Random Acts of Hope (22 page)

“Esme’s such a voyeur,” I said, shaking my head. Her eyes were creepy, even as I turned away, knowing she’d watch us.

“Plus, t
hey’re rolling out a huge new line in preparation for Valentine’s Day 2015.”

My dick bobbed appreciatively, as if listening.

“What’s happening then?” I asked as I crawled over her, dragging the tip of me across those fishnet stockings, making my jaw clench. I was going to spooge all over her belly button like a teen getting his first hand job if I wasn’t careful.

“You—don’t—what?” She sat up, her voice carrying this incredulous tone. “
Fifty Shades
?”

“You want me to be Christ
i
an Grey?” I could get into that.

“No, I mean—the movie?”

“They’re making a movie? Which porno actress did they get for that?”

She gave me a long, hard look. I gave her a long, hard cock.

Finally, she pulled back and gave my balls a light spanking. “Bad boy. You should know more about
Fifty Shades
.”

“How about I teach you more about—” And my own voice was cut off as I dove between her legs.
Crotchless panties. And…instant erection.
 

“Liam!” she shrieked.

Sucking her clit into my mouth, surrounded by soft thighs that pounded out her pulse in beautiful symphony was one of the best damned places on earth. I could stay here for hours, leaving only to hydrate, eat, and meet basic necessities, her core like an altar where I could speak with God.

If God liked handcuffs.

Her fingers slid through my hair, making me grin, and then she pulled up to sitting, ass slipping away from me.

“What’s the rush?” she gasped.

“Have you tasted you? The rush is that you’re like an ice cream cone begging to be licked,” I insisted, bending down for more.

“How about these?” Black handcuffs, the cuffs encased in something soft, dangled from her fingertip.

“You are joking, right?” I said, tipping my head up, looking at her from the glorious view between her legs. Ah, Charlotte was a fucking vision from some spiritual place where magic was filled with her musk, those wide, tempting eyes, and tits that poured out of her like whipped cream with a cherry center.

My stomach growled. When did I eat last?

“
Handcuff me, officer. I’ve been bad.”
 

I stopped cold.

“That’s what my mom said to me at the bachelor party,” I whined.

She laughed so hard she twisted in place, then nearly fell off the bed.
I moved fast, handcuffs at the ready.
 

Click.

That made her stop laughing.

“
No!” she shrieked again. “Oh, no! You can’t do that—”
 

Click
.

Both hands secured to her headboard. Nice four-poster bed, even if it looked like something from a 1920s summer camp on the Cape.

“Liam!” she shouted.

“You wanted me to—”

Charlotte’s phone began to ring.

“That might be my mom!”

“You can call her back later,” I said as I let my tongue take a long trip from her collarbone down to one perfect, ripe nipple.

She arched her back and gasped. “You weren’t supposed to chain both my hands to the bed!”

“You have two sets of handcuffs.”

“But…oh, God,” she moaned.

Bzzzzzzz.

Her phone again.

“Can we turn that thing off?” I groused, mo
u
th vibrating against her other nipple now, my fingers
seeking warm heat below
. Sinking into that wetness, thumb playing with her clit, made her moan.

“You can’t!” she wailed.

“You’re not on duty,” I murmured against her hard nip.

“Let me go!” she called out.

Bang bang bang.

The sound of fist on wood was so strong it shot me up in the air, then down on the bed, landing hard on her leg.

“What the fuck!” I bellowed, unable to be quiet. Charlotte kicked her legs out just as I fell on
her
and I slid off the bed into a tumble of naked surprise.
I used my hands to cover my head as I fell crown first, and my palms slid into my eyes, popping both contact lenses out of place.
 

“FUCK!” I screamed as the pain seared through my eyes.

“Charlotte! It’s Maggie and Jordan! Are you okay?”

“
Unlock me!” Charlotte hissed.
 

“I can’t!” I growled. “My eyes! My eyes!”

Charlotte

“
Charlotte!” Maggie called out from behind the front door to my apartment. “We tried calling you, and Jordan is on duty. She said she heard you screaming for help. Are you okay?”
 

Jordan? Overeager, supercilious Jordan the RA? Oh, shit. Sure, I’m okay, chained to my own bed in a Merry Widow costume, juices up and down my thighs, with a naked rock star on the floor moaning something about his eyes.

“I’m fine! You can go now!” I called back.

“Fuck, it hurts!” Liam bellowed.

“What hurts?” Jordan shouted in a high, reedy voice. “Charlotte, procedure says we announce that we have the authority to key into your room and to assess the situation.”

WHAT?

“Liam, get the fucking key right now.” I fought against the handcuffs, tightening my wrist, knowing it was futile. A six-foot-tall woman with a plus-size figure doesn’t have dainty wrists that slip out of sexcuffs. The people who design these suckers do a better job than the ones used on maximum security federal prisoners.

Doms know how to forge shit
that
subs can’t get out of.

“Can’t see anything,” he groaned. I
was
tied to the bed, so I
couldn’t
even look at him. A portion of his knee
was
in my sight, then the curve of one butt cheek, then his sac.

“You need to get the keys NOW! They’re on the nightstand,”
I hissed.
 

He
rose
slowly, rubbing his eyes with desperation, but nothing compared to the full-on assault of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“We’re not keying in,” I hea
r
d Maggie explain calmly to Jordan. “Charlotte has a perfectly reasonable explanation for why she—”

Crash!

Liam’s hands, fumbling in the dark, knocked over my bowl full of condoms and various lubes I’d organized so neatly for tonight. I heard the sickening sound of shattered glass, and then:

“Owww! Oh, fuck. I’m BLEEDING!” he screamed.

Panicked, I closed my legs and eyes tight, knowing what was coming next.

An
d
it wouldn’t be me. Or Liam.

Bang bang bang
.

“By policy,” Maggie said in a slow, re
si
gned voice,
like an executioner reading the charges, reluctant to do her job but determined anyhow,
“Charlotte, I have to key into your apartment because you’re
screaming, it sounds like someone’s in pain, and you’re
not answering the door.”
Her words were so robotic. It was obvious she did not want to key in, but… “I
n the interest of your safety, we—”

“WE?” I screamed. “NO WE! There is no
WE
!”

Liam was hopping up and down on one foot, one hand nursing a cut under his pinky toe, the other rubbing his eyes as he babbled something unintelligible.

Indistinct voices, and then:

“I,
then
.
I
a
m coming in.”

Maggie opened my front door just enough for me to see a flash of green hair, the probing face of Jordan, and then the blissful closing and locking of my front door.

The way my bed is arranged, I can see my own front door but all they could see are feet. In the seconds Maggie cracked the door, Liam happened to roam, blindly, away from the line of sight.

Maggie walked right into the bedroom with the confidence of someone prepared to face damn near anything and, I knew,
with
a security team on the other side of the door in case this incident needed assistance.

“I…wow…so not what I expected. Um…” Her head bobbed up and down as Liam jumped, his cock like a hot potato bouncing in place. Blood dripped f
ro
m his foot
and his eyes were pools of red with tears streaming down his face
.

“
Fucking contacts! Stupid monthlies. I think one’s lodged in my eyeball and the other fell out near the glass!” he moaned.
 

“Stop jumping, Liam! Just sit on the bed!” I begged, turning my face away from Maggie.

“There is no
r
esidence
l
ife training for this one,” Maggie deadpanned. “
How the hell do I
describe this in my duty report?”
 

“I’ll kill you,” I muttered, rattling my cuffs.

“You and what fishnet army?” she said, eyes filled with amusement.

“I’ll force your hair back to its natural color.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” she said, recoiling in mock horror. Her eyes went back to Liam, who was naked and rubbing his eyes, the wounded foot dripping horribly.

“You have a thing for blood and sex,” she said drolly.

“You told her
about before
?” Liam asked.
He mumbled something about monthly contacts being four months old and how he was too old for this shit, his fingers rubbing his eye in strange contortions designed to find the missing contact lens.
 

“We talked.”

“You talk about our sex life with other people?”

“I bragged about your nine-inch cock,” I said with great sarcasm that flew right over his head.

“Cool.”

“
I see you lied,” Maggie said.
 

“Hey!” Liam protested, looking down. “It’s cold! I’m bleeding!”

I
turned my attention to Maggie, somehow making it clear I was talking to her without making one second of eye contact. “Could you
stop talking about Liam’s penis and
uncuff me
?”

“I don’t know. What did you do? If the charges were bad enough, maybe I should
l
eave yo
u
—”

“Maggie!” I shouted.

Bang bang bang.

“Fuck!” I added.

Jordan’s voice drifted in. “I can key in too! Did the intruder get you, Maggie! Shout the safeword if he did!”

“Safeword?” I gave
Maggie
a withering look, finally making eye contact.

Maggie lifted one shoulder. “It kept her from barging in here and getting the
r
es
l
ife story of a generation. Snake boy naked with a trussed-up BDSM Residence Director. Holy hell, Charlotte, if this gets out…”

I shook my wrists. “Find the damn keys and it won’t!”

“Where are they?”

“Where Liam just broke my glass bowl.”

She peered over the side of the bed and gasped. “I’m not sticking my hand in that. All that glass and blood and—” She turned on the light, the harsh brightness making my skin go gooseflesh with embarrassment.

“You have to get me out,” I pleaded. “Please. Campus safety cannot key in. They can’t!”

“
Ha ha!” Liam shouted. “Motherfucker! I got you.” He was holding a long, blade-like piece of clear glass, streaked with blood.
 

Bang bang bang.

“Charlotte!” Jordan called again. The ominous rattle of keys made me start to cry. She couldn’t see me like this. What had started out as harmless fun with some product samples had just turned into the kind of incident that meant I would be lucky to be the house mother to a chicken coop if word got out.

Maggie raced to the door, opened and shut it, and then I heard her firm voice issuing commands. A minute passed by, Liam lim
p
ing to my bathroom, the rush of water, all of it making me cry more.

Then Maggie was back, with a giant pair of bolt cutters.

Sweet relief. “Where did you find those?”

“In my closet.”

Liam’s silhouette, naked and
haloed
, appeared in the doorway as Maggie centered the sharp blade, and snip! Off came one cuff.

“You keep bolt cutters in your closet?” he asked in an admiring tone.

“Never know when you need them.” Snip.

Free! I was free! I raced to my dresser, grabbed pajamas, and without one ounce of modesty slipped out of the leather and into the fleece.

Maggie grinned at us both. “Go show your face at the door,” she said to me, then turned to Liam and frowned. “But not you.
You
we need to keep hidden.”
Her eyes took him in slowly, making me do a double-stop, ready to snap at her.
 

But Jordan needed
attention
.

“I’m fine! Fine!” I gasped, red-faced, at the door,
opening it an inch
.

With an express
i
on of eager officiousness, she peered behind me. “Is something wrong? Do you have an intruder? You were screaming, and I was on rounds, and I took my job very seriously to make sure you’re safe.” Her eyes glittered with something a little unhinged.

“I’m fine,” I said sternly.

“What were you doing? I mean, to make all those weird—”

“Thank you for your concern,” I said with as much coldness as I could muster. Imagining my mom as Dolores Umbridge helped. I think I even added a British accent. “But your concern is no longer needed.”

And I shut the door.

Maggie appeared, all giggles, twirling the bolt cutters. She held up the blade and blew on them, pretending to tuck them into a holster.

“All in a day’s work,” she said.

“Thank you.”

She got to the door, opened it a few inches, then closed it.

“Charlotte?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time—”

“There won’t be a next time!”

Liam’s groan of disappointment was duly noted.

“Then,” she said, opening my door again, “can I have your product samples?”

“
My glasses!” Liam cried out from the bathroom. “They’re in my glove compartment of my car.”
 

Maggie walked back into the apartment, slung an arm around Esme 2.0, and shoved her out the window, turning to me with a finger pressed to her lips in a
Shhhhh
gesture. Then she returned to my front door and called out, “I’ll get them.”