Re/Bound (Doms of the FBI Book 1) (14 page)

She had kept her makeup to a minimum. The emotional and physical exertion of a scene wasn’t makeup friendly. Some Doms liked to see their submissives with streaked faces, but Darcy found that clownlike appearance undignified. Some indignities were erotic and titillating. That wasn’t one of them. She wouldn’t wear more for a scene unless Theo specifically requested or ordered it.

Throwing her hair behind her shoulder on one side, she nodded at the wide-eyed woman in the mirror before crossing the foyer to answer the door.

The strong afternoon sunlight glared behind Theo and blocked out most of his features. The shadows revealed jeans and a polo shirt. She blinked away the black spots dancing in front of her eyes and motioned him inside.

He brushed a kiss across her lips before she could say a word in greeting. Immediately her nerves calmed. He pushed the heavy door shut, blocking out the glare of the sun.

“How was the drive?” She wasn’t sure about the protocol for asking about a funeral, especially one for a man he professed to barely know.

He dropped a backpack on the hall tree next to the door and swept his gaze over her body. A sense of satisfaction curled up her spine as desire flashed through his dark eyes. “Totally worth it.”

“I could drive to your place sometimes.” She felt a little like an ass for not offering sooner.

“Sure.” A fleeting frown scrunched his chin for a second before he shook it away. “But unnecessary. I have a buddy who lives in the city and is traveling for work. He’s offered to let me stay at his place.”

Disappointment tingled through her tummy. She’d been hoping he would stay the night more often, perhaps falling asleep in her bed instead of on the sofa. He was the first man who stirred deep and tender feelings she thought had died with Scott. That alone made him special.

A big part of her wanted to fall right into the scene, but the rational part of her brain cautioned that he would want to talk first—explore what might happen in the scene and set up the hard limits.

“It’s a nice day for April,” he said. Once again his gaze roamed her legs. “Keep the skirt, but you’re going to have to change your shoes. We’ll be doing a bit of walking.”

She glanced around her house, not understanding where the walking would happen. Though the layout made her two-story colonial feel spacious, it really wasn’t that large. It was a good size for a family, but she could still navigate it in heels.

“Walking?”

He grinned and swung his keys around on his finger. “Yes. I’m taking you somewhere else for a few hours. I find it easier to talk about a scene when sex isn’t imminent. That way you can focus on the conversation instead of anticipating the scene. Grab a jacket. You never know how the weather is going to change from one moment to the next.”

__________

He drove a low, sporty kind of car. Other than noting a black exterior and a gray interior, Darcy didn’t bother to look at the brand name. It would mean very little to her anyway.

He held the passenger door open and closed it after she got in. She waited for him to give some kind of clue about their destination, but he said nothing. Soon miles of freeway disappeared under the tires.

“Will we be back for dinner?”

“Yep.” He tapped his thumb on the steering wheel in time to the beat of a classic rock song on the radio. “Don’t worry. I’ve never had a woman cook for me before, so I’m not going to blow this opportunity.”

She caught the humor in his tone, but she didn’t know the exact cause. He could be amused at her less-than-sly attempt to find out where they were going, or he could be joking about never having had a woman cook for him. She opted to feel out the latter. “Really? Not a one? Did your dad do all the cooking while you were growing up?”

He shot her a quirky grin. “He did his fair share. For the record, I don’t count relatives or any women not looking to get into my pants.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Well, you certainly make it difficult to get into your pants. Most men only need an invitation and they drop their drawers. I know I’m a little out of practice, but you’re proving a little more challenging, Mr. Stevenson.”

His husky laugh rolled across the small, intimate space inside the car. “Oh sweetheart, don’t fret. It’ll happen. First I have to know how you feel about butterflies.”

It wasn’t the way she’d envisioned the conversation beginning, but at least they were making progress. She had a purple butterfly in her toy chest. Wearing one while receiving a spanking never failed to deliver a nice orgasm.

“I like them. I have one at home if you’d like to use it. You’re welcome to use anything from my toy chest.”

His brows wrinkled, and then he chuckled softly. “I meant literal butterflies. What caterpillars become after they hang around in a cocoon for a few weeks.”

Heat rushed to her neck and cheeks.

“I probably should have told you right away. I’m taking you to see the butterflies at MSU. April is the last good month to see them. I think you’ll enjoy the experience. But the other thing is good to know.” His hand closed around hers and squeezed. “We have about an hour to discuss limits, preferences, and fantasies. Why don’t you start by telling me your hard limits?”

She took a deep breath and let it out. Though she’d looked forward to having this discussion, now that he’d voiced the words, doubts assailed her. What if she couldn’t go through with it? Theo had dominated her in small ways so far, but she’d never done a scene with anyone except Scott. What if he found her lacking in some vital way?

Traveling on the interstate that would take them from Ann Arbor to East Lansing probably wasn’t the best place for her to let insecurity ruin everything. She plunged right in. “I’m not into breath play or anything that uses needles or draws blood. I like the electricity stuff, but only in small doses and only if you feel very comfortable with it.”

Theo nodded. “I’m not into edge play at all. I’ve never done the electricity stuff, but I’ll look into it if we decide we want to go there at some point in the future. I’m an exacting Dom. Many subs find me frustrating because I have such specific and inflexible rules. However I like nothing better than being able to reward my sub for her successes.”

A small amount of moisture flowed to her pussy. Darcy liked rules, and she loved challenges. She wasn’t a passive submissive who wanted to sit back and let her Dom do all the mental work. “And punish her for failure?”

He glanced over at her and then put his attention back on the road as he maneuvered around slower traffic. “Punishments are delivered when necessary. With you, I’ll have to be a little more creative. A spanking or a flogging will only turn you on.”

Darcy grinned. “I would consider those rewards.”

He squeezed her leg and let go, returning his hand to the steering wheel. The move ensured that his physicality wouldn’t influence the discussion. Darcy’s heart fluttered at his thoughtfulness, and he cleared his throat. “While punishment can be fun for me, I prefer to deliver rewards. I like when you’re successful because it means I’m successful. However I don’t like hollow successes. I’ll never give you a task that’s beneath you, and I’ll always take your honest effort into account.”

A man who respected her intellect and her strength. That fluttery feeling bloomed and spread. “Thank you.”

He flashed another smile in her direction. “Hard limits. You aren’t allowed to hit me, either playfully or in anger. Breaking that rule will generally result in a punishment neither of us will enjoy.”

A shiver of apprehension ran through her. The even tone he used didn’t communicate any kind of emotion. He simply stated a fact. Darcy didn’t plan to challenge that rule.

She strove for a bit of humor. “No hitting. I remember that from last weekend. Got it.”

“Good.” He drummed his fingers against his thigh, and she wondered if he was as nervous about this discussion as she was. “No anal sex. I have no problem with using plugs or beads or vibrators on you if that’s what you enjoy, but that’s the extent of it. And under no circumstances are you to venture there with a wandering finger while you’re sucking my cock. I know some guys like it when you play around with the prostate, but I’m not one of those guys.”

Scott had been one of those guys. Maybe it wasn’t fair to keep comparing Theo to Scott, but she had no other point of reference. She nodded, but his eyes were on the road. “Is it just penetration you don’t like, or does the whole idea of someone touching your anus turn you off?”

“The whole idea turns me off. It’s an instant hard-on killer.”

“But you like to have your balls played with, right?” Darcy liked to give head. She liked to use her hands to caress all over while she did it.

He tilted his head to the side and rolled his lips in. “I don’t know. I had one really bad experience, and I’ve bound the hands of all my subs since then.”

Darcy patted his knee. “Theo, I’m here to help you find out. Maybe I can even turn you on to the prostate thing.”

The car swerved, and horns sounded. Theo accelerated and left the angry drivers behind. “Let’s talk about that when I’m not driving.”

She let him move the discussion because she realized she’d forgotten one of her hard limits. “No bondage. I hate being bound.”

He lifted a brow and glanced her way. “Darcy, we talked about this. I’m going to push you.”

Holding her hand down while he kissed and fingered her hadn’t really seemed like bondage. Stretching her arms over her head and immobilizing her wrists had sent her into a panic. Using any kind of straps or ties would likely give her a stroke.

“Theo, it’s going to backfire, and it’s not going to be pretty when it does.” She voiced the warning quietly, her tone subdued with the weight of worry. What if he insisted on tying her up and she panicked so badly it destroyed any trust she had in him? Without trust, their relationship was doomed to a quick demise. Relationships didn’t work without trust. Not ever.

He closed his hand around hers. “I’m asking you to trust me. I won’t push you faster than you can handle. You used yellow very well two days ago. You have safe words, Darcy, and I promise I won’t get pissed if you need to use one.”

She thought back to the orgasm he’d given her on the sofa. Yes, her hand had been held down, but he had done it in a way that made it seem like they were holding hands, joining together in an outward display of affection. Part of her longed to have her boundaries pushed. Exploring her sexuality had always brought such great rewards, and Theo had never once abused her trust.

“Okay. But go slow. Baby steps.”

He squeezed her hand and released it. “I’m so proud of you, Darcy.”

His pride gave her more courage.

“Open the glove box and take out the handcuffs.”

That courage ran for the hills. The desolation and helplessness that had suffused her being that last time the police came to her house to question her about Scott’s disappearance washed over her. They had handcuffed her, pushed her around, bullied her, and taken her down to the station for an interrogation. Only the intervention of Victor’s lawyer had saved her from further humiliation.

But Theo wasn’t the police, and he only wanted to push her boundaries, help her to understand the bondage side of submission. She grabbed her courage by the scruff of the neck, forced her attention to the present, and stared at the place where he’d pointed. A handle was embedded in the contoured gray of the molded car interior. Never had a glove box looked so ominous.

“I didn’t ask you to put them on.”

Theo’s stern voice rumbled through the tiny car, a precursor to thunder. He doesn’t know, she reminded herself. She squeaked and lifted the latch. It was larger on the inside than the dimensions of the car seemed to indicate, and it contained two items. The booklet that described the features and maintenance of the car had a clear plastic cover. The silver handcuffs weren’t lined with anything to make them more comfortable.

Using one finger, she lifted them out of the compartment and closed the latch. They weren’t as cold as she thought they’d be, but the chills running up and down her spine made arctic blasts seem balmy.

Her throat constricted, and she managed short, panting breaths as she faced down this reminder of hell.

Malcolm watched from the corner of his eye as Darcy dangled the pair of stainless steel cuffs between two fingers. She watched them as if they could suddenly grow teeth and bite her. A quick glance showed that color had completely drained from her face. This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected.

Last time she had been nervous and uncomfortable, skittish but not afraid.

“Darcy? Talk to me, honey. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Long moments passed. When she finally answered, he had to mute the radio in order to hear. “I’m thinking of one of the times they took me in for questioning because they thought I killed Scott. The week he disappeared, I thought that was the worst week of my life. But it was nothing compared to that day. I sat in that little room for hours, my hands cuffed behind me the whole time. They took turns yelling at me, saying horrible things, and then pretending they were doing me a favor. Thank goodness Victor sent a lawyer. They hadn’t formally arrested me, and I didn’t think to ask for one.”

Shock coursed through his system at the raw pain of her whispered explanation. The officers had definitely pushed the boundaries of legal treatment of a suspect, but they had felt justified. They had honestly believed in her guilt.