Broken Bonds (Club Imperial Series) (22 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Emmy had tried not to cry. She’d worked as fast as she could to get her and Allison in the car and out of the house without seeing anyone, but at the last minute, Victor had come running out of the kitchen door and tried to give chase to them.

Emmy had floored the little Echo down the drive and on to the highway, leaving North Hills behind her and heading for the Pennsylvania Turnpike. She couldn’t stay; not after what all those people had seen. She didn’t want to embarrass Nathaniel or drag him down in any way. He was better than that.

Better than her.

Nathaniel had nearly bled out from the gunshot. Thankfully, one of his guests had been a doctor and was willing to go in fast and dirty and stop the bleeding. He might get infected, but fighting an infection was far better than dead. She’d wanted to ride with him to the hospital, but…well, she had committed assault, even if it was on the man who’d just tried to kidnap her, and the baby.

Emmy had asked the cops not to cuff her. She was exhausted and tired and in no mental state to deal with being restrained. They weren’t really pleased with that, but Franz leaned in and said something, probably something about her issues with restraints, and they were willing to let her go on her own.

The police had treated her kindly, really, but she’d finally asked for a robe. She hoped it gave them the impression she was completely uncomfortable in the outfit, when the truth was quite the opposite. She had absolutely spilled her guts when it came to Lance. Everything she knew about him, everything she thought she knew about him and everything she wanted to be true about him came tumbling out of her.

Victor had come and bailed her out. Paid the whole thing, and took her back to North Hills to relax. Nathaniel was fine, he was going to recover, and he was unconscious. Nathaniel had just needed to rest, and Victor went back to the hospital without her, insisting she sleep.

But she couldn’t and she wandered the halls of North Hills. She counted all the rooms they had ducked into since she moved there, and they still hadn’t covered half. She thought about all those faces staring at her in her Club clothes.

God, did they know what Nathaniel did with her in those rooms?

She hoped they didn’t. She didn’t want them to know. She’d always loved being a Domme, she still did, but that was now only between her and Nathaniel. But what if they did know? What if they started to reject him? What if they were going to ostracize him and back off of investing in their company because of who she was? What if, what if…

She’d made the decision before dawn. They could be gone before the sun came up. She ran back to her room and packed a bag—five days of work clothes, five days of hang-about, two pair of pajamas and all the underwear she could shove in. She did the same thing for Ally, who was still only half unpacked anyway.

Emmy woke her sister and dragged her out of the house, into the car. It was only in the car that Ally started to realize what was going on and clicked on her seatbelt in self-preservation. Victor had nearly caught them.

And she tried not to cry.

It didn’t work. She had to pull over a few times to throw up from crying so hard. Still she pressed on, more and more east as the sun came over the horizon and slid up into the sky.

Somewhere around noon, she finally pulled in at a rest stop for reasons that didn’t involve puking. They ate a quite meal, and Emmy could barely bring herself to think.

“You’re an asshole, Emmy,” Ally finally said.

“What?”

“You’re an asshole,” she repeated. “You think running away from him is going to change anything that happened? You know better than anyone, facing up to the problem is the only way to deal with it.”

“If I’m around him, I’m going to tempt him,” she tried to explain. “I don’t want his business to crumble and I’m the wrecking ball they’ll drive into him and Victor.”

“How very poetic,” Ally said. “I don’t have it in me to make a pretty metaphor. You’re an asshole and you just walked away from a man who would not only give you everything you ever wanted, but put it all in pretty wrapping and smother you in kisses while he did. So. You’re an idiot.”

“I thought it was asshole.”

“That too.”

“Shut up and eat your chicken.”

“Chicken sucks.”

“Then just shut up.”

“Where the hell are we going?”

Good question. She sighed. “Philadelphia. Uncle Charlie’s son Jeff lives there with his wife and kids and I know he’ll be happy to help us until I can get a job and an apartment.”

“You’re really running away from Nathaniel?”

Allison seemed astonished even though she’d just accused her of that very thing. Her eyes were shocked as Emmy nodded. “I’m not running, I’m just leaving. He doesn’t need me as his albatross—”

“God, stop with the literary allusions, please,” she spat. “I get it. You think Nathaniel cares more about what other people think than he does about you. Fine. We’ll go live in Philadelphia. Whatever.”

“I don’t think that,” Emmy said.

“The hell you don’t,” Ally argued. “Why are you running then?”

“Girls like me don’t get the bed of roses.”

“Girls like you deserve the bed of roses,” Ally countered. “But fine. Whatever. Cheesesteak it is. And no more damn literary allusions.”

Emmy called Jeff along the way. He said he’d be happy to put them up, but they were going out of town for the weekend. Emmy offered to find a hotel until they were back. She didn’t want to be there alone when she’d only just met his wife.

Some time around four in the afternoon, way later than the supposed six hour drive should have gotten them there, she pulled the little Echo into the parking garage of a hotel in the middle of the city. She wanted to stay somewhere nice, where there weren’t any roaches and the towels weren’t questionable.

They managed to find some good Mexican down the street, and Allison was sound asleep on the bed by ten. Emmy stared at the ceiling, not the least bit interested in sleeping. She’d spent her whole heart on Nathaniel and now she was just numb. There wasn’t much out there for her.

You could always find a house and Domme. You’re not out of the game yet.

But where was the satisfaction in that? All she wanted at the other end of her crop was Nathaniel.
Shit. I left the crop in the bedside table.

Dawn came eventually. She and Ally slogged through the day, and then the week. They had dinner with Jeff and Gina, and their adorable three-year-old and they were amenable to the two of them staying for a while. Emmy was grateful for that and said they just needed another week to get her head together. They did touristy things all week long—Constitution Center, Independence Hall, the Mutter Museum. They were all over the city, and then out to some huge mall.

Emmy was completely numb the whole time. She couldn’t get her thoughts together for anything. She just went through the motions. She didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to imagine working for anyone but Victor. She didn’t want to imagine life without Nathaniel.

But here she was. Six hours away playing happy tourist and relocating her life all over again. Up-rooting her poor sister continually for two weeks. Destroying everything she had in Pittsburgh.

God, she missed him.

She sat down on the steps of the art museum with the hoagie they’d brought with them to eat after looking around the place. Emmy unwrapped it and started to munch on her half of it, watching Ally eat hers.

Ally sighed. “Okay, I don’t hate it here,” she admitted. “The museum is kind of nice.”

“I’ve heard the new museum is going to blow us out of the water,” Emmy shared.

“What do you think you want to do for a job, Em?”

Emmy sighed. “I have no idea. I guess I could try to get another admin job.”

“What about going after the music?”

“No.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Plus the cello is upstairs at North Hills.”

“I’m sure we could get it,” Ally suggested.

“No, that’s all done,” Emmy said. “I can’t go back into that world. They kicked me out. And I’m rusty. Very rusty.”

“What are you going to do about Sarinya?”

“I’ll call her next week,” Emmy said. “I found her. I’m not going to let her go. Plus, she needs help. Dad’s estate is partly hers and Paul’s and after fighting for so long, I have to figure out how to get her the part that’s hers.”

“Well, that’s sweet of you.” Ally looked over her shoulder as some music drifted down to them.

“I hear it too,” Emmy said. “Guitar. Kinda cool.”

“Whoever’s playing is pretty good.” 

“Yup,” Emmy agreed. Music. Ugh. But they were good, and it was getting louder. She took a bite of her sandwich and chewed it slowly. She was able to concentrate on the sounds, and she recognized the tune a moment later. “Aw, someone’s going to get proposed to.” She smiled.

“Why, what’s the song?”

“
Marry Me,
by Train,” she said. “Listen. It’s actually a really sweet song.”

The guitar swelled and then dropped back a little bit for a rich tenor to sing the lyrics.

Ally looked over to where the song was coming from as Emmy took another bite. It was too soon, the wounds were too raw for her to give a shit about the happy couple. Ally turned around slowly, and glanced at Emmy. “I’m gonna check out Rocky’s statue.” She stood and walked behind her toward the statue.

The guitar was moving closer. Emmy looked around and tried to spot the lucky woman who was about to get the question popped on her. It was a sweet way to propose, but she didn’t want to be stuck in the middle of it.

The rich voice was moving closer and the guitar was behind her. Damn she really needed to move before her miserable ass got stuck near or in the middle of this mess. She wanted nothing to do with it and she didn’t want to get stuck in someone’s perfect engagement.

She started to wrap up the sandwich and looked up to see if she could find a polite way to duck out and not get involved in this. She just wanted to eat in peace, and wallow in her own self-pity. She realized she was sitting alone. There was a wide berth of people around her, all looking at her, and at the guitar and singer behind her somewhere.

Oh.

Shit.

She whipped her head around.

Nathaniel.

He was standing there with a hand out-stretched, smiling at her. She saw Victor and Franz a few steps behind him, both of them playing guitars. Nathaniel floored her by singing the next lyrics. It was
his
rich tenor that was producing the gorgeous sounds.

He pulled her to her feet, and smiled at her. She felt dizzy and unreal as his delicious chocolate brown eyes stared at her with more love than she’d ever thought it was possible to contain. He didn’t let go of her hand, but instead, got down on one knee and started singing the end of the song, clearly carrying his message to her over and over. “
Say you will—Marry me.”

Emmy had her hand over her mouth. “Did you drive all the way out here!?”

“We flew,” he said, pulling out a box in the distinct color of Tiffany Blue. He opened the lid on the box, and a gorgeous, unbelievably large, diamond engagement ring sat there nestled in the velvet. 

“Answer him!” Ally yelled. The entire staircase echoed her sentiment.

“You’re really asking me again?” she asked quietly.

“No. I’m asking you the right way.”

“You don’t care I could ruin your reputation after what happened?”

“The only thing that would be ruined is my heart. Please, Emmy, come home to North Hills. Marry me. Be my wife.”

Emmy yelled the answer so everyone on the stairs could hear. 

“Yes!”

Epilogue

One Year Later...

She stood in the doorway of the bathroom, completely naked. Emmy stared into the mirror and straight at her breasts. She looked down and saw the seam scars where the grafts had taken to the rest of the skin. It was a little bumpy right on the scar, but the rest of the skin was perfectly smooth.

Looking back in the mirror and then at herself again, she turned to see her lower back. The areas where they’d harvested the skin were perfectly smooth except for little seams, and Nathaniel had taken to tracing his fingers over them in a delightful tickle. She turned back around front again, and smiled. 

Her breasts might not be perfect by someone else’s standards, but they were perfect for her after staring at the mangled mess they’d been for years. She still couldn’t believe this was what she looked like.

A hand slid around her waist. “Admiring the view, Mrs. Walsh?”

“As I recall, I’m not the only one who enjoys it, dear husband,” she answered as he kissed her neck slowly.

“It is a magnificent view.” He admired her. “And you. Being sneaky with the pressure bandages.”

“Oh, those last two weeks killed me, not taking them off for you,” she said. “But I wanted to keep it a surprise. A wedding gift, sort of.”

He looked at her in the mirror, and caught her eyes. “The best wedding gift was seeing how confident and happy you are without your bustier or bra on. It killed me to see you so afraid of your own skin.” His hand caressed her stomach just briefly and then he stepped around her. “Excuse me, wife, I have need of the facility.”

She watched him walk by, his ass sporting a bright red bloom on either side. “View’s not too bad from here either.” Emmy turned around to give him a little privacy while he used the toilet. She looked around the room and smiled again.

Nathaniel had completely surprised her when they walked by the old room and went to the end of the hall. She was confused. The pressure bandages were still on—intentionally—after the last operation. It was two weeks longer than she needed so her husband—
ha! Husband—
could see her new breasts for the first time on their wedding night. She was absolutely dying to get them off, and she was a little upset he was leading her by her freedom.

Then he had pulled open the door to the new suite.

Emmy had no idea Nathaniel was having it built. It was an expansive suite, with his and her closets, and a huge bathroom with his and hers sinks. There was a sitting room which had the leather couches from his old one, but he’d told her last night, it was hers to decorate.

She giggled at what she saw now. The wedding dress was draped over a chair, the shoes were in a trail leading to the bed. There were bits and pieces of tuxedo and undergarments everywhere. The bed was a rumpled disaster, and there were all kinds of ‘toys’ strewn about. And some lube. Oh, and arnica cream she’d put on his ass after…
hey. Relax. You’ve got your whole life with this guy now. You don’t need to go after him again right now.

“I really can’t believe you did this.” Emmy marveled. “And while I was four doors down!”

“Most of it was done during the day,” Nathaniel admitted, walking up behind her, kissing her neck again. “So you wouldn’t have known. It wasn’t that much really. I just wanted to give us a space that was ours. Not your old room, not my room.”

They both heard Sylvia squealing as she ran down the hallway with Allison threatening to catch her the whole way to the stairs. Emmy shook her head. “When are we leaving for the honeymoon?”

“When is your audition?”

“Tomorrow, ten a.m.”

“Then we’re leaving tomorrow after your audition,” he said.

“Can’t you please tell me where we’re going?”

“You really want to know?”

“Duh?”

He sighed, a half-hearted, teasing. “Well, all right.” He walked over to the dresser on his side and pulled out a folder with some travel agency’s logo on it. “Here.”

She opened the folder and gasped. “Bora Bora!”

“Five days at Bora Bora, three on Tahiti, and then to the Seychelles for five more.”

“Oh, my God!” She looked at him and her eyes brimmed with happy tears. “Seychelles!”

“I knew you’d like that.” He smiled, closing the folder.

There was a bang on the door of the suite. “Hey! Lovebirds!” It was Victor’s voice. He cracked the door open. “Breakfast in an hour, says Joanne. We won’t expect you on time, but we will expect you in clothes.”

“Close the fucking door!” Nathaniel yelled at him. “It’s my wedding night!”

“It’s eight a.m.! There’s nothing night about it!”

“You think we slept or something?”

“Oh, for...ew,” Victor mumbled, and they heard the door click closed.

It clicked open again a moment later and this time they heard Franz. “Lemme know if you run out of lube. I bought a big bottle you never got around to opening last night.”

“Go away!” Nathaniel yelled, as Emmy threw her head back, laughing, and the door closed. “God, I wish your audition was today. I so want to get away from those two for just a little while.”

“I think they are hilarious and perfect for each other.”

“They are,” he agreed. She turned to walk back to the bathroom, but Nathaniel grabbed her hand. “I have one more wedding gift for you.”

“Another one?” She could hear the despair and disapproval in her own voice. “You’re going overboard, Nathaniel.”

“Well, truth be told, I don’t know for sure who this one is for,” he said, stepping around her. “But before I show you, do me a favor. Put that incredible wedding night ensemble back on. The thigh-highs, the garter, that gorgeous peek-a-boo bra...” She could almost see him licking his lips, if she hadn’t been watching him get hard.

“Oh, someone liked that, did they?”

“I liked peeling you out of it,” he admitted.

Emmy walked around the room, picking up the various pieces. “Wanna put me back in it?”

“Well, yes, but not this time,” Nathaniel said. He sat on the bed, pulling on a pair of satin boxers. “I’ll just watch.”

Well
. She could play at that game. She put all of the various pieces on the chair and decided it was going to be a floor show for him. She picked up the stocking and drew it up her leg slowly, unfurling the white silk. She did the same for the other one, running her finger under the band and making sure it was in the right place. She considered the panties for just a moment, then put them back on the chair. He let out a slow breath when she did, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see he was fully erect. She pulled the garter on and took her time hooking the stockings to the clips.

Brassieres, however, were one of the least graceful things to put on properly, especially if when the cups were larger than a C. Which Emmy’s were. Nathaniel walked over and stepped behind her. “Let me help with that,” he said, sliding his hands around under her breasts and lifting them.

Emmy slid the bra up her arms and was able to nestle the cups over them quite well, and he lowered them slowly, ending with them in the perfect position in the bra. He slid his hand back around and caught the clasps easily.

He grabbed her hips and pulled her back against him. “See? This is your fault.”

“I’m so glad it is,” she said, turning around.

He stepped back and walked to the top drawer of the dresser, and pulled something else out. He held it up and she was confused. “A key?”

He smiled and took her hand, walking her into the common area of the closet and up to the rack. On the one side, there were three levers on the end of the rod bar. Two of them he squeezed together and pulled on the whole closet system piece. It glided forward on an unseen railing, then stopped just far enough out to clear the racks on either side. Nathaniel turned the other lever, and Emmy heard a release. The rack swung forward on hinges she didn’t see, and revealed a door with a recessed lock on it and no handle.

“Go ahead,” he said, offering her the key. “Door pushes in.”

Emmy’s eyes grew wide. She slid the key in and pushed, and the whole thing pivoted back. Lights clicked on—they were low and warm and recessed. The room was painted deep gray and the floors were dark cherry. There was white trim around the ceiling and floor. In the middle of the room on an angle was her folsom bed, its black painted iron frame looking both threatening and welcoming. It was covered with black and white sheets. To the left, braced and mounted diagonally in the corner, was the St. Andrew’s cross. In the far left corner were the saddle horse and the old card catalogue with the more exotic toys in it. On the far wall were all of the crops, floggers and whips she owned.

There was a large wardrobe in the last corner, grey and white with black accents, which wasn’t something she had owned. There was a window on the far wall, hung with black drapes with white accents. There was a black shade, and just the smallest hint of sunlight snuck in under the edge of it.

“Holy. Shit.” She marveled, walking all the way in. She turned around and stared at him.

Nathaniel walked into the room, pulled the rack shut behind him and closed the door, throwing the lock. He walked over to the wardrobe and pulled it open. There were pillows and blankets on the top shelf as well as some ropes and chains further down. He pointed to the drawers below. “These are the options we put in the closet. I didn’t want to toss them, but they are still hard limits. And I had the window put in because this is as bright as the light gets in here. I figured we’re going to have to clean once in a while as well and I’m not up for Joanne coming in here.”

“When the hell did you do this?”

“Well, this room was done with the rest of the suite,” he said. “I hired a company who makes secret rooms to design the whole area so you wouldn’t really know it’s here. I had to do the decorating myself because I didn’t want anyone else to see it. And while you were out at your bachelorette party two weeks ago, Franz, Victor, Killian and Bradley helped me get everything out of storage and set it up. So the only people who know what’s in here were people who already knew what you had to start with.”

“You hid it well!” she said.

“I wanted to,” he confessed. “Not for any personal preservation, but the way I figure it is, someday we’ll have little curious children around, and they don’t need to know about their parents’ perversions and bedroom proclivities.”

“Kids?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he said. “Someday.” He walked over to the cross in the corner. “There’s still so much fun we can have.”

“Why, Nathaniel, are you asking me for something?” she asked, walking over.

“I’d be lying if I said no,” he answered. “From the minute I saw you in that outfit, I could barely wait to get you in here.”

She walked up behind him, sliding her arms around him. “What do you want, husband? Tell me.”

“Tie me to this. Flog me,” he requested. He looked at her over his shoulder. “Then take me to that bed and fuck me.”

“Good,” she said. “You’re better at asking me.” She moved her hands to the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down his legs. “Hands up, and step close,” she ordered.

“Yes, mistress.”

He complied and she quickly went over to the card catalog and pulled out the velcro cuffs. She slid them onto his wrists and clicked him into place, arms up on the cross. She heard his breath growing shallow, and ran her hands down his back and over his ass. She leaned into his ear. “Sting or thud, my love?”

“Thud, Mistress, please,” he said.

She felt her whole body hum in agreement with his request. She walked to the wall and picked up a heavy leather flogger. One of the bigger ones that she hadn’t used in years. She gathered the fronds in her hand and walked back over to him. “Ten light ones,” she said, warming him up. She flicked it out at his ass and thighs and hit him in the perfect spot. He arched his back and groaned. She followed it with another of the same kind of snap. Meaningfully firm, but not with the full power she could manage. He arched and groaned with the promised hits, and once upon a time she would have frowned on that reaction. But from him, from her husband, it was erotic.

After the tenth stroke fell, she stepped up behind him again and reached forward to his cock. She stroked it gently, leisurely, teasingly. “How many do you want, Nathaniel?”

“Ten, Mistress,” he said. “Ten of your hard strikes.”

“And what are you going to do when I release you?”

“Take you to the bed, and fuck you, Mistress.”

“Are you ready, husband?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he choked out.

She released him and stepped back. She pulled back and let fly hard. Never ever her hardest, though. She had used that only once, on Lance, in sheer hate. Never again. She had a special hard for her husband. A switch with a loving hand, knowing how much he had come to love this. Now, he enjoyed her kink, and wanted to make it part of their lives. And for as many times as she used a crop on him, they made love, had passionate sex, twice as often.

His ass was bright red again, and she loved that she did that. She struck again, the fourth one, and his gasp went lower and turned into a groan. On the sixth, she heard the groan turn into a sexual purr and she knew he was waiting to be released. She felt her own wetness growing when she heard his reaction. The purr came through as she snapped the flogger on him four more times, taking her sweet time. She’d heard this from him before. He was ready, and he was going to be raw about it.

On the tenth one, he kept his head down and she walked over, running her hands up his sides, over his ribs and up his arms. “You will not move until both of your hands are free.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he growled.

“And once they are both free, you may do what you want.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” he said.

She ran her hand up his arm again, and unfastened one cuff. She took her hand and slowly, ever so slowly, drew her hand down his arm, across his back and up the other arm. She knew she was teasing him, and she enjoyed it. He stood stock still, but she could feel the sexual heat coming off him in waves. She very carefully pulled the Velcro off and before she could drop her hand, he had spun around and scooped her off her feet, carrying her over to the bed.

He nearly threw her on the bed, but at the last minute placed her down and crawled on with her, his cock hot and throbbing. He didn’t take her bra off; he slipped the cup down and grabbed the nipple between his teeth, biting carefully. It was her turn to arch up into him, pressing her breast to his face. His hand pulled down the other cup and freed that breast for his fingers to tease.

“I need you,” he said over her tightening nipple.

“Fuck me,” she consented.

He pushed his erection inside and she exhaled at his cock’s intrusion. They really had not slept the night before. She’d lost track of how many times they’d come, with each other and by each other. And even still, she wanted him again. She felt him moving inside her again, rough and raw and wanting, and she loved it.

He didn’t let her nipple out of his mouth, but he changed from biting to sucking and tugging. He drove himself in and out of her sex, moving his hand to her clit. He arranged his hand on her so his thumb flicked over her in a completely different rhythm than he was using with his cock. She’d already been on her way to climaxing but that drove her body crazy.