Bound to You

Chapter 43

"Explain to me again why we're doing this," you said, looking at me across the booth. You looked like fucking James Bond, and I wanted to drag you into the bathroom and have my way with you. You leveled those dark eyes on me, and I felt myself go wet.

I cleared my throat. "Because I'm not ready for this to tear my family apart just yet."

That got your attention. You reached across the table and took my hand. "I'm sorry this is so hard."

I smiled at you. "You're worth it."

You were about to lean across the table to kiss me, I could tell, when I saw him. He fit my mother's description exactly: olive toned skin, sharp features, a rose pinned to his lapel. He was the son of an old friend of my mother's, and even though he didn't know about John, he knew I needed a show boyfriend, and apparently he'd volunteered so his dad would get off his back about sleeping around instead of taking a girlfriend.

I pushed away from the table before he could see me and walked over to where he still hovered by the door.

"Oliver?" I asked, and he turned and smiled at me, his eyes sweeping down me once. "Wow. You're even hotter than your mom said."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that, but thank God he was just going to be my fake boyfriend. I didn't have to like him.

"Um. Thanks, I guess. Can I buy you a drink?"

He gestured for me to go ahead of him toward the bar, and I took a seat there. He sat next to me, and over his shoulder, I could see you in the booth where I'd left you, watching us with those dark eyes.

"So, why in the world would you need someone to pretend to be your boyfriend? Couldn't you just smile at any guy here and get a real one?" His eyes drifted down again, settling on my bare legs, and I tugged my skirt down. "Oh," he said when I hesitated. "Are you a carpet-muncher?"

My skin prickled when he said that. "No, I'm not a lesbian." I emphasized the word, bristling at his offensive choice. "I'm just focusing hard on classes and don't really have time for a relationship."

Oliver smiled. "Well, if it's a hook up you're looking for, I'd be happy to oblige. I'm an even better lay than I am a fake boyfriend."

I laughed nervously. "No, thank you. I guess I just wanted to make sure you were all set to meet my dad this weekend."

Oliver sipped at his drink and nodded. "Yeah, sure, princess. And I'm supposed to tell him that we met at Yale."

I cleared my throat. "Do you, um, go to Yale?"

He shook his head. "Nah, but for you I could be a student anywhere. No worries. I'm good at this sort of thing."

I was inclined to believe him. He had that confidence that most people would have killed for, and it was enough for me to feel pretty secure in our dinner with my parents.

I put out a hand to him. "Well, it was wonderful to meet you, Oliver. Thank you again for agreeing to do this. And in return, you can tell your parents that we're getting serious." I smiled at him, hoping that it came across that I was joking, but he grasped my fingers in his, bent forward, and pressed his lips to my open palm.

Without hesitation, my eyes went right for you, and I saw the way you stood, the way your eyes were a little wild, and I pulled my hand away from Oliver.

"It was nice to meet you," I said, and I rushed out of the bar, not even checking to see if you were behind me. I walked straight to our apartment, leaving the door wide open as I dropped my purse on our love seat and went to the kitchen to make tea.

But I'd barely gotten the water in the kettle when you were striding into the apartment and slamming the door behind you. I flinched and turned to watch you flip the lock on the door. I set the kettle down on the counter and waited as you stalked over to me, until I was backing up, my back bumping the fridge.

But you didn't stop until your hands were in my hair, until your mouth was on mine, until our tongues were twined together. I moaned, grabbing onto your shoulders, but you pulled back, staying close enough to me that I could feel the heat of your breath on my lips.

"He couldn't have been more obvious about wanting you," you said.

"He didn't know you were there," I said. "He doesn't know you exist."

Your hands held my face gently, and your fierce eyes found mine. "As long as you do," you said, and before I had a chance to say anything, you kept going. "As long as you remember, through all of this, who you belong to."

My chin wobbled, and I couldn't even explain why. From desire, from love, from wanting you to know with every breath I breathed that I was yours and yours alone.

You leaned forward and when your teeth bit against the skin of my neck, I gasped. "This skin is mine to touch," you said, your hands sliding from my hair, down my shoulders, to cup my breasts. I whined, but you didn't stop. Your hands kept going, all the way down, until you were yanking up my skirt. "These legs are mine to have wrapped around me." Your hand moved up the inside of my leg, until it was pressing into my underwear, finding me pulsing.

"This pussy is mine to fuck."

I whimpered and covered your hand with mine, feeling with my own hand the way your finger dipped inside me.

"Tell me," you said.

"I'm yours," I said on a moan, and then your fingers were gone, and you were stepping back to strip me out of my dress. But you were only gone a second before your mouth was on me, sucking one nipple between your lips.

"Tell me again," you said, your wet mouth sliding from one breast to the other.

"I'm yours," I almost shouted, thrusting my hands into your hair, but you pulled them away and scooped me up, laying me down on the tile floor and pulling my panties off, all in one smooth movement.

"Whose pussy is this?" you said before burying your mouth between my legs.

I didn't answer. My back bowed off the ground, and I screamed up at the ceiling. But your mouth stopped moving, and you pulled back to look up at me.

"Tell me who this pussy belongs to," you said, and I thought I would come just listening to you talk to me this way, hearing you claim me the way I'd always wanted you to, deep down. "Tell me."

"It's yours," I gasped, trying to catch my breath. "It's your pussy, John. Eat your pussy."

I saw the thrill in your eyes, the way it crossed your mouth before you went back to licking me, sucking me, pressing your middle finger into my asshole until I was screaming again.

You flipped me over, my knees finding the tile, my ass in the air. You gripped my hips and slammed into my pussy. I had to bury my face against the floor, covered in my hands, to hold in the screams. You didn't have to move, didn't even have to thrust. Once you were buried all the way inside me, completely bare, I started to come.

I whimpered and moaned and cried at how good it felt. You'd never been inside me without a condom before, and even though I wasn't on the pill, even though there was a chance this could be a big mistake, I didn't care.

You pressed your face to my spine and shouted your release against my skin, and it was the greatest moment of my life.

We stayed like that for a minute, gasping for air on the cold tile. But then you pulled out of me, rolling me over so that you could cover my body with yours. You wrapped your arms around me and settled between my legs, until I wrapped my legs around you, my arms, my heart.

"You never have to be jealous," I said when you finally looked me in the eye. You almost looked ashamed, and I kissed the expression from your face. "I'm yours, no matter what. There will never be anyone for me except you."

I had tears running down my face, and it took me a second to realize they were yours, dripping from your face onto mine, and I pulled you close, trying to make you see that no matter what happened, I wasn't going to leave.