Maybe, if tonight went well, she would.
The buzzer sounded and she hurried to buzz Chicklet in. A quick look around told her everything was set. Her apartment was small, but clean and bright. Welcoming.
She opened the door as she heard footsteps in the hall.
Chicklet stopped in front of her, an easy smile on her lips as she let her gaze trail over Laura with the warmth of a touch. “Nothing I can say won’t sound like a line. You’re beautiful, Laura. Even more than I remember.”
“Thank you.” A sweet fluttery sensation filled Laura as she tipped her head back to meet Chicklet’s eyes. “So are you.”
With a soft laugh, Chicklet lifted her shoulders. “I don’t own much more than leather, jeans, and T-shirts. I figured you’d be fine with whatever.”
‘Fine’ didn’t cover how she felt looking at Chicklet in front of her now. She didn’t know many women who could pull off sexy and commanding all at once, but Chicklet did it so naturally anything she wore would just flow into the image.
Black jeans clinging to her impossibly long legs and a simple, white button up sleeveless shirt that showed off her deep tan. No jewelry, hardly any makeup, but she still looked perfect to Laura.
A thin leather jacket was folded over Chicklet’s arm. Recalling her manners, Laura stepped aside to let Chicklet in and held out her hand. “Let me take that for you.”
“Thanks.” Chicklet passed her the jacket, stepping into the living room as Laura hung it in the hall closet. “Nice place. Have you lived here long?”
“Ever since I graduated from the academy.” Laura smiled, soaking in that little bit of praise. “I’d saved money for years, from babysitting money and part time jobs. While other kids wanted cars and clothes, I just wanted a place to call my own.”
Chicklet glanced over at her, her expression hard to read. “Was it that bad at home?”
“No! Not at all!” Laura should have expected that question. Chicklet wasn’t the type to miss much. “My foster parents are amazing. My foster brother is my best friend. But…I guess I always felt weird, needing them to support me for so long. I was emancipated at fifteen, which made it easier for us to move here—I wasn’t a ward of the state anymore. They got me in school, helped me get Canadian citizenship, paid for everything… They are my family, and I love them, but for the longest time it felt like charity.”
“So you were with them from around thirteen until you moved here?” Chicklet cocked her head slightly, as though sorting through the information. “They stopped ‘officially’ being your foster parents when you were declared responsible for yourself. Why do you still call them that?”
“Because I love the word foster. To me, it’s not just the job they took on. It’s what they did for me.” Laura ducked her head, feeling silly saying it. Her foster parents understood, and embraced the definition. They knew she was saying they’d chosen to love her, that what they’d given her was a gift she’d never take for granted. But most people thought she should ditch the label. “Usually they’re just Mom and Dad. But I introduce them as my foster parents.”
“That makes sense.” Chicklet slid her hand around the back of Laura’s neck, leaning down until their foreheads touched. “And you shouldn’t feel uncomfortable saying it. Sometimes, people need that clarification. My Mom is my step-mother. She didn’t have to treat me like her daughter, to fill that empty place in my life, but she did. Some people say ‘Step-mother’ like it’s a dirty word. I say it with pride and love.”
Damn, that felt good. Very few people outside her family really got it—not that she tried too often to explain, she liked her privacy. Opening up to Chicklet was scary easy.
And she was happy she had.
“All right, how about we continue this chat over dinner. Whatever you made smells fucking sinful.” Chicklet leaned down to kiss her. A soft brush of her lips, but enough to stir a different kind of hunger within. “I can already tell this was a much better idea than eating out.”
Leading the way to the kitchen, Laura pulled out a chair for Chicklet, then went to the stove to take out the ribs. She served them both, then set the mac and cheese on a thick mat in the middle of the table, scooping a neat little circle onto each plate.
The wine was in a small silver bucket of ice on the counter. She opened it, poured them each a glass, then studied the table. Had she forgotten anything?
Resting her elbows on the table, Chicklet steepled her hands, watching her with a gleam of amusement in her eyes. “Sweetie, this looks delicious, but I prefer to enjoy my meals with my host. Unless…” Her lips slanted slightly. “We can skip the first date and explore your position as my pet. In which case, you can sit at my feet and let me feed you.”
Laura went still, desire and need clearing all the jumbled thoughts in her head. She should not like that idea so much. Even after two years, Mills had never fed her from his hand. Their serious play began and ended at the club or in the bedroom. Yes, they still maintained some of the dynamics when they were together, but nothing intense.
What would it be like to share that exchange beyond sex? To lose herself into it in every aspect of her life? Obviously not at work, but she could imagine coming home and hanging up her uniform. Surrendering completely to the pleasure of someone else.
Someone like Chicklet.
“Not yet, little dove.” Chicklet’s tone was soft. Soothing. She held out her hand. “I can tell you don’t hate the idea, but we’re not at that point yet.”
No, they weren’t. They weren’t even halfway there. But sitting in the chair, rather than kneeling and completely letting go, took way more effort than it should.
“Drink some wine. Try to relax.” As though she’d been following Laura’s every thought, Chicklet lifted her glass, smiling with approval when Laura picked up her own. “We’ll explore many things, but it has to start somewhere. Our scene began and ended that night. We’re exploring something more.”
Taking a sip of her wine, Laura took a moment to enjoy the sweet, rich fruity flavor. She didn’t indulge often, but tonight had seemed the perfect time.
“What are we exploring?” She’d definitely planned to word that better. And clearly couldn’t blame the alcohol.
But Chicklet’s presence made her more than tipsy. The woman was like a drug that erased all her inhibitions.
As though she was well aware of that fact, Chicklet smiled. “Everything. Did you miss the memo?”
“I think I did.” Laura broke off a rib, pressing her tongue into her bottom lip. “But I’m good with whatever you have in mind.”
The conversation lightened up after that as they ate. Chicklet told her about playing hockey, how she’d been the goalie for her local team—which she called part of a beer league—since she was in her teens. Some of the girls she’d once played with were now playing pro, but Chicklet had never had their ambitions. And she didn’t say that as though she regretted not going for it. She said it as though she was happy for them.
Chicklet was like no one Laura had ever met. She didn’t talk about her life as though she wanted more. Everything she had she was excited about. From her work at the bar, which her father had built with her grandfather way back and was an important part of their community, to the trips she took across the country, across the continent, to teach about the lifestyle.
She was a bartender, a Domme. Nothing more and absolutely nothing less. She lived her life to the fullest and cherished every moment.
Sloan, and his teammates, were her friends. And she talked about them as though they were normal. Laura had never seen them that way before, but after talking to Chicklet, she wasn’t sure she’d ever see them the same way again. They had all the same insecurities, the same flaws as everyone else. They fucked up, they fell down and lost hope.
And without realizing it, Chicklet told her how she’d made a few of them rise again. She talked about Sloan a lot. About how, for his time in the minors and his first few years as a pro, he’d had th
e perfect career. He’d been in magazines. Had interviews every day. Was considered the next face of the league.
Until his face was ruined by a scar no one wanted to look at. The once confident man shied away from the cameras. Slipped into the shadows and considered giving up.
Chicklet clearly chose her words carefully when she discussed Sloan, but Laura had a feeling he’d gone through some things that still concerned her. Bringing up last night brought on the first long pause.
“It’s just a few broken ribs.” Chicklet wiped her fingers, covered with rib sauce, on her napkin before laying it on the table by her plate. “I doubt he’ll miss a game.”
“For broken ribs?”
“All right, maybe one game. I hope.”
“That’s insane. I’ve gotten paid leave for broken ribs. I thought teams were careful with their players.” Laura’s brow creased at Chicklet’s snort. “I don’t get it.”
“If he says he can play, and convinces the doctor he’s fine, he’ll play. A lot of players end up hooked on painkillers because they hurt all the time.” Her jaw hardened. “That won’t happen with Sloan, though. Not on my fucking watch.”
Intense, but Laura recognized Chicklet’s sentiments with those she felt for the officers she worked with. Not that the players were risking their lives, but Chicklet cared about them. Hated to see them hurt.
Just before her vacation break, Laura had dealt with a few cops coming in after a rare late night brawl, bloody and broken from the crowd turning on them. Not only did they get time to heal, Laura and others from their district took turns making visits to help with things like cooking, babysitting, and housework.
Maybe something like that would make Chicklet feel better. If she hadn’t thought of it already.
“You said you were spending a few days with Sloan and Max. Any chance you could stick around longer, make sure your boy doesn’t do anything stupid?”
Chicklet grinned as she took another sip of wine. “I was thinking the same thing, but I’m not sure he’ll go for it.”
“Blame me.” Laura shrugged at Chicklet’s questioning look. “Driving back and forth from Digby isn’t very practical. Tell him I’m a greedy sub and am demanding a lot of your time.”
That made Chicklet laugh. “He’ll tell me you need a spanking. And I doubt he’ll buy that I’d tolerate that kind of behavior. However, he will buy that I just can’t get enough of you.”
Warm satisfaction spread through Laura as Chicklet held her gaze, making it clear she meant every word. The plan also worked out on several levels. Chicklet could be there for Sloan. And she wouldn’t be far from Laura either.
She might not be a greedy sub, but she enjoyed Chicklet’s company even more than she’d expected. Not just the flirting, or the calming sense of power that surrounded the woman, but simply getting to know her.
They finished eating and Laura started cleaning up. Chicklet went to the sink and began rinsing off the dishes.
Laura almost dropped her glass. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Chicklet dried her hands on a dishcloth and placed her hands on her hips. “You cook, I clean.”
“No, you can’t do that. You’re my guest and a Domme and—”
“Oh, my sweet little dove.” Chicklet’s expression darkened as she languidly closed the distance between them, her tone lowering in a way that raised goosebumps all over Laura’s flesh. “You would have done much better stopping at ‘guest’. Are you in the habit of telling your Dom what to do?”
Oh shit. Laura swallowed hard, shaking her head. “No, Mistress.”
“We haven’t really discussed this, but you implied interest in me becoming your Domme.”
“Yes, but…” There was no point in trying to talk her way out of this. Not that she really wanted to. For some weird reason, she was both embarrassed that she hadn’t shown more restraint, and thrilled to finally have the true power exchange she’d craved for so long.
Which made what she had to do now very very simple.
“I’m sorry, Mistress.” She lowered her gaze, clasping her hands in front of her. “I forgot myself.”
“Clearly, but that’s to be expected. We’re still getting to know one another.” Chicklet’s level gaze intensified, as though she was gauging Laura’s response. “Have you been punished before?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“For what?”
Ugh, she really didn’t want to answer that. Mills had been a fairly easygoing master, putting up with a bit more than most would. She was never a brat, and didn’t push to earn punishments, but sometimes she spoke without thinking.
She wet her lips. “Usually for things exactly like this. Speaking out of turn. Teasing or sarcasm or—“
“I’m fine with teasing so long as we’re not in a scene. Rudeness is never okay, but you will always feel free to speak your mind unless I’ve told you to be silent.” Gently framing Laura’s jaw with one hand, Chicklet smiled. “Which leaves me with an interesting dilemma. We hadn’t set any rules, which means you couldn’t avoid breaking this one.”
“But I did.” Sensing Chicklet pulling back brought on a strange tightness Laura couldn’t shake. They were at the brink of something special. Something that would bring her exactly what she’d been searching for without even knowing she was. She lifted her chin. “I’m not stupid, Chicklet. And I don’t need to be coddled.”
“Feisty, I like that.” Chicklet’s lips thinned. “But you might as well be demanding discipline, which I don’t recommend. If you’d like to see what a punishment from me would be like, just ask.”
Ask? Laura’s lips parted. Asking for a punishment was worse than knowing she deserved one.
She had a feeling that was the point.
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, Mistress.” She took a deep breath. “I would welcome an example of what to expect.”
Chicklet inclined her head, a sharp, predatory gleam in her eyes. “It would be my pleasure.”
Chapter 5
Chicklet couldn’t wait to get her hands on Laura. A sample punishment wasn’t her first choice for doing it, but she’d take it. Better to get the fact that they weren’t for fun out of the way then end up with Laura constantly pushing to be taken in hand.
She doubted the woman would be naughty simply to get spanked, but she might do well with maintenance discipline. Something they could negotiate over time.
Tonight Chicklet had planned to keep things fairly vanilla, but screw it. She had no problem feeling out her sweet little pet, take her for a test drive they would both enjoy.
In the end, anyway.
Laura was not going to enjoy this part at all.
“Hands on the counter, little dove.” Chicklet squared her shoulders, schooling her expression as Laura braced her hands on the edge of the counter, glancing over to her for approval. Chicklet gave her a curt nod. “Head down.”
Stepping up behind her, Chicklet flipped the bottom of her dress up to bare her ass, revealing a pretty, pale blue thong. Fuck, the woman had a nice ass. Soft and round, nice and pale, it would show handprints perfectly.
“Now, tell me why you’re being punished.” Chicklet really wanted to hear the answer. This would not go well for Laura if she got it wrong.
Bowing her head even lower, Laura sighed. “Because I asked you to show me what it would be like.”
Good girl. Chicklet ran her hand over Laura’s smooth butt, displayed so nicely for her. “For future notice, I will punish thoughtless remarks telling me what I ‘can’t do’. Feel free to make requests. In this case a ‘Mistress, I’m not comfortable with guests cleaning. Would you like a cup of coffee while I finish up?’ would have been appropriate.”
“I understand, Mistress.” Laura’s tone was soft. Calm. Not that Chicklet would have hesitated to keep going if she was sullen or bitchy, but this proved communication shouldn’t be an issue between them.
“Excellent.” Chicklet gave her as
s a little squeeze. “Now count for me.”
The first smack was a tease, mostly for her own pleasure. She loved keeping her subs a little off-balance, never sure what to expect. But the way Laura’s shoulders hunched told her how much she needed this. She probably wouldn’t complain about a few playful swats, but they would leave her unsatisfied.
Waiting for a few seconds, Chicklet realized Laura hadn’t counted.
Intentional or not, she’d just earned herself another smack.
The next one filled the room with the sharp sound of flesh hitting flesh. Chicklet’s palm stung a little, but she didn’t mind at all. Red blossomed on one round cheek.
Beautiful.
A soft moan from Laura was music to her ears.
“One.” Laura whispered, all her muscles relaxing. “Thank you, Mistress.”
Continuing, Chicklet altered the smacks between hard and fast, with short pauses between the quick slaps. Laura was trembling, panting as though she’d run a race, but she never failed to keep up with the number.
“Twelve, Mistress.” Slap! Slap! Slap! “Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, Mistress.”
During the entire spanking, Chicklet found herself sinking into a deep sense of calm, acutely aware of every inch of the woman in front of her. Every breath, the heat of her flesh, the gorgeous red shade of her skin. And more. Laura surrendered without hesitation. Gave Chicklet control so completely it was hard not to get drunk on the power.
Which wasn’t an option, but it was tempting. So tempting Chicklet couldn’t help worry that others could take advantage of her sweet girl. Yes, Laura was smart. Played carefully with others around in case she needed a way out.
She’s not doing that tonight.
It would be arrogant to assume Chicklet was the only one who could have made Laura feel safe enough to go home with her. That Laura was attracted to women on a different level removed some of the risks, but not all.
Butterfly Style: The Dartmouth Cobras ~ A Cobra Short Page 6