Chapter 3
Julia unlocked her door and stepped inside, greeted by the same stillness that always met her. She dropped her keys in the bowl by the door and went straight to the fridge, pulling it open with a glimmer of hope.
Greek yogurt. A tub of butter. A dried-out wedge of cantaloupe she didn’t remember buying. With a grimace, she tossed it into the trash. Reaching for her phone, she opened her food-delivery app and scrolled past options she normally liked. Nothing appealed.
With a sigh, she looked around her orderly apartment. She couldn’t even pass the time cleaning.
“What now?” she asked softly.
One of her rare evenings off, and she had nothing to do. No place to go. No one expecting her.
“Shower,” she said aloud because at least it was something.
Steam fogged the mirror within minutes, the warm water giving her a brief, welcome focus. She stayed longer than necessary as the heat unwound the muscles in her shoulders and back, and the sound of rushing water crowded out her thoughts.
When she stepped out, they were still waiting for her.
“This is ridiculous.”
She pulled on jeans and an oversized T-shirt and gathered her still-damp hair into a ponytail. It would be a frizzy disaster if she didn’t take care of it now, but she didn’t care. She grabbed her keys and headed out the door for a walk.
Despite dusk settling in, the heat of the day lingered. She walked without direction, the rhythm of her steps carrying her away from the apartment, away from the silence and the restless energy she couldn’t shake.
Nearly an hour later, it hadn’t helped. It was also full dark.
She turned down a side street and slowed as a small park appeared ahead. The fountain in the center—tiered stone, water spilling steadily from one level to the next—drew her closer.
It wasn’t the sight. It was the sound.
Julia stopped at a bench and sat, listening. The city noise faded behind her, leaving only the steady spill of water and the faint rustle of leaves overhead.
A prickle of unease brushed the nape of her neck.
She turned, her gaze sweeping over the lawn and into the shadowy stand of trees that loomed behind it.
The faint crunch of footsteps sounded from the opposite side of the park as a couple strolled by, their indistinct murmur barely audible.
She relaxed against the bench, feeling a bit foolish.
Was her edginess the result of too little sleep or too much thinking?
It had to be the latter because when she glanced once more at the fountain, the splashing wasn’t merely sound. It was a memory.
Leland appeared in front of her, dressed in all black. His freshly shaven head sharpened already-rugged features. His relaxed stance exuded a quiet confidence that made her pulse quicken.
“Walk with me,” he said, offering his hand.
Without a second thought, she took it and followed him through the arbor into the labyrinth. Inside the hedges, everything felt separate and private.
“Up for a challenge? First one to the center chooses what happens next,” he said, a hint of playfulness in his tone.
“That’s not fair. The dominants all know the layout.”
“Dev has it changed regularly,” he said. “The landscapers finished this afternoon. So, it’s new to me too.”
She looked at him, uncertain.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You trust me, don’t you?”
She did. Completely.
“Go,” he said softly. No ready or set. Then he turned and disappeared into the shadows.
For a moment, Julia stood there uncertainly.
The path split. Did she follow or choose the opposite route?
She listened for footsteps or snapping twigs, but the sounds of the club drifting over the walls, music pulsing from the main house, and the occasional burst of laughter from the patio all got jumbled.
She chose the opposite. The farther she walked into the shadows, hedges rising on either side of her, dense enough to block the view of anything beyond the next turn, the more muted the sounds became.
At the first turn, she came to a bench with a flickering solar lamp.
Moving on, she reached another fork and simply guessed this time.
Not long after, she paused, picking up that faint burble of water.
She smiled, convinced she was heading in the right direction.
She rounded one last corner, and the maze opened into a small clearing, a tiered stone fountain with a circular bench curving around it at the center. Leland was already there.
He reclined on an elbow as if he’d been waiting for a while. He didn’t speak at first—or gloat—simply smiled as he watched her approach. Another lantern illuminated the fountain, but Leland held her attention.
“Stop,” he murmured, voice soft yet commanding.
Of course she did. Awareness swept through her as she wondered what he’d claim as his prize.
He stood, his long frame slowly unfolding, and took a step toward her. But he didn’t reach for her right away. He stood close enough to feel him, but not close enough to lean into. The anticipation of that first touch always did things to her.
“Have you been to the fountain before?”
“Once or twice, during games.”
“It has some interesting features you should enjoy.”
Her gaze followed his to the eyebolts embedded in the stone. He looked at her with an expression requiring no translation.
“Wrists,” he ordered as he reached for the cuffs, two loops of fleece-lined dark leather hooked to his belt.
She held her hands up and watched as he buckled them in place with the same unhurried efficiency he brought to everything. Once secured, he guided her to the bench.
“Place your hands flat on the stone,” he directed, light pressure on the middle of her back, not a push, a direction, as she bent at the waist and braced herself.
The stone was cool against her skin, as was the mist from the fountain. The heat from his body, his hip and chest pressing against her side as he fastened the cuffs to the eyebolts, felt impossibly warm by comparison.
When he moved back a step, she felt his gaze move over her and could only imagine the picture she presented—bent over, dress hiked up, fabric damp and clinging to her body from the fountain’s drift.
Her heart pounded. Excited but also feeling vulnerable, she gave each restraint a small tug, enough to test their limits. As expected, they held firm.
She glanced at him when he moved behind her, letting out a shaky sigh as his hands moved up her thighs, sliding the hem of her dress up with them. Her panties came next, his thumbs hooking into the waistband and peeling them down her legs.
“Leave them,” he said when she moved to step out. “I only have the one pair of cuffs. They will have to suffice.”
His caress returned, gliding over her thighs and hips, palms curving over her bottom as he lightly massaged. One continued up her spine, tangling in her hair, while the other slid between her thighs.
Julia bit her lip, her head falling forward to hide her flushed cheeks because the wetness he found there had nothing to do with the fountain.
That wouldn’t do for Leland. He wrapped the length of her hair around his wrist, tugging her head back as two fingers dipped inside her.
“Give me all of it. I want to hear everything. Especially when you come for me.”
A sound escaped her before she could stop it. He let her build, fingers gliding slow and relentless, his thumb on her clit not nearly as slow—thank goodness—but not enough to propel her over the top.
It went on for a gloriously long time, until she couldn’t take much more. “Please, sir…”
“You’ve drenched my fingers,” he said with a husky rasp. “I know you want to come. But first…”
She lost his fingers, only to feel the sharp sting of a smack against her cheek. Julia cried out in surprise and, yes, pleasure. When turned on like this, a bare hand cracking against her bottom could make her come in a blink.
“Do not come without me,” he warned, as his hand fell again.
“I’ll try, sir,” she gasped, her answer coinciding with another crack.
“You’ll do more than try, Julia. You’ll wait because it will please me.”
In two sessions, without asking her to name her kink, he had her figured out. She had the overwhelming urge to surrender to sensation but held herself together for him. It wasn’t easy. Especially when he moved behind her, pausing only a moment for protection, and slid inside her.
He was a big man everywhere, and the stretch would have been difficult if she weren’t sopping wet.
He gripped her hip, the other hand still tangled in her hair, but her name from him, in a low, shuddering exhale against her neck, nearly undid her.
Still, she hung on, intent on being the good girl he often called her.
He moved faster, skin slapping skin, not as loud as the crack of his palm, but vying with the splash of the fountain.
“Ask now,” he rasped, lips warm against her shoulder.
“Please, sir. May I come?”
“You may.”
Thank goodness. The game, the restraints, his deep, commanding voice, his presence… all of it finally became too much. She cried out, pulling against the cuffs as pleasure rushed through her, past caring who might hear.
His rhythm broke, and his grip tightened. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder, and, for a few seconds, Leland came apart too, whispering something that got lost in the steady splash of the fountain.
The memory broke apart, and Julia opened her eyes to darkness. She often wondered what he’d said. Were they throwaway words spoken in the moment, or had they mattered?
She sat a moment longer in the fountain’s glow, the water still gently splashing, the night indifferent to all of it. Then she rose and started toward home.
The streets were quieter now with less traffic as the hour grew later. Too late. It wasn’t a bad neighborhood, but she was a woman walking alone at night. She gripped the pepper spray on her key ring and walked faster.
At the corner of her block, another prickle brushed her neck, and she glanced back. Nothing again. Still, the feeling of unease followed her all the way to her door.