PLAY ME: A Kinky Reads Title

by Dukey, Ker

  “Rupert,” I urge.

  Shaking his head, he tells me, “No, not really—not facts. Her best friend Amy and I came home from a party. She’d left earlier, like an hour before us. When we got there, she was messed up. Her clothes were torn and clutched to her, bruises on her skin.” He shudders. “I think she was attacked, but she wouldn’t talk about it, wouldn’t let us help her.”

  “So, you did what?” I growl. I shouldn’t be angry at him, but I am. I’m irrational because, dammit, I want to go back in time and help her. Kill whoever hurt her that night.

  “What the fuck was I supposed to do? There was no one in the apartment and she wasn’t talking. Then she just fell off the planet. I don’t know.”

  Someone calls him over, and he leaves me to make their drinks. My phone buzzes while he’s preoccupied.

  Quinn: When are you going to come get me?

  Me: It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?

  Quinn: Did you get the key?

  I shove my hand in my pocket and palm the key that had been mailed to me. Her key. She wants me to come into her home and give her the fantasy she craves. But the fantasy isn’t real if I tell her all the specifics.

  Me: It must have gotten lost in the mail. Some evil postman has it now…

  Quinn: Oooh, I’m so scared.

  Brat.

  “Why did you ask me about her anyway?” Rupert asks, startling me.

  I tuck my phone in my pocket, not willing to share that detail. “I just saw you with her and was curious is all.”

  He shakes his head. “You have no chance with her. She’s nothing like you or what you like.” He doesn’t say it unkindly. Just truthfully. Maybe not the Quinny he once knew, but the Quinn now is exactly my type.

  “How do you know what she’s into? You forget where you bumped into her?” I grin at him.

  This gives him pause. His brows crash together. “Do you know why she was here? Did she book a room? A scene?”

  “You know that’s confidential, bro.”

  “Bullshit. She probably thought this was a normal club or she was meeting a friend,” he utters, convincing himself. “Oh, look, it’s the freak gang at table one.”

  I swivel to see my buddies walking in and heading toward our favorite booth. “You’re such a dick,” I tell my brother.

  “I learned it from you, big bro.”

  Waving him off, I saunter through the bar to the booth my friends are piling into. Ren is a freak like me, into some kinks that are morally questionable. Got himself a really hot blonde, though, who proudly wears his bruises on her throat. His older brother is one of my best friends. Ronan owns a record label and kills it in the music scene. He’s a little kinky too and found a young thing who calls him Daddy. Fucker gets off on that shit. Blaine’s my cop buddy who’s had to help on occasion when shit gets out of hand at Hush. Usually, he has his rock star boyfriend under one of his massive, muscled arms, but today, he has someone else with him. A guy maybe ten years older than him.

  “Hey, assholes,” I greet as I shove in beside Ronan. “What are you guys up to? Not looking for a piece of ass since every damn one of you is weak and attached now.”

  Ronan laughs, and Ren shrugs. Blaine simply smirks at me.

  “Where’s Xavi?” I ask Blaine. They’re pretty fucking committed, so it’s strange seeing some dude hanging out with him and not his boy toy.

  “Rehearsing with the band.” Blaine nods at his friend. “This is Greg Sanders. We were partners for several years.”

  “Yeah, and now that this fucker took on private security with his wannabe husband, I’ve been stuck with a rookie. You wound me, man,” he jokes, nudging Blaine with his shoulder.

  Blaine shrugs. “You deserve it for all those times you made me run after the perps. I hope your rookie has legs on him.”

  “It’s a she,” Greg says, grinning wolfishly. “And legs she has.”

  We all laugh.

  “Nice club you have here…” Greg holds his hand out for me to shake.

  “Joshua Tuck. Good to meet you, and thanks. Hush is my baby.”

  “I can see why. Blaine has told me all about it. Pretty sweet deal you have going on here.” He scrubs at his cheek with his palm. “I’ll have to look at the menu.” He waggles his brows, and I chuckle.

  “Hope you brought money. That shit gets expensive fast.”

  Ren reaches across the table and grabs my wrist, showing off my watch. “I’m pretty sure I paid for this Rolex.”

  I jerk my arm back. “It’s not my fault you’re a kinky bastard.”

  Ren smirks. “Totally worth it.”

  Ronan and Ren get into a discussion about one of their new clients. I take the moment to check my phone.

  Quinn: I’m headed to bed. Since you’re not coming for me, I might have to reverse the roles and sneak up on you tomorrow after work. Talk soon.

  I don’t respond.

  At least, not yet.

  “Sorry, guys, but something’s come up. Enjoy a round on me. Greg, it was nice meeting you.” I give them all a wave, then go hunting for my Little Red Riding Hood.

  Snick.

  The sound of the door unlocking is quiet. I turn the knob and push it gently open. Her home is quiet aside from the soft sounds of water running in the back of the house. She’s showering. Excellent. The thought of seeing her naked again does my head in. I want to fuck her until she forgets her name.

  Too bad that won’t happen tonight.

  She wants this, but she’s not ready.

  We’re not quite there yet. Trust doesn’t come overnight. I’m working on her, but it’ll be a while.

  I want to make her feel good, though. I want to give her more and more of her ultimate fantasy a little each day.

  Prowling through the house, I make my way into her bedroom. The door is open. Flannel mismatched pajamas and a pair of white panties are thrown on the end of the bed. She really wasn’t expecting me.

  I turn off the lights in the bedroom, then pull off my jacket and tie. My shoes get kicked off next. I fly through the buttons on my dress shirt, then peel it off. I’m in nothing but my wife beater and slacks when I make my way over to the bathroom door. The water shuts off. Humming can be heard on the other side of the door.

  Patiently, I wait.

  I can hear muffled sounds of her toweling off. Then, the soft sound of a brush running through her hair. She brushes her teeth, then turns off the light. The door opens.

  I pounce.

  She screams at the top of her lungs when I grab her shoulders and manhandle her into the darkened bathroom. Her claws come out and she starts swiping at me, but I anticipate the move, grabbing her wrists. I bring my face close to hers, brush my lips across hers to let her know it’s me, then bind her wrists with one of my hands. Roughly, I set her on the countertop. She shrieks when I shove her thigh to the side and start undoing my belt.

  “Stop!” she yells as she struggles.

  “No,” I growl. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, your head will crack the mirror behind you.”

  She whimpers, but doesn’t say the safe word. I unzip my pants and pull my dick out. I’m not planning on putting it in her, but I want to tease her with it.

  “I’m going to bend you over and put this big dick in your ass,” I warn, though we both know it’s a lie. “I’m going to tear you up and make you bleed. Scream and I’ll make it ten times worse.”

  “No,” she begs, “please don’t.”

  I slap her pussy with the tip of my dick, then slide it between her lips, but don’t enter her. She’s slick. Dirty girl. Enjoying every second of this.

  “You’re not supposed to get turned on, sick girl,” I taunt. “I’m going to take all your needy holes. You secretly want it. Admit it.”

  “No!”

  “You want me to take away your choices and fuck you like you’re nothing but my own little fuck toy. Admit it.”

  I grip her tit and pinch her nipple, thrusting
my hips against her, teasing her clit with my dick. She lets out a needy moan.

  My mouth finds her neck, and I nip at the skin. As I suck her flesh into my mouth, a siren blares as an emergency vehicle passes her house. Her body tenses. I rub against her clit again when she suddenly jerks her hands free from my grip and screams at the top of her lungs.

  “HUSH!”

  I stumble back, tripping over her discarded towel and end up yanking the shower curtain down. Her sob is loud and fucking terrified. Quickly, I stand back up, put my dick back in my pants, then feel my way over to the light switch. As soon as we’re bathed in the yellow glow, I run my eyes over her quivering frame, assessing her wellbeing without touching her.

  “Quinn, sweetheart, it’s me. Joshua. Your friend. Are you okay?” My voice is soft. Calming. Gentle. “Look at me, baby.”

  She snaps out of her daze, her watery green eyes finding mine. Her face crumples incredibly more as she reaches for me. Of course I go to her. Carefully, I wrap my arms around her shaking, naked body and kiss the top of her head.

  “Talk to me,” I urge.

  “I…I…” she sobs again, “I’m just so tired.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” I scoop her into my arms and carry her out of the bathroom into her dark bedroom. She clings to me, even when I set her on her feet at the end of her bed. I help her dress in her pajamas, then guide her into her bed.

  “Stay. Joshua, please.” Then she’s whispers, “But leave the light on.”

  We crawl into bed, and I curl around her trembling body, spooning her from behind. It’s one of her hard limits, but she urged this position and hasn’t told me no.

  “You don’t have to be afraid with me.”

  She nods. “I know. Thank you.”

  8

  Being thrown into the past by something as simple as a siren and the blue flashing lights makes me feel like a failure. Like all these years, gaining back my power was for nothing. I know it was a combination of things. Being naked in the dark with Joshua in his role-play mood. The two worlds colliding at that moment broke me. I hate that I have triggers I haven’t overcome yet. I’ve always felt ashamed of my sexual needs. The fantasies that run rampant in my mind before the attack ever happened only made me feel like I was to blame when it did happen, like somehow I asked for that. It took years of therapy to learn it’s normal to have fantasies and what I dream about is utterly different from what happened to me. He took so much from me the night he betrayed his badge, deceiving a girl who should have been able to trust him. I shouldn’t feel ashamed of a fantasy that was there long before he raped me.

  I felt like I was finally creeping out of the dark into the light with Joshua, gaining ownership of my sexuality, preference, and needs. He may never want to touch me again after this. Him holding me was something I never knew I needed—craved. To feel completely protected in his warm embrace not only fractured the remaining pieces of my soul, but knitted them back together again. He could have ignored my safe word, taken what he came for, but he didn’t. He’s not that pervert. Joshua is good, honest, kind and caring. I’ve wasted so much time trying to overcome something that happened to me, it’s consumed me.

  I need to remind myself it’s something tragic, horrible that happened to me.

  It doesn’t define me.

  I’m not going to allow him to take any more of my power.

  My soul, mind, and body got vandalized and tainted, but it also healed and strengthened me. That monster can’t take my soul. I own it. It’s mine. I won’t let him occupy my mind either. I determine how I live.

  As for my body, I’m going to allow myself pleasure. Fantasies. And Joshua fucking Tuck.

  Feeling empowered, I swallow my nerves and leave the car. Even getting dressed and leaving the house to come to work took tremendous effort today, but I did it. I can do it. I can overcome anything.

  Entering the elevator, I notice Emery from the floor above mine holding a box of Christmas decorations.

  “That time already?” I smile, happy to see her pretty face.

  Hiding away is unhealthy. I’m not that person. I’m not a victim anymore. I’m a survivor. A warrior. A queen.

  “Afraid so.” She shrugs.

  Just as the doors attempt to close, a hand stops them. They crawl back open to reveal Mr. Black, the owner of the architecture firm Emery works for.

  “Room for one more?” he grunts, nodding his head in thanks. He’s devilishly handsome and always smells great. My eyes fall to Emery’s bright pink cheeks, her eyes on his ass. I bite my lip to hide a chuckle. When the elevator opens on the floor before mine, Mr. Black steps out to visit the in-house shared café. “Ms. Washington.” His head jerks. “Emery.” He smirks knowingly at her. When the doors close once more, she sighs, leaning back against the elevator wall.

  “You should talk to him. He won’t bite.” I grin.

  “That would be a shame if he doesn’t,” she mutters wistfully.

  I’m still chuckling when I reach my office and find Wayne sitting on the corner of my desk, a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Some delicious hunk of meat delivered these this morning.” He wags his eyebrows, handing me a card he’s plucked out of a beautiful bunch of red roses. My heart skips as I take the card and open it.

  Red, you brave, beautiful, and incredibly sexy woman,

  I want to take you to dinner. A real date. Meet me at El Faro. 8 pm. Tonight.

  Love, Joshua. (Your big bad wolf)

  “Oh my God! The suspense is killing me! Are you going to let me read it or what?” Wayne bounces on the spot, giddy as all hell.

  “Or what.” I giggle, feeling lighter and free. I hug the card to my chest so he can’t see what’s written and swat him off my desk. “I have work to do, and so do you!”

  “You’re no fun, Quinn. I’m going to have to meet him formally. You know, like to assess him to make sure he’s good enough for you,” he taunts, prancing out of my office with an ass wiggle to rival Shakira’s.

  I don’t tell him I’m not ready to share Joshua with him or anyone else just yet.

  Dinner. A real date.

  I debated texting Joshua to tell him I was busy and couldn’t make dinner. Doubt set in, and I couldn’t find anything to wear because I didn’t know what this was. He said a real date, but maybe he means he’s done playing our game—done helping me.

  “You look beautiful,” he tells me as I brush my hands down my simple black dress and take the seat opposite him. He picked a nice place, intimate. I thank the waiter as he fills my glass with a bottle of red Joshua must have picked out.

  “I took the liberty. I thought you might be standing me up.” He taps his watch.

  “Sorry, I’m not usually late. I hit traffic,” I lie, and he knows it.

  He steeples his hands on the table, like in prayer, and studies me with an intense stare. I feel utterly stripped bare.

  “How was your day?” I ask, swallowing my nerves.

  “Uneventful. Long,” he emphasizes. “I had a hot date I was looking forward to.” He winks.

  Rolling my eyes, I look him over. The suit he’s wearing was made for his body, gripping tight in all the right places. The tie matches the color of his eyes. “Tell me something about you,” I say, fiddling with the napkin on my lap.

  “Something basic, deep, or…?”

  “Something you’ve never told anyone.”

  “Okay,” he says without even thinking about it. “When I was a boy, almost fourteen, I used to do odd jobs here and there for pocket money around the neighborhood.” A cloud of something I can’t decipher settles in his eyes. “I used to maintain the grass for a couple, Mr. and Mrs. Graham. A sweet older couple who used to tip me well.” He pauses to pass me the menu. “One day I go over there and begin doing what I’d done a thousand times before. Usually they were both at work, but Mr. Graham’s car was in the driveway. I went to the front door and found it unlocked.”

  “Oh God, was he dead
?” I ask, horrified.

  “No.” He laughs, then stress lines appear on his frown line. “He was inside with someone who wasn’t Mrs. Graham.” Typical. Bastard. “He saw me walk in. He was in the living room, and he had this woman tied to a contraption. I’d never seen anything like it before.”

  I break off a piece of breadstick and stuff it in my mouth, devouring it. I’m starving. “And now you probably own one.”

  Smirking, he shrugs. “One of many.”

  I feel the usual throbbing between my legs whenever I’m in a conversation with this man.

  “Are you ready to order, sir?” the waiter interrupts.

  “I’ll take the steak, medium-rare,” I tell him before Joshua can. I hate men ordering for the table like we’re incapable of choosing our own food.

  “I’ll take the same. I like mine bloody.” He hands the waiter back the menu.

  Sipping my wine, I smile over the glass when I catch him staring at my lips. “Tell me more,” I urge, intrigued to see where this story is going.

  “So, anyway, he has a woman bound, blindfolded, and gagged in this rack coming down from his ceiling. Mr. Graham places a finger to his lips to tell me to hush, then waves me in, gesturing for me to take a seat.”

  “To watch?” I ask, perplexed.

  He nods in confirmation as he sips a mouthful of wine. “I shook my head no. But there was something commanding about him that made me feel like it wasn’t a choice. It was an adult giving me an order. So I sat and watched as he punished this woman with a whip. He brought her to climax, then fucked her all the while I just sat there. Thirteen years old, feeling—”

  “Violated?” I growl, angry for him, for the woman, for his parents who trusted him to be safe mowing a damn lawn.

  “Guilty.” He frowns. “And ashamed of the reaction my body had.”

  This is something real and painful he’s sharing with me—a part of himself.

  “Joshua,” I murmur.

  “It’s fine.” He waves a hand. “I know now I did nothing wrong, that the adult was in the wrong. But it doesn’t end there, unfortunately.”