An open lock, p.21
An Open Lock, page 21
Steph immediately throws herself at Xander, giving him the biggest, sloppiest, snog I have ever seen. As soon as she pulls away, she smirks at Tamara and the penny drops. Steph thinks Tamara is after her man and she's rubbing Xander in her face.
I don't think Tamara is all that fussed, I think she just likes chatting with Xander.
E makes a beeline for me, wisely pulling me away from my sharpened kitchen knife and giving me a much more publicly decent kiss which is counteracted by the way he squeezes my ass.
I pull away and narrow my eyes again and I swear he smirks. I think he enjoys knowing I'm pissed at him.
“Anything to tell me?” I raise an expectant eyebrow.
“I'm going to make you scream tonight,” he smirks.
I ignore the way the marching band starts picking up its rhythm in my core and maintain my glare. “Kevin,” I remind him.
“You weren't home,” he shrugs.
“So?” I demand. “I might have wanted to see him. He spent all weekend looking after me. I owe him.”
At this, his eyes darken, but his face remains amused. “Steph was home.”
“You could have let him wait in your flat,” I reason.
“Don't know the guy,” he dismisses.
“He could have waited in the hall!”
“And if Steph came out? I don't want a screaming match in the corridor, Olivia. If he wanted to see you, he should have called first.”
“Says the man who is here three hours earlier than agreed upon,” I scold him in frustration, mostly because he has a point about Kevin.
“Xander said he was coming over for dinner,” E shrugged. “I like food.”
“I thought they were going out,” I abandon my attempt to lure him into an argument and look beyond him to where Steph and Xander are apparently bickering again.
She has her arms folded over her bosom and an expression of thunder. I swear she's seconds away from stomping her stilettoed feet.
“Not going out,” Xander shrugs. “Never said we were.”
“But I want to go out!” She whines.
“Then go,” Xander dismisses her, walking away to the kitchen area to help himself to Ian's coffee which seems to magically keep refilling itself.
“Fine!” She declares. “I will!” She slams the door to the flat behind her.
I sigh and follow her out, knowing she won't have locked the front door and knowing I won't sleep unless it'd been done now that E has made me aware of that annoying habit of hers.
When I re-enter the flat, Tamara is spoon feeding a completely nonplussed Xander a taster of our bolognaise sauce. He seems satisfied that we aren't going to poison him, but quickly adds a healthy dose of black pepper.
She slaps his hand away. “No!”
“Needed pepper,” he shrugs, the hint of a smile in his eyes.
“Asshole,” she grumbles, attempting to shove his giant form away, but he's unmovable.
“Fine!” She humphs when he refuses to move. “You cook!”
He shrugs, removing the wooden spatula from her hand and attending the simmering pan. However, he does this by boxing her in with one of his gargantuan, breeze block arms on either side of her.
“Funny,” she grimaces sarcastically, trying to get away from him. “You're such a child.”
“Need to teach you to cook,” he mocks her with a smirk.
We leave them to it because they're an unstoppable force of bickering. E takes my wrists in his hand, locking them in place behind my back and marching me to the sofa. Speaking of assholes, I grumble internally because he's a complete pervert. I bet he's getting off on this.
Sitting frown onto the sofa, he guides me sideways onto his lap.
“How was your day, Olivia?” He asks as he gently removes my hair from its bun.
“Awful,” I groan. “The men I work with are useless, lazy, morons.” I sigh in lament, well aware that I don't usually tell Ian anything about my work. I guess that's a reflection of just how shit this week has been,
He frowns in sympathy, releasing my wrists so he can run his fingers through my hair. It's extremely relaxing so I keep my hands where he left them because it feels like it's expected of me and I'm enjoying his ministrations far too much to risk riling him.
“How was your day?” I murmur, far too comfortable on his lap.
“The usual,” he shrugs, as giving as ever when it comes to revealing any information about himself.
“Are you a drug dealer, sir?” I ask sweetly.
“Would you invoke the first rule if I was?” He raises an eyebrow, resting his other hand on my thigh, just above the fabric hem of my pencil skirt.
“Yes,” I nod. No matter how good the sex is, or how good looking he is, I wouldn't want to be involved with something like that.
“Good job I'm not then,” he smirks, recommencing the delightful stroking of my hair.
I almost purr as I relax into him, resting my head on his shoulder with my hands still dutifully folded behind my back.
“Spread your legs,” he whispers to keep our bickering company from overhearing. The soft murmur of his lust-filled voice sends shivers down my spine.
Without a second thought, my body complies, leaving my mind to wonder what just happened. I almost feel him smirk with the victory of my submission, but I'm just too comfortable in his lap to care.
I remain still as the tips of his fingers trail slowly up my inner thigh. I don't think Tamara or Xander can see us, but the fact that they might look over from their bickering makes me nervous in a way that feels too much like excitement.
Sweeping my hair to one side, he gently bites down on my neck, lavishing the sensitive skin with hot swathes of his tongue.
It's all I can do to clamp my lips firmly shut, quashing the need to moan with pleasure. When his hand finally reaches the peak of my thigh, his fingers gently brush my naked flesh.
He slowly parts my core, flicking the nub of my clit before smoothly withdrawing his hand. He leans back, relaxing into the sofa, clamping the offending hand over my thigh as though he senses my irritation.
“Good girl,” he coos, clearly happy to find I'm obeying the underwear rule today. He let me off on Monday and I wasn't willing to push my luck today.
Being called a good “girl” doesn't improve my mood; he's still an evil tease.
“Whose pleasure comes first, Olivia?” He murmurs against my forehead.
“Yours, sir,” I sigh in acceptance.
“And when do you get to come?” He continues with an infuriating smugness.
“When you say so, sir,” I singsong.
“Good girl,” he grins. “You can move your hands now.” There's a note of approval in his voice.
I quickly move my hands around to my front, a little disappointed because, now that they're free, I don't really know what to do with them. Sensing my confusion, E captures my hands in his, gently massaging my wrists in his usual fashion. I hope he never stops doing this, it makes his stupid rules more tolerable. I didn't even have my hands behind my back for long, but he still wants to make sure my circulation is unaffected. I'm not sure why that reassures me that he doesn't really want to hurt me, but it does, despite his inclination for spanking.
“Food's up,” Xander's gruff voice announces as his phone beeps.
E lifts us both from the sofa and we join them at the kitchen bar.
“If it's edible, it's because I saved it. If it sucks, it's Xander's fault. He wanted to put honey in,” Tamara pulls a face, but Xander ignores her, still ignoring the persistent beep of his phone.
“You gonna get that?” E goads Xander.
Xander shrugs. “Just Steph.”
“She'll seemed pretty mad at you,” I interject. “If you don't answer she may have one of her friends follow you around and tell you what to do.”
The humour is completely lost on him, but E gives me a dark look and pinches me hard on the arse. I blink innocently back, letting my loose hair fall over my face.
“If you keep pouting, I'll gag you,” he warns, knowing how much I hate being gagged,
I immediately suck my lips into my mouth and glare at him defiantly.
“Ugh, no way,” Tamara frowns. “Ain't no man gonna gag me!”
“I'm tempted,” Xander informs her. “Fucking crazy lady.”
“Don't pretend you don't enjoy the crazy,” she dismisses him. “How come Olivia doesn't get to gag you?” She turns to Ian.
“Definitely gag her,” E ignores Tamara and addresses Xander.
“Men are such pigs!” Tamara announces as she helps herself to spaghetti and bolognaise.
I agree silently, especially as I watch Ian help himself to enough food to feed an army.
“How do you stay so hot and eat that much food?” I think out loud. I would never intentionally compliment him. He doesn't need the ego boost.
“I work out,” he answers as if I'm an idiot for asking a stupid question.
“No shit,” Tamara scoffs, you only have to look at him to know that. “It still isn't human to eat that much food.”
“You should see my brothers eat,” he chuckles.
“Sister doesn't eat much though,” Xander points out.
“She's working on it,” E narrows his eyes at Xander threateningly. I'd probably have run a mile in Xander's shoes, but he looks like he couldn't care less.
“What's your sister's name?” I ask curiously, latching on to new information about my mysterious lover.
“Jelly,” E answers with a completely straight face.
“Seriously?” I raise an eyebrow because if he's not going to answer the question properly he might as well not answer it.
E nods, continuing the process of shovelling the admittedly delicious bolognaise into his mouth.
“Sure,” I pout sulkily, but then quickly retract my lips for fear of the aforementioned gag.
“Jelly rocks,” Xander grins at Ian. “How's she doing?”
“I thought she irritated the crap out of you?” Ian deadpans.
“Yeah, but she has got balls,” Xander smirks. “I like that on a woman.”
Ian laughs. “It's in the blood. She's gone full on loopy with wedding planning.”
“Can't believe you're letting her get married,” Xander shakes his head in disbelief.
“If he lives that long,” E mutters to himself.
“How old is she?” I interject, amused that he seems to be quite protective of his younger sister.
“Twenty one in June,” E answers after a few moments of contemplating.
“And how old are you?” I try my luck because I still don't know the most basic of information about him.
He knows exactly what I'm doing and raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Old enough to walk her down the aisle.”
I frown in slight confusion. Wouldn't her father do that? Maybe they don't get on, I muse silently.
“Enough questions,” he warns me. “You're coming running with me tomorrow.”
I gape at him for a second, certain I must have heard him wrong. “I bloody well am not.”
“Didn't realise I was giving you a choice,” E smirks sadistically.
“You can’t make me,” I glare at him defiantly, but there’s a flicker of doubt which I’m sure he picks up on.
“But I can make sure you don’t come again for a month,” he answers simply.
“Oh, shit,” Tamara laughs. “You're going running.”
“You can't be serious, E,” I blurt. “This is supposed to be sex only.”
“Need to increase your endurance,” he reminds me with a shrug. “You keep getting sleepy after the first two.”
“That's completely normal!” I argue, tempted to lob my fork at his face.
E and Xander shake their head, but Tamara nods in agreement. There is something very wrong with this man and if he thinks I'm going for a run he has got another thing coming.
Chapter 25
“This has been fun,” Tamara grins, helping me wash up. “But I should get home.”
“I wish you didn't have to go home,” I sigh. “I love having you over.”
“I wish I didn't have to go either. That place is starting to give me depression,” she shudders. “I need to find a new place.”
“Well, if you don't mind sharing a bed, you can kip here any time you like,” I offer, knowing that it would annoy Steph, but Tamara's safety comes first.
“I might take you up on that,” she grins.
“Car coming to pick you up,” Xander calls over to her.
“I'm capable of calling my own taxi,” she snaps, smirking across at him.
“Sure you are, but this is one of my cars,” he shakes his head despairingly.
“How many do you have?” Her eyes widen slightly.
“He means company cars,” E laughs. “His head office is only a few miles away.”
“Ooh,” Tamara mocks him. “I'm still taking a taxi.”
Xander raises an eyebrow in silent challenge and I have to agree with him. He's over six foot of solid wall. Tamara is feisty, but she's also petite.
“Don't even think about it, big boy,” Tamara threatens him, pulling out her mobile to call a taxi.
He's trying to do her a favour, but I can understand why she didn't like him assuming something for her. Especially since I can empathise from my own demanding, pain in the ass man problems. Namely his decision that I'll be going for a run tomorrow. Last time I ran, I was fifteen years old and running away from Kevin and his bucket of ice cold water.
Xander smirks before showing incredible agility for a man of his size by darting to her side and snatching her mobile away. He promptly throws her over his shoulder, clamping down her legs before making for the door.
“Back in five!” He shouts over Tamara's screams of protest as she hammers his back with her fists.
“Those two are going to kill each other or something,” I chuckle in amusement.
“Or something,” E mutters. “Come here.” His voice changes to cool and distant, the commanding tone of my dom.
I swallow past the slight lump in my throat because I was enjoying warm and cheerful E. I know we were supposed to start our night together half an hour ago, but we still have company.
I come to a stop just in front of him and he gestures for me to turn around. I look at him cautiously and he softens his stern expression slightly, obviously aware he's making me anxious.
When my back faces him, he pulls a length of rope from this pocket and I roll my eyes while he can't see me because it's such a weird thing to do to casually have a length of rope in your pocket.
“Don't worry about Xander,” he soothes as he quickly positions my arms so that they're crossed behind my back and ensures that they're comfortable before binding them in place.
“E, please,” I whimper, considering that this means. He wants me bound in front of Xander. That's making something private quite public.
“Sir,” he warns, reaching around to tweak my nipple sharply.
“Sorry, sir,” I apologise quickly, fearing further retribution.
I feel a little lost and dazed. When E is his softer personality, I actually almost enjoy his company, but when he switches suddenly, I have to adapt my own persona to the pseudo submissive I pretend to be so I can enjoy his talents.
“Behave and I'll make it worth your while,” he promises, gently massaging my tense shoulders. “Don't be scared, Olivia.”
“I'm not, sir,” I state defiantly.
“Don't lie,” he snaps coldly, tweaking the other nipple.
I whimper and twist away from his cruel fingers.
“I can feel you trembling,” he softens his voice once more.
“Please don't make me do anything in front of Xander,” I plead, my lip quivering.
“You can say stop whenever you like, Olivia,” he reminds me. “That power is yours.”
I take a deep breath because he's right. I can end this whenever I like. Taking a step closer, he gently tilts my head up and stares into my eyes. I wish I could read his, but they're like a foreign language.
As if he senses my need for understanding, he leans in for a kiss. There's no aggression or anger, no threat or terror. His kiss tells me he just wants the control, nothing more. I have nothing to fear with him and he's gently reminding me of that.
When he pulls away he leaves me breathless and I nod in understanding; message received.
“Xander won't even blink and you can keep your clothes on. Understand?” He gently strokes my jawline with his thumb.
“Yes, sir,” I reply, quite relieved because if my clothes are staying on I doubt there will be much for me to be embarrassed about. Aside from being bound.
“Good girl,” he brushes my lower lip before pressing a gentle kiss there. “Kneel down in front of the sofa with your legs at a right angle.”
He graces me with a small smile and I sag with relief that his softer side isn't completely hidden. I take position as instructed, sitting back on my heels with my legs spread. The movement stretches the fabric of my skirt and it rolls up my thighs. I cringe as I watch it come to a rest, millimetres away from losing my dignity.
I tilt my head back in curiosity so I can watch E slot himself behind me on the sofa, positioning me between his legs.
“Stay still,” he orders, guiding my head back forward facing so I can't see what he's doing.
I feel him pull my hair into a pony tail and loop the end of the rope which binds my wrist around my hair. He pulls it tight and connects the rope around my ponytail with the rope around my wrists. As he tightens, my line of sight is angled upwards, and my head tilted back almost to the point of discomfort. He loosens it slightly as I wince before he finishes tying the knot.
I test my range of movement and quickly realise that I can't do much other than move my eyes or tilt my head further back. I can't look left or right.
“If your neck starts to hurt, tell me,” E soothes, running his fingers down my throat to my clavicle.
“Yes, sir,” I manage, finding it less comfortable to talk at this angle.
I hear the clunk of the door as Xander lets himself back into the flat and, just as Ian says, he doesn't mention my predicament. He seems too preoccupied with Tamara.
