Cuff Me: A BDSM Romance Page 3

  I shake my head and pull on my shirt. “It takes a lot more than that to leave proper marks.”

  She looks at me over her shoulder with a self-satisfied smile. “Proper marks, huh?”

  “I shouldn't even be having this conversation with you. We’re at work, for Christ’s sake.” I try to tear my gaze away from her ass and fail completely.

  “What if we weren’t?”

  “What?” The first thing that pops in my head is not at all appropriate, and yet unbelievably tempting.

  “Take me to the club. Not for work, but to show me.” She straightens and turns to me. “Last night, when I stepped inside, I was shocked, but… I need to get to know you better if we’re going to work together, right?” For the first time all morning, she shows a touch of embarrassment, a cute pinkness spreading on her cheeks. “And I have to admit, it made me… curious, I guess? I felt something I've never felt before, and I really want to see more.”

  Danger alarms are going off in my head. “You could probably find someone—”

  “Someone what? Who would I ask? Just walk in and hand myself over to the first cute guy I see?”

  I strangle the growl in my throat before she can hear it. “That’s not what I meant.”

  She takes a step closer, locking her hands behind her back and looking up at me with those big blue eyes. That the pose serves to push her breasts right up at me doesn't escape my highly trained senses, honed by years of being a police officer—and a guy—but she also looks so delightfully submissive that my resolution wavers.

  It's been way too long since I played.

  “Please?” She shifts her weight back and forth between her feet, making her chest sway seductively while she chews her lip.

  Fuck. They’d eat her up in there. She’s going to need me to keep her safe.

  Yeah, that’s why I’m about to do this.

  Right.

  “All right. Fine. If that's really what you want, I'll take you there.” So I'm not made of stone, okay?

  “Yes!” She squeals and throws her arms around me in a hug. Not quite sure what the right protocol is anymore, I pat her on the back in a classic man hug sort of way. She squeezes harder, pressing her breasts into my chest. “Tonight?”

  Tonight? Might as well rip off the Band-Aid. “Yeah, all right. Tonight.” I shrug. “I can pick you up around seven?”

  She pulls far enough away to look up at me with a beaming smile. “It's a date!”

  A date?

  What could possibly go wrong?

  5

  Emily

  Maybe I overdid it a little?

  The shocked expression on Paul's face when I open the door is so comical it's a challenge to keep a straight face. I could've told him about having a bit of a gothy emo phase when I was younger, but I have to admit this is a lot more fun.

  I had to rummage deep into my closet to find my outfit, and I can thank the Academy for the fact that I’m in good enough shape that it's only a little tight. I haven't worn these clothes in years.

  The centerpiece is a black leather corset that's molded to my body. It's front laced, leaving just a bit of cleavage visible behind the crisscross lacings that hold the top together. I yanked on those suckers until I could barely breathe, but the end result is worth it. The cups push my breasts up, and while that was helpful for my younger self, now it looks a little obscene. Then again, that's what I want, right? Certainly no less obscene than the naked woman with the cuffs from last night. I was a little unsure, but seeing the way Paul's eyes trail greedily over my body tells me I made the right choice.

  The corset tops a red and black plaid schoolgirl style skirt with a lacy black fringe. When I was a teen, I thought the look was awesomely counter-culture. Now I know why Mom wouldn't let me wear it out of the house. For the exact same reason I'm wearing it now—the way it makes me look like sexed-up jailbait.

  Underneath, I'm wearing fishnet stockings, with a real garter belt, no less. If Paul plays his cards right, he might even find that out.

  My black leather boots have more buckles than a belt-maker's convention, and around my neck I slipped a leather collar with a metal ring at the throat. Why I even own it I’m not sure, but it seemed cool at the time. Knowing where we're going tonight, it suddenly feels like a lot more than an edgy accessory.

  I apply one more coat of bright red lipstick and look up at Paul, waiting with a smile for his gaze to make it up past my boobs.

  When his eyes lock with mine, they smolder. “Wow,” is all he says.

  “You like?” I do a twirl, not too quickly so my skirt doesn't fly up. I have to save at least a few tricks for later. “Do I look okay?”

  “You look…” He trails off. “Not at all like how I expected you to.”

  “I had a bit of a phase when I was younger. It felt appropriate.”

  His eyes go to my collar and he reaches up, hooking a finger into the metal loop and giving it a tug. It feels… frighteningly amazing. When I see the hungry look in his eyes, I almost take a step back. Maybe I hit the mark too well? He looks like tiger, ready to pounce, and I'm the little cornered bunny that's about to become his meal.

  It's what I wanted, but I’ve had a lot of practice being the flirty one in our relationship. Seeing that kind of intensity on his normally calm and collected exterior is a little intimidating.

  “Must've been quite a phase.”

  Not that Paul's a slouch today either. I guess I knew he wouldn’t wear his usual uniform, but I was thinking maybe jeans and a t-shirt? Definitely not the black pants that hang perfectly from his hips, kept in place with a thick, black belt, and dropping to polished black leather shoes. His charcoal grey button-down shirt is open on top, exposing a bit of his broad chest and his powerful neck. It fits him like it's tailored. Maybe it is, because he's got a physique that's probably hard to shop for, with such a broad chest and narrow waist. It’s warm out, so he's rolled up the sleeves, exposing his muscled forearms.

  Part of me wants to just pull him into my apartment and have my way with him. The way he's looking at me makes me think it wouldn't take that much, but I do really want to see this club.

  I told him I was curious, and that's true, but it's also a chance to get to know him. To see what makes him tick. It’s so rare that he lets anything personal slip. I don’t want to waste the opportunity.

  I’ve wanted him since he was nothing but a handsome face and a smooth voice while I was answering calls, but this is my chance to find out who the real Paul is. I'm totally ready for a night of kinky sex with the hottest cop on the force, but could we be anything more than that?

  Time to find out.

  “You look very handsome tonight. Shall we?” I drop my lipstick into my purse and lock my door.

  He puts out his arm, so I take it and let him lead me to his car.

  A half an hour later, and we're parking behind the club. It's been a quiet ride. Now that we're actually on our way, there's a tension between us that makes it hard to know what to say.

  Obviously I understand his reservations about us, but I’m not going to let temporary—solvable—logistical problems stand in the way of love. We’re adults and if this turns into something, we can re-arrange things at work. What I don’t understand is what’s holding him back, because I can tell there’s something there, and I’m going to figure it out.

  “Paul! And… Emily, wasn't it?” Caleb is watching the door, his ready smile and good looks making him a lot less terrifying than his huge size and powerful muscles could make him. Like the BDSM bouncer edition of Mr. Clean. Not that he still doesn’t look like he would kick ass if he had to.

  I smile and give him a little wave.

  Paul and Caleb shake hands before Caleb takes mine in his and lifts my fingers to his mouth. I can feel my face flush as he kisses them. “Welcome back to our little establishment. I didn't know this was your kind of thing.” He looks up at my date. “Or is this a professional visit?”

  “No, purely
social. I’m just showing Em around.”

  “For now,” I add.

  Caleb glances back and forth between us. “Right. Well, you guys have a good evening then. Don't let me hold you up.” He steps aside with a knowing smirk and gestures for us to enter.

  Pounding music washes over us as we walk in. It’s even busier than yesterday. The dance floor is packed with bodies in every state of dress, from completely encased in leather to nothing at all.

  Holy crap, I can’t believe a place like this is so close to me and I only just learned about it. I suppose that low profile is why they called Paul directly about the dealer.

  “Where do we begin?” I yell at Paul over the music. “Should we dance?”

  His face makes it obvious what he thinks of that, which isn't much. “If you really want to I suppose…”

  Not a big dancer, okay. I can live with that. I’m not sure how I feel about bumping into random body parts while I get my groove on either. I point across the dance floor. “What's the playroom?”

  His eyes shift nervously. “It's where customers can rent rooms or play out in the open.”

  “Out in the open?” I look at him wide-eyed. “You mean there're… people doing… stuff in there? For everyone to see?”

  He nods.

  Wow.

  My legs are moving before I realize, and I grab his wrist to make sure he keeps up. “You have to take me there.”

  In the process of crossing that dance floor, I brush across more bare breasts that aren't mine than I have in my entire life, but that doesn't faze me. I'm too eager to see what's going on back there. I've always been curious, but there's something about the thought of seeing it in person that goes way beyond that.

  Maybe it’ll freak me out. I don’t know, but I do know I’ll regret it if I don’t find out what this place is about.

  And it can only go so wrong with Paul here to show me the ropes.

  Both figuratively and literally.

  6

  Paul

  What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

  Em drags me across the floor like she's determined to rip my arm off, and I'm already questioning why I said yes to this mess. We’re about to enter an area of virtually no holds barred kink and power games, and no matter what happens, there's no way our relationship is going to remain unchanged.

  But if I’m being honest with myself, I knew that going into this.

  Her getup is exactly what I'd expect from vanillas who're slumming it at the scary BDSM club for the night, but I'd be lying if I said she didn’t look hot as hell in it. The way her ass wiggles underneath that skirt has my cock straining against my fly. And that rack. Her breasts look like a gourmet meal served up on a platter.

  And shit, I already know Em wouldn't mind. God knows that's what she's been angling for since she became my partner. So it's up to me to keep our relationship at least vaguely professional.

  I'm not sure I have that much willpower, though.

  I follow her through the corridor, like the white rabbit to her kinky Alice in Wonderland. Or something. Fuck metaphors.

  As we step into the play area, Em stops dead. If I thought she looked overwhelmed when she entered the club last night, it's nothing compared to now. Gawking is the only way to put it, her eyes almost as wide as her mouth.

  “Oh my God.” Back here, the music from the dance floor is just a muted backdrop, so I can easily hear her gasp.

  I've been here so many times by now that this whole scene seems normal, but looking at it from her point of view? I can see how it might be shocking. There’s a big bear of a man naked and stuck in a pillory while a brunette half his size is switching his ass. A girl dressed in so many buckles and leather straps that she looks like some sort of BDSM mummy, tied to a cross and getting hit by shock wands from a couple of guys who're obviously eager to take her down and show her what they can do with their own wands. Not to mention the watchers in various states of dress or undress.

  To Em, this must seem like some sort of madhouse.

  “Come on, why don’t we—”

  She cuts me off before I can offer to buy her a drink and show her something less intense. “Paul, this is amazing.” Her head moves constantly as she tries to take in everything at once. “It’s so… so sexy. Raw. Primal. I don't know. I don't have the right words.” Her breathy voice is barely above a whisper.

  “It just is.” Despite all my misgivings about taking her here, I still can't help smile at her wonder. “Some things can't be labeled, but just are. Just see it for what it is and don't judge.”

  She glances at me, her face flushed with excitement. “What is there to judge? This place is amazing. People doing the things that they want to, without inhibitions.”

  Putting my hand on the small of her back, I guide her forwards. “We should get out of the corridor so we don't block the entrance.”

  Right now, I envy her. That first time, the moment of discovery, of realizing that you've just found something that you never realized you were missing. Something that's so much a part of you, but you've never been able to express. Until that moment. It's something that only happens once.

  We stop in front of a couple, two women. One of them, a slender brunette, is bent over a bench, while the other, a tall and curvy blonde is leaving bright red marks on her partner’s ass with a crop. With each strike, the brunette cries out, shuddering with a sob, before bending over to wait for the next one.

  Em looks up at me. “This is what they all want, right? You wouldn't belong to a club where they—”

  “Everything's consensual, I promise.” I cut her off immediately. “Gabe and Caleb are very strict. Anything non-consensual is stopped, and if appropriate, reported to the authorities. Keeping a place like this open is walking a razor's edge of legality and public perception. It only shows how much Gabe and Caleb love being able to present a free haven for those in the lifestyle.”

  Em nods, already looking around for the next thing. Hopefully this is all making a good impression, and isn't just some sort of freak show to her. Judging by her expression, she's a kid in a candy store—a kid that didn't even know candy existed.

  As we move deeper into the play area, we reach the center stage, where the most exhibitionistic of players like to scene. Sometimes that's Dawn and Gabe, or Viv and Caleb, but tonight it's Amber and Eric. Good to see them. It's been a while.

  Not that they see me. They're so caught up in their scene that they might as well be alone. I glance at Em, and she's watching them closely and licking her lips. “Wow.”

  She's right to be impressed. Eric's always been a whiz with rope, even back when we served together, but he's found whole new ways to express his talent.

  I think Amber's naked, but she's wrapped in so much rope that it's difficult to tell. Suspended about four feet above the floor, she's cocooned in a web of knots and hemp that hold her secure from several steel rings mounted on a swivel from the ceiling. He's posed her in a sort of superhero pose, as if she's flying, hanging face down with one knee bent forwards and her arms outstretched at her sides like they're wings. It's not just kink, it's a work of fucking art.

  “That's beautiful,” Em whispers.

  “Yeah, he sure knows what he's doing. He's gotten better since last I saw them perform.”

  “So what about you? What are you good at?” She tears herself away from the scene to look at me with a teasing smile. “If I wasn’t here, what would you be doing? Let’s do that.”

  Oh shit.

  So much for just taking her here to show her. “Does it matter? I’m just your chaperone for the evening.” For so many reasons.

  She moves closer, wrapping her hands around my arm and pulling me to her. “As far as I remember, you seem to think you've established that, but I am totally”—she emphasizes that strongly in a sultry voice—”certain that I never agreed.”

  There's only so much a man can take. With a quick twist, I capture her wrists in my hands and force them down
behind her so we’re chest to chest while I pin her hands together at the small of her back. It’s very much like how she'd presented herself to me during our workout.

  She draws a sharp hiss of breath as she finds herself pressed against me, looking up. Watching her has gotten me so damned worked up, and I'm sure she's feeling the effects of that pressing against her stomach.

  I whisper harshly, “I like to be in control. When I play, I'm the Master, and you would do anything I tell you to, or be punished for it.”

  She shivers in my arms and her eyes lock to mine. At that moment, the sights and sounds of the club fall away. We're the only two people in the universe. I want to do what she’s asking for so fucking bad that I'm not sure if I could control myself, and the lust in her eyes only spurs me on.

  “Show me,” she says.

  7

  Emily

  The fire in Paul's eyes flares up so brightly it's scary. God, it’s so easy to tease him while we’re in here, feeding off all the amazing, sexy things happening around us. By all rights, I should be terrified. People are being tied up, beaten, humiliated and punished like we’re in some sort of medieval dungeon, but instead I'm dripping wet.

  Standing here in the middle of it, pressed up against Paul's chest with his strong hands trapping my wrists behind me, I've never wanted anyone so much as I do him right now. And if the hardness against my stomach is any indication, the feeling's mutual.

  What can I do to push him over the edge?

  “I'll do anything you want.” Swallowing thickly, I rub my face against his shirt, like a kitten begging for milk. “Anything.”

  He closes his eyes and draws a deep breath, obviously fighting an internal battle. Propriety versus desire. Work ethics versus lust. Doesn't he realize how much we want each other?