Trust Me: A BDSM Romance

by Cate Bellerose

  He folds it several times over itself, until it’s narrow like a scarf, then drapes it over my eyes.

  “What are you doing?” It’s a stupid question, since I already know the answer.

  “Making this a little more interesting,” he murmurs in my ear as he makes sure that I can’t peek. “Lift your head for me. Just for a moment.” When I obey, he passes the folded shawl under my head, but ties it off to the side. “This way you won’t have to lie on the knot. I might be a while.”

  My eyes pop open in panic behind the blindfold, not that it helps in any way. “Where are you going?”

  I can sense him sliding further down the bed, then his voice comes from between my legs. “I’m not going anywhere, but I’m planning on enjoying myself. If this really is the last time—”

  “Definitely,” I breathe out, as much to convince myself as him.

  “—then I’m going to make sure that I do this right.” He places a kiss right on the outside of my panties, the pressure of his lips soft and hot through the material. I gasp in response.

  “Oh… okay.”

  Then he kisses again, on the inside of my thigh. And again, and again, exploring my legs with his mouth and tongue. All the way up to my knees, tracing my sensitive skin. Tingles race into my core like they’re trying to show him the way, but he takes his time, going maddeningly slow.

  The loss of my sight makes all my other senses stronger. I listen intently for every sound. Every touch is a surprise. Even his masculine scent stands out from the smells of cleanser and well-oiled leather. He makes a game of it, moving silently and kissing, pinching or spanking me where he thinks I’ll least expect it. It’s making me needy, aching for him to touch me more.

  “Ow!” That was a spank and it was right on my pussy. I’m more surprised than hurt, but it tingles and I cling to the sensation. Even if that’s all he does, if he’ll only stop teasing, I’ll take it happily. “Please don’t stop.”

  His laugh is right next to my ear. My heart beats faster. I hadn’t felt him come that close. “I have no intention of stopping.” He walks his fingers down my body and then the rest of him follows. Settling in between my legs, strong hands wrap around my thighs, and from that, his face has to be just about where I want him. Trapped as I am, I still try to push my hips in his direction.

  He confirms his location by kissing me through my panties again, but I want—need—more than that.

  “Pull them aside,” I gasp. “Please. Kiss me, not my clothes.”

  He kisses the outside again. “Are you trying to order me around?” he asks in a soft voice that still sounds threatening, like I’m misbehaving. I can’t help it. He’s driving me crazy.

  “N—no, I just… I can’t take more of the waiting.”

  “Of course you can. You’ll wait as long as I want you to.”

  “I’ll use my safeword if you don’t.”

  His immediate response is another slap, right on the pussy. I draw a sharp breath from the sting of it. “We’ll have no topping from below here.” He sounds almost angry. “Your safeword isn’t a toy. If you use it, we will stop, and if I find out you’re playing with me, then that’s it, playtime’s over. Is that what you want?”

  “No, Sir,” I reply as quickly as I can. I don’t want him to stop. Not really.

  “Good girl.” And then he does exactly what I wanted him to, pulling my panties aside and swiping his broad tongue through my slick folds. I gasp out a moan, it feels so good to finally have him there. He does it again while his hands keep an iron grip on my thighs.

  “Thank you, Sir,” I get out between gasps. He’s so damn good at this, and I’m already so on edge. I need him to finish me, but I know better than to start making demands. Again, I mean.

  His only response is a busy tongue on my throbbing pussy. I’m good with that. Better than good. Each stroke or flick brings me just a little bit closer, my body just a little bit tighter, the burn just a little bit hotter. I flex my hips, trying to get his tongue even further inside me.

  As he works his magic, I lose my power of speech. Moans and surprised breaths become my only communication each time he does something new.

  At least until he suddenly gets up, leaving me a quivering needy mess with nowhere to go. “Well, I think that’s good for now. I was thinking of going for a drink. Do you want anything?”

  I can hear the teasing in his voice, but I’m too wound up to remember anything about proper address or staying submissive. “You get down there right this second, or I won’t be responsible for my actions. I’ll…” It’s hard to come up with a good threat when I can’t use my arms or legs. “I’ll pee on you!”

  “Well, not really my kink. Can we negotiate?” There’s barely contained laughter in his voice.

  “No! Get down there!”

  “If that’s what you want.” He gets back on the bed, but he doesn’t tongue me again. Instead he pulls the panties aside and fills me, roughly and deep, driving my breath right out of me.

  That’s all it takes. I was so close to the edge, and now that he’s finally, finally fucking me, my whole body clenches around him as I come hard against my restraints, straining and tugging with the drive to move, but can’t. I cry out in a heady blend of frustration and ecstasy. I want to wrap myself around him and claw at his back, but all I can do is take his pounding as he drives himself in and out while I come. I groan at the stimulation that refuses to stop while goosebumps cover me in tingles.

  “You have no fucking idea how hard it was to hold back,” he growls into my ear. “You look so amazingly fucking sexy right now, screaming and struggling and spread, just for me. I wish I could fuck you forever.”

  I want to tell him that he can. That it was his choice to end this and put us where we are now. God, I need to be furious with him still, but right this moment, all my energy is going to not exploding and floating away in pieces. He feels so good.

  He speeds up, his hips smacking against me as he fucks me for dear life. Quiet groans slip from his throat as he approaches his finish. I can’t even fuck him back, tied down like I am, but I work my Kegels, trying to squeeze his orgasm right out of him.

  “Oh, fuck,” he yells and then pushes deep, filling me, his come hot and wet. I keep clenching, milking him for every drop until I can’t anymore. He collapses over me and kisses me frantically on the lips. “You’re mine,” he moans before he resumes kissing me.

  I grab onto his words, pulling them inside and tucking them away in my heart before reality can crash back down. I’m not his, he saw to that, and in spite of his nice words, one frantic night at the club doesn’t really change anything.

  Not if he’s still not willing to play for keeps.

  29

  Keegan

  What the fuck just happened?

  “So that’s it, then?” she’d asked after I’d untied her. “I guess I’ll see you around. Maybe.”

  I wasn’t even dressed yet. When I didn’t have an instant answer for her, she straightened her skirt, made sure her hair wasn’t too bad of a mess, then got up and left me there. With a little bit of me still inside her and my heart bleeding from her parting stab.

  I drop down heavily on the bed, still bare-ass naked and thinking about that last look she gave me over her shoulder before pushing the door open—sad, angry and still bright with afterglow, all three at once. It’s a look I’m never going to forget.

  She’s not ready.

  But what if she is? What if I’m just being an asshole who’d rather stay safe and pretend that it’s all my responsibility instead of opening myself up to the risk of losing her? The Miranda who walked out that door is a totally different woman than the one who could barely meet my eyes when we first met.

  How long is long enough? A month? A year?

  Even if she’d forgive me for letting her go, could we really just pick up like nothing had happened? I shake my head. Of course not. This is it.

  Fuck!

  I wrap one of the rop
es around my hand until it hurts. I can’t let it end like this. I’m the Dom, right? I’m supposed to be in control, always in control. And I’m letting my insecurities run the show. Yes, I fucked up by letting our personal and professional relationships get mixed up, but does that mean we have to keep punishing ourselves forever?

  Who’s going to keep her safe like I can?

  Goddamn it.

  I fucking love her. I can’t let her run away on me like this. No one has ever felt this right, so perfect. We’ll figure out our future together.

  But I can’t do jack shit if I let her get away.

  Leaping to my feet, I run for the door. I have to catch her before she gets out of here. The crowd has picked up since we slipped into the room, but I press my way through. They must see I’m on a mission, because they part quickly. Past the play area, through the corridor, and then I pop out onto the dance floor. And there she is, just about to leave on the other side of the sea of people. She’s going to get out before I can stop her.

  “Miranda!” It’s no use. With the pounding dance music and the crowd around me, my yelling isn’t close to carrying. The stairs up to the DJ booth are right here, though, so I leap the little rail and rush up to the DJ, a guy in saggy jeans and a reversed baseball cap who’s waving his hand in the air while playing with one of the knobs.

  His microphone is next to his mixing decks. I grab it, getting his in the progress. “Hey, what the hell are you—”

  I hold my hand out to keep him at a distance while flicking the on switch. “Miranda!” I yell.

  The music quiets automatically as soon as the mic goes live, which causes the single word to fill the whole club. Even though the music comes back as soon as my voice dies away, no one’s dancing anymore. Everyone’s staring up at me, atop the DJ booth, but my eyes are only for her.

  And she turns. Confusion paints her face as she looks around.

  “Up here.”

  Confusion gives way to shock when she spots me. She yells something, but I can’t make it out over the music.

  “I can’t hear you, but please. Don’t leave.” I wet my lips. “You were right.”

  The DJ grins at me, obviously recognizing an idiot’s plea for forgiveness when he hears one. Drawing one of the sliders on the mixer board towards him, he quiets the music to a dull roar and gives me a thumbs up. Fucking wonderful.

  Self-conscious about everyone staring at me like I’ve just fallen from the moon, but knowing that her walking out of the building now means her walking out of my life, I continue. “I know I don’t deserve you. I’ve acted like an ass, thinking too much of what I thought was best for you and not listening well enough to what you want. Please. Come back and we’ll talk. And if I can’t convince you, you’re free to go and I won’t bother you ever again.” She yells something again, and with the music lowered, I can almost make it out. “I still can’t hear you.” Waving my hand, I get the DJ’s attention. “Can you turn it down just a moment?”

  “Sure thing, man. Good luck.” He quiets the music until it’s barely audible.

  Miranda tries again. “Keegan, you’re naked!”

  What?

  Fuck, I am, aren’t I? That would explain some of the looks. Oh whatever, I don’t give a fuck, not until I know what her answer is. “I couldn’t wait. If I’d taken the time to get dressed, you would’ve been out the door, and I wouldn’t have been able to make an ass of myself in public for you.”

  “And we all appreciate his ass in public, am I right?” the DJ interjects, raising a loud cheer from the dance floor.

  Dammit. I’m not living this down for a while. But it’s worth the risk.

  Almost despite itself, a smile threatens to break out on Miranda’s face. She chews her lower lip to suppress it. “Well, I guess you have to play to your strengths.” The crowd, following us closely, murmurs with quiet laughter.

  “So what do you say? Can we talk? I mean, somewhere a little more private, maybe?”

  “Do you promise to leave your clothes off? I’m starting to like you like this.” This time, her smile comes out, and it looks like hope.

  The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Anything for you.”

  She nods slowly, but whether she’s accepting my terms or just trying to convince herself is hard to tell. But she does come towards the DJ booth, crossing the dance floor easily as the crowd urges her on.

  I hand the mic to the DJ. “Thanks. Sorry about interrupting.”

  “Hey man, it’s cool. Not the weirdest thing to happen to me here.”

  Honestly, that’s probably true. After a quick wave of acknowledgment, I race down the stairs and vault over the rail just in time to meet Miranda as she gets there. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” She makes a point of looking me up and down. “I always appreciated a man in a suit.”

  I roll my eyes. “Come.”

  “Promise to talk to me like an adult who can be responsible for her own choices? Because if not, I’m right back out that door.” The sternness in her voice makes it obvious that she’s still angry despite her smile.

  “Cross my heart. In fact, I’m going to need your help.”

  “Really?” She raises an eyebrow skeptically, but follows when I lead the way.

  Once we’re back in the private room, I sit down on the bed while Miranda elects to remain standing. She crosses her arms over her chest and watches me cautiously. “This had better be good.”

  I huff out a humorless laugh. “Guess being a total idiot in public only buys me so much goodwill.”

  She shrugs. “Any idiot can run through a BDSM club naked, commandeer the DJ booth and tell the world how dumb he’s been.” Her lips twitch, but the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I need more than that. Why did you change your mind? Why do you need my help?”

  “I honestly need your help.”

  “With…”

  “Providing a sexy ass to spank. Willing wrists to tie. Making it impossible to get out of bed in the morning, because all I want to do is stay there and fuck you.” Unbelievably enough, I’m getting hard again already, and from her glance down and little smile, she’s noticed. “Listen, being a therapist means that sometimes I get too wrapped up in my own head. I was wrong when I said you didn’t need me, at least partly. You don’t need me as your therapist, you need me because we need each other. I want to stay with you. I want to be with you. Fuck, I don’t ever want to let you go.”

  “You had a funny way of showing it.”

  “You weren’t the only one that needed some space. I couldn’t see past the negatives to realize that what we have together is worth the risk. My point is that I can’t imagine any worthwhile life without you. I thought maybe we could try again later, much later, but the idea of being away from you, not knowing, not seeing you, not touching you… it physically hurts. Pushing you away was as much about punishing myself as protecting you. I figured that out tonight. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, and I won’t let you go without a fight. Not again.”

  “Wow. That’s… Oh God, why couldn’t you just have said so to begin with?” She looks at me with big eyes, then balls her tiny fist and punches me in the shoulder, hard.

  I wince, but grab her wrist and pull her in close before she can move away. “Because I’m an idiot. I forgot that we weren’t just therapist and patient. We’re a man and a woman who have feelings for each other. I hope, at least.”

  “You are an idiot.”

  “I’ll have you know there are a lot of people who think I’m quite smart.”

  “Then they’re bigger idiots.” Reaching out, she puts her hand on my chest, brushing it lightly with her fingertips. Her eyes meet mine. “But you’re my idiot. And if you ever, and I mean ever, try to pull anything like this on me again, I will rip your balls off, gild them and put them on my mantel. I’m not a child. If we need to talk about something, we can talk about it. I was upset when you broke things off, but if you’d sat down and talked to me, I would’ve agre
ed to find a new therapist.”

  “Fortunately for you, gilded balls isn’t on my list of kinks, and I promise that I definitely don’t think you’re a child.” Leaning in, I place a gentle kiss on her soft lips, loving that I’m able to taste her again. She slides a hand up into my hair, not letting me go as she responds passionately. I only intended for it to be a small gesture, but it quickly deepens into so much more.

  And when her hand reaches for my eager erection, I realize that our evening has only just begun.

  30

  Miranda

  I tap the door twice before I call out, “Dr. York, I’m here for my appointment.”

  “Excellent, Miss Larson. Come on in.”

  I’m wearing a white button-down blouse with a loose skirt that goes to just above my knees, while balancing on a pair of tall, black heels. My hair’s wrapped up in a bun on my head. Apparently this is what Keegan’s dream client looks like. I could do my own share of analyzing him for that one.

  I open the door into his office—well, not his professional office, since that would be awkward, but in the spare bedroom he uses as one at home, we can fake it well enough for a little role play.

  “Very good,” he says.

  I stand in the doorway, looking insecure, intentionally pressing my chest forwards and my ass back. The very obvious look he sends down into my cleavage might be play-acting, but the lust in his eyes definitely isn’t.

  “I didn’t know you took clients this late, Dr. York.” It’s hard to keep a straight face while play acting, but I do my best. “It’s so quiet here.”

  “Everyone else has gone home?”

  “I think so, Dr. York. There’s no one else around.”

  “Good.” He taps his chin with a strong finger. “Yes, sometimes I have late sessions. Especially with clients as… fascinating as you, Miss Larson.”

  The dramatic pause before he says fascinating is too much. I bite my lip so I won’t burst out laughing.