Binding Agreement

Chapter 2





I DRIVE FOR A WHILE before going home. When I do get there, I immediately spot his Alfa Romeo Spider parked in front of my house. It’s impossible to miss. He blends in little better, leaning against the outside of my door. His arms are crossed and his salt-and-pepper hair gleams with the slight dew of the night. I park my car but keep the engine running at a resting purr. Part of me knew he would come. That doesn’t mean I’m ready for it.

But it’s not my choice. So I switch off the ignition and carefully approach.

“You didn’t let yourself in this time,” I say.

He smiles ruefully. “I’m trying to find a happy medium between being protective and being intrusive. I thought not breaking into your home would be a good start.”

I can’t help but smile. “You’re learning.” I put my key in the lock, open the door, allow him to follow me into the living room. “Still,” I say once we’re inside and he’s lowered himself onto my sofa, “you could have called.”

“I could have,” he agrees. “I didn’t.”

I turn to him. I don’t understand this man. There are times when I’m not entirely sure if I like him. But, my God, do I want him. “What are you here for?”

“You’re not leaving me,” he says simply.

“You think you get to make that call?”

“I do.” He cocks his head, smiles. “I would have to do something specific to give you the will to walk away. I haven’t and so now you can’t will yourself to do anything but stay.”

“You haven’t done anything specific?” I don’t say the name Tom. I don’t need to.

“Kasie.” Robert sighs as if mildly disappointed by my lack of vision. “The way Tom spoke to you . . . the things he said . . . if one of his superiors had overheard him, would he have lost his job?”

“But they didn’t overhear,” I point out. “You’re speaking in hypotheticals, choosing your truth. Tom helped me when Dave was trying to humiliate me. That’s part of the story, too.”

“And if Tom had thought taking Dave’s side would have advanced his own interests, do you still think he would have helped you?”

“I don’t know, Robert.” I throw up my hands in exasperation. “Do you think Stalin would have helped defeat Hitler if he hadn’t invaded Russia? Sometimes we don’t need to analyze motivations. Sometimes we can just put our hands together and be grateful that the Nazis lost.”

Robert leans back into the couch, his eyes brightened by my challenges. “I’m grateful that the Nazis lost, too, but I don’t think that gives Stalin a pass.”

“Tom isn’t Stalin.”

“No, Stalin deserved to die. Tom just deserves to lose his job.” He glances toward the street as a truck rumbles by. “This is business, Kasie. Tom sexually harassed an employee and he angered a very important client. People get fired for these things all the time.”

“But he wasn’t fired for harassing me.”

Robert waves away the point. “It would have been . . . awkward if the charges had come from you, and you didn’t want to take that on. So I simply made sure the allegations came from other people.”

We’re going in circles and now I’m too dizzy to continue.

I stare up at the off-white ceiling above me. I have worked to keep the interior of my home simple, sophisticated, comfortable, but now this room feels complicated, untamed, and I am not comfortable at all. Everything about Robert agitates me. His voice vibrates inside of me like the beat of a rock song, bringing me alive, amplifying emotions that I might otherwise suppress. “I’m just out of a relationship,” I remind him. “I spent years being controlled by someone else’s vision of me and now you want to control me, too.”

“No.” He stands, moves to my side. “I don’t want to control you.” He lets his fingers slide under my chin, guides my face in his direction. “I would like to corrupt you . . . if only a little.”

“Corrupt me?”

“Kasie, if you let me help you, we could have everything. The people who would mock you or try to make your life harder? They’ll bow before us. Tom was a cautionary tale. We need those. People should know what happens to those who try to bring us down . . . to those who try to demean us.”

“You’re talking about a man’s life.”

“I’m talking about winning.”

His hand slips to the small of my back and I instinctively lean into him, pressing my breasts into his chest. “I want you to stop interfering with the careers of my coworkers.”

“Ah, but you want so many things,” he whispers, grazing his teeth on my earlobe. “What is it you want more, Kasie? Fairness? Power?” He gently pushes me back against a wall; his tongue flicks against the base of my throat. “Me?”

I try to answer but his hands are on my shirt, pulling it from me, unbuttoning my pants, letting them fall.

He takes a step back, pulls his phone from his pocket, and points it in my direction. “I want this image. I want to be able to look at you when you’re not with me.”

I immediately feel my face warm and try to cover myself with my hands but he shakes his head. “No, leave your arms by your sides. You should never be ashamed to show yourself. By the time we’re done no one will ever have the courage to question your audacity. They’ll admire it.”

My arms are at my sides but it’s hard. This isn’t right; I don’t know why I’m allowing it . . . except that I want to allow it. “You’re not going to show this to anyone,” I say. Is it a question? A statement? A request? I just don’t know anymore.

I should be horrified . . . but the idea of being seen . . . audacity without consequences . . .

I pull my hair back off my shoulders, lower my head to a coquettish angle . . . and invite the attention of the camera.

He smiles his approval and takes another picture before putting the phone on the side table. He removes his jacket slowly, drapes it over a chair as I stay pressed against the wall, held by an invisible force.

Sitting down on the sofa, he motions for me to come to him.

I walk to him like a woman under hypnosis . . . maybe that’s what I am. Perhaps he’s cast a spell.

I straddle him, wearing nothing but my bra and panties. His hands cup my breasts. “Take this off,” he says softly but with a note of authority that’s impossible to miss.

I remove the bra, let my breasts spill out. With languid, almost casual movements he feels them, squeezing them slightly, toying with my nipples until they become long and hard and needing.

“You’re beautiful this way,” he says. “We should designate a day when this is all you wear, just these panties”—he puts his finger inside the waistband, pulls the elastic. “We could have dinner like this, watch television, chat over coffee with you wearing virtually nothing, completely available for me to touch and taste.”

And with that he leans forward, kisses my breasts while his hand slips inside my panties, finding my * and making me gasp. “Would you do that for me, Kasie?”

I flush knowing the answer should be no even as I nod.

“And what would you do for yourself?” he asks, slipping a finger inside of me. “If I give you the world on a platter, will you take it?”

“Robert,” I say. I want to explain, to tell him where he’s wrong but his finger begins to move. He covers my neck and shoulders with kisses designed to provoke yearning rather than satisfaction. I groan and instinctively buck my hips against him.

“Just wait, Kasie.” His caresses become more demanding, I feel the orgasm coming. “They’ll play by our rules and we’ll change the rules as we please. All these worries you have about the opinions of others will have no foundation. No one will judge you, no one will dare.”

With that another finger pushes inside of me and I come, right there straddling his lap. I shiver, grasping his shoulders, my fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, pressing into his skin. I think I say his name but I’m so overcome that it’s hard for me to know what I’m doing, what I’m saying . . . it’s chaos.

It’s spectacular.

He pushes me onto my back; the panties come off. He stands above me as he removes his clothes watching as I struggle to catch my breath. He’s naked now, his erection reaching for me, his hard, sculpted muscles only hinting at the real power that exists within. He reaches down and strokes my cheek. It’s a gentle touch, as tender as it is sensual. “You are so beautiful,” he says quietly. “Tell me you know that.”

I don’t know how to respond. I shake with anticipation as I reach for him but he takes me by the wrist, holds me off even as he steps closer. “Say it, Kasie. Tell me you’re beautiful.”

I squirm slightly and I try to turn away but he guides my face back to him. “Say it.”

I press my lips into a thin line, look up at him through lowered lids.

And then something happens to me. I forcefully pull my arm away. As he observes me, his expression now questioning, I slowly raise myself up until I’m standing on my knees, my legs tucked back, my posture straight as I brazenly meet his gaze. “I’m beautiful,” I say; my voice is assured, strong . . . and even to my own ears, seductive.

He smiles, kneels before me on the couch. He watches as in languid, luxurious movements I lay back, my knees still bent, my back arched. I reach my arms above my head as if posing for a poster. “I’m beautiful,” I say again.

And he’s above me now, his hands gripping my shoulders. I feel him hard, against the inside of my thigh.

“Now, Robert. Enter me now.”

And with a moan he does, penetrating me in wide, circular motions. His hips grinding against mine as I hold my pose like a ballerina being lifted to the heavens by her partner. He’s so deep now, thrusting with a straightforward force; he’s hit every nerve, and like a quiet applause that builds to a roar I feel the orgasm taking over. I feel my walls contracting around him, holding him as my body trembles and a cry escapes my lips.

In that moment I believe all of it. I am beautiful and powerful.

And I will rule. If not the world then certainly this man.

With care I unfold my legs, so they stretch to either side of him. He lifts up, shifting his weight onto his knees to give me room but I don’t wait for him to lower himself again. Instead I plant my feet and raise my hips, pressing my pelvis into his, forcing him inside once again. This time it’s me who sets the rhythm, savoring the friction as I move my hips up and down in the air. I can see what I’m doing to him; his breath is shallow; his arms shake although I know it’s not from strain. It’s exhilarating.

And when he can’t stay still anymore, he grasps my legs and while he’s still on his knees raises my legs to his shoulders. With one arm on either side of me he takes the lead once again. And again he is deep into my world, vulnerable and strong and awash in perfect ecstasy.

“I will give you everything,” he breaths, “everything. And you will take it.”

Outside the strengthening wind beats against the windows as I cry out; it’s animalistic and almost frightening, completely delicious. I grab his arms, overcome with yet another orgasm, even stronger this time. And as the sensation rolls through me I feel him exploding inside of me, letting me absorb his power.

Power enough to conquer the world

Maybe even enough power to conquer him.