Coming In Hot Box Set

by Gina Kincade

  “Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom.”

  As I stood up, he lightly shackled my wrist. I looked down into his eyes, and saw the question there. For just a moment, he was showing me some vulnerability. I knew it had to be costing him to let me see that side. Especially as new as our relationship—if we could even call it that yet—was.

  “No worries, big guy, I’m not sneaking out on you.” I offered him a playful wink, and he instantly released me with a smile. “My burger still better be here when I get back.”

  He snorted. “The rabbit food on it ruined it.”

  Laughing, I headed to the ladies’ restroom. Once inside a stall, I took a couple of deep breaths, then pulled my panties to my ankles and stepped out of them. There. Done. Panties off. I started to stuff them in my pocket…and groaned. Dress means no pockets, dumbass. Crap, what am I going to do? My purse is still at the table.

  After debating for a moment, I clenched my panties into a tight little ball and hoped like hell no one would randomly go, “Hey lady, why are you carrying panties?” as I walked back to table. If they did, I’d choke them with the damn things. As it was, I prayed they weren’t visible enough to be distinguishable.

  My heart thudded loudly, echoing in my ears as I left the bathroom and made my way back to our table. My burger sat untouched, except for the few bites I’d already taken, but it looked like my fries suffered some losses. I quirked an eyebrow at him and he grinned at me.

  “Care to explain the condition of my fries, sir?” I asked as I sat down and tried to covertly stuff my panties into my purse.

  “They went MIA. Let it be recorded they sacrificed themselves bravely to save the burger kingdom.”

  I cracked up. This man was full of surprises. He could bust out the Dom voice in two seconds, and still had a sense of humor. Reaching across, I snagged a handful of his fries. “The burger kingdom demands hostages.”

  Striker encased my wrist and pulled my hand back. Slowly, deliberately, he ran his tongue across one of my knuckles, licking off a drop of ketchup I’d apparently stolen along with his fries. Not once did he break eye contact, and it sent my heart into overdrive.

  I couldn’t recall a single date in my life where I’d had this much fun while also experiencing this level of attraction. I looked into his eyes, saw the sexual promise there, and realized one thing…

  I’m screwed.

  Chapter Four

  “I actually had a really good time tonight,” I said as we walked across the parking lot to my truck. “Thanks for paying for dinner, too.”

  As we strolled along, the warmth of his hand seeped through my lower back. He’d placed his palm there a few minutes prior, and instead of shrugging the intimate gesture off, I’d let it stay. Embraced the sensation, actually. It surprised me, but I kind of liked the strange emotions he stirred up in me.

  When we arrived at my truck, I turned to face him. Kiss me, kiss me, I silently commanded him. Quit being a gentleman and make the first move. Show me you aren’t all talk.

  He lowered his mouth until our lips were a breath apart. A thrill raced through me, like an electric shock, jolting my entire body awake. I needed his kiss like I needed the air to survive. My entire body yearned for it.

  “Joy.”

  “Yes,” I responded, almost wincing at how breathless I sounded.

  The rumble of his voice filled my ear as he said, “Your panties are in your purse, aren’t they?”

  I blinked at him, surprised by the question. “Y-yes.”

  “You wore them to dinner.” His tone made it a statement, not a question.

  “I took them off during dinner,” I said, trying to defend myself. A knot of excitement grew in my stomach as I anticipated where this was going.

  He stepped back and regarded me for a moment. “My instructions were not to wear any at all.”

  “I guess I get a spanking then.” I tried not to look too happy about it, just in case.

  “No.”

  Ha, bluff, just like I figured. So much for being brave enough to follow through on a punishment, even in public.

  “You’re a brat sub. I had a feeling when I read your bio online, but I know for sure now. What you need is an entire session,” Striker said.

  I stared at him, baffled. A brat sub? What the fuck was that? “Isn’t that the term for people who like to color in coloring books and shit?”

  He snorted, and the sound alone proved I was wrong. “Those are littles. They enjoy playing and being took care of. A brat is totally different. Their obstinate little trouble makers who like to push buttons until they drive someone away or get fully dominated.”

  Indignation filled me at his words. “I don’t intentional drive people away! No one has been man enough to handle me.”

  “Because you don’t give them the chance, probably,” he shot back.

  I narrowed my eyes, glaring at him. “Not true. If they can’t grow some balls and deal with me, they’re not worth my time. All men want is a mindless walking sex toy to bend to their every whim. You have a brain and will of your own, and men run screaming.”

  Striker backed me up against the truck so hard and fast, it knocked the breath out of me. It also made my so wet, I wished I’d left my panties on. His mouth descended on mine and the kiss he gifted me with seared through my very soul. The entire world around us melted away from the heat of our kiss, and I gasped when he broke it.

  “Did you like that?” he asked, his voice almost guttural.

  “Yeah,” I whispered.

  “Do you want more?”

  “Yeah,” I repeated.

  “Then don’t wear the fucking panties next time.” He backed up and gave me a once over, as if admiring his handiwork. I wondered if I looked as shaken as I felt. “Goodnight, Joy.”

  As he turned to leave, I grabbed his arm. “Wait! What the fuck is that about?”

  “Woman, you are testing my limits. I’m trying to be nice,” he said, looking at me over his shoulder.

  “Nice? How the hell is kissing me like that then walking away nice,” I demanded.

  He spun back around and I swore I could feel that dominant energy emanating from him again. “I’m trying to get to know you,” he said through clenched teeth. “What I really want to do is throw your ass over my shoulder, toss you in my truck, take you back to my place, and fuck you until you can’t move. Take you so hard and long that you don’t have the energy to sass me. I want to show you that I can completely dominate you. But I’m also aware that you and I barely know each other, and the kind of scene you want is intense enough that we need to either know each other really well, or sit down and write some fucking guidelines. So, Joy, you better get your sexy smart-mouth in that vehicle before I shove my cock so far down your throat you can’t talk for a week!”

  Stunned, I didn’t move. My mind raced. What he said he wanted to do sounded pretty damn good to me. I wanted him to slam me up against a wall and fuck me. To pin me down and place me in a position that gave him the full advantage. “I thought…you said you were going to spank me.” The words came out lamely, almost sullen.

  “Jesus, Joy.” He grabbed my shoulders and pressed his forehead against mine. “Don’t you understand what I’m saying? I’ve realized if I touch you like that, I won’t be able to stop. I’ll take you, and I don’t know you well enough yet to be able to tell the difference between a real no and a feigned one.”

  I took a deep breath, and despite the protests from my sex-deprived and aching pussy, I nodded. “You’re right. I guess I’m just used to one night stands. Slam bam, thank you, ma’am, and move along.”

  “I don’t do one night stands,” he responded.

  My heart wilted in my chest. I’d had my suspicions, but hoped that he would be okay with one. After all, weren’t most men in the military horn dogs who jumped from girl to girl? My cousin once told me that his unit had a saying. If it’s not in the same zip code, it’s not cheating.

  “Okay. Well, goo
dnight then. Thanks again for dinner, Striker.”

  He pressed a chaste kiss against my forehead. “Goodnight, Joy.”

  As he walked away, I pulled my keys from my purse and climbed into my truck. I refused to look at him. Refused to give in to the whirl of emotions tearing up my insides like a tornado. Our situation was cut and dry, despite my desire to know what sex would be like with him. It all boiled down to one significant point—Striker and I wanted different things from the relationship.

  Other than in a professional capacity, and even then I’d probably have his file switched to one of my coworkers, I’d never see him again. As soon as I got home, I would unfriend him on Subspace and move along.

  I repeated this to myself over and over on the drive to my house. Swore it would happen as I walked up to my front door and unlocked it. Convinced myself it was for the best as I turned on my computer and logged into Subspace.

  MasterGS: You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’m watching you pull out of the parking lot while I send this message, and I’ve got the worst hard-on ever. It killed me to send you away. But as the Dominant, it’s my job to take care of you, even when it means pissing you off. I can’t wait to taste you again.

  Tears of frustration tracked down my cheeks as I read and reread his message. Uncertain what to do, I grabbed a throw pillow off my couch, pressed it against my face, and screamed. Channeling every ounce of my confusion, I pulled the pillow from my face to take a deep breath, then screamed into it again. As fucking stupid as I probably looked, it was cathartic.

  I did a check of myself so I could categorize what all was wrong. It helped me center and prioritize, so I could make appropriate decisions. Pretty damn helpful when an emergency patient came in the door.

  I’m sexually frustrated.

  I’m confused.

  I’m angry.

  I’m disappointed.

  I don’t know what to do.

  That summed it up, as far as I could tell, so I sat down on my couch to figure out how to sort out all the bad things. In the clinic, it would have been easy. An animal bleeding out suddenly seemed far less complicated to handle than my own emotions.

  First thing I needed to attend to was the fact that my confusion bundled effectively with the observation that I didn’t know what to do. They were two sides of the same coin. My confusion stemmed from the war between my mind and body. Not even that, I realized. My mind itself was split in two. I liked Striker. Really, really liked him. He’d made me laugh tonight, he’d set my world on fire, and he’d made me want things I’d never wanted before. I wanted to submit to him. Wanted to give my vulnerability into his care. More than that, I wanted to do it for more than just a single session. And that’s where the confusion came in.

  “I’m a free range kind of gal,” I said aloud, trying to drive the point home to that part of my brain that seemed to have forgotten. “Remember? You don’t do relationships, Joy. They’re messy, complicated, and come with lots of baggage. Screw that shit.”

  Next, I felt disappointed and angry. These were also reflective of each other in this situation. I’d wanted tonight to end in him taking me back to his place or coming to mine and us having wild sex. That was what Hope and Wes did to solve their fiasco where he hid his identity from her at first. Not only was I disappointed that we didn’t have sex, but I also seethed with anger that he’d toyed with me all night, made promises to play with me, then backed out. Even if his reasons were damn good!

  And this all brought me to the whole sexually frustrated issue. Normally, I would have marched to my bedroom and finished the job myself, but the war of emotions within me kept that from being a viable option. Who could get off while in this state of mind? Not me, that was for sure.

  “So what are you going to do about it, girl? Cry yourself a river? Kick his ass to the curb before…” Before what? What exactly am I afraid of?

  I walked back over to the computer and stared at his message again while the wheels turned in my head.

  But as the Dominant, it’s my job to take care of you, even when it means pissing you off.

  I owed the guy an explanation for breaking it off, at least. BDSM revolved around honesty and communicating, not hiding and disappearing. With that in mind, I leaned over and typed.

  Force2NJoy: You did piss me off. I feel like I got cock teased and cock blocked all in the span of a couple hours because you suddenly decided to be noble. I appreciate it, but next time, don’t lead your date on with promises, then leave her with nothing. I’ve had my fair share of one night stands, and I can tell you nothing you wanted to do couldn’t have happened without simply choosing a safe word.

  I hit send and sat back, glaring at the screen, and waited. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Ten minutes passed as I refused to budge from the desk, certain he’d respond any second. When twenty minutes expired without a reply, I finally convinced myself to give up. He’d sent me the chat message equivalent of, “I’ll call you.”

  On impulse, I removed him from my friend’s list. It was a fun fantasy, but life goes on. With that, I made myself go to bed…but I still couldn’t find the desire to sooth the ache between my legs with a toy.

  Chapter Five

  I handed the last ball of squirming fur to Hope and smiled at her. “These wiggle butts look healthy as can be. They certainly didn’t suffer any ill effects from malnutrition, despite their mama’s condition.”

  My best friend placed the puppy back in the nesting box where the proud mother dog nursed her other three puppies. A loud thumping emitted from the interior as she wagged her tail at Hope. She’d given birth early this morning under her rescuer’s watchful gaze. We hadn’t been entirely certain the pups would make it considering their mother was skin and bones. She’d been found as a stray digging through trash at the diner last week. Even with the refeeding program we had her on, weight gain was near impossible since her growing pups pulled the nutrition from her.

  “Do you have room to take on a puppy in a couple of weeks? It’ll be an 8-week old sheltie mix.” I took off my gloves and casually threw them in the trashcan next to Hope’s desk, then spritzed some disinfectant on my palms and rubbed it in.

  “You know I’ll always have room for animals that you need me to take on,” she replied while checking the dog’s water bowl. “What’s going on with it?”

  “Broken rib. Parents left their toddler unattended. They surrendered it to me because they didn’t want the vet bills, and I refused to euthanize it.” A wave of annoyance washed over me again, but I pushed it back.

  She made a face at me. “Poor baby. Yeah, no worries. I’ll make sure it finds an understanding home. How was your date with Gabe?”

  “Gabe?” I blinked at her, searching my brain. No one by that name came to mind. “Do you mean Striker?”

  Hope tapped a finger against her lip. “Mmmm, yeah. I think so. Wes told me to call him Gabe, though.”

  “Why?” Well, the GS on his username makes sense now, at least.

  “To piss him off.” She grinned at me, and I found myself grinning in return.

  “Did it work or have you had the chance?” I asked, trying to keep my tone disinterested.

  She shrugged before glancing at her watch. “Haven’t tried it yet. He called Wes at 5:30 this morning to get permission to talk to me. Can you imagine that? He asked my boyfriend if it was acceptable to talk to me.”

  “That’s odd. Why did he do that?”

  The dogs outside the kennel set off in a round of barking, and I glanced through the window to see what was up. A large, black truck pulled up the lane slowly. Cool. Looks like Hope has a potential adopter.

  “Probably because people who practice the lifestyle give each other that kind of respect. Since I’m Wes’ sub and not just his girlfriend, Gabe is going through the proper channels. It’s kinda cute, actually.”

  “You’ve got a visitor for an adop—goddamn it!” My stomach churned as a familiar figure stepped out of the truck.
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  Hope nudged past me so she could peer out the window. “Oh, yeah. He set up an appointment to see me today. We’re supposed to go over how to get his paperwork together for a nonprofit horse rescue. I… Joy, are you okay?”

  “No.” I jerked away from the window and leaned my forehead against the nearest wall. “Oh this suuuucks. Holy hell.”

  “What is going on?” She rested her hand on my shoulder. “Do I need to beat him up or sic a dog on him? Did he hurt you last night? Do I need to call Wes?”

  “If by hurt you mean left me all riled up with no happy ending, then yeah. Otherwise, no. I broke up with him…via chat message.” With a groan, I glanced around her office in the kennel, knowing it was useless. There was only one door, and the man I wanted to avoid most was fast approaching it.

  “Why? Wait, do you want me to go outside and like, stave him off. Take him to the house to sit in the kitchen or something so you can sneak out?”

  I shook my head. “Too late. He knows what my truck looks like. If he doesn’t already know I’m here, he’s blind…or stupid. And I can tell you for a fact he’s neither.”

  “I’m not hearing anything break up worthy so far,” she said.

  A grin tugged at my lips despite the queasiness in my stomach. “How’s ‘he doesn’t do one night stands’ sound?”

  “Like you need to get your priorities straight if that’s all,” she replied, then pressed her lips into a thin line as a knock sounded on the door.

  I stared at her, surprised by her response. Hope rarely talked to me in that tone, but when she did, it usually meant I was doing something stupid. But wasn’t it far more stupid to enter into a relationship with a man who wanted long term when I knew I only wanted a short tryst? Or did I? Last night’s feelings of confusion slammed into me full force once more.