Bound Obsession (BDSM Erotica) (Club Taboo Book 1) Page 4

  “And you are okay?”

  When she looked at him, she was more than okay. Her trembling began to subside, and even as Abigail started to move past her moments with Walter Ross, she had to ask how he knew.

  “Knew what?”

  “Well… I mean… Mr. Dorson---”

  “You can call me Patrick” he said. “I want that.”

  Patrick.

  That fit. He had smiling Irish eyes, and she felt confident enough to ask her question again.

  “How---?”

  “Ross is a sadist,” he said, cutting her off. “And that’s not what this place is about.”

  He sounded like Mariah, his voice promising that there was no real harm here. But she had seen something to the contrary, and as she shook her head, he touched her face.

  “Hey,” Patrick said. “Look at me. Just look at me.”

  Obeying his order without fear, she sighed into his gaze and reveled in the feel of his fingers on her flesh. It was sudden, but something about it felt certain.

  “Nice,” he said. “Lovely.”

  Abigail fell deeper into his hand, and Patrick kept her close. The party was a mass of thumping beats and satisfied moans, and a part of Abigail thought that she could move to the back with him and allow him to show her what he was about. He would be kinder than Walter Ross, and as she rose to her feet, Abigail thought that that was something, and she needed to hang onto it.

  “I didn’t catch your name,” he said.

  He had to have heard Abby, and as soon as she repeated it he shook his head.

  “But it’s really Abigail, no?”

  It was. And she liked the sound of it as it left his lips. He had done nothing to suggest any state of fear, and even as she trembled at her surroundings, she would follow him to the back and see, feel what he could do.

  “Abigail?”

  He started to lead her to the back. She though she heard Mariah’s voice calling out for more. Would she make the same noises when he pressed her to an abandoned bed? It was all that she could hope for. Patrick might have played the savior, but he was only here to get his rocks off. At least his touch was gentle, and as she took a deep breath, Abigail was ready to see this through and keep her new job.

  “So… so should we just---”

  Pulling her closer, he suddenly led her out into the night, and as the cold wind hit her back, she started to ask him what was going to happen next when he lightly kissed her lips and stroked her hair.

  “We should head back to my place.”

  That was the last thing that she had expected. So was this a date? A kind of a date? As he offered her his coat, she relaxed around the pinstripes. Her own coat, her bag were still trapped inside the club, but she believed that Mariah would collect her belongings and find her in the light of the dawn. Right now, she yearned to keep following Patrick.

  “So are you coming?” he asked.

  With one push on his phone, a town car raced up the alley, and Patrick held a door open for her. Stepping slightly, she breathed in the leather and thought that it was a safe place to hide.

  “I think I am,” Abigail said.

  Crawling into the car, she settled her body against the opposing glass and kept her ear open as Patrick spoke to his driver. The car sped away from the club, and Patrick pocketed his phone and touched her shoulder.

  “I’m glad that you’re coming,” Patrick said. “I… I think… no.”

  He leaned closer and his lips grazed against hers, but he didn’t claim her mouth with a kiss.

  Patrick just breathed into her hair.

  “I like you,” Patrick said. “And I hope you like me.”

  In the span of minutes, she did. As the streetlights flashed across his face, he seemed to grow more handsome with each twist of the car. Abigail’s heart beat faster in her chest, and when she leaned into him, suddenly smelling the spicy scent of pine wafting off of his suit, she thought that he had to have something else in mind beside whips and chains. If that was all he could offer, then he would have kept her at the club, fucked her, and handed her the rest of his money before he took his leave. But instead, he was taking her someplace else. When the car pulled up to a service door, Abigail started to shake all over again, but Patrick calmed her with his touch.

  “No one else will see you,” he said.

  The presence of his driver immediately seemed to eradicate that promise, but Patrick took her arm and brought her to a dark elevator. As soon as the doors closed and the car started to ascend, Abigail took his hand and smiled.

  “Thanks for the cover,” she said.

  “I thought that you’d be grateful,” Patrick said.

  “I am.”

  Thanking him with a soft kiss, she forgot the whips and the moans and Walter’s cold hands. Patrick’s were warm and tender, and as he folded her into arms, Abigail thought that this strange night was about to bring her her heart’s desire.

  “Let’s get you inside.”

  Patrick’s flat was sparse and gray. Everything was in its place, but despite the coldness, there was warmth in his embrace, and he lowered to her to the sofa and caressed her face.

  “A drink?” he asked.

  Abigail nodded. Moving to the stocked bar, Patrick poured and offered her a vodka on the rocks. Abigail sipped gratefully and as she swallowed, Patrick ran his fingers through her hair.

  “Tastes good, right?”

  She nodded, and as he plucked the glass from her hands and lowered it to the ground, his arms swirled around her, and he pressed his brow to hers.

  “I saw you,” he started. “I saw you with him. And I knew that I had to save you.”

  And he had. She was glad to be out of the club and hidden away in his arms. Abigail knew little more than his name, but she wanted to learn more.

  “So now that I have,” he started. “Do you want to play?”

  “Yes,” she murmured. “I do.”

  Patrick took her hand, and she glided across the floor. Moving down a long hallway, they stopped before a closed door, and Patrick nuzzled her neck.

  “And you’re sure?” he asked.

  Abigail nodded, and Patrick kissed her lips. As the door opened, Abigail was ready for tender touches, but as she stepped inside, she saw bedposts ready with nylon ties, and a long leather whip resting on the bedside table.

  Looking into Patrick’s eyes, Abigail shuddered. The scene might have changed, but the consequences were still the same.

  Chapter 5

  With a firm hand, Patrick eased her limp body from his jacket. She trembled at his touch, and her body flinched when he wrapped an arm around her waist.

  “Something wrong?” he purred into her ear.

  Yes. Something is very wrong.

  “I---”

  “Of course we could have played back at Club Taboo,” he continued, “but I thought you could use a little privacy.”

  Her cunt quivered when his lips grazed against the back of her neck.

  “I know I could,” Patrick said. “I want you all to myself.”

  Before she knew what was happening, he turned her around to face him. Patrick’s Irish eyes were brimming with unparalleled glee as he ran his fingers down her body, stopping only to stroke her heaving breasts as she fought to suppress the whimper suddenly bubbling in the pit of her soul. The way he looked at her, the way he touched her…

  “All to myself,” he repeated as he claimed her mouth with a burning kiss. Abigail felt as if she might swoon as his tongue mingled with hers in a voracious bid to make her forget that any man had ever kissed her before. The fire from his breath worked its way through her veins, and she tentatively lifted her arms to return his embrace. Should she be relieved that he was initiating her behind tightly locked doors, or should she take a chance and start to flee, try to get back to Mariah and the security supposedly offered by Mistress Serena?

  Because that had worked out so well.

  She was on the verge of holding him when Patrick pull
ed back and stroked her cheek.

  “Why are you shaking, Abigail?” he asked, a smile still crossing his face. “Don’t tell me that you’ve suddenly had a change of heart?”

  Kissing her ear, his husky whisper drizzled down neck.

  “Not like you haven’t done this before,” he teased. “I know for a fact that Serena only hires the best.”

  As he returned his gaze to hers, a dark cloud briefly passed over his eyes.

  “Or is there something you’re not telling me?” he asked.

  A new sensation started to work its way around her swiftly beating heart. Was it fear? Possibly. Maybe Patrick knew the inner-workings of Walter Ross all too well because he was just as dangerous. More so. How would he react when he discovered that he opened his home, his playground, to a kind of virgin? Would he lash out and make her wish that she had just gone off with Walter? Or would he simply hang his head, point to the door, and send her on her way without even his coat for cover against the cold dark of night?

  She wasn’t sure which possibility scared her more.

  “Nothing,” Abigail lied. “I… so I guess I should…”

  Taking a small step away from him, Abigail started to push the bustier away from her body. He would want her naked; that seemed a given, and she was stunned when he waved his hand in the air, only stopping to cradle one breast in the palm of his hand.

  “Now where’s the fun in that?” he asked with a tight smirk.

  Freezing where she stood, she felt his fingers brush against her leather clad ass. As his hands smoothly shifted up her sides, he lowered her remaining strap.

  “This is much better,” he said.

  Taking both breasts in his hands, he started to knead her soft flesh, and Abigail swayed in rhythm with the breath that passed through his lips in tremulous waves. Even as she knew what lay in wait upon the bed, Abigail felt like she could do this, that she wanted to do this, and she moaned her approval as he revealed more of her flesh, all of her flesh. Wanting to please him, she prepared to step out of the bustier as soon as it hit the floor, but then Patrick flipped the script of her expectations and tore the garment away with a sharp tug. Unable to suppress a squeal of surprise, she watched the leather fall into a darkened corner as he flung it across the room. Practicality begged the question of what she would wear on her way home.

  But maybe that was the plan; maybe he was determined to keep her here forever. And while a part of her relished that possibility---

  “Look at me, Abigail.”

  Obeying his order, she watched him loosen his tie, and as the buttons of his shirt broke free of their holes, she had to marvel at the sculpted lines of his taut chest. Without thinking to ask permission, she started to touch his muscles when he arrested her movements with a snap of his fingers.

  “Only when I say so,” he said. “Do you understand?”

  Nodding slowly she simply hung her head when Patrick charged forward and forced her eyes to his. Tugging at a single ringlet, she felt a small pain surging towards her brow, but when he followed the gesture with another hot kiss, she knew nothing of discomfort and only wanted more of him.

  But she did not make the mistake of touching him again as he gripped her arms and started to guide her to the bed. Pushing her to the mattress, she swallowed hard and watched in awe as he resumed undressing. He slipped out of his clothing with the grace of a snake shedding his skin for a fresher form. His legs were as muscled as the rest of him, and she could only imagine the splendor of his cock when he stopped short of dropping his silk boxers and ordered her to lay back.

  Abigail’s body complied as her heart thudded in her chest. Again she saw the waiting ropes out of the corners of her eyes. She was going to go through with this. The lure of bondage, his bondage, was suddenly so enticing that she was about to relinquish every fear and simply submit to his whims. She wanted to feel his hands on her, she wanted to know his kiss caressing more than her mouth.

  “Let me know if they’re too tight,” he whispered as he brought her wrist to the bonds. “And then I’ll make them tighter.”

  With the first loop, her body arched forward to meet the nylon’s twist. Patrick tied her like he had done this a million times before. Which he must have. Wondering how she would measure up or even if she could, she was suddenly seized by the thought that she was in the bed of a pro, someone that might even make Mariah blush. The fear of being found out at the worst moment flooded her mind, and she struggled to find her voice.

  “I---”

  “Don’t speak,” he commanded.

  “But… but I have to tell you---”

  “I said---”

  “I’ve never done this before!”

  Confusion covered his face, and once again the dark cloud surrounded his stare.

  Shit. Why did I wait? He can do anything he wants to me now. And I… I want him to. But…

  “What’s this?” he asked, smiling stiffly. “Part of your role play?”

  Maybe she could go with that and return to being the woman that he thought he rescued from the club. The sight of his cock starting to poke through his silk told her that he was still turned on, and Abigail wanted him. But as she instinctively tugged at the rope, she knew it would never work. At least not in the way that he wanted, and she had to come clean or face the consequences.

  “No,” she said softly. “I… I lied my way in. I needed the job.”

  Would he, could he understand that and take some pity on her? A man like him probably had no conception of what it was to live from hand to mouth as the end of each day triggered the thought of how, if, there was to be a tomorrow. But she hoped against hope that he---

  “And Serena fell for that?” he scoffed even as he was unable to hide the slight trace of admiration in his eyes.

  “I… Mariah. She’s my friend. She vouched for me.”

  Patrick appeared to consider her words carefully, and Abigail held her breath as she lay on the bed and awaited his verdict. As he stretched forward and untied her wrist, she relaxed as he ran his hand down the arm still stretched above her head. He said he liked her; this could still be alright.

  “And you thought that no one would catch on?”

  Her hopes evaporated, and her body brimmed with a very real terror as her pushed down on her shoulders and glared into her eyes.

  “Thought you could just go through the motions and not be shown the door at the first second?”

  “I---”

  “Do you have any idea what Walter Ross would have done to a pretender? Asshole or not, there are rules that, and you have no idea what kind of game you’re playing.”

  Patrick had her dead to rights, and she blinked back her tears as she quivered under him. Walter Ross would have found her out; Abigail would have barely lasted a single night, and what about Mariah? Would she have suffered a similar fate simply because she was foolish enough to stick up for her?

  “I… I guess I don’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not enough,” Patrick said as he said as he stepped away from the bed and started to climb back into his pants. Abigail silently lamented the loss of his legs as he zipped up and buckled his belt.

  “People like you think that this is just a bit of fun,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s a sacred scene, and you could never even begin to understand that.”

  Moving towards the darkened corner, he threw what was left of her bustier in her lap with a scowl.

  “Now get dressed and get out,” he said.

  Abigail started to comply with quivering hands as she watched him pull another bottle from a cabinet. He poured out an iceless drink and downed it quickly. His tight back was lined with rage, and as he kept his face hidden, she wondered if the same fury lingered in his eyes. Her heart felt as if it had been stabbed, but there was more than her own pain in play. Without wanting to, she had hurt him, betrayed him, and she wanted a way to make it up before she stalked off into the night with her shattered leather and li
ttle else.

  And the thought of that wasn’t as disturbing abandoning Patrick in his current state.

  Spying the whip, she gripped the handle with unsteady hands and moved toward him wearing only her thigh highs and her heels.

  “Mr. Dorson? I---”

  “I thought that I told you to---”

  “I know,” Abigail said. “But if you’d like to… to punish me first.”

  Her words caused his head to quickly twist over his shoulder, and Patrick’s eyes grew wide when he saw her holding the whip like a peace offering as she slowly sank to her knees.

  “I shouldn’t have,” she started. “Of course you’re right.”

  Patrick’s eyes softened slightly when he saw her prostrate form, and her heart lifted when his finger nearly touched her cheek. But then he drew back with a snarl.

  “Think that’s all there is to it?” he asked. “Bat your lashes and kneel and all will be forgiven?”

  No. No she knew that it could never be that easy, and she was almost certain that she would never see him again after this night. But she deserved to be punished.

  “...and…and the only pleasure should be yours.”

  Again she offered the whip, and as he ripped it from her hands, she swallowed a sob and pressed her brow to the floor. Abigail’s back was his to mark in any way that he saw fit. When he was done with her, she’d have more to worry about than an attempt to make her way home nearly naked. But he had been a kind of sweet; he had wanted to show her something special, and she was not worthy of either effort.

  “Like you’re ready for this,” he said as he dropped the whip beside her head and slammed his empty glass down. Keeping her eyes on the floor, Abigail dug her nails into the carpet and readied her body for the blows. It would hurt more than anything that she had ever known, but she was prepared to drink the medicine down no matter how bitter it might taste.

  The end of the lash grazed her flesh, and she sucked on the inside of her cheeks as she sensed the whip rising into the air. Any minute now it would come down with a fierce crack and---

  “Get up.”

  At first she couldn’t be sure if she understood what he was saying, but when he dropped the whip beside her again, Abigail lifted her head and saw his hands empty, his eyes blazing as he stared down at her. Even as she shivered, she made no move to conceal her bare body from his view, and she was rendered speechless when he mirrored her fall. On his knees, Patrick took her face in his hands and studied her carefully.