Cuff Me: A BDSM Romance Read online

  “Then why are we even having this discussion?” He throws his hands up and walks back to the window.

  “What I wanted was you. To find out if there could be more between us than just our jobs. You could've taken me to dinner on a regular old bullshit date, and it still would've been wonderful, because it would've been with you.” I move close to him and put my hands on his arm, trying to get him to turn around and face me. “I know I’m younger than you, but don't go all overprotective on me. I’m a big girl who had an amazing time last night, and while I loved the spanking, that wasn't why.”

  He twirls on me, his expression shuttered. “That might be even worse. If you're just doing this for me, then it's not the right reason. That way leads only to frustration, arguments and in the end, goddamn heartbreak. Take it from someone who knows.”

  “I don't understand.” I refuse to let go of his arm until he gives me a good answer. “Can't we talk about this?”

  He glances at his watch. “I have a meeting in five. Maybe you can patrol with Jones today. His partner's off sick.”

  No way I’m letting him off that easily. “All right. So when do we meet to figure this out.”

  His face sets in determination, but there’s more behind this than he’s saying. I can tell. “There's nothing to figure out. Yesterday was a mistake, and I'll make sure I don't repeat it. It's not fair to either of us. I'm sorry.”

  Then he gathers up a couple of folders from his desk and strides out, leaving me alone, frustrated and teary-eyed.

  9

  Emily

  Apparently Paul has a lot of work to do today, since he couldn't take the time to talk to me. Just like he didn't have time yesterday, or the day before, or the day before that. And he's staying in the office tonight.

  I can take a hint.

  That doesn't mean I'll give up. He's opened up a whole new exciting world to me with just a few swats of his hand on my ass, but it doesn't mean much if he's not in it.

  I wish I knew why Paul keeps running so hot and cold on me, but if anyone at the office knows, they're not telling. The only thing I've learned is that he's more recent to the department than I thought. He only beat me here by a year or so when he transferred in from across town.

  Whatever happened must be from farther back, but outside of work, I don’t know who I could talk to. Or do I?

  Maybe I’m going about this from the wrong angle.

  Later in the evening, I park my car in the lot behind the club, check myself in the mirror, and step out. It's cooler than it's been lately, and a gust of wind throws up candy wrappers and cigarette stumps. But I'm not in uniform, and there's no one to write up for littering anyway, so I head for the entrance.

  I've gone the more vanilla route today—if that’s the right terminology, since I don’t have Paul around to ask—not dolling myself up all sexy for him to notice. Attention isn’t my goal tonight.

  I don't recognize the guy watching the door tonight, but he lets me in just fine after checking my ID. Moments later, I'm once again watching the sexy chaos that is the dance floor, bombarded by thrumming dance beats that vibrate my whole body. It might be a long shot, but if the key to why he won’t give us a chance isn't in the office, maybe it's here.

  The grinding and undulating crowd takes on a whole new dimension this time. Since Paul doesn't want to talk to me, I've been talking to Google, and Google never hangs up first. Our conversations have gone late enough into the night that Ramirez commented on the bags under my eyes this morning. There’s been so much to learn, and the further I go down the rabbit hole, the more I realize I don't know about BDSM but want to learn.

  If Paul wasn't being a jerk, I could be getting hands-on lessons from him instead of having to research my way there, but even after a few days I feel like I've at least gained a greater understanding of BDSM culture.

  Enough to want to be part of it, with or without him—but preferably with.

  After a quick glance at the bar to make sure they're not there, I weave my way through the crowd, craning my neck for a sign of Gabe or Caleb. Hopefully at least one of them is here tonight, so I haven't made a bum trip. They seem to know him well, so maybe they have the answers I need. If they’re here, I don’t see them on the dance floor, though.

  I won't pretend I wasn't hoping I'd have to enter the play area to find them. Even as I'm walking down the corridor, my heart rate picks up, thumping heavily in my chest, and I start to feel a craving—an itch that I so desperately want Paul to scratch. I know he wants it too.

  If he can just find a way to admit it to himself.

  The play area opens in front of me, as packed as it'd been the other night. On my left, a beautiful dark-skinned woman with curves to spare is tied to a table while two broad-chested men in jeans and nothing else circle her naked body with candles in their hands. As I watch, the closer one, a tall man with broad shoulders and really sensual lips extends his tattooed arm and pours off some of the melted wax from the candle, right onto the woman's breast. She hisses and arches her back, but even against her darker skin, her excited flush is obvious.

  Much as I'd love to keep watching, I move on, past a diminutive woman, so tiny she must be part pixie, getting flogged by a bear of a man and moaning like she's loving every second of it.

  All this wildness just makes me madder at Paul. There are all these things going on, and I want to try them all, but I'm not going to throw myself at just anyone. I want him, and I'm going to do whatever it takes to get him.

  I reach the center stage, the eye of the storm, and stop, for a moment forgetting all about my mission. On it, dressed in a pair of leather pants, combat boots and nothing else, a powerful man stands over a curvy blonde strapped into a pillory. He wields a flogger in each hand and he's going to town on her panty-clad ass with a kind of spinning alternating technique that must've taken years to perfect. The whirl of the floggers is hypnotic, two windmills of punishment, hitting her so quickly that it must be hard to tell where one hit ends and the next one begins.

  I'm not the only one who's noticed. All around the stage, kinksters are watching in awe at what is almost as much a circus act as it is sensual.

  Does Paul know how to do that? I find myself eager to try.

  “It's not as hard as it looks,” says a voice just behind me.

  Twirling around, I come face to face with a wiry man with closely trimmed beard and arms covered in bright tattoos. A black t-shirt clings to his torso, and his jeans are tight in all the places that matter. Too bad for him that I'm not looking for company. There's something about the disdain in the tone of his voice that annoys me too.

  “Looks like it'd take a lot of practice.”

  He laughs. “A couple of afternoons in front of the mirror. That shit's easy.”

  I shrug. The way the rest of the club is staring, I suspect it's anything but easy, but there's no law against being arrogant. Otherwise, I'd be hauling this guy in. “Whatever.” I turn back to watch.

  He pushes in next to me. “I dig your look, by the way. Real girl next door. I could be the bad boy neighbor willing to teach you some new tricks.”

  Seriously? I give him the side eye along with an expression that I hope reads, “You've got to be fucking kidding me,” loud and clear.

  “Seriously, babe. I can do this thing with my tongue—”

  I'd say that my glare is what shut him up, but it probably has more to do with the huge hand that just came down on his shoulder. My eyes race up the thick arm it's attached to, past a massive shoulder and up to the squared-off face of Caleb, towering over the two of us. He smiles, but it doesn't come anywhere near his eyes. “You're not bothering the lady here, are you?”

  “What? No! Of course not.” Slimy dude glances guiltily over at me. “I wasn't, right? Tell him.”

  Caleb cocks his head slightly to the side, waiting for my reply. I hate putting people on the spot like that, but the guy acted kind of like a dick. I open my mouth, not sure what to say.

/>   My indecision is enough for Caleb. “You know what? I don't think this club's quite your speed, buddy. I recommend you find somewhere else to hang out.” He effortlessly points the guy towards the exit, making his message clear. “I'd hate for something to happen to you while you're here.”

  “To me? But I'm not—” He's dense too.

  “Trust me.” Caleb gives him a little shove, and the guy seems to get the idea, leaving the play area with an angry glance over his shoulder. My behemoth of a savior touches his earpiece. “Troy, there's a douchebag coming out of the play area in a black tee, jeans and a sorry excuse for a beard. Make sure he doesn't lose his way on the way out, all right?”

  “Well, that was quite a rescue, but he really didn’t do anything but be a jerk.” I grin up at him.

  Caleb shrugs. “It's not the first time he's gotten pushy. We don't need that kind of attitude in here. Guys like him are usually here looking for women who have a hard time saying no.”

  Is that what I look like? I think he would’ve been surprised. “Paul did say you guys run a tight ship.”

  He laughs. “Trust me, with a club like this, you've got to. Otherwise, bad stuff happens eventually, and this should be a safe space. Not to mention the papers would love to push the idea that we’re a club of misogynists and abusers and something like this was bound to happen in our little den of evil. Not true, but it gets clicks.”

  I nod. “Makes sense. I'd worry about limits being harder to see in an environment like this.”

  “You're smarter than many, then. Gabe and I, we live for this stuff, but it's got to be done right. Too many people are afraid of taking the discussion up front, and then they find themselves somewhere they don't want to be with no easy way out afterwards. We do our best to educate, but it's not always easy.” He shrugs his muscular shoulders and looks around. “So, speaking of Paul, where is he?”

  I make a tight-lipped grimace. “Anywhere but with me, apparently.”

  “Is he insane? And you're here alone? If you're looking for him, he's not here.” He looks around again. “At least I haven't seen him tonight.”

  “No, he's hiding in his office.”

  Caleb looks at his watch and arches a disbelieving eyebrow at me.

  “Really, he is. Hiding from me, as far as I can tell. But I actually came to find you or Gabe.”

  He frowns. “We're both taken, if that's what—”

  “What? No! God, no. I mean, not that you're repulsive or anything, but… God, I'm just making this worse, aren't I?” I draw a breath, calming myself down before I say anything else stupid. “I'm sorry. I think Paul has a problem with… well, us, but he refuses to talk about it. No one at the office knows what it is, and I figured, you guys seem pretty close so maybe—”

  Caleb's smile is one of understanding. “Maybe we know something you don't.”

  “Yeah.” I nod eagerly, glad he gets it.

  He motions me to follow. “Come on. Let's head up to the bar. We can talk more easily there.” Then he touches his earpiece. “Troy, I'm taking a break to deal with something. You all right up there?” A moment and then he nods. “Great. Thanks.”

  Two minutes later, we're seated on bar stools, him with a beer darker than the night outside and me with a virgin daiquiri. I have to drive home afterwards, after all.

  He sighs. “So, the guy you really want to talk to is Eric. He's known Paul since forever, but I have some ideas.”

  I lean forwards hopefully. If I know what's eating at him, maybe I can find a way to make it better, or at least know if I should cut my losses now. Caleb gets my full attention.

  “How much do you know about Paul's past?”

  I think on it for a moment. I love who he is, but he never talks much about who he's been. My fault for not asking, I guess, but he's always so closed about personal stuff at work. And now he won't talk to me at all. “Not much. I know he transferred to our station from across town, but he doesn't really talk about it.”

  “All right, if you tell Paul that I'm the one who told you this, he'll bury me so deep I'll be coming out the other side, all right?” He gives me an arched look. “The only reason I’m telling you at all is because you’re the first person he’s brought here in… well, for a long time.”

  I nod with wide eyes. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” I make the appropriate motions.

  “Paul was married for three years.”

  I blink. “Tell me that's not all this is about, since I can handle an ex-wife.” I put a hand to my mouth. “Did they have kids?”

  Caleb shakes his head. “No children, but they were lifestyle. Well, he thought they were.”

  “Lifestyle?”

  “They were both into BDSM. I don’t think they were twenty-four seven or anything, but more than the occasional play session, you know?”

  I nod. “But she…?”

  “She played along. Did everything he asked without telling him how much she hated it.” He shakes his head sadly.

  “Oh.”

  “I wasn't there, so I'm not going to say anything about how good he was about making sure she was on board with the kink. He said he tried, and I've no reason to doubt him, but I know he’s been gun-shy ever since.” He takes a sip of his beer.

  God, I can't imagine. If they were doing stuff like he did to me, or even more, and she didn't want it? Paul must've been pissed when he found out.

  “What happened? I mean, they're exes now, right?”

  Caleb nods. “Eventually she couldn’t do it anymore, exploded at Paul and then walked out. From what I hear it wasn’t pretty. Neither was the divorce. Eric said Paul let her have whatever she wanted. He was heartbroken, and blaming himself.” He shrugs. “If she didn't want it and said yes anyway? I don't know. Kink requires a lot of trust on both sides and she lost his. I'm not going to pass judgment on something I wasn't a part of.”

  “He never forgave himself, did he? For not knowing.”

  Caleb taps his finger on his nose. “Exactly. Also…” He hesitates. “They met at work. I'm sure you're starting to see the parallels here.”

  Oh God. I nod. No wonder he pulls away. But I'm not like her. At least, I don't think so. I loved what he did to me. But is that how they started? Maybe she liked some of it, but they got more extreme. Why didn't she stop him then? He was so insistent on safewords. She must've had them too.

  Unless his ex-wife is why he’s so careful now. Paul relies so much on his ability to read people. It must’ve killed him that his own wife was hiding something so important from him. BDSM without consent is just abuse, and even if she didn’t say no, he probably feels like he should’ve known.

  I remember what it felt like when I wasn’t sure if I wanted to use my safeword or not. Would I use it if I knew it was something he really wanted? I would, right? I've never been afraid to let people know how I feel. I freaking wear my feelings on my sleeve more obviously than anyone I know. I doubt there's anyone in the office who doesn't know about my crush on Paul.

  “Obviously I've given you a lot to think about.” Caleb smiles as he drains the last of his beer. “I need to see to club business, make sure there aren't any other would-be flogger-spinners out there harassing the regulars. I'll leave you to it for now.”

  “Wait.” I stop him with my hand on his arm as he starts to leave. “Do you know when Paul's coming here next? He’s got me working with someone else at the office and avoids even seeing me.”

  He looks uncomfortable. “I'm not sure I should. I probably already overstepped my bounds tonight.”

  “At this point, I don't think it makes much of a difference, does it? I swear I won't tell on you.” I blink my big eyes up at him.

  He nods. “Fine, just stop looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  He laughs. “I see why he doesn't dare spend time in the room alone with you if he doesn't want to spill everything. Listen, he's supposed to run a demo on restraint safety the night after tomorrow. Eight o'clock.
At least he hasn't cancelled, so I assume he's going to show. I've yet to see him flake on… well, anything really.”

  Jumping off my stool, I throw my arms around him. I'm not even close to being able to reach all the way around, but I trust my point gets across. “Thank you!”

  “Don't thank me yet,” he mumbles. “But I wish you luck.”

  10

  Paul

  Pressing my way through the club crowd brings to mind the last time I was here.

  With Em.

  She's stopped chasing me down. Not sure how to feel about that. Complete radio silence for two days. It's what I want, right?

  Fuck, I don't know. It's for her own good.

  But I hate the way things went down between us, and I miss her.

  All right, head in the game. This is supposed to be a safety demo, and it won't be very convincing if I fuck it up.

  I make my way down the corridor to the play area, emerging in a room that's stuffed full of people. Good turnout tonight. This'll be good for me, something to take my mind off things. Took me long enough just to set foot in a club after my ex-wife fucked with my head. One hot scene with Em doesn’t mean I’m ready for a regular partner again, and I’ll prove it to myself tonight.

  I can do this, have a good time and walk away. No problem.

  Hadn't expected her to give up that easy, though. It probably makes me an asshole, but I enjoyed her attention. No matter what, she was always there with a smile and a wink.

  But after that kiss… I couldn’t let it keep going. Not without things getting serious, and that wouldn’t be fair to her. She needs someone younger.

  Less broken.

  The crowd parts to let me through to the center stage. Gear has already been set up and it looks ready to go. Good deal.

  Gabe announces while I climb the couple of stairs up onto the platform. “Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure most of you are familiar with our own Paul Cannon. He’s here tonight to give us a demonstration in bondage and restraint safety. After many years as a police officer, he's got more experience than most in cuffing people, but I suspect they're rarely as willing as y’all are.”