“And now you know. I will punish you if you lie to me. If you disobey me. If you make a bad choice.”
Beach nodded, swallowing back the instinctive no.
“If it’s something you really don’t want, you can always use your safeword. Or we can talk about it.”
Tai’s matter-of-fact tone, the very rationality of those words, made the want turn to an ache. No. No choices. Beach would always pick wrong. He couldn’t meet Tai’s eyes anymore.
“Are you afraid of me?” Tai’s voice had softened to the tone he used to reassure Jez. Still deep and resonant, a sound Beach could almost touch and wrap himself in.
He let out a shaky breath.
“David? I need you to tell me the truth.”
Beach glanced up. A hint of hesitation flickered in Tai’s eyes.
“The truth?” Beach echoed and inhaled deeply. “No. Not at all. I only need to look at Jez to know you wouldn’t—” The breath deserted him. “—hurt me. It’s me I’m afraid of. I want things—need things that—I don’t understand how I could want this.”
“Because you’re a submissive.”
The answer settled over Beach solid as a stone, the safe drop of an anchor, ripples spreading the knowledge through him. But how could that be when his wants had always come first? When he hated to trade the wind in his face for a harbor?
Beach bent forward, bracing the weight of his head on elbows dug into thighs.
“If you’re not ready to deal with that, it’s okay,” Tai said in the same soft tone.
Pain shot down Beach’s shin from the pressure of his elbow, and he jerked back up. “So what? That’s it?” His pulse skipped and then pounded. He couldn’t taste this, start to understand and feel how deep it ran in him, only to have it disappear. “Because I don’t know how to do it?”
“No. I didn’t say that. I don’t mind that you’re new to it.”
“I’ve delivered plenty of it-was-wonderful-but-no-thanks speeches in my life. I can hear one coming from miles away. But I’d appreciate it if you give me an honest answer why.”
Tai reached across the space between them on the couch, but his fingers only grazed the tips of Beach’s hair. The brief contact made blood flush and burn under his skin until it felt too tight, throbbing in his fingers, his sore shin, squeezing at the stretch across his ribs, his back.
He tried to roll his ankles, but the pop wouldn’t come. All he had was a stupid, cursed, impossible need, wanting another man to control him. And the truth was Beach didn’t have what it took to please him, and he’d never have that feeling again, the incredible high from nothing more than Tai murmuring Good boy as he cupped Beach’s chin.
“It’s not a brush-off, Da—Beach. But you have to understand this is who I am. It’s not only how I fuck. And I can’t accept a game where you pretend I’m making you do things you don’t want.”
A light. A tiny crack. Beach could fit through that. It was what he was good at. “I don’t want to pretend that.” He meant it. In those moments when Tai was in control, he wanted everything Tai gave him. The problems happened when Beach had too much time to think.
“Okay. We can give it a try. You understand I expect you to obey me.”
“Yes, Sir.”
In any other situation, that would have come out of Beach’s mouth with either sarcasm or flirtation, a wink and a salute. But there was nothing to ridicule in the way it felt to offer the respect Tai commanded.
“Will you… punish me now?” Beach still stumbled over that word. It launched a war between hunger and revulsion, fear and need inside, deep in the pit of his stomach.
Tai cupped Beach’s chin, and the echo of it tingled in his balls. “What did you do to earn it?”
“I freaked out.” Beach could admit it now, see how out of control he’d been.
“You get to freak out. But you need to tell me why, what you’re feeling next time.” Beach nodded, and Tai tightened his grip.
“Yes, Sir,” Beach said out loud.
“But I did tell you to do something you didn’t do.” Tai released him and stood.
Beach usually had a good reason for not following a rule, so when he broke one, he knew why, but he couldn’t track what Tai was talking about.
Tai lifted the plates and glasses from the coffee table. “I told you to eat and drink.” Beach eyed the cold eggs on his plate. Now that the sickening drop sensation was gone, he was hungry.
Tai took the plates into the kitchen, leaving Beach to listen to the sounds of scraping and washing and the nasal hum of the microwave. Jez rolled to one side, angling her head to watch, but whatever was in the microwave didn’t appeal to her since her head lolled back. With the angle of the couch and wall cutting off Beach’s view, he focused on the sounds: the refrigerator door opening, the processor humming in compensation, a knife hitting wood as it sliced through something. He didn’t offer to help, didn’t move, reluctant to do anything in case it was something that would make Tai send him away.
After the microwave dinged, Tai came back in with the plate of newly steaming eggs, plus slices of cheese and orange and a glass of water.
He put them on the coffee table. Beach wanted to show he was following directions now, so he reached for the plate. The side with the eggs burned his fingers, and he jerked them back. Where was the fork?
“No,” Tai said. “Don’t anticipate.” He picked up Beach’s hand and brushed a kiss across the fingertips. “Just be here.”
The contact made it easier, but Beach’s mind was still chasing after questions, possibilities. When it was sex, there was a direction in mind, however they got there. But with their clothes on, Beach was lost.
Tai kissed Beach’s fingers again and released his hand. “Now. When we’re together, there are consequences for your behavior. Not for your feelings. There are good consequences and bad consequences.”
“Punishment,” Beach blurted, his eyes shooting a glance at the plate of food.
“And rewards. But you need to understand both come directly from your actions. What are we addressing now?”
“You told me to eat and drink, and I didn’t.”
“You will take better care of your body, David.”
“Yes, Sir.” Beach shifted on the couch. His dick wasn’t ready for another round, but the electricity he had always associated with impending wood was shimmering through him, heating his skin like a quick shot of bourbon.
Tai lifted the plate from the coffee table. “Take off your shirt and sit in front of me.” He tapped the coffee table.
Beach stripped the cool silk and cotton off and folded it over the couch back. He was adventurous in food and sex, but combining the two wasn’t for him. He wasn’t interested in hiding the taste of his lover behind a flavored syrup, and the resulting mess wasn’t worth it.
“Don’t anticipate. Just do what I tell you.” Tai’s voice went deeper, and Beach dropped his ass on the warm spot on the coffee table. “Put your hands under your thighs.”
Beach tucked his hands away, swallowing back reluctance. He didn’t know what to expect, but this didn’t seem like Tai, humiliating Beach by putting the food he didn’t eat on his body.
Pain stung his ear. He jerked out of his thoughts. Tai had flicked his nail against the cartilage at the top.
“Focus on me. Turn off your head.” Tai picked up a slice of cheese. “Open your mouth.”
“Like the dog?” Beach asked.
“Do you feel like a dog?”
“No.” The cheese had come close enough to smell. Sweet and nutty, like a Gouda. Beach’s mouth watered, and he opened it. God, he was hungry.
Tai arched his brow, the cheese still between his fingers. Waiting.
Beach licked his lips and forced another swallow down his throat. “No, Sir.”
“Good.”
Beach opened his mouth, and Tai put the bite-sized piece on his tongue.
Beach had been to a Dutch dairy farm, and this surpassed the best piece of Gou
da he’d ever had. He chewed, taste and texture incredibly strong.
After Beach swallowed, Tai said, “Open.”
Beach didn’t feel at all like a dog or a child. His senses were alive, sharp. He could see tiny variations of the dark brown of Tai’s irises, the hair-thin lines at the corners of his eyes as he leaned in. A sigh from the sleeping dog filled Beach’s ears before fading to let in the sounds from the street under the window. Every bite of cheese exploded with rich flavor on his tongue.
Beach loved parties. There was always that one perfect moment, the right mix of people who had come and gone, the right level of alcohol, the right song, one moment of absolute perfection. Beach always knew when it hit, knew nothing would match it and it was time to go.
There had already been so many of those moments with Tai. A sharp conviction that this was the moment he’d remember but could never recapture. And then it went on. Building. Dizzying.
“I’ll hold the orange slice for you. You suck the flesh off.”
It was awkward, and he’d pulled a hand free for an instant before he tucked it back. Tai feeding him the cheese had been sensual. This was control.
Beach bit into the membrane, felt the individual pockets of juice burst into his mouth, sucked and tugged. Sticky juice ran from his lips and over his chin as Tai pulled the rind away.
He wiped Beach’s jaw with a thumb before following with a warm kiss. “Very good.” Tai picked up some of the eggs.
When Beach opened his mouth, Tai said, “No. You’re anticipating again.” He held the eggs on his palm, chin level. “Take it out of my hand.”
Beach wasn’t sure he was still in control of his own movements. He was aware of every sensation, but it was like someone else had slipped into his skin. This must be what it’s like under hypnosis. His head dropped enough for his mouth to reach Tai’s palm, for his tongue and lips and teeth to nuzzle up the bits of scrambled egg from among the calluses, the valleys between his fingers. The egg was gone, but Beach kept licking the skin.
“God, David. That’s….” Tai’s hand moved to cup Beach’s cheek. “So good.”
The kiss that followed was hard at first, shocking Beach out of his daze. He wasn’t sure if it was allowed, but his hands slipped free and grabbed Tai’s shoulders for balance as he opened his mouth to Tai’s tongue.
Beach had been entirely mistaken about mixing food and sex. Or maybe he’d gone about it the wrong way. Even a two-hundred-dollar mouthful of white winter truffles couldn’t be as amazing as this.
Tai pulled back, still stroking Beach’s face.
“If that was punishment, I think I will be very naughty.”
Tai pressed his forehead into Beach’s. “From what I’ve seen, that’s your default setting.”
Chapter Nine
THE KEY to having a good time was knowing when to leave the party. Beach knew all the signs. And they were there. He just didn’t want to go.
There hadn’t been any of that sub drop after Tai fed him eggs and cheese and fruit from his hand. They kissed, Tai pulling Beach toward him until he was straddling Tai’s knee. The making out became more about holding each other, and when Jez nudged at Tai’s leg, the last sign lit up. Not just neon. Tai went for a billboard-sized LCD display. No way to misunderstand.
With a sigh, he eased Beach off his lap. “David. I want you to go home now.”
Beach wasn’t unfamiliar with an abrupt end to an interlude. He’d been given the number to call a cab, sent out for coffee to find no one there when he got back, and once been handed his clothes while he was standing on the front step. Though that one was his fault. He had gotten the sisters’ names mixed up.
Those dismissals had been easy to shrug off. Not this. He stared down at the silk weave of his shirt and rubbed it between his fingers. Nothing. He’d gone numb from the neck down. Full weight on his bad leg didn’t bother him at all, as he didn’t really know the floor was there. Still, the muscles all took signals from the brain, put him on his two feet, pulled the shirt over his head, got his shoes back on.
When Tai caught Beach’s chin, he didn’t feel that either. Numb all over, then. “Listen. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Beach understood the words, but they didn’t seem to fit inside his head.
Tai brushed his thumb across Beach’s lips. “You were perfect.” The soft voice threatened to melt the numbness in a way Beach didn’t want to stick around to deal with.
“Thanks.”
“You need to spend some time away from me to think about this.”
This? What was this? “Being submissive?”
Tai’s fingers tightened on Beach’s jaw, and for an instant he thought Tai would kiss him again.
“Being my submissive.”
“Oh.”
“There are things we should have talked about, limits, expectations, but—” Tai tapped Beach’s lips, then released him. “—we seem to be more about doing than talking. There’s a checklist.”
Now that Beach’s body appeared to have shaken off the numbness, his brain was going. “A checklist?”
“About things you might want to try or that are absolutely off-limits. I’ll email it. I want you to fill it out at home so I don’t influence you.”
“How delightful. Homework. Though I must say that sort of assignment would have done wonders for my grade point average back in school.”
Tai’s eyebrows came to a sharp point on his forehead. “Don’t be a brat.” He reached into his back pocket. “Here.”
Instinctively Beach held out his hand, and the cuffs slapped into his palm with a light sting. He closed his fingers around the pain and the leather.
“In case you get bored,” Tai added. “I’ll call you Monday.”
“Monday?” Surprise forced a humiliating supplication out of him.
Tai nodded. “Don’t forget to set up a physical therapy appointment. And stay out of trouble.”
THE HEAVY, hot air bounced off the water, reeking of marine diesel and decaying seagrass as Beach left the pavement for the dock at the marina. The shift in his footing made him lean on the cane for a step or two, and then he was able to move with the bounce and sway. Saturday afternoon of a holiday weekend, most of the slips were empty, except for the one with his sport cruiser the Fancy Nancy.
The judge and the damned all-seeing monitor might keep him from taking the Nancy out, but he could at least stand on the deck and pretend to be bouncing over the waves on his way to anyplace but here.
Damn his leg and caution and probation. He vaulted over the gunwale.
The shock of landing sent a steel blade through his shinbone, pain to make him sweat and almost drop to the deck. Hell. What if he’d rebroken it? He squeezed his eyes tight, fighting the waves of nausea. He slapped his hands on the aft bench, the cane clattering onto the fiberglass before spinning out onto the swim deck.
One wave, one wrong shift of weight, would send it rolling into the bay. And that would be a hellish crawl back to the car, assuming he hadn’t snapped the damned bone again. His eyes were still slits, focused on the gleaming black cane against the teak, his breath shallow, whistling between clenched teeth.
How the holy hell did these things happen to him? A curse on the Beauchamp line? The sins of the father being visited on the son? He shuddered through another stabbing bout of pain. The longer he waited, the more likely it was a wake or wave would tip the cane into the water. The polished wood should float, but the steel finishing might drag it down, and Beach didn’t fancy a swim in the brackish water.
As the sweat dripped off the end of his nose, Tai’s voice, his Sir voice, rumbled in Beach’s mind. Breathe, David.
Picturing Tai standing there, wishing for a touch to make it easier, Beach forced his jaw to relax and drew in a long, deep breath. It didn’t move the cane any closer or stop his leg from feeling like a demonic version of Jez was chewing on the bone, but after a second slow breath, the tight panicky edge faded. Imagining Tai watching, aching to s
how he could do something as basic as stand on his own damned boat without disaster, Beach blew the air back out and balanced on his good leg while stretching over the bench and bow. His fingers brushed, then latched on to the shaft. He snatched it up, straightening and brandishing it over his head.
“Aha!”
Imaginary Tai only folded his arms. Perhaps if Beach had been a little more impressive—
You were very good, David.
—he’d still be there at Tai’s apartment, discovering what else it meant to be… a submissive. Tai’s submissive.
“Ahoy, the Fancy Nancy.”
Beach swung the cane tip down to the deck and looked starboard. A thirty-foot Sea Ray at idle approached. Shading his eyes and squinting, he made out the waving figure from the flybridge. Clayton Earnshaw. Beach supposed it was too late to take that dive overboard.
“Ahoy.”
“Need a hand?” Clayton dropped the idle lower.
“No. Everything’s fine.”
“Okay. You were waving like you were sinking.”
“No.” Just waving at an imaginary Dominant. “Saw you coming.”
“Has been awhile. Let me tie her up. Unless you were headed out.”
“No.” Definitely not as long as he was shackled to Baltimore County.
“Right.”
Beach calculated the time necessary for his long hobble out to the car versus Clayton berthing his boat and came up with a dead heat. Hardly worth the effort. Especially when there was nothing to run to.
Not with Tai making Beach wait until Monday. What was wrong with tonight, or tomorrow?
Beach took advantage of the few minutes to make his awkward way off the Nancy without Earnshaw’s questions or feigned concern. Feeling like a feeble geriatric, Beach used the ladders to climb back onto the main dock.
When Clayton came striding up a moment later, Beach was ready with a distraction. “What are you doing up from Charleston? Figured you’d be doing the holiday with the clan.”
“Had enough holidaying with the clan on Carolina Day.”
Bad Behavior Page 12