Wild Rush: A Bad Boy Romance Read online

  “The control is partly an illusion. I only had it if the sub granted it. But when I had it, yeah, I enjoyed it. I liked setting the tone, deciding what we’d do. I liked that she trusted me to decide for both of us. Like when you always let me order the wine.”

  That startled me a little. I hadn’t thought of letting him pick the wine as an act of submission. “But that’s just because you know so much more about it than I do.”

  His voice was warmer and I pictured him smiling. “That works in BDSM, too. Doms, good doms, know many ways to guide a sub, guide a scene. Make sure both parties get what they want.”

  “How did you learn how to do that?”

  “Over time. And repetition. How do people get good at any part of sex? By trying, seeing what their partner likes, adjusting, trying again. All it takes is practice, babe,” he said, a teasing note in his voice now.

  I laughed. Prior to our relationship, I’d never gone down on a guy. It’d taken me a while to get up the courage to try, but then I’d found that I liked being able to do that for him, making him feel that good. And I’d urged him to teach me specifically what he liked. He’d been a very enthusiastic teacher, often telling me that practice made perfect. And it had.

  “Did you try lots of different aspects of BDSM before you figured out what you liked?” Even a neophyte like me knew that there was a wide range of activities that fell under the spectrum.

  “I tried some different things,” he said, sounding a little cautious now. “Eventually, I figured out what I liked best. But a dom also factors in what his partner likes, too.”

  “Did you ever tie anyone to a St. Andrew’s Cross?”

  A noise between a gulp and a cough came through the phone. “Damn, Lily, what exactly have you been reading on that tablet of yours?”

  Now it was my turn to sputter. “Just stories.”

  “If I were your dom, I’d make you turn it over to me so I could check it out.”

  A small gasp slipped from my lips. I know he was joking, but… would he ever actually do something like that to a submissive? Invade her privacy like that? Make her admit to enjoying reading about such naughty things? The thought horrified my intellect, but it made my body react. Blood pulsed through my midsection, waking up an area that had been dormant a moment before. “Would you really… ” I began hesitantly, but then tapered off, unsure of how to finish.

  Justin jumped in. “I’m teasing. Anyway, babe, it’s getting pretty late. Hope you sleep well.”

  “You too,” I said, but I held the phone against my ear long after he’d disconnected. When he’d said that thing about if he were my dom… his tone had been different. More… something. Deeper? More forceful? Perhaps I was reading things into it. But then again, I’d been with this man for over a year, and I knew what he normally sounded like.

  Had that been a tiny glimpse of his more dominant side? If so, I wondered what I could do to see more glimpses like that. I wished I’d been able to ask him the things I really wanted to know about. Like why he didn’t want to do those things with me. But then again, I also didn’t know if I wanted to do those things with him. Thinking about something kinky was one thing. Doing it was definitely another.

  But I sure had spent a lot of time thinking about it lately.

  * * *

  Wednesday evening, an hour after I’d taken plates of cookies and brownies around to my neighbors in my apartment building, there was a knock at my door. I was surprised to find Justin there. He usually called before coming over.

  He kissed me and came inside. As always, he looked too big, too handsome, and quite frankly too hot to hang out in a tiny studio apartment like mine. He had a black sweatshirt, faded blue jeans, and his work boots. Clearly he hadn’t been slated to deal with any clients at work today. It was not a fancy look, though I was sure female clients wouldn’t have minded. I certainly didn’t.

  He stretched, his long arms pushing to the side with a very impressive wingspan, and then he settled on my sofa while I got us some beer. When I sank down next to him, thinking now about the firm muscles his casual clothes hid, he said “We need to talk.”

  My stomach dropped. Was he breaking up with me?

  He must’ve seen the look on my face because he added, “About dominance and submission. About all your questions.”

  Oh. He’d really scared me there. My voice came out in a squeak. “Am I asking too many?”

  “Hon, you texted me at work today and asked if I preferred floggers or cat o’ nine tails.” He opened his can of beer and then drained what looked to be about half of it.

  “I’m sorry, I was just curious.”

  “I get that. But, what I used to do… it can’t be summed up by individual activities. It’s not a checklist of what acts to do and what implements to use. It’s about more than that. It’s about trust. It’s about an exchange of power. And in the best case scenario, it’s about meeting the needs of someone you love.”

  “But I’m someone you love.”

  “Are you saying your needs aren’t being met?” The sharp look he gave me and his tone reminded me of yesterday when he’d joked about demanding to see what his sub was reading. It sent shivers down my spine. I’m not sure why. Normally when he was bossy, I got irritated with him. But this… somehow the few glimpses I’d seen of what I was beginning to think of as his dominant side produced an entirely different reaction in me. It made me want to experience more of it.

  “Of course not,” I said, trying to refocus on the conversation. “I’m just worried that your needs aren’t being met.”

  He finished his beer and patted my thigh. “Let me worry about that. I’m an adult. If I’m not happy about something, I’ll speak up.”

  Nodding, I placed my hand on his and squeezed it gently. He made a valid point. He wasn’t the type to keep it to himself when something was bothering him. But I still didn’t get why he wasn’t interested in trying to incorporate some of the naughtier things he liked into our sex life.

  “Are you afraid I wouldn’t like it if we tried?”

  He sighed, sinking back into the couch, his hand falling away from mine. “Ever think that maybe you wouldn’t like me if we were like that? When I’m being dominant, it’s a whole different side of me. It’s a whole different mindset. You got a glimpse of that the other day.”

  His face was so tense I almost dropped the whole thing. But I couldn’t let it go. I didn’t want to let it go. “Are you afraid you’ll hurt me?”

  “No,” he said, letting out a breath of air. “Not physically, I mean. There are safewords. Responsible doms have ways of checking how their sub is doing.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I’m getting another beer,” he said, already on his feet.

  When he came back, he had a bag of chips which he offered to me. I shook my head, tucking my feet up under me and facing him when he sat down again.

  He took a swig of beer and finally answered. “I’m a little worried I wouldn’t like me if I dominated you.”

  Wow. I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but I recognized that it’d been hard for him to say. I shifted positions, sliding next to him. He lifted his arm and I pressed into his side, leaning my head against his broad chest, looking out over the living room. Maybe it would be easier for him to talk about this if I wasn’t looking directly at him.

  “With Maddie,” he said, but stopped when he felt me stiffen. “When I was in a relationship with a submissive… sometimes I wasn’t a very good boyfriend. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I see it now. And I don’t ever want to be that way with you.”

  I thought about that for a few minutes as I nestled against his chest. Did he feel he’d been a bad boyfriend because he’d been dominant? But that didn’t make much sense. Lots of people engaged in that kind of thing. I’d read online about some couples who’d based their whole marriage around that kind of relationship.

  There were lots of questions I wanted to ask, but the most important thin
g was to make sure he knew something. “I think you’re a wonderful boyfriend. I can’t ever imagine you being a bad one.”

  “Thanks,” he said, but it sounded like it was an automatic answer. He kissed the top of my head. “I really like what we have. I don't want to mess it up.”

  “I know,” I said. “But what if it could be better?”

  “Do you really feel that anything is missing?” he said, sounding as if he honestly wanted to know.

  “No. But I worry that you do.”

  “Dammit, Lily, how many times do I have to reassure you that—”

  “None,” I said, cutting him off. “I know that you love me. I know that you're happy in our relationship too. But you’re never going to convince me you’re completely okay with not doing something you used to enjoy.”

  He moved his arm abruptly, sitting up. I sank a few inches back against the couch, watching as he shifted over to the coffee table, sitting on it and facing me. His eyes were cold on mine. “When I was in that fraternity in college, I used to enjoy getting blow jobs from chicks I barely knew. I don’t do that now—yet somehow I manage to live a fulfilling life.”

  I blinked at the roughness in his tone. The crudeness. Clearly he’d intended to shock me, and he had. I’d had just one real boyfriend in college, and he was admitting he’d had lots of casual sex, or at least casual oral sex. Probably other kinds, too.

  Maybe he was right… maybe there were sides of him I wouldn’t like. But I still believed that was not the man he was now. That was not the man I loved and who loved me.

  His fierce expression softened. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I was just… trying to prove that some parts of people’s pasts should stay in the past. Why do you keep bringing this up?”

  The words left my mouth before I could consider the wisdom of them. “Because I think I might like it if I tried it with you.”

  And I think you might like it, too, I added silently in my mind.

  “You can’t know that,” he said, after a long moment.

  “No, I can’t. But how can anyone know they like something before they try it?”

  Justin rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, his gaze directed toward my legs though I knew he was staring past them. “Some people know,” he said, finally. “I did. Pretty much from when I first started thinking about sex. And many natural submissives fantasize about being dominated long before they ever learn that it’s a real thing that couples do.”

  Then he looked up at me, and the look was challenging. “Can you honestly tell me you had an interest in this before you met me?”

  “No,” I said simply. “But I do now.”

  He held my gaze, his eyes so intense that I nearly looked away. But I sensed that if I backed down now, the topic would be off the table forever. At last, he sighed. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”

  “So teach me. You’re an experienced dom. You can teach me about it. All it takes is practice,” I reminded him.

  He gave a perfunctory half smile. “This is not the same as learning to give a world-class blow job. It’s not something that can be an acquired taste, no pun intended. It’s something you either like or don’t.”

  “But why can’t it be? Why can’t we try it and find out? Or at least try something. Remember when you said you hated sushi?”

  My abrupt change in topic had him raising an eyebrow in confusion.

  “I took you to my favorite Japanese restaurant, remember? You got teriyaki, but I ordered a variety of sushi, the kind like the abalone tuna that was seared, not completely raw. And I teased you into trying some. And now you really like it.”

  “But I didn’t actually hate sushi. I just hadn’t tried it, so I didn’t know if I—dammit,” he said, seeing the smile on my face. “Okay, I see your point. About not knowing if you like something unless you try it. But this is not like sushi or blow jobs or anything else in the world. Babe… if you are truly considering this, you need to do some serious thinking about it. Not just reading a fantasy at night in your bed,” he said, and I squirmed in embarrassment as he continued. “However… if you decide that you really do want to try, well, I guess we can give it a shot.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t believe he’d actually agreed.

  “Yes. If you’re sure that’s what you want.”

  “It is.” At least I was pretty sure it was.

  “No, don’t decide now. Take a few days to think about it. And then if you still want to, Saturday would be a good time to start.”

  I blinked at him in surprise. Nothing I’d read had mentioned there being an optimal day of the week for BDSM. My confusion must’ve shown on my face, because his smile returned and he said, “Saturday is your birthday.”

  “Yes,” I said, not seeing the connection.

  “As in birthday spankings, Lily. If you truly want to try this, that’s a pretty good way to get started.”

  Shivers of excitement and fear shot through my body, but I tried to keep my face impassive. But I felt the blush break through even as my pulse quickened and my nipples hardened. A predatory grin crossed Justin’s face—he had definitely noticed my reaction. I turned scarlet as his smile widened. But as embarrassing as this was, part of me was glad he knew that I was truly excited. That I wasn’t doing this for him. Or at least not just for him.

  “Take a day or two to think about it,” he said.

  I was pretty sure I’d think of very little else.

  Chapter Six

  IT WASN’T EASY to focus on work when I was daydreaming about my boyfriend spanking me. I think my face remained red the entire next day. But at least I stopped baking, which was a good thing because the cashiers at the grocery store look at you funny after your third trip back for flour.

  I’d never been spanked before, not even as a child. Would it hurt? Probably—wasn’t that the point? But wouldn’t it be exciting, too? Thinking about it was pretty exciting by itself. My heartbeat would speed up, my core would tingle, my panties would grow wet. But then I’d wonder how much it would hurt. I’d wonder if I’d be too embarrassed. I’d wonder if I’d do something wrong.

  Later, Justin dismissed some of those fears. “If you don’t like it, tell me so and I’ll stop. Immediately.”

  “But what if… I do something wrong during it?”

  “You can’t go wrong. That’s the beauty of it.” Justin laughed at the doubt on my face. “Sorry, Lily, it’s just that the sub’s main job in a spanking scene is to lean over something. I’m sure you can do that without messing it up.”

  I laughed too, but I was still apprehensive. “Do you think I’ll like it?”

  “I think so. I hope so. I’ll try my best to make sure you do. But if you don’t, it’s okay. It really is. There’s nothing riding on this. We’re trying something new that may or may not be right for us.”

  “Okay.”

  “Tell you what, you think about it one more night and let me know tomorrow. That way, I’ll have time to make plans.”

  “You have to plan for spanking?” I was alarmed at the thought. What else could it involve besides one hand and one butt?

  Justin chuckled. “I have to plan for your birthday. If you decide you don’t want to do this, we’ll go out to La Campagna. But if you do want to do this, I’ll pick up some takeout and we’ll eat at my place. Let me know by tomorrow night.” Then his voice got stern. “Call me by six.”

  ***

  On Friday, I thought about it during the morning meeting at work on Thursday. During my lunch hour since we weren’t able to eat together due to Justin’s lunch meet with software clients. While staring at the computer, failing to type anything in the afternoon. And at about 5:58, I made the call.

  Justin was obviously trying to sound casual when I told him my decision, but I could still detect a faint note of excitement in his voice. “That’s great, babe. I’m glad you’re willing to try. And I’ve got dinner all planned. All you have to do is show up. And
wear a dress.”

  “A dress?” He’d never told me what to wear before. Involuntarily, I thought of Madison in her beautiful royal blue dress.

  “Yeah,” he said. “It’s a special day for you. For us. I know you’re beautiful, but I want you to know it to. So wear clothes that make you feel pretty. Sexy.”

  “Okay,” I said, already wondering what in my closet would fit the bill. Maybe he didn’t think the kinds of things I normally wore were sexy? Absentmindedly, I tapped my fingernail against my phone. “Do you want me to make a cake? I don’t mind. I’m suddenly in a baking mood.”

  “It’s your birthday. Of course I don’t want you to make a cake. I’ll get you one.”

  “Do you need help picking it out?”

  He laughed. “How incompetent do you think I am?”

  But twenty minutes after we hung up, he sent me a text: What’s the name of that bakery we go to downtown?

  I responded, and a few minutes later: What do you call that chocolate cake with the coconut icing?

  And finally: I can’t find the bakery’s website. Can you send me a link?

  So no, I didn’t think he was incompetent. Not at work, not at play, and definitely not in the bedroom. But yeah, maybe for food preparation. Finally there was something I was better at than him. But it was still touching—and pretty damn amusing—to see him try.

  Chapter Seven

  “MORE WINE?” JUSTIN asked, his face softly lit from the two candles on his dining room table. He’d gone all out for this dinner. His normally orderly condo was beyond clean and genuinely gleaming. Not a speck of dust anywhere. He’d gotten my favorite entrée from La Campagna.

  “Just a little, thanks,” I said, and he poured a nice dark red. It reminded me of how I used to drink grape juice when I was a kid and the adults were having wine. I still wasn’t sure I preferred the taste of the grown-up version better, but it was helping me relax a little. At least I wasn’t jiggling my legs nervously back and forth anymore.