Make Me: An Erotic BDSM Romance

Make Me

S
eriously?

Seriously?

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! For the first time in forever, my lazy ass is out of bed early enough to get to work on time and then
this
happens. Goddamnit!

There are a lot of things I absolutely love about my new apartment. Central, close to work, close to nightclubs. A little noisy in the evenings, but I can sleep through most anything once I’m out. Even my alarm clock. Especially my alarm clock. There’s a reason I’m already getting reprimands at the office after only a couple of months.

A thing I don’t love? Street parking only, and it’s tight. Moving here was a crash course in extreme parallel parking. Almost literally. Like, they should make a game show out of that, or something. Seriously. Still, after a few weeks, I kinda feel like I’m getting the hang of it.

Last night, I was really proud of how I slipped right into this spot on the first try, and it’s even right outside my apartment. How awesome is that? Apparently too awesome, because I angered the parking gods, horrible beings that look down from up high, just waiting to screw over a puny little ant like me.

My car isn’t much, a faded brownish-red sedan that gets me where I want to go, when I want to go there, at least most of the time. Not this time, but for once it’s not my car’s fault.

I check the front bumper, and the distance between it and the car in front is so short I’m not sure I can get my fingers between them. The back bumper is better, but only by like an inch or so. I can wiggle back and forth in that space all I want, but I’m still not getting out.

Fuck! I’m
this
close from pulling out my keys and going to town on those two cars. Assholes!

There’s a bus, but I’ve never taken it. No idea what the schedule is. Not even totally sure where the stop is. It was just one of those things to check before moving here, knowing it was an option. What now? Mostly, I just want to plop my ass down and cry.

Sure, I can call work, but with my record, who’s going to believe me? I can just picture Mr. Harrison now. “Young lady, you may think you can do what you want, but I
guarantee
you, that you will never become a full architect in this company if you can’t even show up on time. In my day, yadda, yadda, blah, blah...” Too bad they’re the only worthwhile architecture firm in town to work for.

Now I’m going to have to work overtime to make it up, and I really wanted to go out tonight. Not fair. Working late is its own kind of torture, but doesn’t beat a good flogging. At least the way I see it.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Aaarrghh!” I wanna tear something apart. Mess things up. Rip something to shreds. If I could, I’d dismantle those cars down to the last screw and spread the parts all across the city. See if those assholes park here again.

“Hey, you okay?” A deep masculine voice sends heat racing straight down to my core.

I turn, and immediately wish his first impression wasn’t of me screaming at my car like a lunatic. The most handsome man I’ve seen all day, maybe my whole life, arches his eyebrow and looks at me.

He’s tall. I’m short, so everyone looks tall, but he’s taller than that. Makes-me-feel-like-a-little-girl tall. His leather jacket’s open over a black t-shirt that’s stretched tight across his broad chest. Not bulging, but hard. Strong. And those arms. Bet he could give a good spanking to a girl in need.

I swallow and crane my neck, my gaze exploring all the way up, past his powerful shoulders and strong neck, over a chiseled jaw and a pair of full smirking lips that look made for kissing. Bright under short and spiky black hair, a hungry set of deep hazel eyes, flecked with green and brown, are crinkled in amusement.

“Uh, hi.” That’s right, Dawn. Dazzle him with your smart reply and draw him in with your witty repartee. Fuck, I’m screwed.

“Hi yourself.” That voice could melt ice, it’s so hot. Deep and with just a little hint of scratch. I bet he’s a growler. I like that, when they’re gruff.

“So... I was passing by and couldn’t help overhearing your expression of... frustration?” His eyes lock to mine, and I know I can never tell that man a lie to his face. I’d break down. God, those are amazing eyes.

I realize he’s waiting for an answer. Right. Stop mooning, Dawn. “I, uh... well, my car’s stuck.”

“Stuck?”

“Yeah, like parked in. Look at this bullshit.”

His smirk turns to a crooked grin, like he didn’t expect me to swear, or something.

Yep, that’s me. A delicate flower. If he only knew, but he doesn’t, and it’s not something I’ll blurt out to someone I just met, so I just wave at the car.

“Those fuckers made a sandwich out of my car, and now I can’t get to work.” The frustration’s back and the rest just pours out of me. “And now I’ll get reprimanded again, and if Mr. Harrison’s not feeling forgiving, I’ll lose my apprenticeship, and get my ass kicked out on the street and be without a fucking job, and it’s all because I can never get the fuck out of bed on time, and be respectful and not fuck up everything like I always do, and...”

He cuts me off with a finger to my lips. “Shhhh.”

A bit close for comfort, but it’s hard to get angry at a smile like that. Besides, he’s right. “Sorry, I know you don’t want to hear it. Why would you care, right? Didn’t mean to dump on you. Just frustrated, y’know?”

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate. If you had time, I’d stick around and listen to every single word.” Obviously he sees me screw my face up in disbelief. “Listen, I don’t think I can fix everything for you, but I can fix this. Gimme your keys.”

“What?”

“Your car keys. Give them to me.”

I glance at my car, then back at him. Is he like a parking ninja or something? He’s pretty ripped, but I don’t think he can lift my car out. Wouldn’t need my keys for that anyway. He could just take them and run away, but there’s something about him. I trust him, though I don’t know why. Maybe because he’s willing to listen. Reaching into my pocket, I dig them up and hold them out to him.

His grin widens as he takes them. He talks as he rounds the car behind mine so he can get to the driver’s seat. “I get the whole getting up late thing, by the way. I’m actually on my way home from work. Maybe you just need a job that lets you stay up late and sleep late. Worked for me.”

“If you know of any late night architect firms, let me know.”

He stops with his hand on the roof of the car, and laughs, a bark deep in his chest. “Guess that’s a tough one. Architect, huh? Cool.”

The keys jingle as he finds the lock and shoves them in. The door creaks when he opens it, like it always does. “You could oil this, you know.”

He looks unsure for a moment, which doesn’t suit him. Then he reaches in, finds the handle for moving the seat and pushes it back as far as it can go. Even then, he’s way too big for my car. It’s like they built the car the wrong size. Still, he gets the key in and starts it up. Where does he think he’s gonna go? I watch with deep interest.

Just as his hand shifts into reverse, I realize what he’s about to do. Seriously? He throws his thick arm over the back of the passenger seat, looks over his shoulder and pushes the gas. Gently. The car doesn’t jump backwards or anything, but I cringe when my back bumper touches the asshole bumper. Is this even legal?

My car stops, blocked by the other car. Maybe he just knows some clever wiggle technique. Nah. The engine revs and the front dips a little as he steps down. My car sounds angry, frustrated, a lot like me. No way this’ll work. That guy’s hot as anything, but he’s gotta be nuts.

Then something happens. The cars move, a creaky sound like a whiny protest coming from the asshole car. He pushes harder, and the whiny protest grows into a panicked squeal. My hands go to my ears while I watch gleefully. That couldn’t possibly be doing good things to that car’s gearbox.

Inch by inch, the cars move until they’ve gone almost a foot. Is that enough? My guardian angel lets up on the gas, shifts and drives forward until my front bumper kisses the back bumper of the other car. Again?

More revving, more pressure, more squealing, and that car moves too. This guy’s over the top. Who does that? He does, I guess. There’s a sharp crack, and suddenly the cars move easily. Fuck, was that the hand break? Will I be responsible for this? I don’t know much about cars, but sharp cracks when forcing a car to move sound really expensive.

On the bright side, my car’s free, and looks unharmed. Maybe a couple of scratches on the bumpers, but who looks at those anyway? Just plastic.

He shuts off my car and climbs out. “You probably have to adjust your seat, but I think you’re good to go.”

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” I’m grinning so hard it almost hurts. “Thank you. You’ve saved my ass something fierce.”

His answering grin makes my stomach knot. Never mind forcing cars to move, can a face that handsome be legal? “It’s a nice ass. It deserves some saving.”

“What? I...”

“Shouldn’t you be getting to work? You said something about getting fired.”

“Oh shit. Yeah.”

He tosses the keys to me, which, amazingly enough, I catch. Go me. When I look up, he’s already walking away, like his work here’s done.

“Hey, wait.”

He turns.

“Can I thank you for this some way? I mean, later? Like buy you a coffee or something? What’s your name?”

That smile again. “Gabriel.” He waves. “See you around.” He walks off.

“I’m Dawn!” I yell it at his back.

“Nice to meet you, Dawn.” I want to swoon. Is swooning out of fashion these days? I watch him until he turns a corner and disappears.

Shit, I need to hurry, not stand here and moon. Seat, mirror, keys in the ignition. The car turns over and I get the hell out. I’m late, but not
that
late, and I can make it up if I hurry. At least traffic’s light. If I get there early enough, I’ll still have time to visit the club.

Gabriel. I laugh. He really is my guardian angel. I had no idea angels were batshit insane, though.

Y
ou wouldn’t think it was possible to make a flogging boring. Seriously. Same speed, same rhythm, same strength. He wants me to count, but I stopped to get a rise out of him. He hasn’t even mentioned it. Just the same limp-wristed stroke over and over.

The sawhorse is biting into my hip, too. Not sure if it’s uncomfortable, or I can pretend that it’s part of the play. Wish I was taller. At least my feet would touch the ground then.

My nose itches, but my hands are bound, stretched out along the sawhorse on either side of me. Kinda stuck staring at the floor while um... Dennis? While Mr. Uninspired works the exact same spot on my ass, and if my hands were free, works would be in air quotes.

I should say something, but I’d probably crush his fragile ego. For playing at domination, he doesn’t exactly flog with confidence. Not my most amazing BDSM experience, to put it mildly, and there haven’t even been that many.

The club’s packed, but none are watching us. Bet we bore them too, even with our prime spot near the center of the floor. I’m still wearing my bra and panties, so they don’t even have my naughty bits to gawk at.

Other players are having more fun. Can’t see them through the crowd since I’m kinda tied up here, but I hear them. Moans, screams. Yelps of pain. Someone’s coming, or she’s really good at faking it. I’m envious.

I see shoes. I’ve seen a lot of shoes today, but these stopped right in front of me. Nice. Leather. Men’s. I crane my neck, trying to look up the denim-covered legs, but I can’t see very far from this position. Nice legs, though.

He crouches and pair of newly familiar green and brown speckled hazel eyes sparkle at me with amusement. What the hell is Gabriel doing here? Did he follow me? Oh fuck, I’ve got a stalker. Pretty damn good-looking for a stalker, though, I’ll give him that. Already he’s making my heart beat faster than Dennis is.