Page 118 of Breaking the Mold
Somewhere across the room, his cellphone rang in his pants, and I sighed, closing my eyes and ready to ignore it. The weekend had been perfect, and I wasn’t ready to let the real world back in. I should have made him keep his ringer off for longer, but he hadn’t wanted to fall asleep and risk not setting his alarm for work the next day.
I peppered gentle kisses down the curve of Smith’s neck as I took his time working loose the knots around his wrists. Whoever was calling would call back if it was important, I thought, and then Smith’s phone blessedly went silent… but immediately started to ring again.
“Sounds important,” I muttered, climbing off the bed to get his phone from the pile of clothes on the floor.
“Sounds annoying.”
I swiped to accept the call and put his phone on speaker dropping it on top of his chest as I set to work with the knots on his other wrist.
“Hello?” Smith greeted, still bound and unable to look up and see the caller ID. I hadn’t bothered paying attention, more focused on alleviating his worries over the phone call and how they aligned with me getting him out of bondage.
The other end of the line clicked with static and a series of beeps and then it was automated voice coming through thespeaker, cut off at the start, “collect call from the Los Angeles County Sheriff. Do you accept the charges?”
“What the fuck?” Smith yanked his hand, still a little too tangled in the ropes to be useful. “I accept. Yes, I accept.”
There was another beep, then a tired sigh.
“Smith,” a voice said, uncertain to me but still familiar. “It’s Finn. Can you come and pick me up please?”
