Sex, Lies & Her Impossible Boss

by Jennifer Rae

  Sometimes she thought she was ready to put those lessons into action. But now, whenever she actually met someone she thought she could like, they were more interested in inserting part A into slot B than allowing her to explore their body with her tongue. Which was exactly what she’d wanted to do with Cash five minutes ago. But now he was bleeding and angry and definitely not interested in her tongue.

  ‘Do you want to go to the emergency room?’

  ‘It’s a split lip. I don’t think we need to bother the surgeons.’

  ‘You should have moved your head.’

  ‘Me?’ He stared at the side of her head and her cheeks heated. He was about to blow up. Tell her what a screw-up she was. Abuse her and tell her she was an idiot. But he didn’t. He laughed. ‘So it was my big head that got in the way?’

  ‘Yes. I was just trying to get up.’

  He laughed again. ‘Well, I’m sorry for making you split my lip.’

  She glanced at him, surprised. He wasn’t cross, nor was he ignoring her. She smiled and turned back to the road. ‘That’s OK. Just don’t do it again.’

  He laughed again and took the tissues away from his lip. ‘How does it look?’ His lip was swollen and covered in blood.

  ‘Fine. Can’t even tell,’ she said, pushing the stick shift into fourth as she hit the motorway.

  They laughed again and started trying to impress each other with the most pathetic injury stories until Cash looked out of the window at the passing scenery. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Thornleigh.’

  ‘Thornleigh? As in the burbs?’

  ‘Yep. Housewives and private schools and swimming lessons. Sydney’s BDSM heartland.’

  ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘No. It’s where Miss Kitty lives. Her clients are some of the most well-known people in Sydney. High society. Celebrities, soap stars, footy players. Anyone with cash goes to Miss Kitty’s parties.’ Faith glanced at him. She wondered if Miss Kitty’s world would be his scene.

  ‘What happens at these parties?’

  ‘I’ve only been to one. I’ve seen men being led around on dog collars and women whose butts were red raw from spanking.’

  To be honest, she’d been a little frightened and mortified when she’d first visited Kitty, but if her show had taught her anything it was to open her mind and find the source of pleasure in every act.

  ‘That doesn’t sound very sexy.’

  ‘It’s not the action so much as the feeling. Of being dominated. Of dominating. Of being in control or out of control. Like I said—sex isn’t always just sex.’

  ‘Is this what you’re into?’ Cash asked her quietly. She felt his eyes on her and was glad her window was down. He seemed to be asking as if he were interested in her answer. As if he wanted to know. As if the mistake she’d made earlier didn’t matter. As if he liked her anyway.

  ‘I like to try and understand relationships. The idea of being dominated or dominating has a lot to do with what one needs outside the bedroom. Sex is a manifestation of our whole life. Our attitude towards it is shaped by our lives—the way we feel about ourselves, our fears, our pasts.’

  He reached for the knobs of the radio and twisted, finding a station that was playing country music. Faith glanced at him—she didn’t take him for a country-music fan.

  ‘Sounds like you’re reading way too much into it.’ Cash stared ahead. ‘In my experience, sex has nothing to do with how you feel and more to do with what you want. Which is usually power. Sex is about power. Who has it, who wants it. And once you have the power, you can make someone do anything you want.’

  Faith’s neck prickled and her mouth dried up. ‘Is that what you do? Have sex with women to have power over them?’

  She felt his eyes hot on her. She knew he was looking at her intently, in that way he always did.

  ‘I have sex for pleasure. I don’t let emotions play any part. No one gets hurt that way.’

  ‘Someone always gets hurt.’

  Cash didn’t say any more; he just turned to look out of the window and they stayed in silence as the sound of Johnny Cash singing ‘Ring of Fire’ rang through the car.

  * * *

  Miss Kitty was in a bad mood. She’d had a load of cancellations. Apparently a competitor had opened up close by and was offering discounts.

  ‘As if it’s a supermarket!’ Kitty had bright blue hair and black fingernails but other than that she didn’t look too different from the other women walking the streets of the leafy northern suburb. She had on jeans and a long white top with colourful beads slung around her neck.

  While they toured her seemingly suburban house, Cash asked her about being a submissive. He wanted to know what it meant and why anyone would want to submit to another. Faith almost laughed. Trust Cash to not understand submission. It was a question, however, that seemed to make Kitty bristle. ‘It’s men like you who make the best submissives, honey. Men who think they can control everything and everyone. Being a submissive is about being attentive. Being aware of the needs of your dom. Doing whatever they need whenever they need it. It makes you a better lover. A devoted lover. Which is the best kind.’

  Faith watched Cash’s face. He wasn’t comfortable here. He wasn’t comfortable in Kitty’s dungeon. He wasn’t interested in her pulleys and straps. He didn’t even touch her collection of whips.

  ‘Can we have a minute to look around ourselves?’ Faith wondered if Miss Kitty would agree. She was mostly a private person but Faith had managed to gain her trust over the last few months. Kitty blinked and folded her arms.

  ‘What about him?’ She nodded towards Cash as if he weren’t there.

  Faith winked and met Kitty’s suspicious stare.

  ‘I’ll take care of him.’

  SEVEN

  Kitty nodded and left, clicking the door shut quietly behind her. When she left, the room seemed darker and eerily quiet. Silence. That was what Cash had said he wanted, but as she turned to him he looked anything but comfortable.

  ‘I think I’ve seen enough.’ He unfolded his tightly wound arms and moved towards the door but Faith moved quicker. She laid a hand on his exposed forearm and felt his dark hairs tickle her palms.

  ‘Wait, not yet.’ She needed him to understand. She needed him to see what this was about and why people needed to know. ‘Let’s just take a little look around.’

  In the little light they had down here, Cash looked taller, darker and angrier. Faith shivered. His scowl should have frightened her, but it didn’t. It was making her feel soft and almost liquid. She let go of his skin and moved to the leather-covered massage table at the side of the room.

  ‘This is the “whipping table”,’ she explained and he moved a little closer to inspect it.

  ‘Sounds barbaric.’

  ‘Nothing happens down here that you don’t want to. There are rules to make sure everyone’s safe.’

  ‘Whipping someone for pleasure doesn’t sound safe to me.’

  His arms were twisted again and his face still hard. Faith’s stomach flipped. She recognised the feeling. Desire. She’d felt it before. Plenty of times. It wasn’t unusual to feel desire for a handsome man. But not her boss, not Cash. And not here.

  She moved away from the table and to the cage that stood in the corner. It was big enough for two and when she’d come to Miss Kitty’s party there were two scantily clad women inside, kissing and licking and working themselves up into a frenzy. Faith stepped in. It was a small space and she felt fear for a moment, before turning to meet the eyes of Cash, who was watching her. Who hadn’t taken his eyes off her.

  ‘Safety is about trust. When you trust someone, you let them do things you wouldn’t normally,’ she said as he stepped closer and watched her through the bars.

  ‘It’s very da
ngerous to trust someone,’ Cash said, his eyes narrowing.

  He moved closer to the door and placed his hands either side of the opening. His presence there made Faith’s heart speed up. He still looked big and angry. Definitely not safe.

  ‘If you don’t trust anyone, you can never be yourself. Isn’t that exhausting? Putting on a face? Trying to keep everyone at arm’s length?’ she asked.

  ‘I am myself. I don’t pretend to be anyone else.’

  ‘But you’re worried about trusting someone. Why?’

  Faith watched a shadow fall across Cash’s face. A shadow that made his eyes go dark and his lips clamp together. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?’

  Faith stepped back as Cash finally stepped into the cage. It was only a small space. Just enough room for two. He wasn’t touching her but she could feel the heat from his chest against hers.

  ‘I’m a journalist. That’s what I do.’

  ‘A good journalist listens—they don’t talk.’ His voice had deepened dangerously and Faith felt it vibrate around her. He filled the space with his body and his heat and his voice. Faith felt a little overwhelmed by it, by him. Something was happening as she stood watching him. Here in this dark space she felt less like herself. Bolder. Braver and a little out of control. She lifted her hands to grip the bars on either side of her and tilted her chin.

  ‘I’m listening now.’ His face was inches from hers, his dark eyes intent on hers, not moving—not even to watch her talk. He was looking into her and something warm and a little reckless washed over her. Trust. She trusted him. Carefully she moved her hands and splayed them across his chest. It was hard and tense. She shifted her fingers, massaging—trying to loosen him up, relax him. She wanted him to melt a little, as she was.

  ‘Are you?’ he asked, his voice gruff. ‘Are you really listening to me?’

  Her hands moved up slowly until they reached his neck. She felt as if she were somewhere else. This place with its implements of pain and atmosphere of isolation was making her heart beat harder. She wanted to touch him; she wanted to know what he felt like. The hard bristles on his neck rubbed against her palms and she felt it all the way to her toes. His eyes. Dark. Soft. She didn’t see anything else. Just his eyes.

  ‘Sometimes people don’t always say what they mean,’ she murmured as the breath in her chest got heavier. She could feel her breasts lifting and falling as her hand inched closer to his mouth. He wasn’t stopping her and she just wanted to touch his lip—that was all. Nothing more.

  His eyes hit her and she knew what he was feeling. His lids were hooded and she felt the heat of his desire as his body became even harder. Then she touched his soft lip with her thumb and all sense left her head. Desire turned into something else. Something much more desperate and she lifted herself up on her toes, anticipating and dreading the feeling of his soft lips at the same time.

  The touch was fleeting. Nothing more than a brush, but a brush Faith felt buzz all the way through her body. She moved away, chancing a glance at his eyes. They were slowly opening as if he’d had them closed when her lips met his. She didn’t know what to say; she couldn’t gather enough thoughts in her head to be able to come up with a reasonable sentence about how she was feeling so she lifted herself again to press her lips softly against his again before she could stop herself.

  But there was nothing soft about his reaction. He pushed closer until she had her back against the bars. A small gasp escaped her lips and for a second, just one tiny second, she thought about pushing him away because for one fleeting moment she knew this wouldn’t end well—but then the hotness of his breath met her swollen lips and she couldn’t think of anything else but him. His heat and his hardness and the way he reacted when she flicked her tongue against his lips. His big hands gripped her wrists and pinned them hard against the bars. He pushed his hips in hard and she felt him, big and strong and angry.

  ‘Where did you learn to kiss like that?’ he growled and she let a tiny triumphant smile sneak over her lips.

  She was in control here. He wanted her; she could taste it. That power made her head swell. She couldn’t move her hands so she pushed her head. She didn’t know where that kiss had come from; she’d certainly never kissed anyone else like that but it was as if she knew him. Knew what he wanted, as if he was showing her by the way he moved against her. It just felt right.

  ‘There’s a lot about me that you don’t know,’ she said quietly, letting her eyes fall to his lips. He reacted immediately, kissing her with a violence she’d never felt from anyone before. His hands gripped her wrists and his teeth clamped down onto her lip—a little too hard. But she liked it. She wanted more. She pushed her chest into his, letting the moan of pleasure fall from her mouth and he responded by sliding his tongue over her lips and finally...finally kissing her properly. Deep and sensual.

  Faith’s mind raced and her body pounded. She’d never been kissed like this. Never. Not even that time...but she didn’t want to think about that time. She wanted to think about this. Him. Here. Kissing her, needing her, wanting her. A primal response to his own obvious desire.

  Her eyes started to close and her mind drifted but when she felt the large hands around her wrists release, her mind came crashing back down to earth with a thump.

  ‘You put your trust in the wrong people, Faith.’

  Her eyes flew open. He’d pulled away.

  ‘No, I trust you.’ She felt drunk on his kisses and leaned forward, eager to feel his lips on hers again, but he pulled his head back, away from her—away from her lips. His eyes weren’t soft any more; they were hard and she realised he was rejecting her. The drunk feeling that had come over her as he was kissing her vanished. Embarrassment replaced it as she watched him, staring at her, then as the seconds passed anger flashed through her, making her tense. ‘You feel it too. I know you do. Why won’t you kiss me?’

  ‘I don’t want to kiss you.’

  ‘That’s a lie. I know you do. I can see it in your eyes. I know you want me as much as I want you. I could feel it.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  Faith’s heart started to beat harder. She heard him but she didn’t believe him. She remembered the feel of his fingers as they had slid up her back earlier today and the way he’d run them through her hair, then the passionate way he’d held her still just now so he could kiss her. He’d wanted her; she could feel that he wanted her. She remembered the look in his eyes as they breathed into each other in Patricia’s garden. There was something there, she knew it—she felt it—but he was saying something else. Something much more humiliating.

  ‘You’re scared. I can see that. But you don’t have to be. You can trust me.’

  Cash was silent. His eyes watched hers; then they flicked to her mouth, then back to her eyes. Holding them. For a beat. Then another.

  ‘What if I’m not scared? What if I’m just not interested?’

  Faith felt the cold trickle all over her. Not interested. He didn’t feel the way she did. And she was trapped in a cage with him. She couldn’t breathe properly. She wanted to get out. She wanted him to let her go, but he didn’t. He was talking again right when she wanted him to shut up. ‘I’m sorry, Faith. What you want is someone to love you and I told you I don’t believe in love.’

  ‘I... I...’ That was exactly what she wanted. That was what everyone wanted. But right now, all she’d wanted was for him to kiss her again. A sweet release from the torture she’d been going through all day.

  ‘I thought I could trust you. I thought you were nice.’

  ‘Well, you were wrong. I’m not nice at all.’ Finally he stepped back and Faith was able to push her way past him and out of the cage. With a shove of her shoulders she opened the door to the dungeon and pounded up the stairs and didn’t stop until she was outside and taking great gulps of fresh air.
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  She walked around the small suburban garden breathing in the scent of spring in the air and lifting her face to the sun. Brilliant. Once again, she’d misjudged the situation. Once again, she’d put her faith into someone who didn’t deserve it. Cash had a reputation. He’d been dismissive of her; he’d tried to fire her; he’d told her he didn’t believe in love—yet she’d still trusted him. She’d seen something that wasn’t there. After every mistake she’d ever made, she still believed she’d be able to recognise when someone actually liked her. But he hadn’t. It was just sex.

  EIGHT

  Country music blared from the radio all the way back to Cash’s house. Faith wanted to change it but she was afraid if she reached for the knob he’d reach at the same time and they’d touch and the awkwardness that now filled the car would become even more stifling.

  As she pulled the car up Faith felt her whole body grow hot. He wasn’t interested. That was what he’d said. Faith burned with humiliation.

  ‘Faith, should we talk about what happened back there?’

  ‘No.’ She held up a hand before glancing at him with a quick, tight smile. ‘No need. It’s cool. I lost my head for a moment, but it’s over. Finished. No need to talk.’

  No, if she could help it she’d never speak to him again. They could email. Or text. But talking she didn’t want to do.

  ‘I’d like to talk.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t.’ She gripped the steering wheel hard but tried to keep her face passive. She didn’t want him to know how much his words had really cut her. She didn’t want him to realise that he’d opened a wound she’d thought she’d stitched up years ago.

  ‘What did you think of Miss Kitty’s place?’ Change the subject. That was the only thing she could do now. If he wouldn’t get out of the car at least she could talk about something else. Something that didn’t hurt so much. ‘It’s not for everyone.’

  ‘It’s not for me,’ said Cash determinedly. ‘Sex isn’t about tricks and masks and bloody pulley systems. It’s about two people. Naked. Alone.’