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“Good,” I grunt and force her hips to grind her clit into my stomach and use the flex of the bed beneath me to my advantage, practically plowing into her from below.

Her eyes glaze and I can feel her cunt tightening on my cock. Fuck she feels perfect, smells perfect, tastes perfect. How did I deny myself her perfection? How fucking stupid am I?

Bambi presses her tits to my chest and the scrape of her hard nipples against my skin has my balls drawing up and the tingle of my orgasm gathering at the base of my spine.

“I’m gonna come, Warren. I can’t hold it off any longer,” she warns.

“You don’t have to. Come with me Bambi.”

As soon as I say the words her orgasm breaks and floods her body. Her pussy clamping down on my length as I bury myself inside her and explode. Pulsing out my own release, her spasming convulsions draw every ounce of cum from my body.

Our bodies shake in synchronism, as we draw pleasure from the other.

I pull her body as close to mine as possible and seal my lips to hers, rocking my hips into her one last time. The sweet mewl she lets out is swallowed by our locked lips.

It takes a few minutes for us to come down from the high our mutual pleasure caused. I remove her binds and the clothes that gathered there, massaging her skin gently to ensure the blood flow hasn’t been restricted.

After gently cleaning her and myself in the bathroom, I carry her back to her bed. The apartment now more than warm, and I slip us both under her quilt pulling her onto my chest. Pressing her still naked body to mine, loving the way she feels against me, even in a non-sexual manner.

I really am an idiot for letting her slip through my fingers when I had her in my reach this whole time. What the fuck am I going to do now?

~

Apparently, think about her nonstop all day. It’s been another three days, and I’ve snuck into her apartment every night and crawled into bed with her. Each time using the tie from her curtains to test her comfort with bondage. I haven’t gotten up the courage to ask her for what I really want yet. Tonight, I will though. I have to, it’s my last night here.

At least my last full night.

Tomorrow I’ll go to sleep on my boat and wake before dawn to leave. I told them they didn’t have to see me off in the morning, but all three of them insisted they would stay at Gigi’s the night before and say their final good-bye.

So, this is my last night alone with Bambi. Weird how I went from excited to finally be leaving to questioning if it’s the right thing to do.

Because it’s our last night together I want it to be special. And if I’m going to ask her to let me tie her up to the point of immobility, I should at least bring wine. Which is why I’m at the liquor mart staring at the shelf of wine and trying to find the one brand I know she likes. There’s only one and I’m not leaving without it, I know they have it somewhere.

As I lean over, pushing aside white wine bottles hoping to find the elusive one hidden behind them, I hear a voice I’ve managed to avoid for the better part of a decade.

“Warren?” It’s my mother’s voice, and I pray that when I stand up, she is alone.

No such luck. My father, Isaac, the douche bag of the century, stands at her side and slightly in front of her. Always pretending to be the man of the family. Like he’s worthy of being the head of anything. I suppose it has more to do with my mother being a willing submissive.

Interesting.

I knew my desire for bondage had a lot to do with my upbringing, but I never directly made the correlation before. At least not in such a visible representation. It sickens me to know I have anything in common with my father. Makes me wish I didn’t like the bondage and control so much, just so I can say I’m nothing like him. That I didn’t get off on the control and submission of my partner. I guess no matter how much physical distance you put between yourself and your parents, one way or another you can’t escape your DNA.

“Mother.” I address my mother but not the man responsible for donating sperm to create me. He’s no more of a father than I am.

“I thought you were running away?” Isaac says in that mocking asshole way of his. You know the tone, the one that no matter what you say always sounds condescending.

“Not running away. Just putting as much distance between you and me as possible.”

My attempt at an insult is apparently funny to him, because he chuckles. And I want to stab him in the eye with my fish gutting knife.

“Aw, poor baby doesn’t like his parents. How typical and average of you. Looks like I was right, and you amounted to nothing. So disappointing.”

Rage boils in my veins and not for the first time I have to physically restrain myself from beating the shit out of this man.He doesn’t deserve anyone's respect or civility, but the last thing I need is to be arrested for assault twenty-four hours before I’m finally able to escape this place and him.

“Shouldn’t you be used to it by now? I’m sure everything in your shitty life is disappointing.” I’m a little proud of my snarky comeback, especially when it knocks that slimy shit eating grin of his face.

The man who claims to be my father but I’m still unsure he is, steps forward as if he’s going to intimidate me or take a swing. Neither would be wise. I’m much larger now than I was when I was twelve, and he’s grown a rather rotund beer belly. He doesn’t scare me anymore. I could easily hospitalize him if I wished. Would have a few times in the past too had it not been for my friends talking me out of it. Bambi specifically. She’s too nice for her own good. Believing everyone deserves a second chance. Everyone but Isaac Graham. He can eat dirt. A piss poor excuse for a human like him doesn’t deserve a second chance.