Playing Knotty (10 page)

“I'll work around it.”

“And we should probably put a hold on the sex.” Emma looked up at last. “It's going to make things complicated. If you're paying me, it feels weird.”

“I understand.” He couldn't help the twinge of disappointment, but he'd respect her wishes. He'd still get to work with a beautiful bondage model, and if he used the mental images to jerk off to later, no one would be the wiser.

“Okay. Fine. What the hell.” She shrugged, then gave a high-pitched, nervous giggle, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I can't believe I'm going to do this shit.”

“It's not just the money, is it?” The déjà vu of their conversation wasn't lost on Ian.

“No, it's not just the money.” She gave him a shy, secretive smile. “I liked it.”

Thank God. It had been obvious that she liked it, but if she'd been in denial about that fact, his job would have been more awkward.

“And,” she continued, “maybe this is my first ‘fuck it' moment.”

Ian laughed. “It's a start. Listen, I've been invited to host an advanced workshop this Saturday night. Are you free?”

She pulled out her phone from her purse and swiped through to her calendar. “I'm working this Saturday, but I'm off at four. Does that work?”

“Sure. Workshop's not until seven.”

Emma slipped her phone back into her purse. “So . . . how is an advanced workshop different from a beginner's workshop? What should I be prepared for?”

“Well, usually in the beginner's workshop, I teach bondage for sex. But in an advanced workshop, I do bondage for aesthetics, not just sex. It's about the beauty of the rope work.” Even as he explained, he pictured Emma in bondage, as he'd seen her Sunday night. “More complicated knots, elaborate positions, etcetera.” He paused as an idea occurred to him. “If you're interested, I could run through the positions with you ahead of time. You could come over and I'd show you everything before the class. No fooling around,” he added quickly. “Just the actual rope work.”

Emma ran a finger around the rim of her glass, gathering condensation. “I'm free tomorrow night after six.”

Ian smiled and pulled out his phone. “Great. I'll text you directions.”

Chapter 12

E
mma checked the
address on her phone again as she climbed out of the Green Line MBTA terminal at Copley Square. It looked like Ian lived in one of the trendy brownstones in the South End. As she walked into his neighborhood, a late-spring breeze ruffled her hair, carrying with it the scent of several restaurants. It was amazing Ian didn't gorge himself all the time, living near so many amazing eateries and bakeries. She was glad she'd grabbed dinner before heading out here, even though, with food in her stomach, she was more likely to throw up from anxiety.

There was no reason to be anxious. If she kept telling herself that, maybe she'd believe it. This was purely a business arrangement. Ian had made it clear that there was not going to be anything sexual between them. She was relieved, in a way—she hadn't lied; sex did complicate things—but the silly, secret romantic part of her had hoped he would tell her he needed her, he couldn't live without her, and he couldn't bear to think of tying up anyone else ever again. Of course, if he'd said anything like that, she wouldn't have believed him anyway.

His building looked exactly like all the others on the street, a brick Victorian row house with white stone steps and wrought-iron railings. In the early dusk, the sidewalks and steps were dappled with pink and white blossoms from the fading cherry trees lining the road, the late blooms shedding their petals with each gust of wind. As she walked up the steps to the building's front door, another breeze blew a few petals into her hair, and she shook them out while she rang the buzzer to apartment C.

“Hello?” Ian's voice sounded tinny through the small speaker.

“It's Emma.” She probably sounded equally tinny on the other end.

“Come on up.” With a click, the door unlocked, and Emma headed up to the third floor.

He was waiting for her when she reached the top, the door ajar and a smile on his face. In a pair of ripped jeans and an Old Navy shirt, feet bare, he was the image of comfort-casual. Emma was glad he didn't know how long she'd stood in front of her closet before heading over. She'd finally settled on her comfortable yoga pants, a T-shirt, and a hoodie, universal “I'm not trying to seduce you” clothes.

“Hey. Glad you could make it. Come on in.” He stepped aside to let her pass. She toed off her shoes at the door, since this seemed to be a “no shoes in the house” kind of home, with its gleaming hardwood floors.

“Nice place.” She looked around, taking in her surroundings. The front door let them right into the living room, with a sectional sofa and armchair, glass-topped coffee table, and large flat-screen television mounted on the wall. She spotted an Xbox One and a PlayStation 4 as well as an assortment of games and Blu-ray discs. Off the living room was a small dining room with a round table and four chairs. Adjacent, a tiny kitchen had all the basic amenities, with none of the clutter or pizza boxes she'd thought were endemic to a bachelor's apartment. Maybe he'd straightened up before she came, or maybe he was naturally neat. If she opened the hall closet, would his belongings explode out?

“So this is most of it. It's not that big, but it works.” He turned in a circle in the living room, looking around at his space as if seeing it through her eyes. “It's a two-bedroom, so that's nice. I use the second bedroom for my office. I do my rigging in the bedroom. You want anything to drink before we get started? Or food? I wasn't sure if you'd eaten, but I have some leftover lasagna from Mama Maria's if you want.”

“No, I'm good. I ate. Thanks. We should probably start.” She didn't know if she was eager to begin, or just eager to get this over with.

Ian shrugged, hands in his jeans pockets. “Okay. Come on.” With a small jerk of his head, he gestured for her to follow him down the hall.

Emma hadn't been sure where they'd be working, and while the bedroom made sense—he probably tied up a lot of his sex partners, after all—it felt uncomfortably intimate as she passed over the threshold into darkness. When he flicked the lights on, though, she let out a soft “Wow” before she could help it.

First off, the room was much larger than she'd expected. It could probably be considered a master suite. The king-size bed was flanked by nightstands, and in addition to the bureau and mirror along one wall, the room also hosted a decent-sized sitting area with an armchair, a small table, and a large armoire. More impressive than any of it, though, was the small balcony right off the bedroom, a sliding glass door opening out onto a terrace with two deck chairs, a table, and a potted palm tree. The street was on the crest of a hill, so she could see out toward the lights of the Back Bay from their vantage point.

“I know, right? The view was part of why I took the place. It's better in the daytime, but not too bad at night, either.” Ian wandered toward the glass door, looking out into the gathering darkness. Then he drew the curtains, closing them in. “Do you mind if we work on the bed?”

Emma's mouth felt dry. She probably should have taken him up on his offer for a drink. “Okay.”

“It's just more comfortable than the floor,” he said over his shoulder, walking toward the armoire in the corner. Emma stepped closer as he swung open one of the doors. Inside were dozens of coils of rope. He took down a few coils and tossed them over his arm, then a pair of sturdy scissors, which he set on the closest nightstand. He hopped up on the bed, settling cross-legged with his materials nearby.

“How do you want me?” she asked. It was difficult to look away from the coils of rope.

“Just sit for now,” he said. Emma complied, perching on the edge of the large bed, an ocean of space between them. “I'm going to start with some individual ties: your legs, your arms, and then some different chest harnesses and a full-body tie. Then we can go from there. Sound all right?”

“Sure.” None of that sounded especially complicated. Maybe he was saving the really bizarre stuff for later.

“All right.” He slid off the bed and walked around so he was facing her, a coil of rope slung over one arm. “Get comfortable on the edge of the bed, and cross your legs at the ankle.”

Emma shifted so she was stable and did as he asked. Her feet didn't reach the floor, dangling in empty air. Ian knelt down in front of her. “Now I'm going to do an ankle wrap.” As he spoke, he found the middle of the rope and looped it in half, bringing the bent part—the bight, she remembered from his class—over her top foot and down under the arch of her bottom foot. “This isn't especially complicated, but it's really effective, because you can't stand up without being really off-balance.” With one hand holding the bight, he passed the opposite ends of the rope up and over, slipping them through the loop and tightening. With practiced ease, he repeated the motion in the other direction, crossing her feet with the rope. Then he began wrapping her ankles, arranging each pass of the rope to lie alongside the previous one. “I'm making sure the rope lies flat so it doesn't create pressure points,” he explained, wrapping around and around up to the middle of her calves. There, he bent the rope into another bight, passed the free ends through, and with a few deft flicks of the wrist, tied off the knot and sat back on his heels.

Emma shifted, trying to wiggle her feet. Her toes flexed in their socks, making Ian smile, but she couldn't move her feet otherwise.

“Here, try to stand up. I'll support you.” He got to his feet and held out his arms for her. Feeling decidedly off-balance, Emma slid down from the bed, using her arms to steady herself as she shifted her weight to her feet. Right away, she tipped off to one side, and Ian caught her elbows with a firm grip and stabilized her. He grinned, and Emma found herself smiling as well, his enthusiasm infectious. Try as she might, she couldn't keep her balance, her bottom foot wobbling back and forth each time she tried to steady herself. “What's it feel like?” he asked.

“It's cool.” She meant it: This wasn't especially sexual, just fun, and she liked it.

“Can you get back up on the bed?”

Emma tried, putting her hands behind her, but without both feet, she couldn't hoist herself up. “Doesn't seem so.” She laughed.

Ian bent and scooped her up, one arm behind her knees, the other under her back, and Emma let out a squeak of surprise as he deposited her on the bed. She tipped back and flailed to catch herself, another surprised huff of laughter escaping.

After untying her legs, Ian climbed up onto the bed beside Emma. “This next tie is called the dragonfly sleeve. I'll tie your arms together behind your back. This would probably be more comfortable for you if you took your hoodie off. Do you mind?”

“No, that's fine.” Emma pulled it over her head and set it on the nightstand, arms prickling with goose bumps in only her thin tee.

“I can turn the heat up if you're cold.”

She shook her head. “No, it's all right. Go ahead.” She knew as soon as he started tying her up again, she would be plenty warm enough. Her heart had already started beating faster. Ian grabbed a larger coil of rope from the bed behind them, bringing it around so she could see. In the middle, he tied what looked like a large bow tie. “You'll be better off standing up for this.”

She slid down off the bed again and turned to face him as he enlarged the loops in the bow tie.

“No, turn around. Back to me.”

Emma did as she was asked. She felt Ian slide her arms into the loops, moving the bow tie all the way up until the loops wrapped around the front of her shoulders; then he pulled the ropes taut. She couldn't feel what was happening, but then she felt new loops sliding over each wrist and being inched up her arms. He repeated that process, each loop pulling her arms closer together behind her back.

“How's that feeling? Too much of a stretch?”

Emma was surprised to hear her voice sound strained. “It's fine. I'm comfortable.”

“Comfortable?” She could hear his smile.

“Well, not comfortable, exactly.” She shifted as he slid another loop onto each arm, this one pulling her elbows closer to each other. The motion pushed her chest out, which seemed to be the design of this particular tie. Each passing loop held her arms more securely. Finally, he reached her wrists, sliding the last loop into place. As he cinched up the ties, Emma tried to get her breathing under control. This wasn't supposed to be erotic. She wasn't supposed to imagine him pressing her facedown on the bed and kicking her legs apart, fucking her while she was helpless to get away. Closing her eyes, she took several slow, deep breaths.

“There.” She felt his hands drop away from her. “How does that feel?”

“All right.” Her voice was higher-pitched than usual. If he noticed, though, he didn't call her out on it.

“This tie is beautiful. Do you want to see what it looks like?”

“Sure.” It would give her time to calm down before he had his hands on her again.

“Go check it out in the mirror.”

Emma stepped forward, feeling silly with her chest pushed so far forward, as if she were asking for him to take her breasts in his hands and cup them, flick her nipples with his fingertips . . . All right, she needed to stop
that
line of thinking immediately. In front of the mirror, she could see the signs of her arousal: her cheeks were flushed, eyes wide, breasts obscenely presented. She looked
hot.
The thought surprised her. Turning around, she looked over her shoulder to see the intricate knot work down her back, holding her arms in place, long tails of rope trailing after her.

“Neat, isn't it?”

“Yeah.” She flexed her fingers. In the mirror, she watched Ian approach.

“There are a few ways to secure the piece. Can I show you?”

What did he mean by “secure the piece”? Was she the piece? Wasn't she already secure? “Um, sure.”

“So the first way is to tie it off to your body. Step your legs apart.”

Emma did as he asked, and he reached down between her legs. She stiffened, surprised, but he only grabbed the ends of the rope and brought them up between her legs, separating the strands and looping each one through the corresponding shoulder strap, tying a knot. When he pulled them snug, Emma felt the rope press into her groin, and only through willpower did she keep from making a noise. Ian seemed to know, tugging each one tighter, the rope rubbing alongside her clit through the thin fabric of her yoga pants.

“I'm sure you can imagine the effect if you weren't wearing pants.”

Emma couldn't hide how turned on she was, each quick breath making her breasts jiggle in front of her; her hard nipples were easily visible through her shirt. If he touched her, she wouldn't be able to stop him. He could push her shirt up, pull down her bra, bite and suck her sensitive nipples until she begged him to fuck her. She let out a long, shuddering breath. Thank God he couldn't read her mind.