Free Bound Obsession (BDSM Erotica) (Club Taboo Book 1) by Veronica Wilder

only her purse in hand.
    “Abigail!”
    She avoided the elevator and hurried down the steps, taking them two at a time. She could hear Patrick at her back, calling after her, and her pace only intensified. If he caught her, if he held her again, Abigail was terrified that she might never be able to escape. Now was the time, and as she hit the night air, Abigail looked every which way. The street was too risky. He could catch her or flag down a cab of his own and bring her back into his lair. Just a while ago, it was the only place that she wanted to be. But if he could never really trust her, after all she had given to him, it was no better than submitting to Walter Ross. Could she even get back into the club now? Did she even want---?
    “Where are you?” Patrick yelled.
    Hoping to thrown him off her scent, she recoiled in an alleyway as rotting trash ran down her body. Patrick raced past her without looking twice. As he chased the illusion of her down futile streets, Abigail hugged her body close. She would miss his hands, his lips, and she had never been shown the true splendor of the whip. But she couldn’t wait for him; she could never go back. Patrick Dorson wanted her, but he could never trust her. And without that, there was no solid ground upon which they could stand.
    Hugging his coat close, the last bit of him that she would ever have, she walked back to her small apartment, wiping away tears with each step.

Chapter 8
    “I must be crazy.”
    No more than Abigail was.
    In the first days without Patrick, she ducked his phone calls and even hid in her closet when he found her door. Part of her wanted to rush out into the open and fling the door open so that she could just see him again. But when she was on the verge of making that move, Abigail held back. Because she couldn’t trust him when he was like this. And if that was who he was he really was, then she was better off without him. But the second that his knocking subsided and she heard his sad footsteps trailing away, a part of her hoped that he would come back, burst through the door and take her under protest. Abigail’s objections would be feeble; she already wanted him again. But when the hallway stayed quiet, she knew that it would never work. Even if he did come back.
    And when he didn’t, she was back to worrying how she would keep a roof over her head and food in her stomach.
    And how she would survive without him in her arms.
    “But Mariah says that you’ve gotten an education. So here we are.”
    Numb, Abigail nodded slightly as she stood in her lace and high heels. Now she knew what these men were all about. Maybe it wouldn’t feel as sweet as it did when Patrick was inside her, but that was only an illusion, and she could be Mistress Serena’s girl given the chance and somehow look at herself in the morning with a small measure of pride.
    Because she wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking that she could love one of them again.
    Out on the floor, lips smacked around cocks, and the girls drank their men down hungrily. Mariah paused in a dark corner when she saw her friend moving through the throng, and when Abigail started to go to her side, Mariah was turned back by a loud laugh attached to a beefy frame that wanted only her brand of blowjob. She disappeared into the shadows, and as Abigail felt completely on her own, she lifted a drink from a passing tray, downed it in a single gulp, and sank into one of the booths to just wait.
    Where was Patrick now? He had stopped banging on her door, and as her eyes scanned the club, she wondered if he had taken his talents to another haunt in hope of finding a student more worthy of his instructions. It wasn’t her. She had let him down; she never should have run.
    And he wasn’t coming back.
    “Well look who turned up?”
    Abigail’s body cringed as she recognized the voice, and her eyes turned to the sight of Walter Ross glaring down at her as he twisted her limp hair around his cold finger.