Make Me: An Erotic BDSM Romance (4 page)

Right, just boxers. No point arguing; he’s right. “Okay, I’ll be out in a sec.” Change of clothes, toothbrush, shampoo, duffel bag. Good enough. I’m not moving in, after all.

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H
is place is bigger than I expected. And nicer. Way nicer. Penthouse, floor-to-ceiling windows, a view of the whole city. Soft expensive-looking carpets and glass tables. A whole series of BDSM themed paintings hang on the walls, seemingly of the same couple. I don’t look too close, in case they’re of him and Vivian. Being a Dom pays better than I thought.

Never mind that there’s a half-empty box of pizza on the coffee table, empty beer cans on the bar that separates the kitchen from the living room and clothes thrown over chair backs all over the place. Expensive, but still a bachelor’s pad.

He begins to tidy up, looking embarrassed. “Sorry about the mess. Wasn’t really expecting company tonight.”

“Whatever. I just need to sleep. You could live in a pig sty for all I care.”

“Right. Your bedroom’s in there.” He points at a door, then points at another. “Bathroom in there. My room’s over there, and if you wake up before me, help yourself to anything in the kitchen.” He opens a shallow closet. “Should even have some spare sheets.”

“Trust me. I’ll sleep on these carpets if you let me. I think they might be softer than my bed.” I drop my bag in the room, and collapse onto the king size mattress. God, it’s perfect. “Never mind. This is good.” At least I’ve taken my shoes off.

He actually picks me up and puts me down on the rug.

“Hey!”

“Just fixing your sheets.” Quickly and efficiently, he does them up, tight enough for an army inspection. Then, as if I don’t weigh a thing, he picks me up and puts me back. “Tempting as it is, I’ll leave you to undress yourself if you want.” He grins.

I’m already dozing. “Sure, whatever.” I wave. “I’ll see you in the morning”.

“Doubt it. It’s rare I’m up until early afternoon. I work late, remember.”

“Right.”

“Good night.” He closes the door before I can reply. I mumble something anyway, and then everything fades.

W
here the hell am I? I wake up groggy and with no idea what time it is. The bed’s soft and warm and I’m still dressed, but I don’t recognize it. I close my eyes. Let’s try this again.

The room’s the same, but last night comes back with a rush. The break-in. Gabriel’s rescue. Cops. Fancy apartment, and the soft bed I’m in. I wipe the sleep out of my eyes and sit up, checking my phone. 11:30 AM. Shit, I gotta call work!

Luckily, even Mr. Harrison thinks a break-in and seeing the police excuses tardiness. In an unusual display of kindness, he gives me the rest of the day off to get things sorted. I should try to make up some of the work on the weekend, of course. Sympathy only stretches so far, after all. Still, long weekend!

Gotta pee. Reluctantly I slide out of bed and grab my duffel bag. Might as well shower while I’m at it.

It’s huge. His bathroom, I mean. Matching sinks, mirrors, lights and cabinets on opposite sides. Beyond them, a small step down into a tiled area with two shower heads to the right and a raised tub on the left, large enough for two. Looks like it has jets.

The bath is tempting, but I don’t want him to have to wait for me if he wakes up, so I strip and get clean, cranking the water up to near scalding. Good pressure, too. Strips the dirt right off the skin.

There’s a big pile of soft, fluffy towels on one of the counters, so I grab one and dry off before putting on fresh clothes. I’ve just come out of the bathroom when the doorbell rings.

Do I get it? Haven’t seen sign of Gabriel, so I guess. Why not? Could be important. I open the door and find myself face to chin with Vivian.

She totally gets the wrong impression. It’s obvious in her face, how her eyes go wide before she frowns. Should probably tell her what the deal is, but can’t quite bring myself to.

“Eh... hi. Is Gabriel here?” She chews her lip. Trying to figure out what’s going on, maybe?

“He’s still asleep. I can take a message if you want.” Hah! That felt good. I’m horrible.

“Oh right, he does love to sleep in, doesn’t he? Do you sleep over often?”

Real subtle, Viv. “Only when it’s practical.” Chew on that.

“Okay.” Her tone told me it wasn’t. “Well, I was hoping to speak with him about a few things, but I guess I’ll come back another time.” She makes as if to leave, then turns back. “Here, take these. I bought them for us, but there are way too many for just me. Why don’t you guys take them? They’re his favorite, but I’m sure you know that already.” She hands me a bag, then walks off down the hall, flinging her red hair back and wiggling her ass all the way. I make a face at her back and shut the door.

The bag’s full of cruller donuts. Seriously? Totally doesn’t seem like his style. Kinda mine, though. My stomach rumbles. No. Let’s see what he’s got. Donuts for breakfast sounds good, but I’m not letting ice queen Viv feed me.

The fridge is pretty sparse. Guess he orders in a lot. There’s a loaf of bread going old, though. Eggs, butter, some maple syrup. The solution’s obvious. I even find some cinnamon in a cabinet. Some bacon would’ve been nice, but no such luck. Fuck the donuts. I stuff them in the trash. Fuck Vivian.

Why am I being so bitchy? I consider it while I mix up the batter. She’s snooty, but whatever. She’s pretty. Fuck, she’s beautiful. She turns me on, and I’m not even into girls. It’s not like Gabriel and me... well, that we’re a thing. I think. He’s so playful one minute, and then he’s all about it being only business.

Fuck business, too. There’s something there, and I’m not the only one feeling it. I just have to convince him. Well, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I make enough French toast to feed an army. Knowing my luck, he doesn’t even like it. Well, more for me. So glad I picked something healthier than donuts. Right.

Just as I slap the last two slices into the pan I hear noises from his room. A drawer opening, shutting. His door opens and he emerges, yawning. And wearing only a towel around his waist. I was too freaked out last night, but I eat him up with my eyes this morning. French toast isn’t the only thing I think about devouring.

“Morning.” He blinks, as if just remembering why I’m there. “You okay?”

“Good morning. And yeah, doing good. Thanks so much for last night. You may have literally saved my life. If there’s anything I can do, name it.” Anything. I’d repeat it out loud, but that would sound desperate.

“Is that French toast I smell?”

“Maybe? It is if you like French toast.”

“Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve had homemade breakfast? If you’ve made enough for me, consider your debt paid.”

“Pretty sure I made enough for the whole club, if you wanna invite them over.”

“No way. Those are all mine. Just taking a quick shower.” He pauses in the door to the bathroom. “I guess you can have a couple since you made them. But the rest? Mine!”

I blink, then snort as he closes the door. He opens it briefly again. “Mine!” I laugh out loud and it feels good.

The water starts, and I imagine him in there while I set the little round kitchen table for two. Naked, soaping up his hard body. Eyes closed, letting the water run over his face, through his hair. Over those broad shoulders and his tight ass. Makes me want to tear my clothes off and rush in there, but I can’t do that. Right?

I spend too long thinking and not enough doing. The water shuts off, and he emerges, his towel-dried hair sticking out in all directions. I want to ruffle it, run my fingers through it. Heat gathers between my legs. God, I’ve got it so bad.

He heads into his room and returns dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt that stretches nicely around his thick biceps. “Hey, you okay? You look a little flushed.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. Just happens when I’m over the stove.” I open the fridge, part to hide my face and part to find something to drink. “You want OJ? Or milk?”

“With French toast? Milk, definitely. OJ and syrup?” He makes a face.

“Yeah, me too.”

I serve it up and he digs in like it’s his last meal. “This is fucking fantastic.” He mumbles it between bites. “You should get burglars more often.”

There’s a more obvious solution, at least in my head, but he’s not on the market. I’ll just have to figure out how to change that.

“Hey, was there someone at the door earlier? Thought I heard the doorbell.”

Crap. Suddenly the napkin in my lap becomes super interesting. “They had the wrong door. Some delivery for a neighbor.” I hate lying, but no way I’m letting her in any closer to him. Never liked competition. He nods, doorbell already forgotten.

It seems like hardly any time has passed when we’re down to the last piece. His eyes meet mine over the table. “Go ahead, take it. I’ve eaten way more than my share.”

I put a hand on my stomach. “Unless you want to roll me home, I’m done. I already ate too much.”

It’s like a standoff, at least for a second or so, before he stabs it with his fork and drags it to his plate. “If you say so. I could eat these until I explode.”

“If you eat too many more, you will. That was a whole loaf.”

“Nah, you helped out.” The last piece disappears almost as quickly as the rest.

I can sit here all day, but I should get home. Hopefully no one’s taken off with all my stuff while I’ve been here. Suppose there are dishes to put away. I reach, but he stops me.

“Nope. You cook, I sort the dishes. Won’t let you do both.”

Won’t argue with that. “Alright.” I smile. “But I have to get going. Got a locksmith to get hold of.”

“Right. Well, you’re welcome back to make breakfast anytime. Just saying.”

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that.” Definitely. Tomorrow if it wouldn’t seem too clingy.

About to leave, but I just can’t help myself. Before he can stop me, I throw my arms around him and squeeze him tight. I’d call it a bear hug, but when my hands barely touch around his back, it really sounds like a stretch. “Thank you. My mover of cars and beater of burglars.”

“Hey, it’s what neighbors are for, right?” His voice is just husky enough for me to think there might be hope. I make sure to rub my boobs against him vigorously.

He runs a hand through my hair. “You better get going before I forget the whole professional thing.”

“Yeah? Maybe I want you to forget it.”

He laughs, but takes a step away. “I’ve already said too much. Listen, there’s a play party at the club tonight. Wanna come?”

“Am I being asked on a date?”

“I don’t do dates. But I do scenes.” His words send a shiver down my spine. If not a date, another scene would be the next best thing. And who knows? Maybe it’ll lead to more.

“Alright. I’ll be there. Gotta go.” And I go, practically skipping down the hall to the elevator.

I
can get used to waking up like that. Homemade breakfast cooked by a gorgeous woman. It’s been ages since I’ve eaten with anyone up here. Might be best that she took off, or I’d be tempted to thank her properly, for hours, until she screamed my name. My dick’s uncomfortable in my jeans at the thought. She’s making it damn hard to keep to the no-relationships rule.

I sigh. The dishes won’t do themselves. I think of Dawn while I rinse off the sticky syrup and load the dishwasher. Where are we heading? She’s interested. Even I get it, though last night wasn’t about that.

I’m
interested. That’s what scares the shit outta me. Beautiful, sassy, able to take a solid spanking while she twitches so enticingly under... aw Jesus, more of this and I’ll have to go rub one out. Fuck, she turns me on.

Maybe a little fling wouldn’t hurt? Hell, I know where that ends. Never been one to get in and out; once I’m in, I’m stuck good. It would be so good to be stuck in her, though. The wiggle of her ass as she left down the hallway’s still fresh in my mind.

Then there’s Viv. She wants back together, and damn, she looks good. Even after everything, it was fucking hard to tell her no, but I don’t wanna go back down that rabbit hole. She says she’s changed. I don’t believe a word of it, but man, we did have some good times. It’s dumb and crazy, unless I let my little head do the thinking.

It’s when I toss out the paper napkins I notice the bag. What’s this? Donuts? Where did they come from? I open it. Crullers. Viv used to run downstairs and get us a bag on Saturdays, early, before I got up. But how would Dawn know about that?

The doorbell.

Viv was here. Who else? Had to have been, and Dawn lied about it. My grin spreads. The little minx was jealous. She
does
like me. There’s my ego boost for the day.

Oh well, gotta get to the club. Get things set up. I’ve got a punishment to plan.

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S
he’s fucking gorgeous. Blue dress that matches her eyes that stops mid-thigh, only thin straps keeping it on. I’m already dying to slip those off, one shoulder at a time. She’s a dash of color in a sea of black leather, black makeup, black hair, black everything. It’s like no one thinks BDSM can be fun anymore. All serious and angsty. And then there’s Dawn.

Her blonde hair’s put up, pinned with a fancy chopstick and exposing her neck, only a couple of curls allowed to hang down to frame her face. I love that look. Prim and proper, though her bright red lipstick paints the naughty girl underneath. The girl that sticks her ass out and begs for more spankings. The girl I’m going to show who’s boss in just a few minutes. I have to adjust myself at the thought.

A lot of heads turn to her, many of them staring with hungry eyes. Better get down there before I have to make things awkward. Getting up from the bar, I approach. I know my eyes are as hungry as anyone’s. I can feel it, deep in my gut.

She spots me and her face lights up. Those dimples are so fucking cute. Cute and sexy. I’m so on edge tonight, I’m not sure we’ll even make it to our play area before I take her. Shit, I want to, so bad, but we’re not ready. We’ll be in public, and that’s kind of a big step to be taking when put on the spot. Next time, we’ll do this in private.