by Joey W. Hill
But there were as many types of submissive inclinations out there as there were Dom preferences, weren't there? When Logan had talked about him tying Sam up, flogging her until she cried, until her pussy wept, Geoff's breath had caught. He wanted her to call him Master in such a moment. He wanted to put a collar around her throat, a brand on her ass. Jesus. What would Chris think of that?
Realizing that Troy was waiting for some kind of indication he wasn't talking to a zombie, Geoff shoved himself out of his head. "Your boss said you might be able to show me some of the more popular items for . . . Doms." He'd said it aloud. Jesus.
"Absolutely, sir." Troy straightened. "You'll pay less for it at a hardware store. Plus, when you DIY it, it's usually better-quality materials, unless you're dealing with a craftsman like Logan. You're already looking at the rope. I typically recommend the cottons because they don't slip and they don't chafe, but it depends on how you're going to use it. You have any sense of that yet? Are you interested in doing suspension stuff?"
"Not yet. I'm figuring this stuff out."
Troy's expression warmed even further. "That's cool, man. I've dealt with new Doms who try to pretend they know it all, and don't ask the questions they really want and need to ask. I want to punch them in the head, because they aren't doing themselves or their subs any favors."
Geoff blinked. "Not very submissive behavior."
"If you have someone in mind for this rope, I'm guessing you already know subs aren't doormats. A lot of us can be giant pains in the ass." Troy flashed a grin at him. "So cotton would be a good start, though if you go for aesthetics, like different colors, you might look at a couple of online sites for Japanese rope bondage I can recommend. In a hardware store, typically your colored ropes are the more slippery nylon. Now, when it comes to fasteners . . ."
Geoff found himself listening intently. Intuiting that Geoff was learning as much as seeking shopping direction, Troy kept offering insights as they moved through the aisles and looked at hooks and chain, and rectangles of flexible rubber that could be cut into paddles to the size and shape preferred. When they stopped at the stepladders, Troy put his hand on one of the four-foot ones Geoff wanted to keep Sam off the counters.
"A lot of people prefer to have things in their home that can't be readily identified as BDSM toys or equipment. A ladder can take the place of a St. Andrew's cross or other type of frame in a heartbeat. You just embed a few hooks into the wall of your garage to mount it, and then tie someone up against it in a variety of ways. If you choose one of these heavier, eight-foot folding stepladders, it gives you even more options."
Troy directed his attention to it. "My Mistress has me thread my arms between two of the steps and hold the cross piece on the opposite side. Then she ties my ankles to the bottom part. It won't be as stable as one that's mounted to the wall, but a way to deal with that is to command the sub to stay perfectly still no matter what, though you still want to stay close enough to make sure they don't topple it, especially if you're doing things that are making it hard for them not to move." Another grin. "Which is usually the case with you sadistic types. This one weighs quite a bit more than an aluminum ladder, and makes the sub feel more stable and secure."
And so on and so forth. Once or twice, other customers came into the store, but their needs were quickly met. Geoff browsed while Troy took care of them, letting his mind wander through the possibilities until Troy returned to him. When the store was empty, Troy's descriptions were far more visual, planting all sorts of images of what he could do to Sam . . . or to Chris.
When his do-it-yourself bondage tour was over, Geoff had narrowed down his purchase options. Chris already had a heavy ten-foot stepladder, so Geoff bought the four-foot one, a couple of lengths of cotton rope, strong mounting hooks, and that switch plate.
He'd be back for more, but there were far more important things to resolve first. Like how he was going to get Sam to speak to him again. Logan had said not to be half-assed. Was letting her go out with this guy instead of saying Hell no doing that? If he was being absolutely truthful, the only choice he wanted to give her was to belong to him and Chris.
Sitting in his car, he grimaced. He'd fucked up; he had to take his lumps. If she went through with the date, which she was probably going to do just to show how much he'd pissed her off, he wasn't going to stand in her way. He'd grin and bear it, let her go out with Mr. Asshole without making a peep about it. Even if every minute she was with the guy, Geoff would visualize burying him up to his neck in sand and dumping fire ants on his screaming face.
If she came home from the date and said she'd found the love of her life, he'd impale himself on a railroad spike. But if she didn't, he'd make his feelings clear then. Make things right.
It still felt fucked up. Christ, he wished Chris were home.
***
Sam put the finishing touches on her makeup. Why was she doing this? She should have canceled, no matter what Geoff had said. But he'd been so adamant. And such a horse's ass about it. "Go on the damn date." So fine, she'd go on the damn date. If Mark from Records ended up being the Dom of her hottest, wildest dreams, Geoff would have no one to blame but himself.
Yeah, she wasn't seeing that. Mark had some nice qualities and was handsome enough, but he didn't give her that Dom sense Geoff did. Was that a deal breaker for a relationship with her now? After one almost-there session with Geoff, was she that deep in her fantasies and desires that she couldn't adjust them back to mainstream relationship dynamics?
No, it was more than that. When she fantasized while using her vibrator, it was all about commands and restraints, spankings and more than spankings. It wasn't a sudden whim. Usually when a girl hadn't dated anyone in a long while, all she could think about when it came to sex was finding someone with whom she could have a halfway decent experience. One that would come with a good emotional connection that "might" lead to an in-love relationship.
In contrast, all she could think about was Geoff and Chris, and things that were far beyond that. She wanted sex that involved kneeling at their feet and exploring the deepest levels of surrendering her soul to another . . .
But Geoff wanted proof she hadn't let some weird thing happen during the Anthony disaster where she thought Geoff and Chris were her only options, the only men she could ever trust again. Which was bullshit. She knew what her feelings were and she should have said them straight out to Geoff. She'd been set back on her heels and reactionary, instead of saying what she should have said. Adamantly. It has nothing to do with Anthony, and everything in the world to do with the two of you.
"'Go on the damn date,'" she mimicked at the mirror. "He can be such an ass."
Because she was mad, she knew she might have overdone her outfit for a casual date. Rather than the jeans and pretty top she would have worn to hang out in a trendy bar with coworkers, she was wearing a short lavender dress with a fitted bodice that had a scoop neckline. The point of the bodice stopped at the abdomen and scalloped over her hips, framing them before it gave way to the skirt, a romantic fall of soft lavender gauze pleats with a flirty hem that stopped just above the knee. The back of the dress had faux lacings like a corset.
She'd put it with strappy heels and some simple silver jewelry. Because she'd needed a touch of whimsy, she'd added the sparkling Tinker Bell pendant Chris had given her after he and Esteban's crew had spent a couple of weeks down in the Orlando area. He hadn't gone to Disney World, but he'd seen the castle at a distance, and he'd been excited about all of them going sometime. Even though Geoff looked at him like he thought his roommate had lost his mind, she thought it would be tremendous fun to visit the park with them.
Stop it. Think of Mark. She turned in a circle. The dress was fine for a date. She looked pretty but not slutty, though any man's eyes would be drawn to the gentle swell of her breasts over the scoop top and the hint of her legs through the gauzy skirt. Because of her height and metabolism, she tended to be on the thin side, so the style
pumped up the breasts a bit, and the skirt gave her hips more of a flare. Geoff hadn't ever behaved like he thought she had a boyish figure, though. She'd been teased about being a scarecrow at school, so the first time Chris had looked at her and said she was like Liv Tyler's Tolkien elf, the beautiful Arwen, he'd won a million points in her mind.
Good grief. Mark, Mark, Mark. Tonight was about Mark. She was going out on a date with Mark, who had a nice smile, green eyes and thick dark hair. He went to the gym and did the CrossFit stuff, so all the bank ladies said he had a hot body. She might get up close and personal with it tonight. Who knew?
Pushing down any thoughts to the contrary, no matter that there were enough of them to overflow a mini-storage unit, she put her lipstick into her small evening bag, spritzed some fragrance in the air in front of her and walked through it as she left the bathroom.
Geoff was sitting on the couch, working on his laptop as usual, though he had the news on the TV. He kept his gaze moving between both screens. Fine.
"I'll see you later."
"Yeah, okay. Have a good time."
She'd put her lipstick in the bag without putting any on her lips, so she took it out, uncapped it. She took her time, applying it delicately to her mouth, using her compact mirror to make sure she didn't draw outside the lines. She coated it with gloss, spreading it with a finger, then cleaned her fingertip on a napkin. Pursing her lips, she wetted them further. When she glanced left and saw him looking, finally, she turned on her heel so she was halfway facing him. He looked back at his computer before she could meet his eyes, though.
Fine. Be an asshole.
She put her gloss into her purse. "I'll text if I'm going to be out later than expected. Or not back until morning."
"What?" That got his attention. She glanced at him, all casual-like.
"It's the twenty-first century, Geoff. Men and women on first dates sometimes hit it off and decide to have nostrings-attached sex. Kind of a trial run before the relationship goes any further."
"It would be that easy for you?" His eyes fired up. "Just screw him as a test drive?"
"No, it would not be that easy. No easier than it is for me to walk out this door when I know what you feel about me and I feel about you, but you said go on the damn date. So fine, I'm going on the damn date. And fuck you, by the way, for being a prick about it."
He tossed the laptop next to him on the couch and straightened, spreading his hands out in an angry gesture. "I was just trying to look out for your best interests."
"Oh, don't even." She shot him a stormy look. "You're worried about what you want from me, Geoff, and whether or not I can handle it. Whether or not it will destroy our friendship. Well, I think we're strong enough to take the risk, all three of us. So don't you put this on me. You're the holdup. Until you green-light, we can't. Yes, I get that that's more pressure on you, but, hell, you thrive on pressure. You're so revved when you work a case you practically glow like a lightbulb. I don't understand why this decision has you cowering."
He surged up from the couch, the look on his face making her take a step back, but he stopped there, fists clenching, hazel eyes narrowed.
"Whether the case goes good or bad, I come home to you and Chris," he said in a measured, tight tone. "You're what makes the rest of it work. I'm not willing to risk that as much as you are. Maybe it isn't as important to you."
Hurt speared her, taking her breath so that she couldn't respond right away. His gaze flickered with regret, but she spoke again before he could say anything more, since she was pretty sure if his next words were along the same vein, she wouldn't be able to bear it.
"I'd forgotten you can be mean when you get scared," she said softly. "Maybe because I've never been the one who's scared you. I'm always what you need me to be. I'm going out. If you truly don't think I value this relationship as much as you do, if you don't get that's why I've been pushing this, then I don't know what else to do."
She was close to tears that would ruin her carefully applied makeup, so she fled, sliding out the door. She got into her car, fumbled with her keys and stuck them in the ignition. She'd worn a pretty dress, but she knew she'd worn it for Geoff. Geoff really liked it when she wore girly things, evidence of that romantic streak he tried to hide. If he had the choice of seeing her in a crotchless teddy or a clingy satin peignoir like the starlets wore in the black-and-white movies, he'd choose the latter. He'd push the thin straps off her shoulders, let the gown pool around her feet . . .
Oh God. She knew him and Chris so well. Too well. She wanted to take it all off, put on flannel pajamas and hide in her bed. So she wasn't going to do that. She was going to . . .
She sighed. She was going to be fair to Mark. It was a group thing, after all. Florence and several other people from work, including Mark, were meeting at the bar. There'd been some implication that they might go from dinner there to a dance club. Any other time, it would have been fun, whether or not she and Mark hit it off. It proved how sensitive her potential date was, suggesting a good, low-pressure environment to make a decision about each other. He was obviously a nice guy, and she wasn't going to dick him around, using him as a pawn in a situation that didn't involve him.
She sent Mark and Flo a text, indicating she'd had something come up and couldn't be there, but she hoped they had a good time.
After she hit send, she closed her eyes. The car was humming. Maybe she'd go to a movie, pick up some dinner, whatever would keep her away from the house for the next several hours. She wished Chris was here. Then again, maybe she wasn't ready to talk to him about this, either.
She put the car in drive, but her door opened before she could press the accelerator. Geoff reached over her, put the car back in park. Switching off the ignition, he pulled out the key and pocketed it. Then he eyed her with a set jaw and resolute expression. "You're not going on a damn date," he said.
She crossed her arms over her breasts and shot him a mutinous look. "Sorry, it's what we insensitive sluts do."
His firm lips pressed together. Squatting next to the car, he put his hand on her knee, fingers incidentally sliding beneath the gauzy pleats. The warm strength was too welcome. She told herself to jerk away, tell him to let go and give her the damn keys.
"Come in the house, Samantha Beth," he said quietly.
"You'll say you're sorry first. That was a really, really horrible thing to say."
"Yes, it was." He sighed, surprising her by kissing her shoulder before he pressed his forehead against it and the side of her breast. "Forgive me. Sometimes I need to have my tongue cut out."
"It'd be really hard for you to be a trial lawyer that way," she said. She wanted to touch his head, run her fingers through his hair in comfort, but she steeled herself to stay motionless. She refused to go backward again, and a simple apology with no indication that anything would be different wasn't something she was going to accept this time.
He lifted his head, his eyes thoughtful. "Someone told me earlier in the week that submissives are braver than Doms," he said. "Maybe because a sub's mentality is all about reaching a point of vulnerability where you can surrender and let go. Doms don't have that, Sam." He grimaced. "We're all about control, beginning to end. He told me to think of you as a partner in this, and I'm trying, but there's this pounding drum in my head that says I'm in charge of all of it, that if it crashes and burns, it's me who will make that happen. I think I could forgive anything you or Chris did to me. But I couldn't forgive myself if I pushed us away from one another. And look, Christ, isn't that what I just did, in there? I said things that made you bolt."
Something else entered his gaze, something vulnerable that she wasn't sure he meant her to see. "You're my family," he said. He stopped, cleared the break from his voice, but kept his eyes fastened on hers. "Do you understand that, Sam? I need you to understand it, to help me . . . get us where we both want to go."
She could feel the tension strumming through his body, as if he was willing her to un
derstand things that were too hard for him to say. She realized then why what he'd said had hurt so much. Hadn't she harbored that exact worry, that she was so trapped in her own desires she might mess something up, which was what someone who didn't value their relationship as much might do? She did value it, just as she'd said.
Because Geoff was so good at being in control, it was easy to forget really important details about him. He wasn't being sentimental. She and Chris were Geoff's only family. His dad had screwed around on his mother and Geoff had ended his relationship with his father. That could have turned out okay, except his mother had returned to his father, even though it was widely known he was still philandering. Geoff's mother had told Geoff she could overlook his father's infidelities as long as he took care of her, and his other siblings had supported her wish. Geoff couldn't, so he'd walked away from them and the family money, which had been considerable.
That was what so many people didn't get about Geoff, but she and Chris did. A lot of people became attorneys for the money or the prestige that came with saying, I'm an attorney. Or just to have a career path. Even if the legal system dealt with a lot of shades of gray, Geoff believed in clear lines of right and wrong. Though he worked for a corporate firm to pay for his student loans, she knew what he really wanted was to be on the front lines, trying to see those lines honored. He'd told Sam once that even if that happened only once out of every hundred cases, there was value in being one of the guys who helped make that one time happen, and who at least tried get the other ninety-nine as close to that state as possible.
She put her hand down on his. "I do get it," she said gently. "But you really hurt my feelings. Why would you strike out at me like that?"
"Exactly why you said." A muscle in his cheek flexed. "Because I'm an asshole when I'm cornered. If Chris had been here, he'd be sitting on me in the living room right now, turning my face into mashed potatoes and breaking my ribs like matchsticks."
She couldn't help a small smile at that. "I was just thinking I wish Chris were here. I wasn't wishing for him to do that. Though, now that you mention it, that would have been nice."
