The Very Bad Fairgoods - Their Ruthless Bad Boys

by Theodora Taylor

  Colin just smiles. “I’ll see what I can do to make sure she does,” he tells my grandma.

  I can practically feel her beam of approval on our backs as we walk away toward my car, which is parked in a disorganized clump with a bunch of others, right outside the house.

  “You okay to drive back to Nashville?” he asks me when we reach my car. “Because if you want to leave your car here, you can borrow one of mine while you’re in town, and I’ll drive you back here before I leave again next Monday.”

  Back to Nashville. I belatedly realize Colin must think I work in Nashville. “Thank you for the offer,” I say, feeling guilty as hell. “But I’d rather hold on to

  my own car.”

  Something ticks in Colin’s jaw, and his blue eyes narrow. But in the end he says, “Okay, follow me, and call if you lose me.”

  “I still have the cabin address in my navigation system,” I let him know.

  “We’re not going to the cabin.”

  Not going to the cabin? Then where are we going? He’s already walking away toward his truck before I can ask either of those questions out loud.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  And that’s how I find myself following Colin down Highway 40, making my second three-hour-plus trip on the same day. Leaving me with plenty of time to wonder just how tonight will go. Colin was pleasant enough with my family, but he’d barely said a paragraph to me after that kiss by his truck.

  The worry tinged with a not so healthy helping of dread makes the hours fly by faster than I necessarily want them to, and the next thing I know, we’re stopping outside a little Italian deli. I frown when Colin gets out of the car and motions for me to do the same.

  “What’s going on?” I ask him. We’re in the West End area of downtown Nashville now, and the city announces itself to me as soon as I get out of my car. Traffic noise on top of crickets. It’s a little cooler here, too, and I zip up my leather jacket to protect myself against the wind.

  He points to what has to be at least a thirty-story high rise a few buildings down from the shop.

  “That’s where I live. But I wanted to get a few things before we go in.”

  I shake my head. “You can’t still be hungry.”

  “No, I can’t,” Colin agrees with a grin. “But we might get hungry tomorrow, and I don’t have anything to eat in the condo. C’mon.”

  He holds out his hand to me so easily it doesn’t even occur to me not to take it. Still, a certain unease begins to roll over me as we shop, and I watch him throw enough food and wine into a small basket to feed an army: a party tray of various cubed cheeses, several packages of meats sliced in circles, plus grapes and an entire netted bag of tangerines.

  I can’t help but notice as we’re checking out that everything he’s put in the basket could easily be eaten by hand. Or served to somebody who’s tied up.

  “Did you find everything okay?” The dark-haired clerk behind the counter looks from me to Colin. Obviously knowing who Colin is. Obviously surprised to see him in here with me.

  Colin just smiles and says we found everything we need.

  It’s a short but severely awkward walk to his apartment. Not only because I’m pretty sure I’m about to get tied up again, but also because Colin has my overnight bag in one hand and the paper bag of groceries in the other, which means he can no longer hold my hand.

  “You ready for this?” he asks me.

  I shake my head, not even beginning to know how to answer that.

  But Colin’s not talking about what he’s going to do to me when we get to his place. He points to a pack of men standing on the sidewalk that leads up to the building.

  “Usually, I drive in around the back, but a bunch of celebrities live in this building, so there’s always somebody hanging around out here. Figure it’s as good of a time as any.”

  My eyes fly down to the pleather jogging pants and button-up plaid shirt I’m wearing. This outfit was fine for Sunday Dinner at my grandma’s, but if I’d known I was going to get my picture taken…

  “You look fine,” he tells me. He starts walking us toward the pack of men. “Plus, everybody’s going to be focused on your hair anyway.”

  However, I can sense a change come over him just before we reach the high rise’s double front doors. He hikes my overnight bag up over his shoulder and pulls me in close.

  “Keep your head down and don’t say anything, no matter what they ask you,” he tells me. “Less than a minute and we’ll be on the other side of the door.”

  That minute feels like an eternity, with cameras flashing and male voices yelling out aggressive questions. For the first time, I’m beginning to understand why Colin seems so ready to stop being a country music star. If the constant travel isn’t enough to turn him off performing for a living, then having to deal with this all the time would be.

  But eventually we make our way through the shark pool to where an older man in a blue uniform is holding a glass door open for us.

  “Evening, Mr. Fairgood. Ms. Goode,” he says as we rush into the building’s sleek lobby.

  “Evening, Ernie,” Colin answers before I can ask how the doorman knows my name. “They’re thick out there tonight.”

  “That they are,” Ernie agrees cheerily, like it’s just another day at the celebrity-packed high-rise office for him.

  We get into the elevator and Colin pushes the “P” at the very top of the thirty-button panel.

  “Sorry about that,” Colin says as the elevator doors close. “They get all riled up around this time of year because it’s CMA season. And I own the building, along with a few of my friends, so they know there’s going to be at least a few celebs coming in and out of here.”

  My eyes widen. Colin owns this building? Well, that would explain him getting the penthouse. Though, why did I have a feeling that “a few of his friends” probably included some other well-known singers who could also be found on a Top 40 country chart?

  It’s a real quiet elevator ride to the top floor.

  The doors slide open on a long shiny hallway, black on one side and red on the other, with a set of floor-to-ceiling white double doors at the end of it.

  Colin punches a few numbers into a discreet keypad, and then opens one of the white doors for me like a regular gentleman. However, I don’t feel any gentility in his eyes as he watches me walk in pass him. Just coyote heat.

  I tense when the door clicks shut behind us, but he doesn’t make a move toward me, just puts my bag down on the front room’s white wraparound couch.

  “Take a look around while I put this in the fridge,” he says, as he walks past me into the kitchen. I only get a brief glimpse of the kitchen when the door opens and swings shut behind him, but it’s enough to let me see all the glimmering appliances, with space leftover for my grandma to put out two Sunday Dinners if she wanted.

  With Colin out of sight, I take in the outer room, which I guess is supposed to be a living room if the large couch is to be believed. But it feels more like a spaceship. And not like a Star Trek spaceship for regular people—but a spaceship for rich folks. Everything’s either white, red, or black. And everything but the white couch and red chairs shines. I can’t even tell what the red and black walls are made of. Plastic maybe, but when I touch the one closest to me, it’s cool and reserved beneath my fingertips, like marble, or some other material I’ve never come in contact with before.

  Curiosity drives me toward the hallway. I open doors. Find a shiny office, a few shiny guest bedrooms, a shiny screening room. I finally roll up on some non-manmade materials when I open the door to a music room. It has wood walls, cork floors, one entire wall covered in electric guitars, and another one in acoustic.

  I linger in the doorway, wanting to stay, wanting to take one of the guitars off the wall. But I decide to keep on going to the set of red double doors at the end of the hallway. They’re not as tall as the one’s on the outside of the penthouse, but they’re even more imposing because of
their color. And what might be lurking behind them.

  I throw them open with a deep breath… that I let out when I see it’s not a sex room filled with whips and chains, like I’d heard about.

  It’s a bedroom. An extremely large and shiny bedroom. More like a huge studio apartment than a bedroom. There’s one area filled with a California King covered in black-and-red satin sheets and another area with a whole suite of furniture, including a couch, coffee table, and shiny black chairs—basically another living room. On the other side of the bed is a small gym. There’s a treadmill and a bunch of weights, so big and bulky, I get a crick in my back just looking at them. The fourth area is set up for entertainment. Colin’s entertainment alone, I’m guessing. With several video game consoles, one of those round back video game chairs, and a screen so huge, it probably makes you feel like you’re actually inside the game when you play first person shooters.

  “Not what you were expecting, huh, Blue?”

  I turn. Colin’s in the doorway now. Watching me take in his bedroom.

  “No, not at all,” I answer truthfully. “I figured there’d be a dungeon. Maybe some whips and chains.”

  “Whips and chains,” Colin repeats, walking further into the room. “I’ll have to tell Ginny to put that on the next shopping list.”

  He comes to a stop in front of me. Looks me up and down. But he doesn’t touch me. Just stands there, taking me in with a lazy blue stare.

  “Are you trying to make me nervous?” I ask him straight up. Because if he is, it’s working. I can barely breathe for wondering what’s going to happen next.

  Colin seems to consider my question. “I can’t say I don’t like seeing you nervous. Especially after the two weeks you just put me through. Let me tell you, Blue, you did a real good job of forcing my hand.”

  He still hasn’t touched me, but I can feel it coming. Talking to Colin in this moment is like talking to a cobra. Doesn’t matter if it hasn’t struck you, you know sooner or later you’re going to feel its fangs.

  “I wasn’t trying to put you through anything. And I know you’re not going to believe this, but I wasn’t trying to force your hand on the girlfriend-boyfriend thing either,” I tell him. “I was just…” I trail off, not knowing how to explain. I look down.

  “You were scared.”

  The words are so dead on I almost believe I said them. But it’s Colin’s voice, deep and husky in my ears. Not my own.

  I peep up at him and nod.

  “You’re scared of me.”

  I nod again. But then I admit, “Also of myself. You’ve been at this awhile, but I didn’t know—I didn’t know I had that in me.”

  Colin doesn’t answer this time. Just stands there looming over me, so long, I begin to wonder if he’s ever going to talk again.

  But then he eventually says, “I’ve been trying to decide about some things…”

  That’s when he finally touches me. He slides his fingers into my blue curls, and I can feel his hand settle around the side of my face.

  “What to forgive. What to punish…”

  My heart stops beating, as his hand slides around the back of my neck, his thumb coming to a rest underneath my bottom lip. He’s not hurting me, but his hold is strong. Binding like a rope, tying me to him.

  “How to punish…” Colin’s voice seems almost whimsical, but there’s nothing lazy about the way he’s looking at me now. Intent, like a cobra ready to strike. “Feels like I spent near every minute of these last few weeks thinking about how I was going to make you pay...”

  My entire body tenses and I can feel myself pulling away from him, even if I can’t physically do so with his hand around the back of my neck, keeping me there.

  “So what exactly did you decide to forgive then?” I ask him. “Because it sounds to me like you’re only about the punishment.”

  His grip tightens around the back of my neck for a second, before going completely slack.

  “I decided to forgive you for being scared, and I’m close to forgiving you for running—which, trust me, Blue, for a guy with a dad who abandoned him and his mother is a big deal. But no, I’m not going to punish you for trying to call things off with me.”

  “Why not?” I ask, honestly curious. As much time as we’d spent on the phone, sometimes I still didn’t think I was anywhere close to understanding how Colin’s mind worked.

  “For a few reasons. One being that I’m not all bastard. The world of doms and subs can be… formal. The focus is on communicating boundaries and needs, and if you get deep enough into a relationship, there’re contracts to sign, rituals, and whatnot. ”

  A dark jealousy shadows over me as I wonder if he’s ever gotten into a relationship that deep.

  He reads my mind. “I’ve never let it get that far. Never been satisfied enough to commit to anybody like that. Most of my relationships ended with my subs getting frustrated because I refused to talk about us in future tense. They left. I let them. It never even occurred to me to try to stop them. But you…” he tilts his head to study me through narrowed blue eyes. “With you it’s different.”

  “I didn’t want to be formal with you,” he tells me. “So I didn’t lay down enough ground rules. Didn’t communicate the way I would have if we’d been in a normal dom/sub relationship.”

  I feel compelled to remind him, “I’m not a sub. I’ll never be your sub.”

  The shadow of a smile steals over Colin’s lips. “I know that, Blue, and I meant what I said before about not really wanting one.”

  I remember our last conversation on this subject out loud. “You want me to fight you.”

  Colin nods like I’m a good student who’s given him the right answer. “I want you to fight me. But here’s what you’ve got to understand from now on, Blue. It’s okay to fight me. It’s all right to be scared. It’s even all right to run—especially if we’re in the bedroom. But shutting me out? Not talking to me? That I won’t abide. And that’s why I’ll be punishing you for at least the next twenty-four hours.”

  Despite the menace in his voice, a sharp thrill of anticipation runs down my back. For the first time since our reunion, I feel the awkwardness sliding off of me, replaced by a dark desire.

  A dark desire that literally moves me. Without any warning whatsoever, I spin away from his hand and run. Run faster than I’ve ever run before.

  I’ll never know if I truly got past Colin, or if he was just toying with me like predators sometimes do with their prey, but I make it all the way back to the front room before he grabs me from behind, his arms coming around me like steel bands as he drags me back down the hallway into his bedroom.

  He throws me on the bed, ignoring my writhing and my hands shoving at his immovable body as he sets to removing my clothes. This morning I hadn’t known I’d be reunited with Colin and I’ve inadvertently made it ridiculously easy for him. The snaps on my cowgirl shirt come apart with little more than a jerk of his hands, and there’s even a front clasp on my bra.

  Next come my pants, black pleather shaped like jogging pants. The elastic waist means Colin has no trouble getting them off me, despite my bucking hips. The only thing that might have been a little difficult for him are my panties.

  But those he leaves on. An ominous sign for sure of the torture to come. And I can already feel the crotch of them clinging to my swollen pussy lips, already wet with heat.

  Colin’s hand settles there, a knowing smile playing over his lips. “I see my pussy missed me.”

  A shadow crosses over his face. “Tell me you didn’t share my pussy with anybody else while we were apart. Tell me you stuck to our agreement and didn’t touch yourself.”

  My face heats with embarrassment. Not because I didn’t stick to our agreement, but because I did. I don’t want to confess to him how I didn’t touch myself or anyone else, even though I was sure we were over.

  “My job keeps me busy,” I say to him. “I didn’t have time for… any of that.”

  A smu
g smile spreads across Colin’s too-handsome face. “Good,” he says. “I stuck to our agreement, too.”

  I don’t know whether to be touched or stunned that he was that sure I’d come back to his bed, just like he commanded.

  I don’t have too much time to ponder, though, because a second later, I feel the now familiar pressure of his knee in my chest as he ties ropes around both of my wrists. These ropes are different than the ones at the cabin. Silkier, not as rough, and I find myself thinking back to what he said before about more formal dom/sub agreements.

  As if flipping to the same mental page, Colin says, “I’m afraid we’re going to have to revisit our agreement, Blue.”

  He climbs off the bed and I watch from my bound position as he strips off his black Western jacket, letting it fall to the floor, before he begins unsnapping his own shirt.

  “Before these last few weeks, I might have been satisfied with owning your pussy. But now…”

  He finishes with his shirt and strips out of the rest of his clothes with an impressive efficiency that doesn’t match his slow drawl.

  Then he’s on top of me. One hand automatically manacling my wrists together above my head, as if he doesn’t trust the ropes to do their job. Or like he just really, really wants to hold me down.

  “But now,” he finishes, “I’m going to need everything from you. Your entire body belongs to me now.”

  He pushes into me, hard and thick.

  And I groan, forgetting to fight for a little bit, unable to act like I hadn’t missed this. The weight of him on top of me and between my legs, filling me up so I can’t possibly think about anything but him.

  Colin lets out a groan of his own, like being back inside of me is hurting him somehow.

  “Fuck, you feel good, Blue. I keep on waiting for you not to be this wet when I put myself inside of you, but that day hasn’t happened yet.”

  His words make me feel overly desperate, like an addict too high on lust to fight what he’s doing to me. I rally, bucking under his body, making him work to keep me beneath him.