Page 65 of Bound To Me

“Please, Daddy. Fuck me harder,” I whined, not in any mood to be teased.

He let out a small laugh against my ear. “I love when you beg, baby.”

His hips started to move and I held onto his strong arms, the feeling of his hard cock rubbing against my clit making me close to an orgasm. He trailed kisses on my shoulder and on my collarbone where Michael left his mark.

Elliott and I were back at the basics, fucking each other with desperate need, only using our bodies to make each other feel good. I loved knowing that he didn’t need to suspend me in theair or tie me up to enjoy himself; he wanted whatever I wanted. After being treated like a slave for so long, I knew I deserved something better. And that something better was Elliott.

* * *

Elliott and I lay in bed as he traced his fingertips over my old scars. I nestled my nose into his chest hair, finding comfort in the warmth of his body and the familiar scent that made me feel safe again.

“So, how are we gonna do this?”

He raised his eyebrows slightly; he knew exactly what I was talking about. “I don’t want you tangled in this. Let me do it alone. Please,” he insisted. “I can make it quick and look like an accident. Believe me, I’ve thought about killing that fucker a lot since you told me about what he’d done.” His eyes clouded with the darkness I had seen only a few times before. My heart fluttered with arousal. However, I wasn’t gonna let him do it alone.

“No. I’m doing it with you. Tell me your plan.”

His lips curved into a wry smile. “You’re gonna be stubborn about this, aren’t you?”

I nodded in agreement. “Yes. I won’t let you do it without me.” If anyone deserved to kill Michael, it was me, the person he had fucked up the most.

Elliott licked his lips and sighed, then looked out the window and stared at the vast Pacific Ocean.

“Do you know how to fight?”

Then

Michael Barnes, editor of local New York magazine, charged for kidnapping ex-fiancée.

I stared at the headline, unable to tear my eyes away. The words “kidnapping,” “Hana Maynor,” and “BDSM & submissive” leaped off the page, causing my stomach to churn. I felt an overwhelming urge to throw up.

It had been over a year since Michael was arrested. I had hidden myself away from the world, only emerging to go to work, then promptly returning home to sink into a drunken oblivion. Jessica had attempted to call and text me several times throughout the year, but I never answered. What would I say? What would she even have to say? After a few months of no response, she stopped trying.

Then, Hana contacted me.

I was just leaving work when my phone buzzed in my back pocket. I quickly glanced at it and realized what it had said:Hi Jackie. It’s Hana. I’d love to talk if you get the chance.

I stopped in my tracks outside the back door of the restaurant. Now Hana was contacting me? Why?

I responded quickly before I could change my mind:Hi Hana. I guess I can talk but I’m not sure why you’d want to?I was afraid she would berate me, questioning why I hadn’t tried harder to help put Michael away.

I guess I just wanted to see how you were doing after all of this. You have been on my mind a lot. I hope you’re doing okay.

Immediately, I began to cry. Why did I deserve to have someone care about me, especially someone I had unknowingly helped Michael kidnap?

She texted me again before I could respond:We could meet over lunch or something? I’m free tomorrow.

I blinked at my phone several times before I typed back.Okay. That sounds good.

The next afternoon, I sat in a diner near Hana’s apartment. It would only be my second time being alone with her, and I was terrified. What would I say to her? Then she walked in, her matte red lipstick perfectly applied, her long blonde hair flowing past her shoulders as she turned her head to look for me. For a split second, I wanted to turn and run out the back exit. But I waved, and she noticed me and smiled. She swiftly glided over, and I stood up, inexplicably expecting a hug. To my surprise, she did hug me. It wasn’t just a polite hug; it was a long, warm embrace where she held me tightly. I began to cry. I hadn’t been hugged in a long time, and my body was no longer accustomed to gentle, human contact. Hana didn’t pull away; she just let me cry. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel embarrassed. In that moment, she felt like an old, dear friend.

I finally let go and shook my head, laughing to myself. “Sorry, it’s been a while since someone was so unexpectedly nice to me.”

She gave me a crooked smile. “Don’t be sorry. Let’s sit.” She gestured to the booth I had been sitting at.

I sighed heavily, my breath hiccuping from my sobs.

“Thanks for meeting me. I’m sure you were shocked at my unexpected text?” Hana said as she laughed.

---