Dr. Bad Boy

by Ainsley Booth

  “Welcome,” Ellie says, stepping back inside.

  Gavin just gives me a smile that’s familiar, but not. It’s one I’ve seen on television many times, but in person it’s more dynamic. Reaches all the way to his eyes, where amusement clearly dances.

  Max sets his right hand in the small of my back and extends his left out toward the couple as we move into the foyer.

  The house is smaller than I thought.

  That’s something. It’s not a palatial mansion.

  “Gavin and Ellie, this is Violet. Violet, this is my college roommate, Gavin, and his better half.”

  I laugh a little nervously, and Ellie blushes. Good. It’s not just me, then. She wrinkles her nose and leans in. “Is it time for wine yet?”

  Warm relief floods through me. “Is it rude if I say oh, goodness, yes, please?” I whisper back.

  She shakes her head quickly. “Not at all. Come on, let’s go into the living room.”

  Gavin disappears for a moment, returning with beer, and Ellie pours me a glass of wine. Local Ontario wine, from Prince Edward County, but something I’d see on the shelf. Something I could afford to buy myself.

  My nerves ease a little more.

  They’re just normal people in an extraordinary situation.

  “So, where did you two meet?” Gavin asks as he sits on the sofa next to Ellie. The question shouldn’t come as a surprise—it’s par for the course when you’re being introduced to the friends—but given these friends have a full-time security detail, I assumed they already knew everything.

  I glance at Max and he gives me a small nod. He’s leaving the answer entirely up to me. “At the Chateau Laurier.” I go with the simple truth, but my face heats with the memory.

  Ellie saves me with a happy little sigh. “I love that hotel. Actually, I love all of the older architecture downtown. It reminds me of Montreal.”

  “Right? I’m from Toronto, and we’ve got a couple of spots of good history, but our business district is all skyscrapers. I love working on Spark Street.”

  “Oh, do you?” She grins at Gavin. “She’s so close!” She turns back to me. “I work at U of O.”

  She tells me this like I don’t know that, like the entire country doesn’t know everything about her. And suddenly I’m hit with a wave of empathy. I’m nervous about the RCMP and the prime minister knowing everything about me…but she’s got that times thirty million people.

  “We should have coffee sometime.” She curls her knees up and sips her wine. “Talk about these guys.” She winks, and I don’t care if she’s just being polite. It’s lovely and kind.

  “I’d like that.”

  Gavin clears his throat. “So am I going to get a chance to ask Violet anything?”

  Ellie shrugs. “Depends what it is.”

  "I don't know, Sprite. This is the first time I've ever met someone that Max has brought home."

  "You're not his father," she teases with a wink.

  "I'm aware." He grumbles under his breath and Max laughs. "Actually, what I really want to know is when Violet's going to come out to a hockey game?"

  "Uh…" I glance at Max.

  "She's a bit swamped at work right now," he says smoothly. "But she's welcome any time, of course."

  "Is it awful if I admit that I don't know much about hockey?" I add. I mean, I know enough to participate in the required Sens versus Leafs trash talk, but that's the extent of it.

  Gavin makes a wounded sound and grabs his chest, then grins at me. "But I bet you know a fair bit about the new bill we're introducing about fair use of music in the digital marketplace, don’t you?"

  I sit up a little straighter. "I do."

  "I'd love to hear your thoughts."

  I glance at Max, who shrugs.

  Ellie leans forward. "He means it. And I think with that, we'll leave you two to talk about that for a minute. Max, can you help me put a tray of munchies together?"

  He gets up and leads the way out of the room.

  Gavin lifts his drink in my direction. "Well? What do you think of my bill?"

  My fingers tremble as I smooth my hands down my thighs. "Well, sir…"

  He laughs. "Ellie's the only one who gets to call me that. Any friend of Max's can call me Gavin."

  I blush. "Right."

  "Seriously, Violet. You make him smile. I've been waiting twenty years to see that. You can tell me my bill is a pile of shit if you want and I'll still like you."

  My belly twists with the awful realization that this is more than drinks with friends. Max has brought me to meet his family. "Oh. Well, I'm not going to do that."

  "Good." His face draws into a serious look. "Now, I'd really like to hear your opinion…"

  We talk for about ten minutes before Ellie and Max return.

  The conversation flows back to hockey, then the cold snap we're having.

  Half an hour later I sip the last of my wine. Ellie reaches for the bottle. “More?” she asks. I shake my head. “No, thank you.” I’ve had a surprisingly good time, but I’m ready to call it a night.

  Thankfully Max reads my mind. He tips the beer bottle to his lips and finishes his drink. “It’s been a lovely evening, you two,” he says as he stands up, “but I think it’s time Violet and I head out.”

  “Thank you for such a lovely time. It was so nice to meet you both.” I feel awkward. Unsure. Where do I stand with these people? Offering my hand to shake seems too formal considering the casualness of our visit, but we’ve only just met, and this is the prime minister and his fiancee, after all.

  Max puts his hand at the small of my back and gently rubs with his thumb, making my heart thud heavy in my chest.

  A beat or two later, Ellie comes to me, pulling me into a warm hug. “I’m so glad you came. He’s the happiest I’ve seen him in months,” she whispers.

  I’m a little startled, but return the hug. “I’m glad, too.” And I realise I am.

  “I was serious before. Let’s get together for coffee, sometime. Just us.”

  “I’d like that.” I’m still fairly new to Ottawa and not exactly flush with friends.

  Max and Gavin exchange a bro-hug, then we put on our jackets and step into the cold, dark Ottawa night.

  Drinks with friends.

  Something tells me nothing about exploring this thing with Max is going to be ordinary.

  12

  Max

  We drive back to Violet's place in silence.

  Maybe tonight was a mistake. Maybe I shouldn't have pushed her so hard into something so…social. So vanilla. Hell, I don't know anything about being a boyfriend.

  I wanted her to see me as a real guy. Less of a threat. Now I'm a guy with a high-stakes best friend. That's hardly better.

  But on the other hand, she seemed to get along well with both Gavin and Ellie—and God only knows, they definitely make me look better.

  "Did you have a good time?" I finally ask as we walk up to her building.

  She nods and gives me a weird smile as she punches in her code. I follow her into the lobby because yes, I'm seeing her to her actual front door.

  "I did," she says slowly.

  "But?"

  She raises her eyebrows. "Max, they're your family. And you don't introduce your…" She lowers her voice. "Potential submissives to your family."

  I laugh under my breath. "My…family…is pretty kink-positive." And kinky themselves.

  "It just wasn't what I expected," she says with a sigh.

  I reach out and take her hand, then pull her against me. Another sigh and she relaxes into my body.

  "I've got a lot to learn about clear communication," I mutter into her hair as I hug her tight. "But I hear you about being honest. I do."

  "Good."

  But that reminds me. I ease her back against the door, then brace my arms on either side of her and give her a mock-glower.

  "What?" She frowns as she arches beneath me. The invitation is clear. Touch me, Max.

  Oh, I
want to touch her all over.

  “Speaking of honesty…"

  "Yes?"

  "I haven’t forgotten how you lied about knowing me to your boss.” In case she’s not clear, I lean in and let some of the unexpected anger I’d felt that day rise back to the surface. “When I turned around and saw you holding everything about me in your hands. And then you lied.”

  I put extra emphasis on the word, knowing it’s a hot button for her.

  She licks her lips, picking up my hint. Her voice goes breathy and submissive, right on cue, and gives me an excuse. “Out of necessity.”

  Jesus, it’s been too long. “Still made me want to punish you.”

  Her breath catches. “I didn’t know it was you. I swear. I only got your files right before the meeting, and…”

  I believe her. She’s clever and capable, but she’s not a natural actress. She’s too good, too pure, to lie convincingly.

  “Then I’d be lenient.”

  She sways toward me. “But you’d still…”

  This is dangerous. If we’re playing with kink, we need to talk about it first. If we’re doing something else, then it’s totally fucked up.

  My dick throbs painfully, and I’m not sure which thought turns me on more.

  I lean into her, pressing her back against her apartment door. My knuckles graze her belly, the dip at her waist, then the bottom of her rib cage as I drag my hand up between us. She inhales shakily as I ghost my fist between her breasts, not touching her firmly until my fingers find the bare skin just below her collarbone.

  We both shudder as I curve my hand around her shoulder, then up into her thick, glossy hair.

  The visceral memory is immediate. Her hair, wet and slick in the shower. Before that, as I fucked her face.

  Savage need rips through me as I tangle my fingers in the strands, roughly finding a hold on her that lacks all pretence of sophistication.

  “You’d want me to,” I growl.

  “Punish me?”

  “Hurt you. The punishment’s just an excuse.”

  “Yes,” she gasps.

  “Yes, what?”

  “I’d want you to hurt me.”

  Pleasure courses through me. “Good. Honesty is rewarded, kitten. Remember that. That’s going to be one of our rules.”

  I jerk my free hand back down her body and up under her skirt. I squeeze her thigh hard enough to make her gasp.

  Hard enough to make her wet.

  “The rest of our rules need to be sorted out before I reward you, though.”

  She nods shakily. “Okay.”

  “And tonight isn’t the night for that.” It kills me to say it, but I’m finally thinking straight again, and this is part of the responsibility that comes with everything else I want.

  I can hurt her. My erection strains at the promise that yes, I’ll get to do everything I’ve fantasized about. But I need her enthusiastic consent first, and she’s not in the right headspace to give it tonight.

  “You could just come in…” She trails off and bites her lower lip.

  If I follow her inside, I’ll have her on her knees, gagging on my cock before I realize what I’m doing. “Not tonight. What are you doing tomorrow? I’m going to hit a pick-up game of hockey since I missed the team practice today, but I have no other plans. I’ll work around your day.”

  She shakes her head. “Wide open.”

  “Do you want me to come back so we can talk?”

  An eager nod is all I need. I crush my mouth against hers, going straight for the taste of her, my tongue tracing her lower lip, then I catch it between my teeth. She tastes like sweet wine and warm skin, and she’s soft and pliant.

  I release her flesh and push deeper. She opens for me, her tongue touching mine eagerly, just for a second, before softening for my onslaught.

  Biddable from the word go.

  We’re going to have so much fun. Tomorrow.

  I tell myself to stop tasting her, to stop fucking my tongue into her mouth, but I can’t just yet. Her mouth is hot and wet, and she’s making this little sound at the back of her throat that makes me want to grind against her.

  Push her until that sound erupts and she has to bite her lip hard to keep it inside.

  I want to kiss down her neck and cover her mouth and hold her against the door when she comes.

  I want any number of filthy scenarios, none of which are acceptable to play out in her hallway because I’m her client.

  Whatever we do next, it has to be inside.

  And tomorrow.

  I shove myself away from her long enough to see her eyes glitter in confusion, then I pull closer again, winding my fingers in her hair. “Sleep on this,” I say quietly, my breath ragged as I loom over her. “Be sure of what you want. Because I want everything.”

  13

  Violet

  Be sure of what I want.

  What does that even mean, when I’m pretty sure Max can imagine a whole host of kinky shenanigans that I can’t even name?

  I don’t know what I want, beyond…

  I want him.

  I don’t want to lose my job.

  But that’s not what he’s talking about and I know it.

  He’s talking about limits. Hard and soft.

  I shiver as I imagine more of Max, without the tight boundaries of an anonymous one-night stand.

  Max, prepared with a hit-list of Domly things that push me right to the edge of my comfort zone.

  I spend the next morning making, erasing, and re-writing imaginary lists in my head.

  Yes to spanking—yes please, in fact—and also to any similar level of impact play. No to sharps and drawing blood. The darker corners of my mind wonder how far Max’s kink goes, and how I might feel about breath play, true punishment, extended power exchanges…

  A knock at the door jerks me out of my thoughts. I glance at the clock. Unless he decided to skip hockey again, that’s not Max.

  The knock comes again, this time followed by a playful series of drumming knocks that sound vaguely like a song.

  I roll my eyes. Matthew.

  I open the door and gesture for my next door neighbour to come in and make himself at home. He would anyway, though.

  We’ve been friends since the day I moved in and he brought him cookies that the guy he’d been seeing at the time had baked for him. Matthew was training for a weight-lifting competition at the time. They didn’t date for much longer.

  I miss those cookies right now. They were almost as good as the chocolates Max brought me.

  And now I’m thinking about Max again, and Matthew is staring at me, and when did my life get so complicated?

  “What’s up with you?” He cuts right to the chase. Such a cop.

  “Hello, nice to see you too, neighbour. How’s your week been? Tea? Yes? Be right back.”

  I try to escape to the kitchen, but he follows me. “It’s been busy. Worked overtime the night before last, didn’t get home until mid-afternoon. Then I passed out for a few hours, and when I woke up, starving, and wanted to go out to pick up some food, I found my neighbour making out with a strange guy outside her apartment. And because I’m a decent guy, I didn’t interrupt them, so I almost died from starvation.”

  I blush. “Oh.” Then I frown. “We weren’t there for that long.”

  “I was starving. It felt like forever. Although he does have a nice ass. That made up for it.”

  “How did we not hear you?”

  “I didn’t open my door. Just watched through the peephole.”

  I groan. “That’s so creepy.”

  “How many times have I told you to look out your peephole before you leave your apartment?”

  I just roll my eyes. “Okay.”

  “That’s all I was doing.” He gives me a dorky grin. “And checking out your date’s ass. But that was an accident. Spill. Who is he?”

  I shake my head. “Nobody.”

  “You haven’t had a date since that guy you picked up at
the Chateau Laurier. A make out session is not nothing, it’s a very important step in the right direction of getting your groove back.”

  “There is nothing wrong with my groove.”

  “Of course there is, sweetie. But now that you’re dating again, we can move you forward and away from the monogamy trap.”

  “Haven’t you been dating Gareth for like six months now?”

  “That’s different. I’ve sowed all my wild oats. And Gareth is perfect.”

  He’s not wrong. His boyfriend is perfect. “You don’t deserve him, you know,” I say with a wink, and that detours him into telling me about the latest sweet thing G did.

  He doesn’t bring the conversation back to Max until we finish our tea and he stands up to stretch. He’s a big guy and he takes up a lot of space in my kitchen.

  Even more when he props his hands on his hips and glowers down at me. “So again, who’s the guy?”

  I take a deep breath. “He’s a secret.”

  His eyes narrow. “You being safe?”

  In a manner of speaking. “Yes.”

  “You’ll tell me if I need to kick his ass?”

  “Yes.” Maybe. I don’t know. Part of me is pretty sure this thing with Max will end spectacularly badly, and I’m kind of okay with that, because before that it’ll just be spectacular.

  But I’ll keep the Matthew beating as a back-up plan just in case I forget to be an adult about it when our secret affair ends.

  I stand up and give him a quick hug, which he tolerates. “Now you need to leave, though, because the secret guy is coming over later. And I’d prefer if you didn’t spy on him through the peephole again.”

  He grunts, and I know he won’t. One of the reasons our friendship went from friendly neighbours to nosy besties is that he’s honest to a fault, and completely trustworthy. He bleeds honour and duty, and that’s a big deal to me.

  I’m not sure what he sees in me, since I hug him too much and call him my bestie, but I also save him from cookies, so that’s something.

  He lets himself out and I do the dishes, restless and fidgety as my mind drifts back to the question of just what exactly I want.