Page 5 of Bound To Me

I quickly turned around and nearly ran out to the terminal.

I found my baggage claim area and waited as the carousel began to unload bags. I glanced down at my phone, not even really sure why I was checking it. I didn’t give anyone my new number; I wasn’t sure if I would. Maybe LA would be my fresh start and absolve me of all my trauma from New York, even though my trauma started right here in this very city.I’m never going to be a normal person. Maybe I can at least pretend.

I saw Elliott approaching the carousel and looked back down at my phone, hoping to avoid him; I couldn’t keep making anasshole out of myself, and he seemed to just bring it out of me.The nicest guy I’ve ever met, and I can’t even be nice to him. I am obviously unwell.

I glanced up at the bags making their way around the loop and realized Elliott had gone to the opposite side of where I stood, respectfully keeping his distance. Or maybe he just knew I was fucking crazy and wanted to stay the hell away from me.

I grabbed my large purple suitcase, propped my carry-on bag on top of it, and wheeled it out the door. The sound of traffic immediately filled my ears; even at 9 p.m. on a weekday, the airport was filled with non-stop traffic. In the minute I had been outside, the rain escalated from a light sprinkle to a torrential downpour as I desperately searched for the shuttle to my hostel in East Hollywood. I felt like a foreigner already—I didn’t know where the fuck I was going or how to get there.

Someone suddenly bumped into my shoulder, and as we both turned, he apologized. Naturally, it was Elliott.

“Oh, I’m so sorry—uh.” He searched my face as he gestured towards me, as if my panicked expression would tell him my name.

“Jacqueline.” My full name sounded more sophisticated than Jackie, and I had no idea why I wanted to impress this man.

“Like Jackie O?” He smiled, his hair dripping wet as we stood under an overpass.

Exactly like it; of course, my parents thought it would be so cute to name their daughter Jacqueline with the last name Olsen. Jackie O was my nickname for many years in school.

“Yeah.” I smiled and shrugged.

He looked around. “Are you waiting for a bus?”

Run for your life, Elliott, my internal Michael monologue yelled.

“Yeah,” I replied, glancing around, still uneasy about making eye contact with him.

“Oh, um…I can give you a ride?” he started, but his face fell instantly. “Actually, let me just stop my recurrent creepiness right here. I’m sure you don’t want a ride from a stranger.” He raised his eyebrows at me with a disarming smile.

I nodded. I may have been barely living, but I didn’t want to get murdered just yet.

“You’re fine.” I shook my head. “I mean—it’s fine. I think this is my bus anyway.” I nodded over at an approaching bus.

He nodded back. “Okay. I hope you get to your destination safely.” He smiled again. “I hope to see you again, Jacqueline.” He turned and walked away into the rain.

I stood there staring at him until the bus zoomed right past me.

Off to a great start already, Jackie O.

Then

I nervously signed the NDA; I never thought I’d ever have to sign one, let alone before having sex with someone. I gulped down another glass of champagne and sat on the bed as Michael took his time in the bathroom. I looked around the room—it was definitely a nice hotel, a place I’d never be able to afford. By the looks of Michael, he seemed to be unfazed by the cost of anything. I stood up and walked over to the window, eager to check out the view. We were high up, almost to the top floor, and I could see all around the East Village and the surrounding neighborhoods.

I jumped, startled, when Michael finally walked out of the bathroom. I quickly turned around, and he was slowly walking toward me, his clothing removed except for his boxer briefs, and he held rope in his hand. I grasped onto the window frame as I took him all in—his pictures did him absolutely no justice. I had never been with anyone remotely that attractive. I could tell by the look on his face that he knew what I was thinking.

“Take off your clothes, sweet girl,” he ordered gently, now only standing a couple of feet in front of me.

We hadn’t even kissed yet—he already wanted me to take my clothes off?

“I’m not going to ask again, Jackie. Take your clothes off. Now.”

A mixture of fear and arousal rose from deep within my chest. I shakily began to unbutton my jeans while simultaneously kicking off my Converse. I couldn’t look at him; he was too fucking hot for me to even think if I made eye contact with him.

“Look at me while you undress,” he demanded, his voice deep and gravelly, a stark contrast from where he started.

My eyes darted to his. I saw the desire in his eyes as his erection grew. I continued to pull off my shirt as my jeans fell to the floor; I was so glad I wore matching underwear.

“Your bra and underwear now.”

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