Page 3 of Not Just a Trick Play

“Wait!” My voice ekes out, a scratchy whisper. Hours and hours of yelling for help will do that.

I struggle to get up, grunting when my chafed skin rubs against the cuffs anchoring my wrists to the headboard. No fucking way am I staying stuck here, butt-naked and bound, any longer. Who knows when someone else’ll come along? Plus, I’m dying to piss, and it’s been close to twenty-five years since I wet a bed.

“Lady, hold on! Where are you?—”

A thump, then, “Oof!”

Shit, she’s tripped on something. I crane my neck. A suitcase?

She flips onto her butt, hands braced on the ground by her hips. The hem of her gray tank top has ridden up, exposing an inch of skin. In her winded silence, I’m able to get my words through. “Wait, please! Help me! I’m not supposed to be here!”

She scrambles to her feet. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” A trembling British accent registers as she crosses her arms over her chest as if to shield herself, and she waits, poised to run at any moment.

She doesn’tlooklike a nutso, but the past few hours have proven that I’m a shitty judge of character. I scowl, and she retreats a step.

Shit. I draw in a lungful of air, forcing my body to relax and keep my tone as unthreatening as possible. “My name’s Jake. I was out at a bar, and a woman invited me over.”

And I accepted. Because I’m the genius who decided a short sequined dress, pillowy red lips, and a fuck ton of tequila was exactly what I needed to get out of this funk I’d been in.

“Here? Why?” Her voice is a high-pitched tremor. Blue eyes blink rapidly, a proverbial deer in the headlights, before stilling on my uncovered dick, widening, then snapping to my face.

I raise an eyebrow. Even if I weren’t lying here naked, trussed up like a holiday turkey waiting for the oven, it would be obvious.

She flutters her fingers at the traitorous body part responsible for this fiasco, keeping her eyes resolutely off it. “But, but how did you end up in such a state?”

She peers around again suspiciously. “Hold on, is this an adult movie set? Are you an…actor? Is this a prank of some sort? Am I on one of those hidden-camera shows where they record people’s reactions in absurd situations?”

A bark of unexpected laughter escapes me. Now why didn’t I think of that? Damn, I wish it was me getting punked. And that they’d yell “cut” already.

“No, this is not a porn set.” Each of my wrists is secured in a pink furry cuff, and the half-foot chain linking them is looped around the center rail of this wrought iron monstrosity. “We were making out, and then she cuffed me to the bed.”

“Buthow?”

I know what the lady in front of me is thinking. I’m six-foot-five and built like the professional football player that I am. “Well, she kind of asked me…” My voice trails off as I recall how Stella whipped the sheet off then stroked the swirly headboard, luring me into this mess.

At that, the woman’s expression shifts from wary to outright incredulity. “And you said yes?”

In the grand scheme of things, a little handcuff action barely registers as avant-garde on the kink-o-meter, and given the snoozefest life’s been since many of my teammates settled down to lives of domesticity, I figured, why not? No one’s ever going to say I’m not open to new experiences.

Her eyes flicker to my dick for a brief second, and then fix on a spot above my head. Normally, I’d be flattered, but right now, I want out of these cuffs. The bladder situation is dire.

“She took your clothes off?”

Well, that I kind of did myself.

“They’re on the ground, under the sheets somewhere.”

“And then you…?” Her cheeks flush in pure embarrassment, and I’m hit with an absurd urge to laugh.

“Oh, no.” We never even got to that portion of the night. Thank fuck. My jaw clenches. “She said something about changing.”

Idiot that I was, I spent those few minutes fantasizing about what type of sexy underwear she’d return in and eager to find out if we were kicking off the festivities with cowgirl or reverse cowgirl.

“And she justleftyou?”

I grunt. Err, no. She came back, fully dressed as she proceeded to put the keys to the handcuffs tauntingly right out of my reach on the nightstand, then took a pic with one hand all while biting into a muffin with the other. Meanwhile, I lay there, gaping like a fool.Then,she left. Not that this woman needs the full play-by-play.

It was a whole fucking set up, and I fell for it hook, line, and rubber duck. I knew that photo wasn’t a private affair once my phone started its nonstop buzzing somewhere on the damned floor.

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