by L. DuBois
“And you had a legitimately terrible childhood and overcompensated as an adult by trying to control everything. Therapy helped you deal with most of it, but you still like dominating women in the bedroom.”
“You’re oversimplifying it,” he warned.
“Am I? Or is it my turn to help you see what’s really going on in your head?”
“I shouldn’t have…I don’t talk about this with my subs.”
“Your sub? Back it up, blue eyes.” She rose, stalking towards him, putting herself within arm’s reach. “I’m not yours.”
He inhaled, eyes wide, nostrils flaring.
“Ohhh, don’t like that, do you?” She smirked at him.
“Watch it, lover.”
“Listen to me, Sir.” She used the term to get his attention. “You’re not a Dom because of some genetic predisposition to use and hurt people. You’re a Dom because being in control is the only way you can be sure you’ll be able to protect me.”
She’d meant to say “protect them.” Protect subs in general. She swallowed hard and brazened through it.
“If all you’d wanted was a willing body, you wouldn’t have come after me. Wouldn’t have sat with me outside, and talked to me. Helped me see that it was fear not hypocrisy at the root of my issue.”
For the first time he looked uncomfortable, turning his head away. Autumn reached up and cupped his cheek, forcing him to face her.
“You, Daniel Randall, are a protector. You’re a good man. ”
“If I was—”
“Don’t finish that sentence, because if you say something stupid like ‘if I were good I wouldn’t enjoy giving boob hickies’ I’m going to toss my wine in your face.”
He snorted in startled amusement.
“And if you’re broken for being a sadist, then the other side of that coin is that I must be just as broken to be a masochist. But you already told me that I’m not broken. Are you going to contradict yourself?”
“I think that’s a logical fallacy.”
Autumn dropped her hands from his face, wrapping them around his waist and laying her head on his shoulder. “You’ve always been a protector. And if that need to protect means you’re controlling in the bedroom, well then I guess the ways we’re fucked up, the ways we’re wounded, somehow match.”
His arms came around her, his cheek resting on her hair.
They stayed that way, just holding one another, for a long time.
“You need a rug. The floor is hard.” Daniel tipped his head back against the seat of the sofa so he was looking at her.
“Normally people don’t sit on the floor.” Autumn held up a piece of melon. He opened his mouth and she popped it in.
It was nearly 3a.m. but she wasn’t tired. Neither, apparently, was Daniel. About an hour ago they’d both gotten hungry, so she’d made a quick tray of fruit, crackers, and cheese. When they brought it to the couch, rather than sitting beside her, he’d opted for the floor.
His waistcoat was with his jacket, draped over one of the counter chairs. His tie hung loose around his neck.
For the past few hours they’d talked. About their jobs—hers in the world of finance, his as a forensic accountant, and one of the go-to expert witnesses for the Justice Department. He couldn’t talk about many of his cases, since there were gag orders in place, but he told her what he could.
They had a funny moment when they realized that if Autumn did ever decide to turn to a life of crime, it would probably be someone like Daniel the Feds brought in to look at her financial records.
She’d had a brief interrogation/prison role play fantasy, but was keeping that to herself for now.
They’d talked about college and their best friends, which had led to her remembering to text Summer that she was still alive and that she had in fact brought Daniel home with her.
They talked about their favorite restaurants and movies. Their hobbies—she crocheted, which had made him laugh, but she knew it wasn’t at her, rather because it was so unexpected.
He surfed and was teaching himself guitar. She’d launched into a long diatribe on how he was basically a walking young adult novel hero. Handsome, protective, wealthy, with two sexy hobbies and a tragic past.
He’d laughed so hard he inhaled wine and she had to pound on his back.
Now the conversation had died down, settling into a companionable silence.
“What are you thinking about?” She slid her hand through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp, which he seemed to like.
“You.”
“Aww, that’s cute, but we’re pretty well past the point where we need cute pickup lines.”
Daniel rolled onto his knees, turning to face her. “It wasn’t a line.”
“All right…what about me?”
“I was thinking that you’re probably going to panic a little when our first official date turns in to me topping you in the bedroom.”
She froze, every muscle in her body tensing. The languid warmth of their companionship turned into something else. Raw, hot need. It terrified her.
“Probably,” she agreed, sounding a little breathless.
Daniel scooted closer, his hips against the front of the couch. He reached out, planting his hands on either side of her shoulders. She had her legs curled up to the side, mermaid style, so she was now trapped. “Your trauma is more recent than mine.”
“Having two boyfriends react shittily to my kink isn’t even in the same league as what you—”
He shook his head, cutting her off with a decisive, “No. We don’t qualify or compare trauma.”
“You’re right.” She shook her hair back. “So if you’re going to top me after our date, are you going to wind up in a guilt/shame spiral when you leave marks on my ass?”
“You do remember that I have no problem marking you…or punishing you.”
She hummed in acknowledgment.
“Imagining your ass with a handprint mark on it isn’t making me feel bad, or guilty.”
“What is it making you feel?” she murmured.
He leaned in, gaze traveling down her face to her cleavage. “It’s making me feel like turning you over my knee right here. Right now.”
Yes. Oh yes, touch me. Spank me.
“Nope,” she gasped, surprising herself. But as hot as this conversation was, this felt like a date, and her instincts were screaming at her not to let it veer into BDSM territory.
“We’re…we’re in the living room and we were just having a nice night and, and…”
“Calm down, lover.” He dropped his hands. “We’ll set limits. You only want to play when we’re physically in the bedroom? We can do that. We can have rules. A signal.”
“Wait, wait, are we doing this?” She gestured between them. “Are we…dating? Are we going to apply to be a bonded pair at the club?” It was the term Las Palmas used to cover partners who had a formal relationship. It was an umbrella term that included collaring and a few other things.
“I could say something like, ‘Do you believe in soul mates?’ Or ‘Do you think it’s possible to fall in love with someone after only a day?’ But you said no cheesy pickup lines, so I won’t say either of those things.”
“This might end badly,” she warned.
“It might. Or maybe we’ll die together side by side when we’re ninety.”
Autumn threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. It was an awkward embrace, with him bent over while he was still kneeling on the floor. It didn’t matter. She just needed to hold him.
“This is terrifying,” she murmured, “because if it doesn’t work…”
“We’ll break each other’s hearts.” Daniel slid his hands under her ass, and hauled her off the couch so she was sitting astride his legs. “If it happens, it happens. But neither of us is afraid of a little pain.”
She looked into his eyes, and realized she would rather risk her heart for the chance to love, and be loved by, this man. Maybe he’d turn out to be like Mik
e, and start expecting her to be submissive in all aspects of life. Or find her needs boring after a while. From him, those attitudes would hurt far worse than it had with her other exes.
She would take that risk, for him.
With him.
Autumn shook her hair off her shoulders.
“Well, I’m not afraid. But I’m a masochist.” She raised her brows and gave him a once over—not that she could see much of him, seated on his lap. “Maybe you dish it out, but can’t take it.”
“Ohh, are you calling me a pussy?”
“No, because pussies are tough. I’m calling you a…a scrotum maybe?”
Daniel threw back his head and laughed. The sound vibrated her whole body. When he stopped laughing and looked at her with that amazing smile, she tumbled that last little bit. Falling wholly and fearlessly in love.
“I almost forgot to tell you my idea. How we get around you’re not wanting to tell men you date you’re submissive,” he said.
“Pretty sure that ship sailed.”
“Play along.” With an impressive show of strength he grabbed her waist and lifted her back onto the couch. Then he rose to his feet. As she watched, he rebuttoned his collar, while walking to the big glass wall, which he then used as a mirror to retie his tie.
When he turned back, he was no longer just Daniel, the man who’d sat on her floor and talked to her for hours. Or Daniel the man who’d sat on wet grass to listen to her shameful feelings.
This was the Daniel who’d mercilessly worked her body. Who’d demanded her submission, and rewarded her with pleasure and pain.
He stopped in front of her and cleared his throat. “Autumn, as you know we’ve been dating for several months now, but haven’t slept together.”
She smirked. “A bit of an info dump, but okay, I’ll play along.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, and you’re a wonderful boyfriend, Daniel.”
“And we’re definitely attracted to one another.”
“Oh yes, and we’ve had some good heavy petting make-out sessions.”
He mock-glared at her, which made her lips twitch.
“The reason,” he went on, “that we haven’t slept together, is that there’s something I need to tell you.”
Autumn studied his face, trying to figure out where he was going with this.
“I enjoy…no, need...to engage in a type of sex that you might find alarming.”
She raised her brows as she realized what he was doing. He was flipping the script, as she had.
“Is it butt stuff?” she asked with mock concern.
“Actually, it is. But I’m not just talking about anal sex.” He stalked closer, reached up, and started to undo the tie he’d just knotted. “I’m a sexual dominant. That means I like to be in charge in the bedroom. It means I’d like to tie you up so you’re helpless, and then touch you. Touch every inch of you, however I want.”
He jerked the tie free of his shirt collar. She licked her upper lip.
“And it’s a little more than that. I like all the letters in BDSM, not just the D/s. That means I want to do kinky, taboo things to you.”
“Things like what?” Her nipples were hard inside her bra and her pussy was wet.
Daniel smirked, clearly having noticed her sudden fidgets.
“Like spanking you.”
“Because I was bad?”
“Maybe. Sometimes I’ll spank you just because I want to. I’ll use more than my hand. Maybe I’ll paddle your ass, or use a flogger.”
Autumn clenched her teeth, but that didn’t silence her moan of mingled arousal and need.
“And I’ll spank more than just your very nice ass.” He grabbed one end of the tie in each fist, snapping it taut.
She watched his hands, as if hypnotized, as he began to wind the tie around his palm.
“I’m telling you this, because I’m hoping you’d be interested in trying this with me. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. If you’re not sure what I’m talking about, I can send you links, articles you can read about BDSM, and all its various iterations.”
The length of the tie was wrapped around his left fist. He used his right hand to roll up his left shirt cuff. Damn he had sexy forearms.
“If you don’t want—”
Autumn jumped to her feet, standing on the couch. “Yes.”
“Yes?” he asked.
“Yes, I want to try.” She shook her head. “No more role play, you know I want this.”
“I know, but I wanted to give you a chance to be the one who was asked, rather than having to do the asking.”
“Bring that sexy forearm over here and kiss me.”
Daniel took two big steps, and wrapped his arms around her ass. She hooked her legs around his waist, cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him.
Their first kiss. A kiss between two people who knew each other. Who in less than forty-eight hours had shared more than some couples ever managed.
She kissed him like she trusted him, and she did with both her body and soul.
Kissed him with everything she had. With all the passion and desire and hope she had to offer.
Kissed him as a promise, a pledge, to give him everything. To be his partner, his lover, his submissive.
Kissed him like she loved him, because she did.
Epilogue
“What about O?” Mikel asked.
Leo glanced at the blank checklist on the table considering the items on the list that began with that letter. O included orgasm denial. He looked at Gabriela.
The four of them had created Las Palmas together, and while technically himself, Mikel, and Faith were the overseers, Gabriela, his wife, lover, and bonded submissive, was an equal partner in the ownership of Las Palmas.
Leo looked up. “Mikel, can you look in that drawer and see if there’s a spare butterfly vibrator?”
Leo felt it when Gabriela glanced at him. Mikel’s lips twitched, and he reached back to open one of the many cabinet drawers.
This office was the least elegant room in the club. It was where they kept all the paperwork, sorted mail, and also where they kept overflow stock of the sex toys they bought by the case.
Mikel pulled out a flat package with the picture of a purple butterfly and an artistic silhouette of a woman’s hips.
Leo accepted it, and without looking at Gabriela said, “Strip.”
Without protest, she stood and stripped off the leggings and t-shirt she wore, with nothing on underneath. He’d spanked her several times already, just because he could, because she liked it, and because though they rarely played out in public on weekends when the club was full, she did enjoy being put on display.
“Mikel, will you work her nipples for me?” Leo asked casually.
Gabriela barely managed to hold back a moan. She couldn’t stop her nipples from hardening in response to his order.
Mikel scooted back and tugged her down onto his lap. Gabriela obediently spread her legs. Mikel brought her arms together behind her, then made her lie back against him, her arms between their bodies arching her back up, her breasts lifted.
Mikel cruelly flicked her nipples, eliciting little hisses of pain.
Leo watched attentively even as he accepted the package of baby wipes Faith handed him and started to clean the new toy.
“O,” Faith said. “Anyone have any strong opinions?”
“Outdoor, Orgasm, Oral.” Mikel punctuated each word with a pinch or twist to Gabby’s tits.
Leo rose from his chair only to kneel and slide the two loops of elastic over Gabby’s feet. When he had them to her knees he nodded to Mikel, who pushed her up.
He slid the bands up to her hips. The small, curved purple vibrator rested on her vulva. He spread her pussy lips, and nestled the vibrator in place over her clit.
With a casual pat to her pussy, he resumed his seat. “Clothes on,” he ordered.
He waited until she had her leggings halfway up her legs before he flicked the control, turning the vibrator o
n. She nearly stumbled, and shot him a dirty look.
He raised one brow, that small gesture promising punishment.
“The question is, who do we think will put on a good show?” Faith asked.
“Who will craft an outdoor orgasm denial scene so depraved and torturous that every sub in the club will be terrified they’re next?” Mikel added.
“Edge,” Gabriela gasped.
Leo turned the vibrator off.
“Damn it,” she moaned.
Leo looked at the membership files spread out on the table. He considered what his friends had said, then picked one up, holding it aloft.
“What do you think?”
Faith nodded. Mikel grinned.
Leo turned the vibrator back on, and looked at his wife. “You don’t have permission to come.”
He knew she hated orgasm denial, but hated it in the way of a submissive. Where she hated it, but responded beautifully to it.
He selected a second file. This one belonged to a submissive who most likely would not respond as obediently to the frustration of denial.
Faith nodded in approval, stacked the files together, and went to write the names under the letter O.
Beside him, Gabriela hissed. “Edge.”
Leo turned the vibrator off, and smiled.
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