Make Me: An Erotic BDSM Romance Read online

  I’m nodding as fast as I can. I hear my own whimper but I can’t make it stop. Please don’t kill me. Please, please, please.

  He releases my mouth and gets off my bed. My whimpers turn to sobs. I can’t hold them back.

  “Just hold tight, and no one’s gettin’ hurt.”

  I nod again, covering my mouth with my hand. Shit, I’m gonna hyperventilate. This isn’t happening. I want to pinch myself, but I know this is real. This can’t get any worse.

  “And cover yourself up. I ain’t the rapin’ kind, but hangin’ out like that gives a man thoughts, and you don’t want that.” He says it over his shoulder while rummaging through my dresser.

  Oh God. My cover’s fallen down, and I’m naked. I tug the comforter up around me, shivering inside it even if it’s warm. I keep my eyes on the burglar, watching his every move.

  Another creak from the living room. Gabriel?

  The burglar hears it too. “Do you have any roommates?”

  I shake my head frantically. “No. No one. Just me.”

  “Yeah, yeah, got it.” He lights up the living room with his flashlight. “Guess it was nothin’.”

  He’s barely turned when a large, dark shadow launches itself across the room from the doorway. It collides with the burglar and they both go down in a grappling mass of limbs. Grunts. Punches. The flashlight rolls off and I can’t tell which dark shape has the upper hand.

  “Ow! Fuck!”

  Gabriel!

  Deep thuds, curses, growls. They rock the dresser and my lamp crashes to the floor. It’s like having two wild animals next to my bed. I flick on the light, just in time to see Gabriel on top, driving his big fist into the burglar’s face with a roar. Once. Twice. The third time the burglar’s head snaps back and he stops moving.

  “Oh God! Is he...”

  “Nah, he’s just knocked out. Quick, do you have any rope?” Gabriel’s voice is hoarse and he’s breathing heavy.

  Jesus, why does this even embarrass me? I pull several lengths of bondage hemp out from a drawer under my bed. Red, green, black. I’ve got all the colors.

  “Nice.” Gabriel takes some lengths of black and with practiced moves immobilizes the burglar. Not his first day at the rodeo, obviously.

  He’s only wearing boxers. I’m wearing nothing. Awkward? I don’t even know. God, he looks good, though. His muscles ripple across his back as he winds rope and ties knots. The cops are going to get quite a package in their hands.

  The cops! “Shit, I didn’t get time to call 911.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I did on the way here. Figured that made more sense, once I woke up.” He thinks of everything.

  He’s bleeding! How did I not notice that? An ugly gash runs down the inside of his shoulderblade, oozing blood.

  “You’re hurt!” I hop out of bed before he has a chance to reply. There’re some bandages and antiseptic in the bathroom, if I can find them behind all the other crap in the cabinet under the sink, that is. I dig, throwing the other stuff on the floor until I find them. Aha!

  By the time I return, Gabriel’s dragged the burglar out to the living room. Legs bound, arms bound behind his back, a blindfold across his eyes, the burglar is ready to be picked up. He wriggles a bit, but gives up quickly, knowing he’s beat. At this point I don’t care about him anymore.

  “Turn around.” Bandage in one hand, antiseptic bottle in the other, it’s only now I remember that I’m stark naked.

  “What if I don’t want to?” That cocky grin again, as he takes me in, his gaze starting at my toes and sliding up my body until his burning eyes finally meet mine. There’s a hunger there that makes my stomach clench and my nipples tighten.

  My face warms, and I feel it trail all the way down to between my breasts. The curse of pale skin is that every little flush shows, and I’m positively glowing. “I... I have to check your wound. On your back. So... so turn around.”

  He’s not even listening, is he? His grin curls up on one side, forming a sexy dimple. My gaze wanders and... oh God, he’s huge! Maybe he’s able to hide it when he wears jeans, but the way his silk boxers tent leaves no room to question. I chew my lower lip, considering...

  Sirens interrupt... whatever this is. The cops are almost here, and I’m starkers. Enough people have seen me naked today, thank you very much. “Alright, don’t move.”

  There’s a bathrobe in the bedroom. Big, pink and fuzzy. It looks horrible, but it’s comfy, warm and covers me up. I throw it on just in time to hear heavy footsteps coming up the stairs at full speed. Two young officers burst into the apartment, hands on their holsters.

  “Sir, step back to the wall, please. We got a report of a break-in.”

  I hurry in before this gets silly. “Yeah, on the floor there.” I point.

  “Okay... who’s he, then.”

  “My... neighbor.” Guess that’s correct. “He’s the one who called you.”

  It’s obvious they don’t believe the neighbor part one second. What neighbor shows up in just boxers? Not that they care. None of their business. The next half hour is spent giving our info, explaining, signing forms, agreeing to come to the station tomorrow for full statements. When they finally leave, the burglar safely tucked into the squad car, and I’m ready to sleep where I stand.

  Gabriel turns to me. “Alright. Grab your stuff and let’s go.”

  “Uh... what?”

  “My place. Your front door’s broken, and same with the main door downstairs. That’s how I got in so quick. You can’t sleep here, so you’ll sleep at my place.”

  It makes sense. God knows I don’t feel like sleeping alone right now, but isn’t this moving a bit quick? “You just want to get in my pants, don’t you.”

  “Can’t. You’re not wearing any.” His face is deadpan.

  I raise my eyebrow.

  “Listen, I’m not putting the moves on you here. Not in the market, remember? I’ve got a spare bedroom.”

  “You were looking pretty market-ready before the cops got here.”

  “Seriously? I’m trying to imagine the guy that would not get hard with you standing there naked, and I’m coming up empty. Maybe if you’d just kicked him in the balls or something like that.”

  “Thanks? I think?”

  “I’m not going to do a thing, other than make sure you sleep safely tonight. Doesn’t sound that horrible, does it? Tomorrow we can find you a locksmith to take care of your door. Now get your stuff. You’re not the only one falling asleep here. And I’m cold.”

  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.

  His 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.

  Chapter 6

  Dawn

  Where 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.

  Chapter 7

  Gabriel

  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.