BRIELLE
Ihurry to the elevator bank of my building, thankful that the cleaning staff left hours ago. I caught my reflection in enough windows to know I look like a tornado survivor. In the silent building, every footstep echoes and seems to magnify without bodies to absorb the sound.
The elevator dings as it reaches my floor. I peek my head out, making sure the hallway is spectator free, and when I’m sure the coast is clear, I speed walk to the photography studio. The second I’m inside, I drop the itchy blanket and hit the lights. Racks of clothes are lined up in the corner and the sight of them is almost enough to make me weep for joy. We were shooting for fall, so there are cozy lounge pants, bralettes, and sweaters so soft they’d make baby bunnies jealous.
I grab what I need and head for the changing area. Under the bright light, I finally get a good look at myself. My hair is every bit as bad as I thought, and the rope under my dress is even worse. The clingy fabric highlights each knot, every line.
“Oh, lord,” the soft moan is about all I can muster, but I gave that cop an eyeful. There is nothing subtle about the rope looped around my neck and disappearing under the neckline of my dress.
Pressing my fingertips to my temples, I take a deep breath. This is insane. How in the hell did my night end up like this? Jesus. I just wanted to try Shibari and maybe get a decent orgasm out of the night. Is that so much to ask? I got my orgasm, sure, but after doing the most extreme walk of shame I can possibly imagine, I have to ask myself — was it worth it?
I sigh heavily. It really fucking was. I would do it again in a heartbeat. Maybe without the walk of shame part, and definitely skipping the scratchy blanket, but the rest of it? Holy hell. One interrupted night of filthy, amazing foreplay, and now I’m hooked.
Stripping my dress off and tossing it on the floor, I examine the remains of Thorin’s handiwork. I didn’t get a very good look at the club, and it occurs to me that maybe I should have asked… I will next time, I decide. If there’s a next time. This was supposed to be one night. It’s a little presumptuous of me to assume they want to keep playing with a complete newbie. Not when there are so many people at Club Sin with more experience, more knowledge, more… I dunno. Kinkiness?
The sliced tails of cord hang around my thighs, the ends frayed in soft tufts, but the rest of his art is still intact. The way it winds around my body is incredible. I turn, lifting my hair and looking over my shoulder at the column that winds down my back. It’s gorgeous. Just the sight of it is enough to send my heart racing all over again. I’ve never felt this sexy in my entire life.
I’m sorely tempted to wear it all night, but then what? It’s not like I can walk around the office with this under my freaking blouse. No, it has to come off.
I sigh and gather my hair into a messy bun before reaching around to the column at my back. My fingers tug at the knot above the frayed ends, but I can’t loosen it. I try to start where Thorin ended, but the ends are concealed in the intricate web somewhere, and after half an hour of fruitless struggling, I have to admit defeat. Not an easy thing for me to do, but my arms are tired, and this office is going to be packed in six hours. At the very least, I need a nap before I face the rest of my day.
I grab a pair of scissors from a workstation and return to the full-length mirror, trying to decide how to get out of the harness while doing the least amount of damage to it. It’s too beautiful to just hack at it. Eventually, I have to admit that there’s no saving it. Not unless I want to call my assistant to untie me at 2 am. Hard pass on that one. Kelly would swallow her tongue if she knew how I spent my night.
I scrunch my eyes and cut the ropes that run along my side, pulling them free instead of slicing them as much as I can. The loop around my neck is the last to go. With all of the cord piled at my feet, I stare at my reflection, heart pounding like a battle cry. My skin still carries the ghost of the destroyed harness; beautiful, twisted rope impressions mark my body, but I know they’ll fade.
Grabbing my phone out of my bag, I pose and snap a couple pictures, something I’ve never once felt the urge to do before. Maybe I’m just emotional and over-tired, but the thought of letting them vanish fills me with sadness. This way, I can at least keep a memento.
I turn and admire the reminder of Leo’s punishment. Red lines slash over my butt cheeks and down my thighs. Even though they’re slightly raised, it doesn’t hurt. My skin feels heated and at the slightest touch, my body hums with awareness. I’m surprised at how much I like it.
And he wasn’t wrong. Every time I sit, he’s going to be all I can think about.
* * *
The sun warms my skin, but I’m too cozy to open my eyes. I pull my blanket up and roll over, but instead of finding comfort, the world lurches sideways, and I hit the floor. “Ow…” I mutter. My office door flies open, and Kelly charges in.
“Who’s in here — Bree? What — why are you on the floor? Did you sleep here?” She takes a good look at me, her frown deepening. “Jesus, are you okay? You look like hell.”
I laugh and get to my feet. “Yeah. I’m fine. I just had a late night downtown, and I couldn’t get home.”
“Because of the bomb threat?”
My stomach lurches and, for a split second, I think she must know where I was last night… and by extension what I was doing. But then I realize it must be all over the news. No way that would have escaped national news, let alone local.
I nod. “Crazy, right?”
“Insane! I was listening on my way in. They haven’t found anything.” Figures. The best night of my life got interrupted because some bored jackass wanted to pull a prank. Kelly frowns again. “Bree, did someone hurt you?”
“What? No.” I mean, yes, but I totally asked for it. She stomps toward me and grabs my arm. It’s only then that I realize Thorin’s rope marks didn’t all fade as fast as I’d expected. Around the outside of my arms, red lines run parallel to each other, all the way from wrist to elbow. They’re barely visible up higher, but down near my wrists, where I had a bit more room to struggle, the marks are darker.
I put my arms behind my back, trying to hide the evidence of my night. But it’s too late — Kelly got a good look. “Brielle! These are rope burns. How can you stand there and tell me no one hurt you when I can see the evidence for myself?”
“Fine! Yes, it’s rope burn, but I asked for it.” Deep in my heart, I love that I’m wearing the evidence of last night. But the last thing I need right now is my assistant thinking I’m in some kind of abusive relationship that she needs to protect me from. I’m ninety-nine percent certain she’d go scorched earth. Odds are good someone would lose a testicle.
“You can’t blame yourself. If you’re a vict—“
“No. Kelly, I literally asked them to tie me up. For fun.” I press my fingertips against my eyes. I seriously can’t believe I just said those words to my assistant.
“Oh… OH! Oh, my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep… wait… them?”