Bound by Her Best Friend (A Club Smex Story)

BOOK: Bound by Her Best Friend (A Club Smex Story)
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What have you got to lose?

 

When Freya finds out that her best friend is a member of Club Smex, an exclusive gentleman’s pleasure club, she is outraged. She loves Zak dearly, but the whole idea of the club shocks her. It's so outdated, so old-fashioned and she expects better of the man that she’s known since she was in knee-highs socks and pigtails. 

 

But Zak has had enough of Freya’s judgmental attitude, and so he offers her a deal. She has to try it once. If she feels the same way after she has experienced it, he’ll give up his membership. Never one to back down from a challenge Freya agrees, but she has no idea that her pleasure buddy will be Zak…or that he’s been waiting for quite some time to finally bind her to him…

Bound by Her Best Friend

A Club Smex Story

 

 

by

Emma Shortt

 

 

 

 

M/F,
BDSM, BONDAGE, SPANKING

 

 

Twisted
Erotica Publishing, Inc.

A
TWISTED EROTICA PUBLISHING BOOK

 

 

Bound by Her Best Friend

A Club Smex Story

Copyright © 201
3 by Emma Shortt

 

Edited by SM Firefly

 

First E-book Publication: November 2013

 

Cover design by K Designs

All cover art and logo copyright © 201
3, Twisted Erotica Publishing.

 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

 

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

 

 

DEDICATION

 

 

To Best Friends

 

 

 

 

Bound by Her Best Friend

 

 

Chapter One

 

Freya Sparks let out a little gasp as the hot, hard spray from the shower washed over her sore muscles. Shoulders first, down her back, along her belly, then at last, washing down to her aching thighs. She tilted her head, enjoying the heat, feeling the burgeoning headache that had been building a half hour ago begin to melt away.

She wouldn’t usually have had the temperature so high, not least because it was damn expensive to have the thermostat ratcheted up, but today had been super stressful. As she undertook the painful commute home from work Freya had promised herself that she would go all devil may care with the thermostat, eat a ridiculously calorific meal, and have at least two glasses of wine.

Check one on the list.

Freya reached out to grab her shampoo from the little shelf next to the shower box, dropped a significant dollop in her hand, and massaged it though her hair. Christ, it felt good. Could only possibly feel better if she had someone else doing it for her.

She grinned slightly, imagining who she might possibly ask to massage her head. One of her friends? Her colleagues? Her boss? Or maybe Mr. Can-you–keep-the-noise-down from across the way? It wasn’t exactly hard to imagine what her irritating neighbor would say to that idea. Probably something that finished with
off
.

In truth, there was no one who she could ask. Not since Tony. Freya’s grin faded ever so slightly as her ex-boyfriend came to mind. He was one in a long line of failed relationships throughout her life, but he
had
lasted the longest. Six whole months.

A Freya Sparks record.

She gave herself a mental shake, determined not to think about Tony or any of the guys that had come before him. So she didn’t have the best luck with men, couldn’t seem to hold down a relationship. But then, hadn’t she accepted that fact about herself long ago? Something to do with a deprived childhood, trust issues, the lack of a father figure. Whatever. In the end, the reasons behind it didn’t really matter, just the final result.
No one to massage your head for you.

She sighed a little, got a mouth full of water in the process and concentrated on washing the shampoo from her hair. She was on a timer after all, not just because of the amount of money the shower was costing her, but because her best friend was coming around in less than fifteen minutes.

For one ridiculous moment, Freya imagined asking Zak to give her a head rub, but she doubted
that
suggestion would go down very well! Likely, he’d dunk her head in the water instead, or worse—as he had when they were in their early teens—replace the shampoo with hair dye. Bright green hair dye.

Freya shuddered slightly as she recalled walking around for over a month with her hair that horrific shade. It had taken immediately, what with her hair being so light and all. Her mother had been convinced Freya had done it herself, so refused to buy her anything to cover it up.  But nope, it was Zak. It was
always
Zak.

She’d gotten him back of course. A few weeks before prom Freya had snuck into his bedroom when he’d been out somewhere, probably on a date, Zak was
always
on dates, and rubbed his entire bed, sheets, pillowcase and all, with lavender. He was hideously allergic to the stuff. When she’d seen him the next morning walking to class covered in hives, her green hair hadn’t seemed so tragic, anymore. In fact, as his girlfriend, the painfully perfect Lucy Donalds, recoiled in horror, Freya had been pretty pleased with the whole damn situation.

Humming to herself at the memory, and suddenly feeling a lot more cheerful, Freya worked conditioner into her hair, gave herself a thorough scrubbing with the excess bubbles, then washed it all off, before stepping out of the shower stall.

Her bathroom, homage to all bathrooms that were constructed a hundred years ago, was freezing cold. She hopped from one foot to the other as she grabbed a towel and dried herself, wincing a little as the rough material rubbed over her pinkened skin, then wincing a bit more as it brushed over her puckered nipples.

Damn, it had been so long since anything but a towel or bra had touched them. For one brief moment Freya was almost tempted to grab her rabbit from the drawer in her bedroom and give herself a quick going over. But she was so short of time. What if Zak arrived whilst she was busy in the bedroom masturbating?

She laughed aloud, undecided on who would be more embarrassed. Then quickly, with the towel wrapped tight around her, Freya headed to her bedroom, avoiding the vibrator drawer and going straight to the closet instead. Once there she pulled on a pair of sweats and an overly large tee shirt. M.I.T was emblazoned across the front, and the ragged hem reached almost to her knees. She loved the shirt deeply, but it was not hers. Freya hadn’t been able to afford to go to college, never mind M.I.T, studying instead at night classes to qualify as a teaching assistant. No, the shirt was Zak’s, stolen from him several years ago, and he
still
grumbled whenever he saw it on her.

She grinned as she towel dried, then ran a brush through her hair before pulling it into a sloppy pony tail, and grinned some more as she took a pair of fluffy socks and wiggled her feet into them. Her toes curled the moment the warm material was on her skin.
Perfect
.

On her way to her living area, Freya turned the switch on the thermostat, plunging the heat level in her apartment far below how she liked it. That was the sacrifice she’d made though, heating first thing in the morning and when she got home, plus a hot shower, meant no heating for the rest of the night. It had been worth it.

She poured a glass of wine, check two on the list, before curling up in her large arm chair. It was located right next to her TV, which she immediately switched on to one of the free viewer trashy channels. A moment later and she heard the familiar sound of a key in the lock.

Zak.

“Honey, I’m home.”

His deep tones echoed through the gloomy hallway, and Freya knew he was smirking as he said the words. Zak seemed to move through life with a steely determination and a knowing smirk.

“Give me my key back, you monster,” she shouted.

“Not a chance.”

Freya stuck out her tongue, even though Zak wasn’t in the room to see it yet. Her hallway ran the length of her pre-war apartment. It was narrow, and cold, and a tiny bit creepy. It opened up to the main room, and all other rooms, all three of them, branched off that one. Freya had often thought that if she owned the apartment she would put some doors along the corridor to the other rooms, not to mention a few more lights to help the single one that hung by the front door and seemed absolutely incapable of illuminating anything. Zak had offered to install some lights for her of course, but Freya had flat out refused. Allowing Zak to do things like that for her would be a slippery slope. Next thing she knew he’d be buying her the apartment.

And he’d still keep a key. Worse, he’d be entitled to it.

Freya couldn’t
actually
remember giving him the key, but he’d insisted, once he had it, that he needed to keep it in case of emergency, and also in case she was late home for one of their Thursday catch ups. Almost every week for the last decade they’d met up on a
Thursday night for a meal and a chat. It was a routine they’d started when Freya had moved to Massachusetts. Zak had been finishing up his final year at M.I.T, working a million different jobs to pay his tuition, but he’d found the time for her and their Thursday evening routine was born. She’d missed him during the years they’d spent apart. She admitted that to herself without any kind of shame, and though she’d told her mom the move had been to take advantage of job opportunities, that had only been half true, and maybe not even that much in reality.

“You look thoughtful there, Sparks,” Zak said as he finally entered the room.

“Just thinking about my first year in Boston.”

“The fact you couldn’t stay away from me? That you were pining for me” he asked. “Or because we were both so poor we lived of beans and bread?”

Freya laughed, the sound echoing through the space between them. “Couldn’t stay away from
you
? Pining for
you
?” she said. “Hardly.”

“Uh huh.”

He reached out to ruffle her hair, a gesture he’d started when they were kids, but pulled back the moment he realized that her hair was still damp. “You really need a hairdryer, and why the fuck is it so cold in here?”

Curled up on her armchair Freya hadn’t noticed the drop in temperature, but the moment Zak pointed it out she felt herself shiver.

“I’m surprised you noticed,” she said, pointing to the thick black sweater he wore underneath his jacket. A pair of low slung jeans, heavy black boots and a chunky scarf completed the look. He looked good Freya thought almost absently to herself, but then he always did. Despite the fact they were the very best of friends, despite the fact that she had known him since he was a kid, Freya wasn’t so dumb that she didn’t know that Zak was hot.

Luckily, he didn’t affect her that way. Why would he? He was practically family.

“And besides,” she added. “You look plenty warm in that sweater. Do you have a tee on underneath it?”

“A tee?”

“Yeah.”

Zak shot her a puzzled look as he pulled off his jacket and scarf before carefully laying them across her dilapidated couch. “I do. Why?”

“Just plotting how I can get that sweater off you,” Freya said.

His eyes widened and Freya almost laughed as his hand stilled where he was folding his scarf. “Get it
off
me?”

“Yep.” She took a quick swig of her wine before Zak could, and would, take it out of her hand. “It would be perfect in this weather, and I bet it cost you a ton. I warn you now, Zak, I have every intention of stealing it.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he did so. Freya noted that his hair needed cutting. It was starting to fall across his brow in a way she’d heard many of Zak’s women call,
adorable
. She almost snorted.

“I’d buy you one,” Zak said a moment later. “Only you wouldn’t accept it would you? You accept presents off me twice a year and everything else you simply…appropriate.”

“Like the tee?”

His eyes narrowed as Freya pointed at her chest where M.I.T was spelled out.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Just like that.”

Silence settled between them for a moment. A comfortable silence for her, though Zak was buzzing with the same nameless energy she always associated with him. It was almost like a hum of some hidden emotion she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It had been a part of him for as long as she could remember, since they were teenagers at least.

“You’re late,” she finally said, more to break the silence than anything else.

“I’m on time and you know it.” He took the wine glass directly from her hands, the grin he’d worn just moments ago transforming into a scowl. “You’re drinking this stuff again? Christ, Frey, you know it’ll strip the acid from your insides.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” she argued.

“No,
this
is perfectly fine.” Zak reached across to his jacket and held up a bottle of something Freya couldn’t pronounce. It was bound to be good though, all the wine Zak brought her was. “I’ll pour us a glass,” he added and headed off to the kitchen.

Freya sighed and wiggled her feet a little further into the armchair. She felt suddenly, and oddly content. Yes, the day had been stressful. Yes, she was tired, but this? This time she spent with her bestest friend? She looked forward to it every single week. When things were hard, when she was worried, there was
always
this to be happy about.

“What do you want to order in?” Zak called from the kitchen.

“How do you know I didn’t cook? I might have something stashed in the fridge ready for us.”

He stuck his head around the kitchen door, a smirk on his face. “You? Cook? Frey, the chances of me ever getting a hot meal from you are just about zilch.”

Freya pulled a face. “I resent that. I cooked pizza last month.”

“You did not cook it,” he said, disappearing back into the kitchen to pour their wine. “You bought it frozen and heated it up. It’s not the same thing at all.”

“Well, you have staff to cook for you, Zachary. You don’t need me to do it.”

“Oh, Sparkle’s bringing out my full name. Must mean I’m in trouble.” He walked back across the space between them, sat down on the couch and patted the spot next to him. Freya let out an exaggerated sigh, but pulled herself up and joined him there.

“You will be if you don’t order some food,” she said as she took the glass of wine he held out. “I’m starving. It’s been a long day. And don’t call me Sparkle, you know I hate it.”

Instantly, his expression turned from teasing to concern. “Trouble with the kids again?”

Freya nodded as she took a long swig of the wine. It was, as always, delicious. Zak had been bringing the wine for many years. The changes in that could almost chart the changes in him, Freya had often thought. When they were in their early twenties it had been the gruesome boxed stuff she herself was still drinking.  In their mid- twenties, when Zak had started to make his money, it had become more palatable, and now, now that he was super painfully rich, well, it was perfect.

BOOK: Bound by Her Best Friend (A Club Smex Story)
9.4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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