by Lexi Blake
Chris groaned. “We have got to work on your self-esteem. Can I see your contract?”
“Oh, I think I left it at his place. I was kind of in a hurry to get out. I was lucky it was early in the morning because I didn’t bother to put on my shirt. He rolled over and I ran. I think I left my undies behind, too. Very classy of me.” What had she been so afraid of? Everything. It had been too intimate, too much. She’d felt too much and not knowing how he felt made her anxious. He might have felt nothing at all.
He’d probably had hundreds of women, and she was fairly certain she wouldn’t measure up. Her sex life had been boring for a woman who wrote about crazy bondage sex with up to six guys. It had taken them a while to figure out where to put hottie number six. The first five had been easy. Pussy, ass, mouth, and two hands. But that sixth had been a challenge. About two bottles of wine in, Chris had come up with boobs. Yeah, she’d been lucky her heroine wasn’t claustrophobic.
“And he hasn’t called or texted?” Serena asked.
“Nope.” She’d gotten nothing. She’d heard his door slam at eleven a.m. the day before and nothing from him since. She wasn’t going to admit to sitting and waiting for sounds from the hallway. She definitely wasn’t going to admit that she’d spied out her peephole at every creak of the floor. All she’d gotten to see was Mrs. Hannigan wheeling her groceries in and that girl old man Mussey said was his daughter, but Bridget really knew was a hooker because of her shoes. And the fact that she looked absolutely nothing like Mr. Mussey. And the fact that she’d watched the chick counting her cash one day. Bridget was fairly certain she overcharged since the “visits” never lasted more than twenty or thirty minutes.
She was totally going to end up like Mr. Mussey, hiring call boys so she had some kind of human connection. She wouldn’t even be able to say it was her son since she was never going to get married. She would have to call him her nephew or something. How pathetic. She couldn’t even get her future hooker right.
“Did we lose her?” Chris asked.
“She’s figuring out how dire her situation is.” Serena snapped her fingers. “Come out of the pity party. Here’s what you’re going to do. First, you’re going to write a letter of apology to your Dom for fleeing the scene of the crime. Then you’re going to make him dinner.”
“So you think I should kill him.” It would be an interesting way out of her embarrassment.
Serena huffed. “Brat. You can cook a little. You make a very nice enchilada bake. Do that and bake your chocolate chip cookies. Then you serve it to him naked.”
Chris gave the plan a thumbs-up. “All the easier for him to spank you, my dear. Because that is very likely happening.”
“It won’t save you, but it might—and I say might—put him in a better mood when he gets to the spanking part. So the sex was vanilla?” Serena asked.
There hadn’t been a particular kink to it, but something about the way Will had forced her to look into his eyes, made her talk about the sex, had been…a revelation. “It was intense. No bondage or spanking, but it was intense. It was like I couldn’t breathe without him. That sounds stupid, but for those few moments, I felt connected to him in a way I never have before.”
Serena pointed her way. “And that, my dear, is why you ran.”
Shit. She’d gotten scared and she’d run away so she wouldn’t have to face the fact that the next morning would have been a letdown. Or that he hadn’t felt the same, that it had all been one sided.
“I don’t know that it matters now.” His silence was answer enough. If he’d wanted to talk, even to yell at her, he would have shown up on her doorstep. Hell, she hadn’t even warranted a text telling her it had been nice, but see ya later, baby.
There was a knock on the door. A pounding really.
“Are you expecting someone?” Chris asked, getting to his feet. Despite his status as a big ol’ bottom, he tended to be very take-charge when his Dom wasn’t around and they were all alone. It probably had something to do with him having to watch she and Serena almost die once.
“No.” She let Chris do his thing. The building had a security guard, but it made Chris feel better to answer the door.
He stalked over and looked out the peephole. “Shit. Serena, I believe our afternoon is over. Get Tristan ready and I’ll take you home. Bridget, this one is for you.”
She stood. “Of course, it’s for me. It’s my condo.”
She threw open the door because Chris would have told her if it was someone scary.
Except he hadn’t.
Will stood in the doorway, his eyes red and his normally perfect clothes wrinkled. There was a scowl on his face and he held up her contract. “Did you bother to read this? Or did it mean so little to you that you left it behind along with your underwear. I threw those away since I amended our contract and you are no longer allowed the privilege of wearing them.”
She had to stop her jaw from dropping. “What? You amended our contract? Can you do that?” She looked back at Chris. “Can he do that?”
Chris shrugged as he picked up Tristan’s baby bag, obviously eager to make his getaway. “He’s the Dom. I think he can do most of what he wants.”
Will walked inside, not bothering to wait for an invitation. “Ah, you’re having a party. Tell me. Did this party start yesterday morning? Is that why I woke up and my sub was nowhere to be found? I amended that part of the contract, too. I thought it would be obvious that when we spend the night fucking like jackrabbits, you’re supposed to be there in the morning.”
“Dude, company.” She could feel herself blush.
“Oh, sweetheart, if you didn’t want to have this argument in public, you shouldn’t have had people over. I am tired. I haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours so I am incapable of being polite.” He slapped the contract on her breakfast bar. “And don’t you dare dude me again.”
“Will, it was good to see you. Don’t be too hard on her. She’s smart about so many things. This is not one of them.” Serena winked her way as she made her exit.
“Talk to you later.” Chris gave her the universal signal for call me later.
And they were gone. And they called her a coward.
“Why have you been awake for twenty-four hours?”
He glanced down at his watch. “Twenty-nine hours. I had one of those days. And nights. ER got slammed. Big accident on 75. Twenty-car pileup. Lots of head trauma. Then when I thought I could come home, some idiot decided to skateboard without a helmet. You know those flips they like to do? He didn’t quite get it right. Surprisingly enough the concrete was harder than his head.”
So he had a good reason he hadn’t come over. “Whoa. Is he okay?”
“I don’t know. I had to remove a portion of his skull. I can’t do anything until the swelling goes down. I’ve probably got a day or two before I have to decide. I intend to spend those days pounding your ass.”
Now that they were alone and she really looked at him, she realized she wasn’t afraid of him in any way except the obvious. He might break her heart, but he wouldn’t hurt her. She relaxed a bit because he was here and that meant it wasn’t over. “In an anal sex way? Or in a spanking way? You’ll have to be more specific because my brain can’t differentiate.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “In a spanking way. Damn it, Bridget. Why did you run?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t know if I was supposed to stay or go. I got confused.”
“Which is why the contract now states that you stay. And you owe me thirty smacks. I’m going to the bathroom. When I come back out, you better be ready.”
She shook her head. “You can’t punish me for something I didn’t know about.”
“Watch me,” he said as he turned away. “It was common sense. There is a clause in our contract about common sense. I’m invoking it.”
“Use my bathroom. It’s down the hall. I don’t know if I put soap in the guest bathroom.” She never used it.
“Fine.” He
strode away.
And she stood there because of all the reactions, she hadn’t expected this one. He was pissed. Seriously pissed. He was upset because she hadn’t been there when he woke up.
How should she handle him? She wasn’t afraid of the spanking. She’d been spanked before. Even the hard smacks did something for her. She was comfortable with her freakiness. If he spanked her hard, she would have an excuse to cry and she really needed to cry. She could cry and he could feel in control.
All in all it was a good plan.
Now she knew. He wanted her in bed when he woke up. She glanced down at the contract. Will didn’t believe in love, but he believed in that stupid contract. He cared enough to amend it.
He was taking a while. She walked into her bedroom.
There he was. He’d lain down on her bed as if he couldn’t move another muscle. He was still dressed, still in his shoes. With his eyes closed and his arms at his side, he looked like an exhausted boy. A beautiful, tired boy. Her guy. For now.
How should she handle him?
He’d taken care of her. Maybe it was time someone took care of him. She wasn’t sure she would be good at it, but she was going to try. She carefully eased his shoes off and found a blanket to put over him.
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the spanking.” His eyes didn’t open.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Doc.” There was something about seeing him in her girlie room that made her smile. Her bedspread was a pretty silver and she’d indulged in a bunch of eggplant-colored pillows to contrast. It gave the whole place a glamorous feel. Will looked like a sleepy predator.
“Shitty day. Shitty, shitty day,” he murmured. “Kiss me.”
He was going to kill her. She leaned over and brushed her lips against his. He sighed and his breathing became even, sleep taking him.
She was already in love with him because she was an idiot. She was a stupid fool who didn’t know when to protect herself, but it didn’t matter.
She had a little time to prove to him that it could work.
Damn, she hoped she still had the recipe for those enchiladas.
* * * *
Will yawned as he moved from the bedroom to the living room and wondered exactly how much he’d fucked up. When he’d woken up the day before and found himself alone in bed, he’d thought about how to handle Bridget. She’d run. He hadn’t expected that and he really should have.
He just hadn’t figured out if she was bored or skittish.
“Damn it.” Bridget’s voice carried down the hall.
Why had he fallen asleep in her bed? He never slept anywhere except his own place. He made sure to take women to his place. Always. But he’d walked toward her bathroom and her bed had looked so inviting. He’d lain down because he kind of wanted to see what type of mattress she liked. It was one of the mattresses that conformed to a person’s body and he’d sunk into it like he’d found paradise. The bed had smelled like her—all sharp and citrusy, with the hint of sweet cherries.
He’d had a crappy day and all he’d wanted to do was sleep and be surrounded by that scent.
But he was awake now and he had to deal with the fact that he’d lost his cool.
He never did that. He was always in control around his lovers. He never barged in and caused some stupid scene. He was the anti-drama guy.
She was standing over the stove as he walked into the room. She bent over, giving him a spectacular view of her ass. Her hair flowed down her back. He caught sight of bare skin and wondered if she was wearing a crop top.
“Bridget?”
She stood up, her back stiffening, and then stopped.
Damn it. He was going to have to apologize. “I need to talk to you.”
She turned around and he damn near had a heart attack. She wasn’t wearing a shirt at all. She stared at him for a second. “I made dinner.”
He’d been pretty sure she didn’t cook. “Really?”
One hand went on her hip and she gave him the sassiest frown. “Yes, really. I can manage to follow a recipe. Sort of. It should be edible.”
She’d cooked and she’d foregone her shirt. It was definitely a good sign. Maybe he hadn’t fucked up. Maybe she was more into the D/s relationship than he’d thought she was.
“It smells wonderful, sweetheart. And you look stunning.”
She blushed. “Serena told me being naked might make you less annoyed with the fact that I ran away.”
His affection for Bridget’s best friend rose. His cock was already erect and he had to admit, she had every bit of his attention. Usually his brain was working on ten different things, but when he was with Bridget, he was focused. He couldn’t think of anything but her. She was a challenge.
“Tell me why you ran.”
“The boobs aren’t enough?” She was a bit insecure and he couldn’t figure that out. She was fucking gorgeous.
“The boobs are lovely, but you’re not getting out of punishment.” Now that he knew she was all right, he wanted to spank that sweet ass of hers. His hand was itching and his cock was twitching. She got his motor running.
It couldn’t last. He would want peace eventually. This crazy focus on her made him feel so fucking good though. It had been forever—maybe never—since he was so focused on a woman.
Her shoulders squared. “Fine. It was silly of me. I should have woken you up and told you I was leaving. I get it. I was a little childish. I can handle a spanking. I kind of like them. Then we can have dinner. If you want to.”
“I want to. How long does it need to cook?” He didn’t want to screw up her dinner plans. She’d bent for him and he was willing to bend for her.
“It’s got another thirty minutes. It might be really bad. I usually order takeout or nuke a dinner or something. This feels weird. The naked thing feels weird. Maybe it’s because you’re all dressed and my boobs are hanging out.”
“Well, maybe you would feel better if you were actually naked. Take off the pants. You don’t need clothes when we’re alone. Do your characters wear clothes around their Doms?”
“No, but I have to admit that apparently my characters are more carefree than I am.”
“You wanted some experience.” An idea was brewing in his head. “Let’s try living as a D/s couple until after your sister’s wedding. You’ll get real world experience out of it.”
“What do you get out of it?”
“I get to fuck the hell out of you for a couple of weeks. I get to spank you and discipline you. Don’t think this is charity here. I want you, Bridget.” Maybe after a couple of weeks, he could think straight again. Maybe if he fucked her out of his system, he would be able to concentrate on something other than her.
Her hands went to the waistband of her sweat pants and she slowly pushed them over and off her hips. “Look at me. No undies. See, I can obey. Also, I haven’t done laundry lately. I’m not the world’s greatest housekeeper.”
“Give it to me and I’ll throw yours in with mine. Now come here and let me look at you. God, you’re the fucking best thing I’ve seen since the last time I saw you.” She made his mouth water. He sank down on her couch. It was a good height for what he intended to do. He’d kept it vanilla up to this point, but it was time to put them on a proper footing.
She walked across the space, the tiniest awkwardness showing through, but he knew she would get accustomed to being naked. After a few days, he hoped she would come to enjoy it. “You want to do my laundry? I kind of thought you would order me to do yours.”
“If I want a maid, I’ll hire one. I’ve seen your bathroom. I would not hire you.” She was a little messy. He could live with it, though he intended to introduce her to his maid. She came twice a week and was worth every penny. Bridget stopped in front of him and he took in her form, allowing his eyes to enjoy for a moment. “No, beautiful, I don’t mind doing your laundry with mine. Every D/s couple is different. We need to find our strengths and play to them and find our weaknesses and figure out how t
o balance. Poor baby. It looks like some man left his mark.”
He reached up and touched her left breast. There was a small hematoma from where he’d sucked on her skin too hard. He needed to remember that she was very fair and would bruise easily.
She looked down. “Oh, I didn’t even notice that. It’s okay. I think I probably did a number on your back.”
He leaned over and kissed the spot. “I didn’t notice that either until I got to work and changed into scrubs and Jameson from Peds asked if I’d tangled with a wildcat. Don’t move.”
She was short, petite he should say. Standing in front of him, he could easily lean over and suck a pretty pink nipple into his mouth. He let his lips touch that velvety skin before very gently suckling on the bud. He could take his time. He wasn’t on call. He had all night and he intended to revel in her.
It had been a brilliant plan. Moving past the academic and into the real Dom sub relationship. It was only for a little while, but he could blow past all the bullshit and get to where he wanted to go which was straight to bed, though he intended to prove he was far more creative than a man who needed a bed to get it on.
She was his for the next few weeks. He was a man who didn’t like to dwell on the past, and the future was pretty much set. He worked. He studied so he could work more. But the now, oh, the now, included the complex and gorgeous woman who had just handed herself over to him.
She was his to fuck and spank and please and yes, he even liked the idea of doing her laundry with his. He liked the idea that he would have someone to watch over and take care of for a while. Not someone. Her.
“All right. Let’s get the hard part over with. Over my lap.” He sat back, enjoying how flushed she’d gotten from him playing with her nipples. No woman had ever responded to him quite as fast or perfectly as Bridget did.
Maybe the hard part could be the fun part, too. He really didn’t want to wait and there was no reason to. He could smell her from where he was sitting. He could see her pussy. She was already ripe.