ComingUnbound Read online

  Coming Unbound

  Lacey Savage

  Ginny and Cole have struggled to connect intimately since before their marriage. When Cole suggests they surprise each other with the most sexually daring things they can dream up for their anniversary, Ginny reluctantly musters every ounce of courage she possesses to get nipple piercings.

  Cole’s surprise?

  He’s turned their suburban basement into a dungeon—and hired a sexy Dom to teach them the art of BDSM.

  Desperately in love with his wife, Cole’s aware of sensitive sexual demons in Ginny’s past, and will try anything to beat them. Whips, toys, ménage play with the Dom…all these and more could help Ginny find pleasure, break through her issues.

  Or, if they’re not careful, possibly just break Ginny.

  A Romantica® BDSM erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  Coming Unbound

  Lacey Savage

  Chapter One

  “Did you come?”

  I stared at the ceiling, examining the fine bumps in the plaster, and considered lying to my husband.

  “No,” I said at last. “I didn’t.”

  Cole sighed, then rolled over and placed a hand on my bare hip. I smelled the clean sweat coming off him, heard his labored breathing. His cum slicked the inside of my thighs. My pussy lips ached with the sweet tenderness of a thorough fucking, but I felt empty inside.

  “I’m sorry,” I started. “I—”

  He propped himself up on an elbow and placed a finger to my lips. “Don’t be stupid,” he chided, but underneath the harsh words was a warmth I knew well. Concern touched the corners of his dark eyes and furrowed his brows.

  He trailed the tip of his index finger down the line of my jaw, along the tendons of my neck and across my collarbone. When he reached my breast, my nipples pebbled in anticipation of his touch.

  “I could try to finish you off.”

  I pushed his hand away roughly. “Now who’s being stupid?”

  Before he could reply, I tossed my legs over the side of the bed and padded over to the bathroom in my bare feet. I closed the door behind me and turned on the shower.

  Cole followed, just like I knew he would. I ignored him and stepped beneath the stream of water. It wasn’t as hot as I liked it yet. I shivered but pulled the stall door closed anyway. The frosted glass served as a solid barrier between me and the disappointment I didn’t want to see in my husband’s eyes.

  “Virginia…” he began, and I turned away, blinking away the tears that suddenly stung the backs of my eyes.

  “I’m all packed.” I prayed my voice would remain steady, and to my relief, it did. “You don’t need to drive me to the airport. I already called a cab and scheduled a pickup. The driver will be here in an hour, which will give me plenty of time to get to O’Hare by nine.” I knew I was babbling, but I didn’t care as long as I managed to change the subject. “I’ll be back Sunday morning. The conference is going to be pretty intense, but I’ll try to call when I can. San Francisco’s two hours behind us. I’ll make sure to remember that and—”

  “Virginia.”

  Cole’s tone shut me up. I always stopped rambling when he said my name that way. The harsh authority in his voice did something to me every time. My stomach clenched and my pussy tingled. I sank my teeth into my lower lip and waited.

  “We need to talk.”

  A cold frisson of apprehension ran down my spine. I turned the temperature of the shower spray up a few more notches, wincing when the scorching drops splattered my skin. “We were talking.”

  “No, you were talking, telling me things you’d already told me half a dozen times. I know all about your conference, Ginny. You go every year, and it’s always the same.”

  I shrugged. What could I say? He was right. I’d been working for American Tech Experts for longer than I had been married to Cole, and they sent me to TWS—the Technical Writers Summit—every year. It was a tedious four-day conference and I rarely came home with new information, but it broke up the monotony of my job so I never declined when the time came to sign up again.

  “You’re coming back Sunday?”

  I frowned. Hadn’t I just told him that? And hadn’t he just accused me of regaling him with the details over and over again? “My plane gets in at ten in the morning.”

  “On Sunday.”

  Was he being obtuse on purpose? I squirted some shampoo into my palm. “Yes.”

  “On our anniversary.”

  My heart skipped a beat. I stopped in mid-lather, silently figuring out the date in my head. Today was the fourteenth, which meant Sunday was— “Oh shit.”

  “You forgot.” Cole’s voice held no accusation, just another soft tinge of disappointment that made my chest tighten.

  Would I never stop disappointing him?

  “I didn’t forget,” I snapped, though we both knew I was lying through my teeth. “I just wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”

  “Uh huh.”

  I finally made myself face him. Through the frosted glass I could only see his distorted silhouette, but he was still naked, and the memory of his body moving against mine made my mouth go dry. I bit my tongue to keep from telling him how sorry I was again. For forgetting our second anniversary, for not being able to orgasm, for being as barren as the desert steppes. It seemed all I wanted to do these days was apologize, drop to my knees and beg him to forgive me for being the worst wife since God invented marriage.

  “I thought we could do something else this year.”

  “Like what?” Last year we’d gone to a fancy French restaurant. “Italian?”

  Cole inched the door of the shower stall open and peered at me through the gap. To my surprise, he was grinning. The sight of his playful smile made my stomach flip-flop.

  We’d been married for nearly two years and had dated for a year and a half before getting hitched. In all that time, I hadn’t laid eyes on a man I considered sexier than my husband. He was twenty-nine, and his full lips and perfect white teeth were movie star material. He hadn’t shaved this morning. The slight stubble set off his lean jawline and sculpted cheekbones. His broad shoulders gave way to a strong, muscular chest. My gaze drifted over his flat stomach and focused on his thick cock. It hung soft between his legs, but I knew it wouldn’t take much to bring it to life. I’d have only to reach for it, curl my fingers around the shaft and stroke once or twice.

  I bit my lower lip and forced my gaze up.

  Cole’s dark eyes sparkled, as if he knew exactly what I’d been thinking. He wiggled his brows as he stepped into the shower.

  I moved back to give him some room under the spray.

  His presence made the stall feel tiny. He crowded me against one of the tiled walls, not on purpose, but because he was so big. He towered over me by nearly a foot, and when he stood this close I had to look up to see his eyes.

  Cole slid his hands down my rib cage. The shampoo suds slipping off my hair slicked his path and he gripped my hips, then my ass, and pulled me against his groin. “Something…sexy,” he whispered against my lips a moment before he claimed them.

  I opened to him, as ravenous for a taste of his mouth as I always was. My pussy throbbed, begging for a repeat of this morning’s lovemaking. Arousal had never been a problem. Cole turned me on with nothing more than a heated glance and a come-hither smile. I was the only one to blame. The one who couldn’t finish what she started.

  I pressed my splayed hands to his muscular chest and pushed him away lightly. “What did you have in mind?”

  “The same thing as you.” He chuckled at the confused look on my face. “A surprise.”

  “Okay, now you lost me.”

  “I thought we could surprise each other with the sexiest, most daring thin
g we can think of.” He lowered his head and nipped the tender skin of my throat.

  The slight sting sent a dart of heat through my body and I arched my back, pressing my breasts to his chest. “You’re serious.”

  He pulled back and eyed me skeptically. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  I shook my head. I’ve never exactly been adventurous in bed. I’m a missionary kind of girl all the way. I don’t use toys, or wear lingerie, or blindfold my husband while I work my way up his body with a feather.

  My heart ached at the hopeful look in his eyes. Our problems…my problems…weren’t new. Cole learned about my inability to orgasm soon after we got together, but I suspect he thought my hang-ups were temporary. When he first realized I couldn’t find release from sex alone, he’d tried other methods. He had used his fingers and mouth on me for hours, until he had me writhing and sobbing beneath him, needing to come and yet unable to reach the finish line I so desperately craved.

  Then, on the night before our wedding, I told him everything.

  Somehow I managed to remain dry-eyed and calm while recounting my sexual past, including the ex-boyfriend who was never far from my thoughts the moment I started shedding my clothes. Talking about Ben to my future husband was one of the hardest things I’d ever done. When I finished, Cole wrapped me in his warm embrace, kissed my forehead and said he understood.

  But as he pulled back, I saw the hurt in his eyes. He tried to mask it, but it was too late. I’d just told him I thought about another man while fucking him. How could he see that as anything but a betrayal?

  Ten months later, when I still hadn’t been able to orgasm, we attended our first couples counseling session. It didn’t go well. Three months and a few thousand dollars after that, we ditched the counselor for good.

  Since then, sex had stayed in the bedroom, where it belonged. We didn’t talk about my issues over dinner, like we used to when we were young and eager. I was the first to admit we’d fallen into a rut, and I owed it to Cole to try to change that.

  Cole, who’d always wanted so much to please me.

  When we were first discovering each other, he’d been tireless in his efforts. Even now, after countless futile attempts, I knew he’d try to get me off again and again. All I had to do was ask.

  My needs had been at the center of our sex life since we got married. Maybe it was time I considered his.

  I smiled but my lips felt wobbly. “Okay,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck and plastering myself against his body.

  “Okay?” he repeated, one eyebrow raised in question. His cock stiffened, prodding into the curve of my stomach. “You’re in?”

  I had no idea what I was going to do, or even if I had it in me to do anything at all. But I owed it to him to try.

  “I’m in.”

  * * * * *

  “Why oh why are these things so damn boring?” Donna Kittell, my cubicle-mate and best friend, rolled her eyes and fluffed her wavy auburn hair with a dramatic flick of her wrist. Then she collapsed onto a red armchair, careful not to spill the martini she carried in her right hand. She toed off her four-inch heels and sighed as she settled against the plush backrest, her gaze tracking my every movement. “You’re acting weird.”

  I plopped down across from her in a comfortable armchair of my own. The hotel bar was buzzing with activity. We had just come from the conference’s last talk of the day, and having spent the past two hours listening to a soft-spoken man with a stutter describe in minute detail the joys of mind mapping technical documents using the latest advancement in mobile software applications, my head was throbbing.

  “I’m brain dead, Donna.” I took a sip of my cranberry cocktail and relished the tart flavor on my tongue. “Give me a few minutes so the alcohol can sink into my blood, then we can talk.”

  She leaned forward, cradling her glass in her hands between her knees. “It’s not that. You’ve been acting strange all day. You barely said two words to me at lunch, and didn’t even comment on the bit of juicy gossip I shared about Paul and Lilian. I thought you’d be all over that one.”

  I smiled. Paul and Lilian were both senior VPs at American Tech Experts, and married to other people. Rumors about their liaisons had been making the rounds for months, but no one had found solid proof until two days ago, when Donna had walked into the copy room and found them fucking on top of the photocopy machine.

  In their defense, it had been nearly midnight. Everyone should have gone home long before. They had stayed for their tryst; Donna had stayed because she was a workaholic who couldn’t imagine leaving while an assignment remained unfinished. I suspected the idea of her empty apartment also held little appeal. Since her divorce had been finalized six months ago, she had thrown herself into her work.

  I lifted my glass. “So what are you going to do with this scandalous bit of info?”

  “I haven’t made up my mind yet.” She said it with a shrug, as if the decision to blackmail the unlucky couple was no more important than deciding whether to have another drink. But Paul was her boss, and now that she’d caught him in the act, she could leverage that knowledge for a raise or a promotion—or both. Paul’s wife worked as a legal secretary for a real estate attorney two floors down from us.

  Had it been anyone but Donna, I might have believed she’d do it. But after sitting next to this woman for years, I knew her well enough to wager she wouldn’t breathe a word. She worked hard because she wanted to earn her place among American Tech Experts’ management team. Having the managerial title handed to her by a man terrified she’d tattle to his wife would invalidate all those late nights and her stellar work.

  I clinked my glass against hers. “You’ll do the right thing.”

  She rolled her eyes. “As much as I appreciate your faith in my moral character, I’m not worried. Not about that, anyway. Now you… You worry me.”

  “Me?” I feigned indifference, shook my head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  A group of people walked past our armchairs, laughing so boisterously that for a moment they rendered conversation impossible. But then they walked away, and Donna was relentless.

  “Come on, spill. Did something happen? You’ve clearly got something on your mind, and I know you want to talk about it.”

  I bit my lower lip. All day, I’d been flashing back to the shower I’d shared with Cole. Instead of paying attention to the information I was supposed to be gleaning from this illustrious conference, I’d spent the entire first day racking my brain in an effort to figure out how I could possibly spice things up for my husband.

  I hated to admit it, but I was way out of my league here. My comfort zone was firmly in the realm of cotton panties and full-support bras. I knew next to nothing about flimsy lingerie or toys, and even less about the fine arts of dirty talk and role-play.

  I set my glass down on a mahogany end table to my right. Crossing my arms over my chest, I leaned my head back and sighed. Since I didn’t want to see the look in Donna’s eyes when I admitted what came next, I closed mine. “What do men want? In the bedroom, I mean. What do they want?”

  “Well…” Donna began, then hesitated. “Is this about Cole?”

  My eyelids snapped open. “Of course it’s about Cole. Why would you even ask that?”

  She shrugged and bent her head, looking a little sheepish. “Sorry. I guess after finding Paul with Lilian, my faith in marriage has dropped a few more notches. Not that I ever had much to begin with.”

  “I’m not Paul or Lilian,” I growled, feeling my anger rise. “How could you even think I’d consider—” I bit off the rest of the words, unable to utter them aloud. “I love my husband. He’s the only man I will ever make love to. You got that?”

  She flinched away from the venom in my voice and brought a hand to her throat. “Okay, geez, I’m sorry.”

  I groped for my cocktail glass then drained it. “Now, are you going to answer my question or not?”

  She pursed her lips fo
r a moment before replying. “Men want whores.”

  My stomach bottomed out. That wasn’t at all the answer I’d expected. It went against everything I believed.

  I motioned for her to go on with a flick of my trembling hand.

  “They also want a woman who’s confident in her own skin. Someone secure enough in her sexuality to tease them, taunt them, play with them.”

  The blood drained from my face. That wasn’t me at all. I liked sex well enough, but Cole was the one who initiated our romantic encounters almost all the time.

  “What they don’t want,” Donna continued, “is someone who just lies there and takes it.” She sipped her martini and furrowed her brows. “Why are you asking me this?”

  I sucked in a breath and considered lying or changing the subject. But my heart pounded hard against my breastbone, and I needed to know more. “Cole wants us to spice things up for our anniversary,” I blurted. “And I have no idea what to do.”

  “Is that all?” Donna laughed, the humor crinkling her eyes. “Geez, girl, you scared me. You were so serious. I thought you were getting a divorce or something.”

  I swallowed hard but said nothing. A divorce might not be too far off. Cole had married a woman with little sexual experience and no interest in learning anything beyond the particulars of inserting Tab A into Slot B, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he had a Lilian of his own. Cole worked as a technician at a medical laboratory. Had someone there already offered to hop on a photocopy machine and spread her legs for him?

  The thought soured my stomach. I set my empty glass aside and gripped Donna’s hands. “Help me.”

  Her eyes widened. She squeezed my fingers in a supportive gesture, and I was insanely grateful she wasn’t laughing.

  “Okay, well, you must have some idea. Think about a fantasy of yours… Something you haven’t gotten to act out but would like to.” I must have looked completely blank, because Donna sighed. She signaled a waiter who was passing by. “We’re going to need more alcohol.”

  * * * * *