A blonde woman was tied spread-eagled to his bed. She was naked. She was gorgeous. And she looked vaguely familiar.

“Mark! I’m so glad you’re here—”

“Shut up, bitch!”

He turned as a second woman emerged from the bathroom. She was a petite brunette wearing a black lace bra, garter belts attached to black stockings, and black panties. She carried a long-handled leather crop in one hand. She walked straight up to him. “Bad boy. You kept us waiting. Shame on you.” She stood on her tiptoes and leaned in close. “I need help disciplining my naughty little girlfriend.”

He was too stunned to respond. Instead he watched as the brunette stalked over to the bed. She wore the sluttiest high heels he’d ever seen—which was saying something—but she was a pro at strutting in them. Each step she took sent one hip out in a jaunty jerk. Left, right. Swish, sway. It was mesmerizing.

She smiled down at the girl tied to his bed and then slapped one of her nipples twice with the flogger. The girl cried out, but her eyes went wide.

His cock jerked at the sight.

He ran a hand over his scalp. “Who the fuck let you in here?”

The brunette just looked at him. “Mark. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten us. That would make me very sad. And very, very mad.”

He let his gaze drop over her small form. Her breasts were disproportionately large and round. He raked his memory. They did look familiar. But where? When? There were just so many of them. So many and none of them memorable. Just sex. Bodies. Toys.

Grinning, the brunette knelt on the bed, next to her “prisoner.” She reached right between the blonde’s legs and, using two fingers, spread open her pussy. “Come on now, Mark. Don’t tell me you forgot this cunt.” Leaning down, she licked the woman’s pussy in a long, slow lap. Then she slid two fingers inside the blonde, causing a piercing cry to erupt from her mouth.

He remembered that sound. It all came back in a rush. Last year, in this city. He’d been at a BDSM club and he’d found these two playing there. They had been beautiful; the blonde had been tied to a cross, her back to the crowd. He’d watched as the brunette flogged her sub until Mary had been crying out in pleasure. That unique, almost-annoying cry.

Mark had noticed that whenever Mary would clench her hands, her domme would stop and kiss her gently. It had been a beautiful thing, and from them Mark had learned a lot about watching the signs of a sub and knowing when they were reaching their limits.

After, they’d gone back to his room and spent the rest of the night using Mary as their willing plaything.