Bad Boy Dom

by Holly Roberts

  I had no idea why he was here. He shouldn’t be; the further away from me, the better for him.

  My stomach flip-flopped. I wasn’t sure if I would make it to the bathroom as I scrambled from the bed. Warm hands pulled the hair away from my face as the contents of my stomach spewed into the toilet. I wanted to die.

  When the nausea passed, his strong arms pulled me back and before I knew what happened I was sprawled in his lap on the bathroom floor.

  The hot teasing whisper of his breath hit my ear: “That was truly disgusting.”

  “Please just let me die without further embarrassment.”

  “Hmm, I’ll think about it but you owe me a date first.”

  “There’s puke in my hair, some on my chin, and my head will need to be shaved to remove the knots from not being combed after last night’s shower. I’m ready for the date whenever you are.”

  I loved his laugh. “How soon can you be ready?”

  “An hour?”

  “Twenty minutes.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I only require you brush your teeth. The vomit and tangles I can handle.”

  “Let me up. Please.”

  He stood. It wasn’t graceful and for a moment I thought we would both pitch forward and fall into the toilet, but he managed to catch me in his arms. He walked me into the bedroom and made sure I was stable on my feet before leaving the room.

  It took me thirty minutes, but he was waiting in the living room when I came out. It was six-thirty in the morning and the penthouse was quiet.

  “I left a note so your mistress doesn’t skin my balls.”

  “Did you tell her where we’re going?”

  “No, just that I was taking you on a date.”

  “At six-thirty in the morning?”

  “Vanilla dates in the morning, kinky dates at night.”

  It was impossible not to smile.

  “How about a great Jewish bagel for breakfast?” he said before pulling me into the elevator.

  “My stomach will love you.”

  We walked to Leibman’s. People were already lined up but no one paid attention to us until the counter girl took our order.

  “Aren’t you…?”

  “Yes, but I’m trying to have a normal date so could you please help me out here.”

  Her voice lowered. “I loved your latest album, what would you like?” She winked at me and I couldn’t help but smile.

  He found us a booth toward the back and we sat and enjoyed the most delicious bagels in the world.

  “I’m sorry about yesterday.” His unfathomable stare rested on me.

  “Why are you sorry?”

  “I pushed.”

  “You pushed this morning.”

  “But now I know a little more.”

  My eyes dropped. Damian must have told him. Even after all these years, shame swept over me.

  His fingertips tipped my chin up. “What happened to you was out of your control. What happened to me was my own doing, and you have a right to know.”

  I met his eyes, almost afraid of what he would tell me.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kris…

  “I completely fucked up my life with drugs and alcohol.”

  I saw her mind lose focus and it wasn’t where I wanted her to go. My hand slipped under the table and I pinched the inside of her thigh.

  “Oww.”

  “I need you to listen.”

  She smiled slightly and let me continue.

  “I wasn’t a pretty drug addict. It consumed me. My music suffered but more than that, my family and friends suffered. I wouldn’t listen to them. My new friends provided the drugs. Funny how when you’re rich, you don’t even need to pay for the high. But I did pay and managed to snort more than a million dollars up my nose. Another mill, I spent on wild parties, alcohol, and anything my druggie friends wanted.”

  I inhaled deeply before continuing. “I hated myself and death was on my horizon but I didn’t see it.”

  I looked away. The next part would be the hardest and it might be the end of us before “us” was part of our story. This time it was her sweet hands that turned my chin and I couldn’t help but grin.

  “I brought several of my druggie friends to Damian’s hotel. I wanted to show off my dominant techniques. Damian didn’t know I was there. He was one of the friends that tried to get me help but I thought I didn’t need help. I only needed more cocaine.”

  My eyes shifted away. “I hurt one of the girls.”

  When I looked back, her green eyes were wide. I could have told her Damian stopped me before it got completely out of hand, but I didn’t. That didn’t matter. All that mattered was the horror in her eyes.

  “She never pressed charges, but Damian kicked me out of the club and his hotel. A week later, I drove my car into a tree and got a DUI. I entered rehab for two weeks. I came out, realized I wouldn’t be able to say no, and went back in. I stayed four months. I have a sponsor and I am a sponsor. I’ll always be an addict. I don’t feel the need like I did, but it’s there. It will always be there.”

  I wanted to walk away from her and not see her disappointment but I couldn’t. “Now you know the ugly truth about me.”

  “You’re not ugly.”

  “Neither are you.”

  That brought a smile to her lips and it took all the control I possessed not to lean across the table and kiss her.

  “Will you tell me about your family?”

  Her question surprised me but I understood, because I could hear the longing in her voice. With her history, she was hungry for hearing about a family that wasn’t a nightmare.

  “My parents live with three Dachshunds in Florida on the ocean. My sister is about an hour’s drive from them. She’s happily married with two children. My nephew is six and my niece, four. They have no television, no Internet, and no cell phones. My sister’s crazy and home schools. She’s determined to keep them safe from the evil world. Why she lets me see them is beyond comprehension but I’m welcome as long as I bring a guitar.”

  “When did you start singing?”

  “My parents have video of me dancing and singing in a walker before I could actually walk. I don’t remember a time that I didn’t love music.”

  “Why hard rock?”

  “It speaks to me but then so does Sinatra, Eminem, and Adele. I love to write music and I’m lucky that others are willing to sing my non-rock ballads. For me, music is about the story. I never understand when someone says they don’t like rap or country. Some of the best stories come from those genres. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the fans, excitement, and fame. It’s a high in itself. This won’t last forever and I want to enjoy every day until it’s over.”

  “Why would it be over?”

  “Well, the norm is ten to fifteen years, and then I’ll get a ten-year break,” I grinned. “After a decade, I’ll become ‘in’ again and then play smaller venues as I grow older and my ability tapers off. Haven’t you ever noticed how it works for rock-n-roll gods? I’ve studied the process and I have plenty of good years before I start a family and enjoy the slow time.”

  “You want a family?”

  “Don’t you?”

  I didn’t mean to make her cry but the tears slowly rolled down her cheeks. I got up and moved around the table. She scooted over before I could nudge her into moving. I took her hand in mine and tipped her head toward me so I could listen to her quiet words.

  “I’m filled with cracks, not a whole person. I wouldn’t make a good mother.”

  I lifted her hand and slowly spread her fingers apart. I kissed each one and then, not caring that people walked by, I ran my tongue around each digit. I could tell it tickled but I kept a tight grip on her wrist. When a fine sheen of saliva coated each one I lifted my opposite hand and placed it against hers. I could feel the slippery moistness. My fingers were bigger and they covered hers completely.

  I ran the fingers from my other hand down the
n up, tracing the contours of our joined fingers. I peeked between the gap of our middle and index fingers and smiled at her.

  “I’m looking between the cracks.” My voice was husky because her taste turned me on. She tasted like bagel, cream cheese, and woman. I moved my hand slightly and our fingers now fanned. I lowered each digit and used my other hand to press hers down one by one.

  “We can fill the cracks Angela. I’m not asking for anything but today; one hour, maybe an evening, and then I’ll ask again. I come with baggage. You come with baggage. Maybe our clothes can mingle for a while and iron out a few wrinkles.” I gave her my best rakish grin.

  “Do you know any other Eminem songs?”

  “I know them all.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Angela…

  “I think you need to be here for at least another week.”

  “Yes, Mistress. Thank you.” We were in the main living area of the penthouse.

  “Don’t thank me, I’m sure Raul will continue to take advantage of your proximity and pawn Abigail off on you whenever possible.”

  “That’s far from a hardship, Mistress.”

  “You say that now, but the little hellion bit me this morning and it may be the end of my breastfeeding days.”

  I couldn’t help my small giggle. My nipples puckered with sympathy pain, but it was still funny.

  “Hmm, nipple clamps will be part of your next punishment. They’re not just for pleasure.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” I managed to straighten out my grin.

  Three days had passed since my meltdown. Each morning, Krispin picked me up and took me to a different place to eat. Falling asleep at night, knowing his soft knock on the door at six a.m. was only hours away, made sleeping easier.

  On my first night back at work, I could tell by Mistress’s fussing that she was nervous for me.

  I put as much confidence into the words as I could muster. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I know you will. Do you think you’ll feel like a small scene after your shift?”

  The request surprised me. “Yes, Mistress.”

  “I want Krispin to be there.”

  I couldn’t speak but she read the uncertainty in my eyes.

  “He’s asked me for permission to take you on an evening date.”

  I smiled at that, though my heart started to beat faster.

  “I said yes, if he was part of a scene first. I know you have a shift to work, but I’ll be sure you enjoy yourself tonight.”

  “And Krispin?”

  “Oh, he’ll pleasantly suffer in order to go on that date.”

  We both laughed. I always jumped in with both feet and then drowned in sorrow when it didn’t work out. It was easier to leave decisions to Mistress Lydia.

  I worked for an hour before Krispin arrived. Like the first time, I knew the second he entered the club. He walked in with two men I didn’t know, but by the leather gear, piercings, and tattoos, I was betting they were members of Blood Rights. They took a seat close to the bar.

  “Hi Angela. You look lovely.”

  I couldn’t help my blush. He hadn’t used the word “beautiful” since learning about my past.

  “What would you like to drink?”

  “Ask Kevin if he’ll make my usual. These are my friends Matt and Stephon. I would love for them to drink my poison but they have pansy-assed stomachs and need something a little weaker.”

  “Beer on draft.” They spoke at the same time. It was kind of cute even if they looked like hardcore biker dudes. Not everyone could be as pretty as Krispin.

  “I’ll be back with your order.”

  I heard one of them whisper “Is she the one?” when I walked away but I didn’t hear Krispin’s answer.

  I went behind the bar and cut a slice of lemon while Kevin handled the beers. I plopped the lemon in the microwave for 30-seconds and then poured the room-temperature Mountain Dew into a large glass. The entire club had gotten wind that Krispin and I were a couple, and Kevin explained Krispin’s drink preference as soon as my shift started. I squeezed the hot lemon into the un-iced glass, placed it on the tray with the beers, and carried it to the waiting trio.

  “Run away with me, sweetie, and you’ll never need to make a sissy drink like that again,” said Matt. At least, I think it was Matt. I wasn’t quite sure which was which.

  I conspiratorially lowered my voice. “I took a quick sip before carrying the drink over, and believe me, it takes a real man to drink that crap.”

  They all laughed.

  “When’s your next night off?” Krispin’s sparkling eyes looked into mine.

  “Thursday.”

  “Good. These two will be gone by then and we’re going on a date. It’s been cleared with your boss.”

  “She told me.”

  “Do you have a suggestion for a talented sub this evening? My friends like to double team.”

  “I think Nicole would be perfect.”

  “Do you now?”

  “Yes, I most certainly do.”

  He actually smirked. I admitted this morning at breakfast that Nicole was my friend but I was incredibly jealous of her night with Krispin.

  I heard him tell Matt and Stephon they would love Nicole and then he had the audacity to wink at me, evil man.

  I waited on a few more customers but my apprehension over the coming scene began to tumble through my insides.

  Two muscled arms came around from behind me and landed on the bar. Warm lemony breath wafted gently across my hair and then face. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know about the scene tonight?”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Are you nervous?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I am, too.”

  I turned in his arms too look at him. “You shouldn’t be nervous.”

  “I haven’t kissed you yet and tonight I’m going to watch Lydia cause you pain. I’m terrified.”

  “I need the pain.”

  “I know, but it doesn’t make it easier.”

  “It won’t be bad.”

  “I think I’ll need you to hold my hand.”

  “You’re weird.”

  “I know. So let me sniff your hair before I walk back over to my friends.”

  I leaned in and tipped my head down where I suddenly saw Mistress Lydia’s black stilettos tapping to the beat of the club music. I suddenly looked up, striking the top of my head against Krispin’s chin.

  “Ouch.” He rubbed the now tender spot.

  “You’re messing with my sub,” Mistress Lydia said, “without my permission.”

  “I didn’t touch her until she assaulted me.”

  “I think sniffing her hair qualifies as touching.”

  “I won’t argue. I humbly apologize.” His little-boy grin was infectious.

  “You’re learning. Now please take care of your friends. They’re drooling more than Abigail.”

  He rubbed his chin again and then walked away. My eyes followed his tight ass. He looked damn good in jeans.

  “Eyes on me,” Mistress said.

  I looked up into her smiling face and gave a relieved sigh. “He’s worried about tonight, Mistress.”

  “I know, but I’ll take care of your beau.”

  “That may be what worries him.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Krispin…

  Matt and Stephon had called me in the morning and let me know their plane was landing at three. They were two of my original band members. They hadn’t fallen as far or as hard as I had, but they had struggled to put it behind them, too. They drank a beer now and then, but our drink- and drug-induced coma days were far away.

  I loved these guys.

  We ate a light meal and played music in my room until seven. I gave them a few riffs of what I was working on and they picked up the beat and added a few twists. Blood Rights had some of the best musicians in the business. Though I wrote most of the songs, these two helped with the music
. They looked rough, but their hearts were pure gold. Angela would love them when she had time to see beneath their tatted outer layers.

  I told them about her. Not everything, but enough for them to know I was serious. They didn’t question the strength of my feelings or how quickly they had come about. They only offered support.

  They were really here to play in the club so we headed over after the sun went down. It was crowded again but as soon as my eyes fell on Angela I felt the calm wash over me. She took our order, flirted, and caused Matt and Stephon to fall in love like I knew they would. After she walked away, we talked about our next concert but I got antsy and couldn’t resist approaching Angela for a quick bit of my own flirting.

  I knew Lydia was watching and appreciated that she gave me a few minutes alone before interrupting.

  I rejoined my friends and let them finish their beers before leaving the bar area to find Nicole. The guys would treat her well and give a little double lovin’. It wasn’t my thing but the two rarely enjoyed a woman separately.

  I had avoided the club over the past few days, only seeing Angela in the mornings, but my dominant side ached for her. Not her pain, just her gentle submission. The thought of warming up her ass with my hand was all I thought I could handle. Walking from scene to scene, I killed a little time by watching, learning, and gathering ideas. BDSM was not always about pain and not always about sex. I knew the number one rule, and after safe, sane, and consensual, there really were no rules. Everyone found their own way and celebrated their own kink. I wanted to celebrate with Angela but dreaded I wouldn’t be enough for her.

  Damian worked at the last scene area and I stayed to watch. He used a flogger on a voluptuous older woman with large breasts and a nice ass. By the marks striping her ass, legs, and upper back, he wasn’t using soft leather. He finished the scene after a short conversation with the woman and ten more strikes with the flogger. Running his hands reverently over the marks left on her body, he offered continuous words of praise before unstrapping her from the St. Andrews Cross. She dutifully followed him to the couch slightly hidden from the scene area. I walked closer to watch and listen.