N is for... (Checklist Book 14)

by L. DuBois

  “I did.”

  Her eyes scanned his face, feature by feature. “You didn’t call me pet, or slut, or whore.”

  “I think I called you all those things.” He leered, and she smiled, which was the effect he’d been hoping for.

  “You did, but not towards the end. Even though what I was doing…what you were making me do…was objectively whore-y.”

  “Whore-y.”

  “There really isn’t a better word to describe being fucked by a machine with a plug in your ass, nipple clamps on, while also jerking off a hot guy.” She arched a brow, as if daring him to correct that statement.

  He grinned. Damn, he liked talking to her. “There’s an argument to be made that you were just being a good submissive.”

  “I am a terrible submissive.”

  “No.” He caught one of her hands, lacing their fingers together. “You’re not a terrible submissive.”

  She looked away, gaze scanning the room, then whispered something so low he couldn’t hear it. It sounded like “Not for you.” but he couldn’t be sure.

  “Autumn, talk to me.” He stroked her cheek.

  “Why?” She faced him once more. “Wait, I don’t mean why should I talk to you.” She took a breath, and when that caused the blanket to slip down her shoulders she didn’t stop it.

  Daniel reached out, grabbing the fabric and tugging it up around her neck.

  “Why did you stop using those words? After all, it was part of our checklist assignment.”

  It hadn’t been a conscious choice, but the minute she asked the question, he knew the answer. And from the look on her face, he suspected that she knew the answer too.

  He stayed silent, waiting for her to verbalize it first.

  “It’s because you knew… You knew if you called me a whore, or a slut, while I was doing something whore-y, it would hurt.”

  “Yes.” That was true, but it wasn’t the full truth.

  “How?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Good Dom instincts. Experience. The look on your face. All possibilities.”

  “We just met, and you realized something they—” She cut herself off.

  “Ah, good. We’re here. I’ve been waiting for this part.”

  “What part?” She’d hunched her shoulders and was no longer looking at him.

  “Your sub origin story.”

  That startled a laugh out of her.

  He smiled, relieved that he could make her laugh, could keep her rooted and safe both physically and emotionally.

  “My sub origin story.” She was grinning.

  “Someone hurt you.” He ran his hand up her back, slid it under her hair, pulling the dark strands out from under the blanket. “Someone taught you to hate your submissive needs. Did such a number on you, here—” He touched her temple. “—that you were angry at, and secretly scared for, other subs.”

  Her smile faded, but she didn’t retreat into herself.

  “I didn’t approach it, this, right.” She gestured to the club around them. “I tried to add D/s to a vanilla relationship.”

  “Your boyfriend wasn’t into it, and made you feel bad? Called you names.”

  “Not the first one, that was the second one. And yes, like a dumbass I tried it twice. After that, I learned.”

  “So what did the first one do?” He kept his tone light, fighting to hide the rage he was feeling towards these unnamed men who had dared to hurt his lover.

  Emphasis on his. He was feeling seriously possessive.

  “He was willing to try. He spanked me, used a plug, a little bondage, but he wasn’t into it.”

  That wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

  “He would…he would lose his erection halfway through the scene. He’d ask me exactly what I wanted. He’d do things wrong, not on purpose, but just because he wasn’t thinking about it…didn’t care enough to have planned or read anything. Maybe if I’d taken us to munches, or demos at clubs…”

  She took a shaky breath, and he tugged her closer, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple. He felt sad for the woman she’d been, who’d opened herself up to a partner, exposed something raw and vulnerable only to have it fall flat.

  “I could just tell it was a chore for him. That his mind was usually elsewhere. I mean that was a problem in our relationship from the start. He was brilliant, worked at JPL, but not good at practical stuff. Not good at planning and executing non-academic things.”

  “So you had to play both parts in the scenes. The Dom and sub.”

  “I’d always thought of it as being forced to top from the bottom, but…you’re right. I really was the Dom.” She was quiet for a moment. “I remember this one time I was just in the mood, you know? I don’t even remember why. Maybe I’d read a sexy book, or seen something hot, but I needed him.”

  “Needed to scene with a Dom,” he countered.

  “Probably more accurate.” Autumn snuggled against him. “I put on lingerie—one of those strappy harnesses, no underwear, and a robe. Not a fluffy robe, a sheer black one. Totally see through. I lay on the bed, and just waited. By the time he came in I was so fucking turned on. In my head I could pretend that the waiting was the first part of the scene. That he was making me wait so I’d be ready.”

  Daniel’s imagination painted a vivid picture of her like that, but in his mind the bed she was on was his. “Then he walked in, put you on your knees, spanked you, fucked you from behind but didn’t let you come. Then he spread you out on the bed. Tied you down so you were helpless, and played with you for hours.”

  “Is that what you’d have done?” she asked in a small voice.

  “It would be a good start.”

  “If that had happened, I’d probably still be with him.”

  “So what did he do?”

  “He looked at me, said ‘oh, I see’ in this sort of irritating demeaning way, though I don’t think he meant it like that. Then he decided to go turn off all the lights, make sure his cat was inside, brush his teeth…basically get ready for bed. I mean he was doing it quicker than normal, but I just…I felt so stupid.”

  “I’m so sorry, lover.” He rubbed his lips against her hair.

  “It’s dumb, because I mean, getting ready for bed made sense, right?”

  “No. Getting ready for bed is what you do on a normal night. You were very clearly signaling that you wanted something different on that particular night. You were changing it up, and he should have done the same.”

  “That’s…that’s a really good point.” Autumn sat up straight, eyes narrowed though she was staring into middle distance. “It wasn’t too much to expect him to get with it and feed the cat after he fucked me.”

  “Perfectly reasonable.” He slid his fingers through her hair, gently massaging her scalp. “You needed something that night, and he didn’t take care of you.”

  “He tried. I mean I know he tried. He went for the toy box, but then couldn’t find the lube, stopped and asked if he could use a bottle of massage oil that was in there. I said sure, but he googled to check. I offered to give him head to get us started, which worked, but then when I was in position for a spanking I look over and his dick had gone soft. I was…I was a chore to him.”

  Her voice was tight, and she was blinking fast. Daniel kissed her shoulder, fighting the urge to turn her over his knee so that when he was done she’d get to see exactly how hard spanking her made him.

  “It wasn’t…malicious. He just wasn’t into it. And he tried, but the fact that he so clearly didn’t enjoy it was…” She looked at him, smiling tentatively. “It was so hot when I could tell that you were into it. That you were having to fight to control yourself.”

  “How could I not? You’re delicious.” He touched her skin with the tip of his tongue.

  Her eyes were bright, her breathing uneven.

  “Tell me about the other one,” he murmured.

  She jumped, as if he’d shocked her. He considered saying she didn’t have to, that it di
dn’t matter, but he knew it did. And if he was going to be her lover, her top, he needed to know.

  “The second time I tried, it was with a guy who was more naturally dominant. Decisive, aggressive even, though in a take-charge kind of way, not the start-a-bar fight style aggression.”

  “Let me guess, he’s the one who called you a slut.”

  “He liked ‘dirty talk’.” Her lips twisted in a grimace. “He was into the D/s, but when I tried to explain I didn’t have a degradation kink, that I didn’t like being called those names, he said that they worked for him. Helped him get in the mood.”

  “Did you set a hard limit for no name-calling?”

  “No, because…because I was scared if I did that he wouldn’t want to do it at all.”

  “You were willing to take what you could get, even if it hurt you.”

  “Yes. For a while. I left when…when he started expecting me to be submissive all the time. Ordered me to kneel while we watched TV. Expected me to answer with a ‘Yes, Master’ when we were out in public. He bought me a day collar—a very ugly necklace. When I asked if he was fucking joking, he got pissed.”

  “And that’s how you developed a disdain for people like Master Carter and Pet.”

  “Pretty much. After that I gave up on BDSM. At least until I started making serious money. Then I found out about, and joined, Las Palmas.”

  She seemed to sink into herself a little after that, but it felt more like it was due to relaxation than a protective physical retreat.

  “That’s quite the origin story,” he said.

  “I’ve never told anyone those things. I mean my girlfriends know a little bit, but they don’t know it all. They don’t know about Las Palmas either. They think this is some boring club for finance people.”

  “Is that what you do? Finance stuff?”

  She looked at him, then quickly looked away. “I…I don’t share that with people here. What I do.”

  That hurt. It shouldn’t, because most people didn’t talk about their jobs at the club. Many used fake names as an added layer of protection.

  She was watching him warily, as if waiting for him to react badly. Because of that, Daniel made sure his expression didn’t change. She relaxed once more. He kept up the head massage, occasionally moving down to knead the muscles of her shoulders and neck.

  “Now you know all my secrets,” Autumn murmured. “You know that I’m a sub who doesn’t respect subs—”

  “You’re not,” he said firmly.

  “—and therapy-ed me until I realized that I was scared for them, probably because of how my relationship with Mike ended.”

  “I was unaware therapy was a verb.”

  “And what we just did was the best scene I’ve ever had.”

  Daniel took a satisfied breath. “I like hearing that.”

  They sat in silence for a while. She’d shared her origin story…it was only right he do the same.

  The words wouldn’t come. They sat there in silence. A silence that changed from companionable to tense as the minutes ticked by. Around them people came and went from the library. There were voices interspersed with the cracking sounds of someone getting spanked, and occasional moans of pleasure.

  Damn it. Why couldn’t he just tell her?

  Daniel didn’t hide his past, but he also didn’t talk about it. Because of what he’d done when he finally got out, there was no way to keep it secret. After all, his congressional testimony was public record.

  But if he were to start talking about his past right now, it wouldn’t be just the facts of what had happened. It wouldn’t be a calm recitation of what he’d been through and how it had affected him. He knew how to tell that story without breaking down, to tell it like he was speaking about someone else, as if who he’d been was a separate person.

  Autumn sat up, wiggling until she was perched on his thigh, but with her feet on the floor. “I know we’re not done with our letter, but I think I need a few days to recov—”

  “What bar?”

  She glanced at him, raising a brow “What bar…?”

  “What bar would we have met at?” he asked. “Dive bar in Silver Lake? The hotel bar at the Standard on the Sunset Strip?”

  Her lips twitched in a smile. “Downtown L.A. One of the themed ones.”

  “Themed bar?” He shook his head. “Really?”

  “Oh yeah. That one in the basement with the old bank vault that’s like a speakeasy. Or the hipster one that looks like an old hunting lodge and serves whiskey cocktails. I unapologetically love bars with weird themes and decor.”

  “In that case I would have been slightly embarrassed to be there.”

  “Okay, what if I’d met you at one of your favorite bars?” She pursed her lips. “Where would it be?”

  “Rooftop garden bar at the Bungalow in Santa Monica.”

  “Touristy.”

  “Great view of the ocean.”

  Autumn shrugged out of the blanket, letting it fall to her waist, but only for a moment. He got a quick glimpse of her pretty breasts, the small marks he’d made easier to see in this light. Then she was pulling the blanket up, under her arms, and tucking it around her like a towel.

  “If we had met at that bar, if we had left together, I would never have told you I like to be sexually submissive.” She stood, smiling down at him. “We would never have gotten to this.”

  Daniel had to curl his fingers into fists to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing her, pulling her back down onto his lap. “We aren’t done with our letter.”

  “I know, but…” She raised one brow. “Honestly, I think we more than satisfied the requirements.”

  “We didn’t do nipple weights. And didn’t play with your piercings. I have them stored safely, by the way.” Daniel stood, which put him solidly in her personal space. Autumn narrowed her eyes and didn’t back down. “I’m not done with you, lover.”

  “Next weekend, then.”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “No. I have plans.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I have plans to not be here.”

  She raised her chin, as if daring him to challenge the statement.

  Their scene had been good. So damned good. He wanted to play with her again tonight—it was early enough, and then again tomorrow.

  She was pulling back.

  Probably because she shared her past with you, was open and vulnerable, and instead of reciprocating you stonewalled her with silence.

  She’d shared things with him. Told him both her dark secret and how previous relationships had shaped her kink.

  He hadn’t been brave enough to do either. Damn.

  He could explain that he didn’t talk about his past, not at Las Palmas. He could encourage her to stay, pull her back onto his lap, and touch her, gently at first, but with increasing intimacy, until she was ready to go again.

  There was something in the tightness of the skin around her eyes that stopped him.

  “Next weekend.” Daniel stepped back, out of her space.

  She relaxed. “Thank you. For listening. For making me feel…a little less broken.”

  “You were never broken,” he assured her.

  “Hearing you say it makes me believe it just a little bit more.” She gathered her long blanket train, holding it in the hand not pressed to her breasts to keep the rest of it in place. “Until next weekend, Sir.” She added a sassy little wink.

  Daniel watched her walk away, and hated himself for not being brave enough to stop her.

  Chapter 15

  “This is stupid. I’m sorry.” Autumn looked at her best friend. “You should go home.”

  Summer gestured with her glass. “Don’t be stupid. I’m your ride-or-die bitch.”

  “Cheers to that.” Autumn picked up her own glass and touched it to Summer’s. It wasn’t the first time this evening they’d toasted.

  They’d been friends since freshman year of college when they’d been roommates
. Someone in the housing department thought they were clever, assigning girls named Autumn and Summer to the same room. They’d bonded over a similar feelings about their names—both of them having a combination of irritation and pride in their seasonal names.

  They’d held each other’s hands through those first awkward months of college. Their lives had taken different, if parallel, tracks in the past few years. They were both finally established in their careers. Summer was going to save humanity from itself. She was a program manager for a major environmental non-profit.

  Autumn had always been good with numbers, but earned her BA in economics, which was an odd major, since economists were people with advanced degrees, and besides that, her best job prospect was to teach.

  She’d gone a different route, making her own way in the world of what she liked to think of as fake-money.

  Now she was a hedge fund manager, a position she’d taken just because it was a new challenge. They’d begged her to come on board because Autumn had made a name for herself, and an ungodly amount of money, as a day trader. High risk, high reward, and the earning potential had been nearly unlimited.

  She’d paid off her parents’ house, was paying cash for her siblings’ college tuition, and her abuela was still lighting candles for her every week, because she was sure Autumn had to be doing something illegal to have made that much money that fast.

  Her day-trading mentor—one of her professors—had always said she had a super high EQ—emotional quotient, to go with a good IQ, which was why she could handle high risk day trading. Before yesterday, she would have agreed with him.

  But it had taken Daniel to point out that she didn’t actually despise other submissives, but was, in fact, afraid for them. Afraid they’d experience the pain she’d gone through. So much for a high emotional quotient.

  “Remind me again who we’re looking for?” Summer leaned in, head swiveling so she could scan the crowd in the dim bar with narrowed eyes.