Page 20 of Masters of Play

Though now I was regretting not keeping my appointment with the boys. With my stress level through the roof like this, I knew the only way to unwind would be to get wound up. If I didn't get the release that being bound and suspended would give me, I wouldn't be able to think clearly to solve my problems, and I would fall flat on my ass.

The spinning in my head was making my ears ring. The ringing got so loud that I grabbed for a pillow and shoved it over my face. Only that didn't shut up the bell tone.

Because it wasn't in my head. It was the doorbell.

It was likely Maree and Josie coming to check on me. Even though they banned me from happy hour, they would never abandon me totally. They were used to this kind of behavior from me, especially in the early days of my thesis. I'd get so focused on my academic work that I didn't take time out for self-care—namely going to the club and getting a little knottical release.

They were going to bitch when I told them I didn't have time to come out and play with them. I had to get this shit done or I wouldn't be able to play at all. Not in my future career, but also not with the Carson twins. And even worse, not with Professor Sin.

I opened the door, preparing to let my girls down. Neither Maree nor Josie were standing on my doorstep.

"Hey, beautiful."

"Owen?"

Sure enough, Owen Carson brightened my welcome mat. A blond curl fell over one bright blue eye. He swiped it back, his lips tugging into a wide grin. The blue of his gaze sparkled at me. He was sunshine even though it was the dead of night.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"You missed your scene with us," he said as he walked past me and into my apartment, not bothering to wait for permission.

"And so you stalk me and track me down?"

"Stalk?" he said as he looked around my place.

It looked like a kid had thrown a temper tantrum at an office supply store in here. There were sheets of paper on every surface. Some inside colorful folders. Other pieces crumpled into tight wads. Pens were aimed in every direction, like a circle firing squad.

And then there was me, standing at the center of it all, looking like a defeated general. My face was free of makeup, my hair knotted up on my head in a toppling bun. I couldn't remember the last time I'd washed my face or brushed my teeth.

Even with my apartment and my person in disarray, I still had some of my wits about me. "Yes, stalk. I never told you where I lived."

"No, you didn't," said Owen. "Your friends did."

I had trouble believing that. Maree was always the one to make sure I snapped a photo of any guy I played with. Josie would cyber stalk all the guys I saw more than once.

"And they said if you turned up with a hair out of place that they would cut off my dick and stick it up my ass."

Now that sounded like my girls. "That still doesn't explain what you're doing here in my apartment."

"Like I said, you missed your scene with us, which means that I missed my aftercare."

There was a part of me that softened at those words. Owen had said he liked playing with me at the end of his night so that he could chat and cuddle with me. That was his way of winding down after a night of play. I wanted to give that to him. I wanted to do that for him. But the part of me that was too busy to play and insisted I get back to work was too loud in my head.

"I'm sorry, Owen. I don't have time. I have to finish my dissertation."

"That's the other reason I'm here. Your friends think you need a break."

"I can't—"

"Come here."

Owen held out his hand. In it was a piece of rope. Like a Pavlovian dog, my trigger was pulled, and I did as I was told to get the reward I so desperately wanted. I came to Owen and offered him my hands.

"You look like you need it as much as I do," said Owen.

He was right; I did. Looking closely at Owen, I saw the same tiredness in his eyes that I felt. We both were experiencing a bit of sub drop—me more acutely than him.

I expected Owen to tie me up and strip me down. He did bind my wrists, but he left my clothes on. He led me to the chair at my desk and sat me down. Strong hands came to my shoulders and began to knead. The groan I let out sounded positively orgasmic.