Vanessa Booke - Bound to You

“Steven is coming to take you home. Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you though?”

“No, Carol. Stay and mingle. You need this account.” I smile, trying my best to reassure her that I mean it.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s in the bag,” she says, winking

“Thank you for taking me out.”

“No problem, make yourself at home back at my place.”

“Thanks, I will.”

It doesn’t take long for Steven to arrive, and it takes even less time for us to get back to Carol’s apartment. Somehow, Steven knows just what streets to avoid on our way back. He walks me all the way to Carol’s door and shows me where to find the spare key.

As much as I want to sleep, I wait up for Carol to get home. She doesn’t get back to the apartment until 4 AM.

“Hey, you waited up?” she asks, whispering as she crawls into bed next to me. “And made yourself at home in my bed?”

“Yeah, I wanted to wait up and you said to make myself comfortable.” I giggle as Carol swats me with her pillow. It’s like we’re in junior high having a sleepover. She slips off her shoes and jumps into bed.

“You totally didn’t have to wait up, but thank you. I had to stay late to make sure the clean up and break down crews were doing their jobs.”

“It’s a lot of work being a mega PR person.”

“Yeah, but a lot of the time I end up being more of an event planner. By the way, I got the account with Tristan Knight,” she squeals.

“That’s fantastic! I’m so happy for you,” I say, hugging her.

“Thanks. Oh yeah, I wanted to tell you, I think your blue-eyed friend was looking for you.” She doesn’t have to mention his name. I know she means Nicholas.

“He’s not my friend.”

“Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me?” Carol says with a motherly tone. “Is he the reason why you left so early?”

“I’ll explain tomorrow,” I say, forcing a smile.

“Promise?”

“Sure.”

Carol turns and shuts off the lamp beside her nightstand. The room is quickly engulfed in darkness, with the exception of the glittering city outside our window. It sits shining beneath the moonlight and the stars.

“By the way…” Carol starts to say. “He was totally looking for you. He didn’t say your name, but when I came back without you… the look on his face was like someone had killed his puppy.”

As I close my eyes and let the darkness overtake my senses, the last thing I see is the image of Nicholas’ stark blue eyes staring down at me, burning with need and desire.

Monday morning arrives far too quickly. The weekend was anything but restful. It was more like a painful and arduous process of replaying Friday’s events over and over in my mind. To make things worse, I’ve been daydreaming about her for the past two hours. Her, as in Rebecca Gellar, the vivacious redhead I met on my flight back home, with her sharp green eyes that sized me up from the get-go. It’s stupid of me to let her get inside my head, but I can’t stop the chain reaction she’s started . I want her.

The events of the Friday night seem so serendipitous, that it’s hard to believe it actually happened. Out of all of the clubs in this city, she was at Riptide . When I saw her, I wanted to peel off her dress and kiss every inch of her. I can still taste those sweet lips on mine. One minute she was unraveling in my arms, moaning beneath my touch, and the next she was gone. I haven’t stopped thinking about the way she felt. God, she was so wet. I remember my fingers sliding inside her with ease… my cock still twitches at the memory of her soft gasps. She shifted my world upside down, turning it on its axis with one simple kiss. Unfortunately, Alison ruined everything when she decided to just show up unannounced.

Rebecca’s eyes opened up like saucers when she heard her introduce herself as my fiancée. I can only imagine what thoughts were going through Rebecca’s head. From the tightlipped grimace on her face, she was pissed. She had every right to blurt out about our kiss on the airplane, but she didn’t, and while I would’ve been more than happy to get rid of Alison, it would’ve royally fucked things up for the company.

I didn’t want to chase Rebecca away, but it’s probably better that I did. I’m engaged. Engaged… I’m still trying to sort out the ramifications of this reality in my head. I don’t even do long-term relationships, but this is as permanent as one can get. Rebecca’s face flashes in my mind. She must think the worse of me. I know she shouldn’t mean anything. She’s just another number in a city that’s overflowing with women begging to be fucked, but all I can think about is finding her and punishing her for leaving me with blue balls.

I’ve been stroking myself for the past 30 minutes, but each time I get close to peaking, I lose the image of fucking her mouth. It’s like she’s cursed me. That fiery siren is my impending death by no release. Perhaps I should’ve taken Alison’s offer for sex last night. She was all too willing. I’m surprised she didn’t cup me in public by the way she was marking her territory. It didn’t take much to notice the angry and jealous glances at Rebecca. Rebecca. Her name will forever be ingrained in my mind.

I begin stroking myself again, trying to imagine her face as I touched her soft folds. I grab a towel as I get closer and closer to my release. I’m almost there.

“I’m home!” a familiar voice shouts from across my living room, instantly stopping me. Before I have time to throw my towel on the floor, Emily, my little sister, walks straight into my bedroom. Her eyes widen as she spots the towel in one hand, and my other hand underneath the sheets. Her cheeks flame bright red against her fair skin. This is awkward.

“Whoa! God, what are you, 12?” she screams in disgust. “You should’ve locked your door if you’re doing stuff like that.”

“Why the hell don’t you knock like a normal person?” I yell, irritated as fuck. How the hell did she get into my apartment anyway?

“I didn’t think I would walk in on you yanking your chain.”

“Just get out! I need to get dressed.” Frustration is how I will sum up today, and it’s just gotten started.

As I exit my room, dressed in a fresh suit, I find Emily sitting on the couch, holding a sign that reads: “CONGRATULATIONS!” Written underneath are Alison’s and my names. It seems news of my engagement has traveled fast.

“I’m so excited for you! When is the wedding?” she asks, pushing back a black wisp of hair from her face. She reminds me so much of our mother that it’s painful at times. It’s like looking at an old photograph. She has the same fair skin and long, black hair. My brother and I were the ones who came out more like our father.

“Hopefully never,” I mutter.

Her face drops. “I thought this was happy news?” She eyes me suspiciously as I begin to set my tie in place.

“It’s not. I’m being forced into marriage.”

“How medieval,” she says, smirking. “I guess I should’ve known better.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, pretending to be offended.

“Nothing, you just don’t keep your girlfriends around for very long.”

It’s because most of them are gold diggers, like our mother. “You better watch out, you’re next,” I tease. “You know father. If it’s for the good of the family, he’ll ship you off.” Emily follows me as I walk to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of orange juice. She’s dressed in a light yellow dress and red heels. Something tells me she’s still on vacation. That or she’s ditching class.