Cuff Me: A BDSM Romance Read online

  It's only a matter of time. Why not now?

  “Em,” he chokes out. “It’s not a good idea.”

  “Please. At least show me how it works.”

  He releases my wrists and takes a step back. Damnit, that's not the way I want this to go. The conflict is clear in his expression, and I really need to make sure he comes down on the right side of it.

  I change tactics. “This is my first time, so how about you just teach me something easy. I'm not asking you to fuck me on the stage or beat me raw.” I chew my lip for his benefit, though I won't deny some of the nervousness is real. “This is all pretty amazing, but it’s not like I actually want to do everything.” Yet.

  His eyes narrow suspiciously. His career is based on reading people, and trying to slip one by him isn't easy. Hopefully his decision process is clouded enough by what I know he wants. What I want.

  What we should be doing together.

  His shoulders relax slightly and he nods. “All right.”

  “Really?” I'm surprised he's giving in already.

  “On a couple of conditions.” His gaze burns into me. “First of all, I won't touch you, not sexually anyway.”

  “Oh.” I'm sure my disappointment is clear.

  He smiles. “I know you think you’re so smart, but I’m not going to let you do something you’ll regret.”

  As if.

  “So I'm going to give you safewords, just like everyone else here. There are two standards we use. Yellow. Something is off and we need to slow down and figure it out. Red means that we stop everything and until it is fixed, we don’t continue, if we continue at all.” He looks the question at me, and this time he's all business. “Does that make sense?”

  “Yeah, I guess. But if you're not going to do anything—”

  “See? That’s why we need to start slow. There are a lot of things we can do that can make you uncomfortable without sex. I don’t know your triggers, and you might not even know them so I want a clear, unmistakable signal that something is going on, for your safety and mine.”

  I swallow hard. Am I in over my head here? “Okay.”

  “Come with me.” Paul takes my hand, his skin burning hot against mine as he pulls me even deeper into the club.

  We start down a corridor with doors on both sides. Over each door is a little light, and we walk past three red ones before we get to one that's green. Paul cracks the door and peeks inside before pushing it open all the way, dragging me in with him.

  The room is red. Red velvet drapes, deep red walls, a bed at one end made up with red satin sheets and red cushions. The only part that stands out as different is the polished hardwood floor.

  If the room itself is red, the furnishings, if you can call them that, are black leather and shining chrome. There's a strange bench with footrests like it's meant to be ridden like a motorcycle. A cross taller than me stands against the wall like a capital X and covered in leather buckles hanging from short chains that disappear into holes in the structure. A black leather couch stands along the wall opposite, looking downright boring compared to everything else.

  Next to the giant X is a rack of scary-looking tools: black whips and paddles, silvery metal handcuffs that glint in the glare of the down-lights that cover the ceiling, and coils and coils of red and black rope.

  The room looks like a hedonist’s torture chamber. Terrifying, but elegant.

  And exciting.

  My heart thumps loudly in my chest as I take everything in. My fingers play awkwardly with the ruffles in my skirt. Every nerve in my body yells at me that this is exactly what I've been looking for, but I have to admit to feeling just a little overwhelmed right now.

  Paul stands by the door watching as I cross the room to the tool rack and look it over. A shiver races down my spine as I try to imagine how they're used, and more importantly, how he might use them on me.

  The bamboo crop looks really painful, but the leather whip curled up on one of the hooks looks even worse. I can’t imagine anyone using that and not leaving some serious marks.

  There's a shorter whip, though, really just a handle with lots of red and black leather strips hanging from it. I trace them with my fingers, loving the feel of the soft leather against my skin. That one doesn't seem so bad.

  I explore the rack as much with my touch as I do my eyes, wanting to know what all these things feel like: hard metal cuffs, downy feathers in a little bucket, and a polished wood paddle with holes drilled through its surface. It reminds me of the stories of college fraternity initiations, and I pick it up with a soft giggle.

  “That would leave some nice marks.” He’s stepped up close behind me, looking over my shoulder. I was so absorbed I didn’t hear him, but now that I know he’s there, he looms powerfully over me.

  I throw his words from the workout back at him. “Proper marks?”

  “Very proper.” There’s an undertone in his reply that sends a titillating chill down my spine. “The paddle leaves a good sting.”

  My fingers trace the hard wood and I shiver at the idea of him using it on me.

  “You’re not ready for that one. Come to the spanking bench.”

  He turns his back for a moment, but that’s all I need. His sexy ass is pointed right at me, and the urge is uncontrollable. Even before I swing, I know it's a stupid move, but he called me bratty this morning, and he's nothing if not a good judge of character.

  “Assume the position!” I cry out with a laugh and then whack him with the paddle, right on that delectable ass, before he gets a chance to stop me. The smack as it connects echoes slightly in the little room we're in.

  “Ow! Fuck!” He straightens like an arrow just released from the bow, then twirls on me.

  I back off, laughing. Maybe that was a little harder than I'd intended, but I wave the paddle in front of me anyway, threatening another use of it. “I was just curious.”

  “Curious? Fuck me.” He rolls his eyes, and for a second I'm afraid he's going to call it off, before his mouth curves into a confident smirk and he advances.

  “You better watch it, mister, or you're going to get what's coming to you.” I wave the paddle at him again while backing away and trying to keep the bench between us. I'm no match for him, and I know it, but I can't just give up either, right?

  He doesn't slow one bit. “I told you, I like to be in control.”

  “Yeah? Well, I think you have a live one on your hands then.” I grin, the paddle giving me false confidence.

  Something he proves easily when he rushes around, grabbing my wrist and twisting the paddle from my fingers. “Little girls shouldn't play with grownup toys,” he growls.

  I wiggle in his grip, but he's too strong. He seems to have forgotten about his no touching me condition, but if he doesn't bring it up, I'm certainly not going to.

  With a twist that shows how strong he really is, he easily turns me away from him and bends me over the bench. I'm keenly aware of how vulnerable my ass is right now, and I struggle against his iron grip, more from instinct than out of any true desire to get free. It doesn't matter. I have nowhere to go so long as he's got me in his hand.

  I'm a little scared, but it's a good sort of scared. The kind that raises goosebumps down the backs of my legs and makes me slick. I try to keep my voice steady. “You're not going to punish me just for that, are you? I was only kidding.” My butt wiggles at him like it's got a mind of its own.

  “You wanted to find out how this works, didn’t you? Consider this your first lesson and be glad it’s mostly a demonstration.” Any qualms he had about taking me in here seem to have been left outside the door. He flips my skirt up, leaving only the flimsy fabric of my panties covering me from his stern gaze. Does my flush extends all the way to my ass? My skin feels warm enough that the answer is probably yes.

  As much as I teased earlier, this is already going further than I expected. Honestly, I thought it'd take more to break Paul out of his shell. As exciting as the thought of my sexy, olde
r senior officer spanking me is, do I really want this?

  How bad can it be?

  “I think ten should do it.” His hand connects solidly with my backside, the smack echoing like a shot in my ears. I yelp as the sting seeps into my ass, like a fiery tendril spreading under my skin.

  Holy shit.

  Paul chuckles. “Ready to use your safeword yet?”

  “No.” I shake my head. Why is he even doing it if he thinks I can’t handle it? My fingers grasp for something to hold on to, not finding any purchase on the smooth leather bench. Pinned by his big hand, there's nowhere for them to go.

  He spanks me again, setting fire to my other cheek, and making it burn as hot as the first. For a brief moment, the pain makes me consider calling out a safeword, but then the initial shock wears off and the heat spreads deeper, warmth flooding my core in a way I've never felt before.

  A switch is thrown inside me, and instead of shying away from the next hit, I arch my back and push my ass out against him, welcoming the next strike.

  Again, and this time I moan. Spreading my legs just a little, I tell myself it's to steady my stance, but just as much, I want him looking. Does he see the wet spot in my panties? There's bound to be one. Does he realize how he's making me feel?

  I thought my sexy little outfit was showing a bit too much skin, but now it’s not enough. If I weren't stuck, I'd tear it off so he could get at me. The real me, underneath my clothes. The me that craves his touch, in more ways than I'd ever realized.

  “You're not counting, Em,” he says with a breathless growl, punctuating his words with another spank.

  Which was that? The fourth? Fifth? How do I not know this? It's not like there've been a lot. “Four?”

  “Wrong. Start again.”

  “Again?”

  Paul laughs dryly. “Don't question me, little one.” He spanks me again, but his pet name for me makes the greater impact. It makes me feel small, and protected, somehow. I'm his little one, at least for now

  His hand rocks me again, harder this time, right where my ass meets my thighs, the pain spreading right down my legs. “You're not counting.”

  “S—sorry. One!” I gasp louder than I intend.

  He releases my wrists but slides his hand down until he presses on the small of my back. If I wanted to, I could wriggle free, but there's no way I'm going anywhere right now. Wrapping my arms around the bench and clutching it like I might fall off, I close my eyes and push my ass out.

  Two. Three. Four. Five. God, I'm not going to be able to sit for a week, but this is what I wanted it, isn't it?

  “Six,” I gasp out with a wince. That one was hard.

  It makes no sense. I shouldn't be enjoying this. No one should. A spanking? It's like being a kid in the last millennium. And yet…

  “Seven.” Ow. It’s getting harder and harder to say the words.

  My ass must be lit up like Rudolph's nose. The fire burning my backside is arcing up my back and down my thighs, my whole body pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

  “Eight.” Clenching my eyes shut, I find a supporting strut under the bench and wrap my fingers tightly around it. “Red,” is on my tongue, just waiting to slip out. The ache is unlike anything I've ever felt before, but I swallow the word back down, refusing to use it. I'm not even sure why it's so important to me to finish it, but it is.

  Only two more.

  “Nine!” This time I cry the number out loud in response to his meaty hand smacking my ass.

  “Good.” Paul's voice rumbles behind me. “You're doing great. Only one more. I'm proud of you.”

  Gathering everything I am, I thrust my ass back at him and grit my teeth, waiting.

  It's the worst one yet. “Ten!” I scream as he rocks my body forwards with the impact. Streaks of pain shoot in all directions, as if a star just exploded on my rear end. Oh my God, that hurt. The corners of my eyes sting, but nowhere as much as my ass.

  I whimper, resting my forehead on the bench. That was the last one. I'm done. I just need to rest here a little bit until—

  Paul's powerful arms scoop me up like I don't weigh a thing, carefully avoiding putting pressure on my rear. I look up at him, amazed at the opportunity to press myself against his broad chest and listen to his heartbeat. “What are you—”

  “Shh, little one. You've taken the punishment, now relax for the aftercare.” He carries me to the couch and sits down with me across his lap, holding me close while he strokes my hair. Aftercare must be like foreplay in reverse, and I'm already pretty sure that I love it.

  Trying to ignore how badly my ass stings, I nuzzle up against him, drawing in his masculine scent and luxuriating in his arms. He holds me like I'm the most precious thing on the planet, and it feels so good.

  After a while, his whispers and hair stroking chases the worst of the pain away. His body surrounds me like a fortress, and I've never felt so safe and secure. This is why it was so important to finish. So I could get here, snuggling with him and feeling like I deserved it.

  But the better my body feels, the more confused my brain gets. Is this going to get weird? I'm trying to imagine us talking at work tomorrow morning as if this never happened, and I can't picture it. Our relationship has taken a brand new turn, forming a bond like only a solid spanking can.

  I look up at him. He's looking ahead, giving me a view of his powerful jaw and sexy five-o'clock shadow. Needing to touch him, I reach up to run a finger along his strong throat until it touches his chin.

  He looks down, and our eyes lock, his icy blue eyes searing me, as if winter could catch fire.

  “Paul,” I whisper.

  I crane my neck towards him. He leans in, and kisses me, hard. Our kiss is furious as he makes me his with his lips and tongue, his powerful arms holding me fast. I surrender to him completely as he makes my world spin.

  Finally.

  8

  Emily

  I stride into the office like a brand new woman, getting wide-eyed looks from Kent and Ramirez as I pass their desks. “Good morning, gentlemen!” Last night, despite having my ass whupped as if I'd been caught shoplifting, was quite possibly the best of my life. At least it feels that way.

  “Morning, Em.” Ramirez grins at my obviously fantastic mood. “Guess someone got laid last night.”

  “Better!” I say with a wink. There's no way he could know who I was out with or what I was doing last night.

  “Whoa, I was just kidding.” He laughs while getting up to strap on his equipment belt. “Now I’m curious. What was the rookie up to?”

  “No comment.” I'm sure my smile says it all. “You guys hitting the streets?”

  “Yep, the city never sleeps.” As he pulls his cap on, Kent comes out from behind his own desk, straightening his belt.

  Ramirez waves before the two of them head for the door. Just as I'm turning to go to my own desk, he calls over his shoulder, “Oh, watch out for Cannon. He's a loose one today. No idea what crawled up his ass and died, but you may want to avoid his office for the day.”

  He leaves without seeing how my face falls at that news. Paul’s in a mood? But why? Is it about last night? Everything seemed so perfect. The whole experience was surreal, but the kiss at the end blew me away and I'd thought for sure he felt the same way.

  Well, fine. If that's the way it's going to be I’d rather find out before I get my hopes up too much. There's only one way to find out for sure. Dropping off my purse on my desk, I straighten my uniform shirt and head straight for Paul's office.

  I knock twice on the door before pushing it open. “Hi,” I try.

  He looks up, his gorgeous eyes finding me in the doorway. Usually, they pin me to the wall with their intensity, but today his gaze is evasive, not meeting mine. “Good morning,” he says to the wall.

  I close the door behind me and try a smile. “I hope our beat is on foot today, because I'm not sure my ass can handle a full day in the cruiser.” To be honest, it's not nearly as sore as I thought
it would be, but it's undeniably tender. “Maybe we can try something different tonight?”

  “Em, we don’t have plans for tonight.” He pushes his chair back and stands. For a moment he looks about to say more, but then he turns and walks over to the window, as if the traffic down in the street is suddenly the most interesting thing around him. I can't help feel a little rejected.

  “Paul—”

  “Listen.” He faces me, and this time his gaze is piercing. “This is my fault. What we did last night—what I did last night… It shouldn't have happened. I was so far out of line, you couldn't tell where the line even was.” His jaw tightens. “It’s not going to happen again. I'm sorry.”

  “I'm not.” I straighten my back and look him the eyes. “It was the most amazing night I've had in… in ever, I think. I learned a lot about both you and myself last night, things I'd never have known if you hadn't shown me.”

  “You aren’t listening to me. I'm your boss. I’m almost ten years older. I’m your partner. There are so many reasons why I should never have done any of those things, starting with me taking you into to the club in the first place.” He shakes his head. “It's not right.”

  I can't be the only one who thinks all this talk about avoiding office romances is getting old, right? Sure there are rules, but there are also ways to make it work. “Seriously, Paul?” I take a couple of steps closer. If he's going to insist on this, it's time to set him straight on a few things. “You say it's not right? You did everything right. Up until about two minutes ago, I was deliriously happy.”

  He sighs. “Listen, I'm glad you've found BDSM and that it's working for you. If you want, I'll find you someone who can continue teaching you things. There're a lot of great people at the club who—”

  “For being chief investigator, you can be awfully dense sometimes, you know that?” I can't help getting angry at his obtuseness. He gives me a surprised look. “The club was amazing, but what I wanted wasn't the BDSM, Paul.”