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BAG BOY
CHAPTER 11
CougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougarCougar
At 4:10, my phone pinged with a charge from Amex. Edward had checked in at the Roosevelt. I was expected in less than an hour. This was happening.
I stood in front of my closet, pondering what one wears to be picked up by a stranger in a hotel bar—a young, hot stranger who plans to tie her up. Ah yes, Armani. I pulled out a blouse and skirt I hadn't worn in years, a remnant of my power-suit days, a vain attempt to hold on to the control I was about to relinquish for the next eighteen hours . . . but who was counting?
Hard to believe it was only five short days ago Edward dragged me down this rabbit hole. Since then, he was a man obsessed with "doing it right." He spent hours researching bondage on the internet. He printed out checklists for us to fill out separately and together. He frequented every sex toy store between here and Glendale. If circumstances were different, we could've had so much fun poking around those stores together. I could only imagine the stockpile of supplies in his bedroom at home; I hoped the Cullens weren't the type of parents to snoop.
When I tried to pay him back for his purchases, Edward just smiled and shook his head. "Nope, nice try though."
I lathered my skin in potions and lotions and spritzed perfume in strategic locations. I unwrapped my pretty new lingerie from the tissue paper, sat at the edge of my bed, and rolled up my stockings. I could not wait to see Edward go berserk when he saw the garter belt.
Only two more weeks before Edward left for Cal State and took with him that awestruck smile that made me feel like the most special woman in the world. Sigh.
I shrugged off the heavy heart and finished dressing, then checked my hair and makeup one last time in the mirror. On a whim, I dug out my favorite Chanel scarf and wound it twice around my neck before tying it off in a firm knot. If you want to undress me, cub, you're going to have to work for it.
I smirked at my reflection. "That's me, dressed to kill."
"Actually," said my reflection back to me, "that's you, fit to be tied." Smartass.
I snapped up the tote bag with my toiletries, shorts and a top for tomorrow, a pair of flip-flops, and Edward's one request—a bathing suit. I was a bundle of nerves by the time I dropped the car with the valet in front of the hotel.
"Checking in with us this evening?" he asked.
"Yes. The name is Swan."
"Very good." He filled out the tag and I pressed a tip into his palm. "Thank you, Ms. Swan. You have a wonderful stay, now."
I pulled in a deep breath and blew it out slowly through my mouth. "Thanks, I'll try."
Bagboybagboybagboybagboybagboybagboybagboybagboy
The bartender's double take gave away Bella's arrival. Luckily, we'd gotten the whole asking-for-my-ID thing well out of the way before the hot cougar came up behind me and asked if the empty bar stool to my left was taken.
"It is now," I said, all suave as I stood to pull out the heavy, upholstered stool for her.
My eyes nearly popped out of my face when I saw what she was wearing: the most elegant, most conservative outfit I'd ever seen her in. Her blouse was made of shimmery, pearl-colored silk that hinted at her curves without being obvious, topped off by an expensive-looking scarf wound not once but twice around the high, frilly collar. As I helped her onto her chair, I got a perfect view of her high-waisted, knee-length, gray skirt that hugged her ass like a monkey holding onto a tree. Nude stockings covered her pretty legs and disappeared into a pair of shiny, no-nonsense pumps the color of her blouse. Except for her hands and face, not an inch of skin peeked out.
She looked like a person on her way to meet with her accountant or lawyer, not a woman about to submit to my kinky whims. It was a side of Bella she'd never shown me before, and I'd never wanted her more.
"What can I get you to drink?" asked the bartender exactly when I did.
She laughed and made it seem like she wasn't used to this kind of attention; I knew she was. "Grey Goose martini, extra dirty," she said, flashing her grin at the bartender first.
"You got it," he said, flashing back a grin of his own. I was tempted to roll my eyes.
This was the risk I'd taken, but it was worth it. There was no way I could be anyone other than Bella's cub while we were in her house. Not that I minded the role, please, but she was much too in command there—her house, her rules. Here, at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel, we could be anyone to each other.
Apparently, she'd decided to take on the outward appearance of a proper lady. Remembering how she'd fingered herself in the grocery store parking lot, I knew better. She crossed her legs, causing the skirt to ride up over her knees, which were angled toward my own behind the bar.
If my hunch was right, those stockings ended at her thigh . . . and fuck me, were held up by a lacy garter belt. Proper lady, my ass.
"You look like you have a thought," she teased, catching me staring.
I had no intention of playing the shy cub tonight. "Oh, I have many thoughts."
"Well, don't hurt yourself on my account." She smiled sweetly. I smiled back.
I held still while her eyes took a stroll down my outfit. She'd never seen me dressed this way either; my work uniform hardly counted as "smart casual" attire. Her attention felt like a heat lamp trained on me and me alone as she took in my tailored sports coat and snug-fitting Armani X tee. Her eyebrows rose as her gaze reached my feet, and for once, I was glad for the stiff leather loafers.
The bartender stole her attention with his dramatic martini-shaker routine, an act I'm sure normally earned him fat tips from the swanky female customers —and probably more than one room key slid across the bar. He made a big show of pouring Bella's martini into the waiting glass, giving her what was supposed to be a sly smile as he swirled out the last drips over the spear of two fat, stuffed olives. "Extra dirty, just the way the lady ordered it," he said, sliding the drink toward her on its black square napkin.
Dude, if you only knew.
Bella angled her head toward me. "Did you say something just now?"
"Not out loud," I replied as innocently as I could.
She pressed her half-smile around the wide mouth of the martini glass, closed her eyes, and took a first sip. As she swiped her tongue across her lips, gathering up the salty drink, it occurred to me I'd never seen her wear such a neutral lipstick—just enough to stain her lips without masking her natural shade. The eye makeup, too, was barely there. As much as I loved Bella's bright red lips and accentuated lashes, this softer, conservative look had definitely piqued my interest . . . and my dick. Probably because what I had planned for her tonight was so very not-proper.
"What's that you're drinking?" she asked me.
I reached for my glass with the hand closer to Bella and swirled the crystal highball glass in small circles. "An old-fashioned."
"Nice choice." I lifted my drink, clinked with hers, and we shared a silent toast. To bondage—hers.
As I set down my glass, she slipped one of her perfectly manicured fingers under the rubber band I was still wearing around my wrist, far too intimate a gesture for an encounter with a stranger.
"This is an unusual accessory," she said, testing the stretch. "Is this one of those charity bracelets, like Livestrong?"
I chuckled softly. "Not exactly."
She quirked her brow. "Fashion statement, then?" Oh, Bella. Feeling so out of her element tonight, she seemed to need to remind us both of her ultimate power over me.
I shifted my upper body so I could stare directly into those deep brown eyes of hers. "A friend asked me to wear it."
With her finger still hooked inside the rubber band, she took another long sip of her martini. I waited on the edge of my stool while she swallowed, smiled at me, and responded. "And do you do everything this friend asks?"
We both glanced down at my wrist, where her finger was sweeping a little tantalizing arc between the rubber band and my skin. "So far, yes," I answered.
Her finger stilled; the smile dimmed ever so slightly. "Is there a 'but' coming . . .?"
"Not that I can foresee."
Reassured, her shoulders eased; her eyes softened around the edges. I was close to ditching the charade and covering her mouth with my lips, but this was important, and I wasn't about to blow it on an impulse. I opted for alcohol instead.
"Excuse me . . ." I jiggled my drink ever so slightly. "Not that you have to stop touching me or anything . . ."
She pulled her hand away with a shy smile. "Sorry."
"Don't be. I liked it," I said, taking in the blush dusting her cheeks before I tipped back my drink. Oh yeah.
Exactly as I'd hoped, she was looking at me in a new light, seeing me as a man whose words if not actions were unpredictable, for a change. Someone she didn't already have wrapped around her little finger, someone she wanted to impress. Of course, she could end this anytime; either one of us could. All she had to do was step out of character or use our safe word (veal chop) or simply walk away. I prayed she wouldn't walk away.
She sipped her drink more than once before setting it back down on the bar. The bartender came over to check if her drink was dirty enough. She pressed her knee to my thigh and said, "It's getting there."
And I'm hard.
Leaning in, she picked up the thread of our conversation, her voice a little slurry thanks to the martini. "So this friend of yours . . . a woman-friend, I take it?"
I bit back my smile. "Mmhmm?"
"What kind of things does she ask you to do?"
I turned my head, causing our lips to come dangerously close. Fuck me, she was hot. Without knowing a single thing about her, I would have chosen Bella in any crowded room. There was some force that drew me to her, something beyond the stirring she inspired in my cock, though that was most definitely a major factor. She'd had me whipped since my first carry-out, and I had yet to regret it—even though she'd made some tough demands.
I summoned the strength to shift away from her gaze and bent to whisper in her ear. "Extra dirty things."
A soft exhale fluttered out of her. I could feel the heat coming off her neck. I desperately wanted to graze my lips against the shell of her ear, but I knew the payoff from waiting would be so much better.
I was so right.
She shifted the tiniest fraction of an inch, stretching so her lips were just outside my ear. "Your friend's a lucky lady."
The smile that came over me seemed to start from somewhere deep inside, from a location significantly north of my groin, somewhere dangerously close to my heart. This conversation might have started out as an act, but it seemed Bella had just taken a deep dive into uncharted waters, not that she hadn't expressed feelings for me—or appreciation for what we had together—but this time felt different.
I chose my next words carefully, continuing to speak directly into her ear so as to avoid the added burden of eye contact. "You won't believe what she asked me to do tonight."
"Do tell," she replied, lifting her chin, exposing her delicious neck.
I took a risk, set my hand on her knee. She startled. I waited till she calmed, then slid my fingertips just under the hem of her skirt. She held still as a statue, her pulse beating like a tiny mallet against her neck.
"She wants me to seduce the sexiest woman in the place, lure her up to my room, tear off her clothes, and tie her spread-eagle to the bedposts . . ."
"Oh my. This hotel has four-poster beds?" She sounded genuinely surprised and slightly anxious to hear it.
"Absolutely. That's why I chose it," I replied.
She pulled back rather suddenly to look at my face. If she'd thought I was bluffing, reality dawned all at once. I was dead serious. I'd done my research, and I'd made damn sure the promised bed was in my room when I checked in this afternoon.
Having found whatever there was to find in my expression, Bella knocked back the rest of her martini.
"Everything okay?" I asked.
"Yep." She plucked the plastic spear out of her glass and pulled one of the two fat, bleu-cheese-stuffed olives into her mouth.
"Did you want something else to eat before I take you upstairs? I hear they have a good veal chop here."
Her eyes flared at my very clear message—Unless you safe word, you are about to be my captive.
"I don't think I should dilute the alcohol."
"I think you've made a very wise decision." My fingers ventured a little higher up her skirt, and I found my answer when I met bare thigh. Fuuuuck. I couldn't wait a second longer to get my sexy cougar alone.
Leaving her a secret caress as a promise of pleasures to come, I slipped my hand out, downed the last of my drink, and signaled for the check. The bartender seemed slightly dismayed to find us obviously entangled and about to venture out as a couple. I kept a straight face when I signed the charges to our room. I left him a decent but not over-the-top tip, or rather, Bella did.
I stood patiently behind her stool as she pulled the other olive into her mouth. She took my offered elbow for support, and I acted like a complete gentleman until I had her alone inside our room. But then, I wasn't looking for her to be a lady either.
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He tried to distract me with his backward-walking kisses—those sweet, sexy kisses of his—but even in my tipsy state, I felt the back of my thighs meet the bed frame. The vodka had taken the edge off, but what we were about to do—what I was about to let him do to me—was huge. I broke off the kiss and released a shaky sigh.
"Bella," he said, snapping my attention back to his mesmerizing cat-green eyes, "you know you can stop me at any point, right? No matter what."
"I know." I wasn't about to stop Edward now, not unless he acted way out of character.
"I'm going to undress you now." His words made me shiver. Being undressed by Edward was an exquisite pleasure that required more patience than I usually possessed.
I had no time to process before his fingers started working open the knot of my scarf. How many times had I loosened his tie as the prelude to getting my cub naked? Had I looked at him the way he was now looking at me—desire burning so bright, there was nothing in the world that mattered but right here, right now, the two of us? Had I, too, allowed my lips (plump and cherry-pink from all the kissing) to part, a flash of tongue to peek out and tease of delicious kisses in his future?
His eyes never left mine but registered victory as the knot came undone beneath his fingers. Like a magician pulling a scarf from his sleeve, Edward tugged gently on one end and unraveled the scarf from around my neck. The magician waved his magic hands down the front of my blouse, and the buttons opened like a zipper. He pressed soft kisses along my collarbone while casually sliding my blouse off my shoulders. Rather than letting my top fall to the floor, he stepped away to drape it over a side chair. He'd only left me for a second, but I stood, shivering, without his touch to warm me.
"You're shaking," he said, running his hands up and down my arms, as if it were the temperature causing me to tremble.
I melted into his arms, resting my cheek against his shoulder. His shirt smelled nice, clean and spicy and masculine. I felt him unclasp my bra, start the straps over my shoulders, and pause.
"Still good?" he asked, his concern for my comfort reminding me this was still my sweet cub, not some hardcore dungeon master.
"Yes."
He dropped a kiss on my head as he slowly glided the straps down my arms, then stepped back to regard what he'd uncovered. "You look different tonight." He swept his fingers around my breasts as if he were sculpting me from clay. "Even more beautiful."
"Exactly how long were you sitting at that bar before I arrived?"
He acknowledged my teasing with a smirk, but he wasn't buying my attempt to brush off his compliment. "Long enough to think about everything I want to do to you tonight." He shot me an earnest look before pulling me into a deep, slow kiss. The bourbon on his tongue mixed with the vodka and brine on mine, swirling into a cocktail of desire and want. He broke our kiss tenderly, leaving a hint of orange peel lingering on my lips.
"To be continued," he promised, "but first, I need to see what's under this skirt."
Said skirt was around my ankles before I registered the zipper going down. Edward stood staring at my garter belt, mouth gaping, an expression of awe and wonder on his face. "Wow. That's . . . wow. We're just going to leave that right where it is."
He crouched in front of me, nuzzled his face between my legs, and nibbled on my clit. I might have purred. He stood as suddenly as he'd descended, crooked smile glistening. "You are so distracting," he said, shaking his finger at me as if I'd purposely tried to trick him.
He shrugged out of his sports coat like a prizefighter shedding his robe, then tossed it onto the table. Edward's work uniform didn't do his physique any favors, but the cut of his designer crew neck and tailored slacks accentuated his muscular shoulders and tapered waist in a way that offered a glimpse of the man he was still becoming. With the right connections, he could easily model for Dior.
Reaching into his pocket almost shyly, he pulled out a handful of condoms and shook them onto the bed like dice. My eyes went wide; he winked. "Don't worry; we might not use 'em all."
"Lord, have mercy!" I'd barely gotten the words out when my feet were swooped right out from under me, and I was tossed onto my back in the middle of the bed. My right wrist was extended up and away from my body, encircled by a thick leather cuff, and strapped to the bedpost.
My heart galloped. One down, three to go.
Edward moved over me in a blur, his strength and efficiency striking me dumb. In a blink, my other wrist was locked in place. Instinct kicked in, and I tugged at the bindings like the trapped animal I was. He'd done a thorough job. There wasn't much give.
He lifted my head to prop two pillows underneath it. Gazing down at me with those infinite pools of shimmery green, he asked, "You doing okay?"
I am okay, I realized, because it's Edward. I nodded.
He bent to leave a tender kiss on my lips. "I am going to make this so good for you, Bella."
Tears stung at the back of my eyes. His thoughtfulness weakened me every time.
A hand gliding down my right leg startled me. I craned my neck to watch him cup my ankle and peel off my shoe with all the reverence of a Jimmy Choo salesman. He unclipped the stocking, rolled it off my leg, and closed the cuff around my ankle. I didn't fully appreciate my predicament until he dragged my left foot to the last corner of the bed, spreading my legs wide in the process of cuffing me to the fourth post—fully exposed, completely at his mercy, exactly as he'd wanted me. I'd taken no less from him many times over.
Despite the dizzying combination of vodka and role-play that had me seeing a bold side of Edward I'd never quite seen before, I knew who he was deep down—a good kid, sweet and gentle, smart enough not to fuck up what we had. If the power went to his head and things got a little rough, I'd roll with it, even looked forward to it on some level; this might be the first time I actually saw who Edward Cullen was when he wasn't being who I told him to be.
A/N: Looks like he's got her right where he wants her! (PS- why do my characters always end up bound, naked and spread-eagled?) Now now, all you folks clamoring to see everything... don't you worry. We're not fading to black quite yet. (heehee) As always, I love hearing your predictions
Worth noting- I have rewritten and reworked this chapter about four different times already but only had the heart to put chayasara through it twice. If you found a booboo, the mistake is mine.
XOXO ~BOH
