The Book Boyfriend

Chapter 3

“What did you say your favorite genre was again?” I ask the 30 something dye assisted red head laying in my bed. I guess I’m running my own Cinderella story.

She flashes a smile, rolling over to her side to balance with her elbow. I always wondered what it would’ve felt like for the Prince to travel foot to foot, all the while knowing, he may have danced his final waltz with his mysteriously perfect partner at that ball. “I always wondered how the prince feels,” slips out too quickly for me to catch it and slide it back in without notice.

“I don’t really know if I can choose,” she snorts out tucking her a few strands of loose hair behind her ear. “I just really love books with humor— and, uhm who doesn’t love a tragic hero, right?” I take in the deepest breath of my adult life before releasing the slowest sigh.

“Yeah. Who doesn’t like a good tragic hero.” I mutter begrudgingly but she seems to think me seething is part of some grand act of playful rebellion… but after Ana throwing those reviews of the latest chapters the criticism really starts to eat at me. I’ll bite.

“So you’re likely a Knights reader?” I ask with smug agitation.

“Yes.” The red head now looking a burnt orange the way the lamp light covers her. Still propped up on her elbow she drops her chin almost as if to let me know she is ready to submit. “I— n.. noticed your library collection when I came in. To be fair, I did notice you at the book store checking out at the counter. I knew anyone who read vampire diaries had to be a Knight or a Daysey.” She’s being playful. Knights and Daisy’s are how the fandom affectionately refer to themselves. And, I hate Vampire Diaries. Truth.

“I just have the one book.” I exhale slowly while pulling her gently overtop me. “There is something I find rather satisfying about Sir Damon’s use of— well, a well worn tongue,” also truth.

“Ohh so you haven’t read past the first book?! There’s a whole series, and the writer just announced that she was going to end it but I really don’t think she’s ready to.” She?! Not the first time I’ve heard that assumption but it still takes me by surprise.

“Actually I just bought the final book,” A lie, obviously. “I was hoping to find someone who enjoyed the series truthfully to help me feel the story out a little better. Call it mommy issues, but I like being read to.” Another truth. “Plus I heard this was the last of the series.”

I reach over to grab the book off of my shelf.

Knights To Remember: Make Them Forget

“Then I can be mommy — and we can ride this out together.” Forced. She slides her hand down my chest, tearing my shirt open like an over eager kitten.

I don’t know if it’s the irritation building to a boiling point but I reach up and wrap my fingers around her throat. Taking her chin resting just between my thumb and forefinger. “My mommy issues left me with an insatiable urge for control,” I whisper to try to measure my breathing.

She blushes, her eyes going hazy, almost lazy, as she struggles to find focus wanting to see what comes next but unable to get there. That was far too easy. This will be no fun— well, not as much as the other night. I need to forget the other night. Time to switch to the other rumination clouding my mind at this present moment.

The entire last page?! “I just wanted to let you reread this, since y’know— authors can sometimes not go back and read their work. Especially writers working with large publications like yourself with Knights but all of those voices on a project, it gets easy to feel like you need to rush to completion. But what’s complete for you truly? This doesn’t sound like it,” signed anonymous_always.

The first draft feel of the book in my hand and the lace on my stomach brings me quickly back into the moment. “It’s been a while— I’ve needed… this.” She moans softly drooling on my hand slightly.

I move her face to meet my eyes so I can ensure she hears me when I say, “you’ll never understand how much I have too. But that’s the last sweet nothing you get,” before she’s on her back with her legs wrapped loosely enough around me to play a little.

She whispers out “please. Daddy please... Please!” Begging in just the softest voice you’ve heard. I hate being called ‘Daddy’, those issues run deeper than my mommy issues if I’m being honest with myself. This isn’t about me. She’s here for something toxically specific.

I plan to give her every last inch, and hopefully learn how to walk away from this thing clean. “It turns out I can absorb the story better if you read it to me. I can hear where the pauses are supposed to be naturally. It helps sell me on— larger more established fandoms.” Her eyes get wide and I pull myself back just a bit and grab my handcuffs off the nightstand next to the bed. Everything in this house— hard… maple.

“It is such a very large fandom. Mhm.” She regurgitates, her mind slowly leaving her body to enjoy pure bliss. Not yet.

I can feel her ocean slowly falling down my leg so I open the book to the final page and place it in her hands locked between two furry pink bracelets. “Fuck, you’re just the prettiest little bookend aren’t you?” She goes to agree, but I cut her off. “See, opening that hot little mouth of yours is the only disqualifier.” I say to her as I slip my head now between her legs and just before I ask her to begin. “Well, unless I could mount you on my bookcase and— if you can read to me from our favorite books. Let’s play pretend for the night.”

Consent is very important to me so we go over the rules again while she’s tied up. She agrees, then we begin.

“Sir Damon,” Daysey says her eyes glossed over from the hours of tears shed. These were not tears of sadness or anger so don’t you dare feel these emotions, no. These tears came from being pleased in only a way that Sir Damon could ever truly. She was his, but he wasn’t hers— and that was okay, for now.”

“But is it okay for now?!” Shit. The thoughts meant for private a viewership only have slipped from between my lips with a swift intention.

She’s doesn’t notice that wasn’t intentional— but it is a sign I’m losing control. Before I can get myself adjusted my hand is back around her throat.

“‘This isn’t fair,’ Lady Daisy pouts” dye be damned!

I can’t help but find myself deep in further intrigue, so I prod a little. “That’s no way for a lady to behave. Is it?” I stare deeply into the bridge of her nose. I refuse to make eye contact under these circumstances.

“No, sir.” She moans out pathetically and honestly I know she’s close to passing out.

Alright, maybe the story isn’t over as long as I still have chains holding me.

I scan slowly— the redhead still bound and reading to me.

*I should gag her too*

It’s the chains we wear inside that often linger the longest.