Working Out the Kinks (Chain) (16 page)

“This is also a good time for us to spend time together so I can get to know you better, outside of the bed and playroom.”

Another knock at the door, and this time, I knew who it would be. Eric cocked a brow with question as he took another swig of beer.

“Pizza,” I explained. He gave a nod of his head and then set his drink down to answer the door before I could. He paid the man for my pizza, and I heard the happiness in the boy’s voice, which made me assume Eric also gave him a decent tip. He closed the door and brought the box into the kitchen. I grabbed two plates out of the cabinets and he opened the pizza, getting out two slices for each of us. I was about to set one of the pieces back into the box, but Eric grabbed my wrist.

“You need your energy,” he said and released my hand.

“Thank you,” I said, “both for my plate and paying for the delivery.” Eric followed me to the couch and we took our seats next to one another. I turned on the news for background noise while we talked. He seemed to notice how slowly I sat down, gaze on the pillow under me.

“Put ice on your hips too,” he offered. “It’ll help with inflammation. I’ve brought some supplies from work with me also that will help with the pain.”

“Thank you,” I replied and quickly added, “but really, I’m a lot better.”

“What did you like about last night?” he asked me while we continued to eat.

“The paddle was fine,” I answered truthfully. “The whip was harder to adjust to. And the flogger hurt because it hit exactly where the paddle had been.”

Eric nodded his head. “That’s when, as a sub, you work on your pain levels. It shouldn’t matter what is being used on you, or for how long. It should be how you interpret the situation and how you work with the tools, not against them.”

“Easier said than done,” I said quietly.

Eric found that amusing. “Of course it is. This is your training. You’re supposed to be challenged. What did you not like about last night?”

Instead of my pizza, I chewed on my lower lip, forgetting how easy it was for Eric to read my behavior.

“Yes?” He encouraged me to speak, and I instantly let go of my lip. I set my food down on the coffee table and ran my hand through my hair nervously.

“I…I didn’t like
him
there,” I confessed with hesitation. Eric finished off his food while he took in my answer. He leaned into the couch and draped an arm across the top, crossing his legs casually.

“That, unfortunately, cannot be remedied. Wesley is a very important figure in my life, and I owe a lot of gratitude to him,” he said calmly and with pride.

“Did he give you those scars?” I asked bluntly, though I knew what he would say. Eric’s eyes narrowed, making me nervous.

“Yes, he did,” he answered and said nothing else.

“Why?” I wanted to say more, but I didn’t know how to phrase it correctly without him getting offended.

Eric rubbed his chin and loosened the second button on his shirt, exposing more of his chest.

“I love him and I trust him, just as he loves and trusts me. Those scars represent our bond together.”

“If you love him, then why aren’t you together?”

He grinned, bringing his hand to my hair and threading a lock around his finger, playing absently with the strand. “We don’t need to be together anymore. Besides, two Tops really don’t balance out the scale very well. And I don’t really consider myself a Switch either.”

Eric dropped my hair and picked up his plate. He left for the kitchen and I finished off my slice as he cleaned up. When he returned, he took my plate as well to drop off in the sink.

“Go ahead and take off your clothes, then lie on the couch on your stomach. I’ll take care of your back now,” he said from the basin. I walked around first to close all the blinds in my apartment and then locked the door for good measure. Eric came back into the room, just as I stepped out of my boxers. He had three bottles in his hands, their medical names I couldn’t understand, but I knew they had come from the hospital. I obeyed his command and lay down, resting my head on top of my folded arms. Eric kneeled next to me on the floor and opened the first bottle. He poured a hefty amount of cream into his palm, then rubbed his hands together. I melted at the first contact of his hands running carefully down my back, moaned and closed my eyes to enjoy the feeling even more.

With expertise, he massaged my tightened shoulders and then drew lower. The cream worked the same as the one he had used earlier that morning, giving my skin a light tingle when it made contact.

“Do you have plans this week?” he asked me. I almost didn’t hear him, my mind was so focused on his fingers.

“No, I don’t,” I replied.

“We’ll have to change that now, won’t we?”

I smiled, but it was hidden behind my arm.

“Yes, we will,” I agreed.

His fingers moved lower, to one of the more painful places on my back. I flinched and he lightened his touch.

“No, I’m sorry, it’s okay,” I assured as I looked over my shoulder at him. Eric leaned in and brushed a small kiss to my cheek, one hand leaving my back to retrieve the remote on the table.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to stop,” he promised. “Now, let’s find something for us to watch tonight.”

I didn’t hear him leave the bed the next morning. What awoke me was the sound of his Mercedes, gently purring away down the road. My gaze focused on my arms with the handcuffs loose around my wrists. He had unlocked them but left them for me to take away. I smiled, remembering back to the night. I’d fallen asleep in front of the TV, my head in Eric’s lap while he toyed with my hair. He had carried me to bed and what started with kissing led to more. And then even more. The handcuffs were a temporary bondage, after he had decided that from now on he would keep a small bag of other toys at my place for the future nights in which he would stay over. It was an idea I could definitely get used to.

I slowly pulled my legs around to dangle over the edge of the bed, rubbing my eyes open. There was a note resting on my bedside table:

Drink plenty of water today. It will help your healing process. We’ll continue with your training this Friday. Until then…E

I frowned as I read the word
Friday
, knowing I wouldn’t get to see him the rest of the week. When I stood up it took me a moment to adjust before I could get on my running clothes. It was my easy day at school, and class wouldn’t start for me until eleven. I took off in a light sprint around campus, stopping every so often to catch my breath or change my music on my iPod. My normal route took me across Westwood, past the hospital and down the road into the fraternity and sorority houses. I daydreamed as I wandered through my familiar neighborhood, losing myself in the jog.

I found myself with a sense of loneliness by the time Wednesday’s history class with Whitney came around. She never showed up, even after our professor walked in five minutes late. I sent her a text to check in and see if everything was all right, but she never messaged me back. Instead, later Thursday night, I received a text from Eric, telling me Whitney was fine and they were together. He also gave me instructions as to what I would wear to bed that night and what time I would need to be asleep by.

I grew angry and upset. Why wouldn’t Whitney call me herself? Why did Eric have to be the one to answer my message? A stab of jealously rushed through me. I kept trying to remind myself that Whitney wasn’t interested in Eric for a long-term relationship, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was taking up what time I would have been having with him. I started to feel left out of what ever it was they were doing, and the more I let it sink in, the more agitated I became.

“This is ridiculous,” I said out loud as I stood and left the couch to go search out clothes. I needed to get out of the apartment. Strangely enough, I felt the surge of Eric’s power as I locked up my front door. He wouldn’t like what I was doing, disobeying his orders. I clutched my backpack tighter against my shoulder, as if it were some sort of protection against the invisible force of my Master.

Thursday nights brought out most of the students of UCLA to the various restaurants and lounges around Westwood. Most of everywhere was packed full of people, getting in a late night meal or meeting up with groups of friends. The coffee shop I was traveling to was further down toward the edge of the heart of town. It would be quiet, but at least I wouldn’t be alone. There was a small line when I arrived, but nothing that bothered me. As I waited, I felt my phone vibrate in my back jeans. Since I was next to step up to the register, I chose to ignore the call.

“Grande soy mocha latte, please,” I ordered and paid for my drink. When my drink was called, and I took a seat in one of their plush chairs and opened my book. As soon as I was turning the first page, my phone was ringing again. The caller ID showed Eric was calling, but I was hesitant to answer. I let it go to voice mail and tried to focus back on my book. An hour later, a text message appeared.
Where are you?

I typed out a reply and told him that I was out. Barely a minute later, another message came through.
Go home now, Alexandra. I’ll make you regret it later if you don’t.

His warning was clear, but at least I was getting his attention. Quickly I typed my response:
What would you like me to do when I get home?

Eric answered, and my heart almost stopped. “Receive your punishment. I’m waiting.”

My backpack was back on my shoulder in a second, my empty cup tossed into the trash. I tried not to stumble as I rushed home and my klutzy feet were trying to keep up with my legs as best as they could. Waiting at the stoplights was a brand new form of torture for me. I picked up speed as I neared my neighborhood and when I turned down my street, I recognized the sleek Mercedes parked outside my apartment. The car’s windows were even blacker than normal in the cover of the night. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him, watching me as I came closer. I felt sick, obsessed with the fact that I knew his hands would be on me, no matter the pain or pleasure. The driver’s window slowly rolled down when I stopped in front of the car.

“Get in,” Eric’s ordered. I could only see the dark silhouette of his face and neck. My hands were shaking when I opened the passenger side and slid into the car, shutting the door behind me. Eric was sitting there, his hands folded in his lap and his seat belt off. His black shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and he was staring daggers at me.

“Take off your shorts and leave your panties on,” he said without feeling. I fumbled with the buttons on my jeans, but eventually had them peeled off my legs. I had forgotten I was wearing a lacy pair of underwear, some of my more expensive panties I had bought myself as a congratulations gift for getting an A on almost all my finals last semester. He never noticed them though, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Bend yourself over my lap, and get your ass up in the air as high as it will go.”

My mouth parted open with shock, but I knew better than to speak. As carefully as I could, I maneuvered myself inside the cramped confines of his car, twisting and turning every which way so I could get into the correct position. He rolled the window back down and the cool night breeze came through the car.

“Put your head out the window and hold on to the door.”

My stomach dropped.

“But someone might–”

“At this point, I don’t give an ounce of a fuck if anyone sees us. You’re lucky I’m not tying you to the street sign instead so I can give you something more public,” he cut in sharply.

Anyone could see me, if they decided to look closely. Thank God the streetlamp above the car was broken. It gave me a little privacy, though not much. I obeyed his command, my gaze focusing on the lights coming through several of the windows at the apartment complex across the way.