Page 14 of Tied up in Knots (Gummy Bear Orgy #4)

I keep it oiled

“Ooh, Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea , good choice.” I set the book on the counter along with the three other books Mr. Nelson picked out. “Will you be renting or purchasing?”

All the books he chose are from our used section so he can do either.

“I would like to buy Twenty Thousand Leagues and rent the others please.”

“Of course.”

I ring him up and give him a date to return the rental books by, reminding him they must be in the same, or close to the same, condition when he returns them, or he will have to purchase them.

The books go in his canvas tote and he sets off, wrapping his thick scarf around his wind beaten neck and grey beard, before stepping out the front door.

The doorbell chimes and I smile and wave as he exits, a cold gust of wind making its way inside through the temporary opening.

The cold only reminds me Warren will be leaving soon.

Really soon. Like one day from now, soon.

I don’t let the inevitable heartbreak dampen my smile.

My customers don’t need to know I’m pining over him.

If I didn’t smile, they would ask why, and then I’d have to lie and I’m not the best liar.

“I’m done with the stocking,” Lauren calls out as she approaches the register.

It’s made from a section of the original bank teller counter, with an ornately carved window frame, where there would once have been bars or glass, but have since been removed. Only the wood frame remains now, allowing for more personable check outs.

Lauren leans on the counter, her dark red hair spilling in long curls over her shoulders.

There’s a lot of redheads and gingers in Alaska.

Not sure why, but there are. Many tourists ask if we’re related because of it.

Unfortunately, the only family I have left is Gigi, and her red hair has long since turned white.

But it feels like Lauren could be family.

She’s worked here since high school, nearly as long as I have.

I don’t have to ask her to do things or scold her for not doing her job, she just knows what needs to be done and does it.

She really is the best employee. I hope she never leaves.

Thankfully she’s said there’s as much chance of her leaving as me, so I think it’s safe to say she’s sticking around.

Lauren also works as a bartender on the weekends to make more money. Especially in the slow season.

We may be a fishing town, but that doesn’t mean we don’t get our fair share of tourists. Summer months are busy, and winter is slow. Stockpiling nuts like a squirrel is habit.

“Great, I’ll close out the register. You can head home. Mr. Nelson was our last customer.”

“Great.”

Lauren walks to the door and flips the open sign to closed, locks the door and pulls the shade down on the window.

“See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight,” I call to her bouncing red curls as she heads to the back office to grab her things and leave out the back door.

There’s a small parking area behind the store where she parks her car.

There’s also a small one car garage where I keep mine parked.

If I were to leave it outside the thing would rust into pieces before I drove the dang thing.

Pretty sure I’ve spent more money maintaining my bicycle than my car.

Probably not a good idea but the bike gets more use.

I follow in Lauren’s path, turning off lights and carrying the cash register tray to put in the safe for tomorrow.

Like many things in my life the register is an antique, used mainly for aesthetics.

We still enter everything into the tablet kept behind the counter, which we also use for credit card payments.

The register is only used for the minimal cash transaction s _ and its satisfying ca-ching soun d _ so it’s more of a guilty pleasure than anything. Plus, it matches the counter.

It's not long into my nightly routine of locking up and checking the store before I hear a knock on the back door. My heart races and my mouth goes instantly dry knowing who’s on the other side of that knock.

Warren stands outside grinning and holding up a bottle of my favorite white wine, when I open the door.

“Hey there. Thought I’d bring something special for tonight.”

“Are we celebrating or commiserating?” I joke.

“Celebrating, always. I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise? For me?” Maybe it’s that he’s staying. “You know I love surprises.”

I really do. I hate when people spoil movies and the end of a book. You have to enjoy the little things in life and those so happen to include surprises of all kinds.

Warren presses his way into the store and closes the door behind him.

His body taking up all the available space.

In the past I would find excuses to be close to him, sit by him, lean in to look at something over his shoulder, stand close to him in line.

Always wanting to reach out and touch him, but unable to.

Now however, I don’t have to because he comes to me.

Leaning in he presses a kiss to my lips that I’ll dream about for years.

“Well, I hope you’ll like my surprise,” he says in between kisses.

My brain’s gone a bit fuzzy. Kisses from Warren will do that, but I notice he’s brought a bag with him as well. He usually doesn’t bother with an overnight bag but there’s a small black bag slung over his shoulder.

“Is it in the mysterious bag?”

“Maybe. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

“How about we go upstairs, and you can show me now?” I suggest. I’ve closed everything up for the store and there’s a secondary door to the interior staircase leading up to my apartment, so we don’t even have to go back outside.

“Sounds perfect.”

I lead Warren up to my apartment and check on the wood burning stove, ensuring there’s plenty of fuel to keep us warm for hours. I don’t want to interrupt whatever surprise he has for me because I need to add more wood to the stove.

“Okay, so what’s the surprise?” I ask as I watch him carefully set the bag on my dining table. Hopefully it’s not breakable.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while now. Something I’d like to do before I leave.”

My heart sinks a little at the mention of his impending departure barely twenty-four hours from now. I try to hold my smile in place, but he can tell my smile is a little more forced than before. Still, he goes on.

“Something I hope we’ll both enjoy. I think you will. There’s this thing called shibari. It has other names and lots of technical terms, but the gist of it is that it’s Japanese artistic, sensual, rope bondage.”

That was not at all what I was expecting him to say. Although not completely out of character. I’d noticed his appreciation for rope and how he liked to tie my wrists and restrain me. It’s mostly been minimal and playful, but I have a feeling this won’t be. The idea is…tantalizing.

“And the surprise is?”

The corner of his lips quirk and his eyes soften as he watches me, reaching into his bag.

“I was hoping you would let me tie you up. Properly.”

From the bag he produces a carefully wound ocean blue rope. It looks smooth and glossy, like it’s been oiled or something. No random coarse fibers sticking out like a regular rope would. The color reminds me of the water in the bay. Crystal blue and endless.

Warren holds the rope reverently in both hands, patiently waiting for my reply.

“How much of me do you want to tie up? Is it like tying my wrists and ankles to the bed?”

“Not even close. I want to bind your entire body in my rope. I use special knots and rope to create a pattern on your skin. If you’re uncomfortable with being immobile I can tie the rope in a way where you can still move and use your arms and legs.

But the most common use is to restrict movement.

To put precise pressure on your body. Lots of people don’t even consider it sexual.

It can be an art, done for anxiety and other purposes.

“I will admit though, I like the control, and it is very sexual for me.”

I step closer to inspect his rope. I’ve used rope on boats my whole life, and although it’s smoother than basic rope you would find at a hardware store. I’m not sure how comfortable I would be with it wrapped around my entire body.

“Can I touch it?” I ask when I’m within reaching distance.

“Of course. I want you to be as comfortable with it as possible. And know I would never do anything that would injure you. If anything doesn’t work for you or is uncomfortable you tell me. And of course there’s always your safe word.”

“Jelly fish.”

“Exactly.” Warren’s voice has gone deep and husky as he watches me reach out and run my finger along the silky-smooth surface of the rope.

It is far more pleasing to the touch than any rope I’ve ever felt before. I can imagine the sensation of it sliding over my skin and am innately curious to experience it. I liked it when he tied my wrists with the curtain tie, wanted more of it even. Perhaps this is something I would enjoy.

“It’s so soft,” I remark while still inspecting the bundle of rope in his hands.

“It’s jute rope, specifically made for bondage. I keep it oiled and properly maintained. While temporary rope marks can be erotic…” Warren’s breathing turns shallow, and the soft brown of his eyes darkens. “Permanent damage is unwanted.”

His eyes trace the shape of my face and down my neck to my visible collarbone.

“So, it won’t hurt then?”

“Not if I do it right. And I always do it right. Especially for you Bambi. So, what do you think? Will you let me wrap my rope around you?”

The fact that I’m more concerned with how the rope will feel rather than being restrained should be answer enough.

I trust him with everything. If he told me he built a spaceship and we were going to fly to Venus, I wouldn’t question it.

Warren would never knowingly put me in a position to be harmed.

“Do I get completely naked? Or leave my panties on?”