Cuff Me: A BDSM Romance

by Cate Bellerose

  And why did I wear this getup?

  They say shopping is a good way to blow off some steam and get out of the house. This time, it was one of the most embarrassing experiences of my life, and I'm still not convinced that I didn't make a mistake in doing it.

  Shopping for a sexy kink outfit is very different from shopping for new throw cushions or a summer dress Mom would approve of.

  It has straps. So many straps. The upper half is really nothing but inky black lines crisscrossing my torso with a whole array of metal buckles holding the intersecting strips of leather connected to keep anything embarrassing from falling out. It took almost a half hour to figure out how it all went together. It's a halter top designed by Pinhead from Hellraiser.

  My skirt has buckles too, but mostly for decoration. Contrasting the tightly restricting top, it's loose and flowing, the silky fabric black as night until I move, when it suddenly reveals shimmering purples and greens in the folds. Slits on both sides go all the way up, so if I move too vigorously, it shows off my black panties underneath.

  I might as well be naked. He’d better appreciate it.

  Why do I even care what he thinks? I told him we were done.

  The same reason I’m here tonight.

  I thought about putting on the collar with the ring, but decided against it. After my experience last time, my throat feels better exposed. Also, he’s got some making up to do before I wear a collar for him again. But I’ve got the flogger, so that’s something.

  I gyrate towards the play area, closing my eyes and losing myself in the music. Not to mention delaying the inevitable.

  Someone moves up against me, his dance moves grinding against my own. My eyes pop wide open at the sudden invasion of my private space and I turn around to find Carson behind me. He winks and I go with it, dancing just for the fun of it.

  “Any plans for the night?” he asks into my ear. It sounds like a whisper thanks to the music, but he’s probably yelling.

  I nod. “I’m meeting someone.”

  “That jerk from the other night? I hope that flogger is there to teach him a lesson.”

  The idea of locking Paul up in stocks for the night and flogging him senseless makes me laugh. I can’t imagine actually doing it, but the idea does have its merits. “Tempting. Very tempting.”

  “Well, if you need any help, just let me know.” He gives me a smile and one last bump-and-grind before moving on.

  I watch him go, dancing right from my side and into the arms of a girl in a tight corset and a bead skirt. Good for him. I hope they are a better match than we were.

  Who knows? On a different day, in a different life, I might've been meeting Carson here. But tonight, somewhere in here, Paul is waiting for me. I think. I assume.

  And even though I seem to be finding every reason to put off looking for him, I know I have to. He awakened something in me, but I want to claim this place for myself, and before I can do that, I need to confront him and find some sort of closure.

  No matter what that means.

  Slipping off the dance floor, I emerge from the crowd right next to the play area corridor, my head still bobbing in time with the music. I have no idea what I'm going to do once I'm in there, but I’m ready to get this over with.

  Mostly. I swallow nervously.

  What are the odds that he didn’t show? Or that the box was from someone else? No, it’s got to be him. Nothing else makes sense. I clutch the flogger tightly as I put one foot in front of the other. If he acts like an idiot again, at least I’ve got something to hit him with.

  The play area is in full swing, as it always seems to be. A man old enough to be my dad is bent over a bench, getting spanked thoroughly by two women my age. Must be his lucky day. Further down, a slender woman is attached to a St. Andrew's cross while a tall man with long, ropy muscles draws a red wand of some sort along her skin. Her eyes are fixed on the tip, and every so often he pulls a trigger that makes it spark, which in turn makes her jump and squeal.

  Like every time before, I get tingly when I'm surrounded by all the kink. There are so many things I'd love to try, at least with the right person. A bunch I wouldn't, too, but it doesn't matter, because there's something sexy in how the people doing them seem to love it, even if their kink isn't mine.

  But now that I'm here, what do I do? Where’s Paul?

  There.

  Standing along a wall, chatting with Caleb and looking indecently hot. He’s shirtless and wearing a pair of police uniform pants that cradle his ass and cling to his powerful thighs. He hasn’t seen me yet, so I inch closer, staying out of his line of sight. I stifle a laugh when I see he’s not wearing his regulation blues, but well-made costume pieces. Leave it to Paul to be so by the book that he won’t even break that rule. Some of the things that frustrate me about him are the same things that make him wonderful.

  I duck around the center stage, keeping people between us. Nothing stops me from peeking between them to keep an eye on him, though.

  God, he looks good. The heat of the club has put a slight sheen of sweat on his bare chest that glistens in the downlights and show off the time he spends in the gym, his chiseled planes and angles drawing quite a bit of attention. That woman over there might actually be salivating.

  I can’t blame her.

  It's almost enough to want to try to seduce him all over. When we're in the club, the outside world seems distant and the rules and reasons behind staying away fuzzy and unimportant. If I wasn't furious with him—and the more I look, the more I have keep reminding myself of that—I'd rush over to him to give it another go.

  Caleb walks off with a nod and a clap on the back, leaving Paul to wait for me. I should approach him. The drooling woman does, but he brushes her off with a smile, seeming content to lean against the wall with his powerful arms crossed over his chest and his gaze on the entrance.

  While I'm watching him.

  I wish I’d met him like this. The two of us at the club, strangers crossing paths without all those other strings attached, without all the baggage. He'd fall for my luscious curves and I'd pour myself all over his rugged physique and he'd tie me up, spank me and do unspeakable things to me while all I could do would be to let him and definitely not use my safeword.

  Suddenly my panties feel a little sticky.

  Then again, if we hadn't worked together, I might never have known that a place like this existed.

  Or that I really enjoyed being tied up and spanked.

  I study his face. He doesn't look happy, frowning a little and looking around intently. I’m late. Well, as far as he knows anyway. I draw a deep breath. It’s do or die time.

  For a long moment I consider chickening out, but I can’t. I won’t. I give him another long look. God, I'm terrible. I'm supposed to still be pissed at him for refusing to let me into his life, and all of that just scampers off to hide in the back of my mind while my hormones seem to think they can do my thinking for me.

  It seems they're right, since I step out in full view and wait for him to notice me. I haven’t been this terrified since that punk held a gun to my head.

  But even if I get nothing else out of this, Paul’s double take when he finally spots me is totally worth it.

  20

  Paul

  My first thought is that Em looks sexy.

  My second thought, “Fuck, Em looks sexy.”

  Just a glance, and I’m ready to tear that strappy top right off her. To run my hands up those sexy thighs that make their teasing appearance between the shimmers of her skirt with every step she takes. Suddenly my pants feel a little tight.

  Seeing her like this and knowing she isn’t mine drives me crazy, but she came. She’s here.

  I will make this right.

  Pushing off the wall, I close the distance between us. “Em!”

  Her face is hard to read, her lips flat and her eyes cautious. “Paul.” Just the single word.

  “I’m so glad you came.”

 
; “I haven’t decided if I am or not. Care to explain the flogger and the secret note?”

  Might as well make the leap. “I fucked up.”

  She doesn't say anything. Just waits, her arms crossed over her magnificent chest, pushing one of the straps nearly enough to the side to give a peek of—

  Fuck, I’m already screwing this up.

  “Em… I’ve said some really stupid things. Done some stupid things. And I understand if you don’t want to have anything to do with me…” I trail off, half hoping for some sort of response, but she doesn’t give me much to work with. Fair enough. I dug myself into this. “I want to say I’m sorry. And to ask for a second chance.”

  She tugs on her lower lip with her teeth while I watch her carefully. I try to keep my cool, but my heart’s fucking pounding in my chest.

  Her eyes come up to meet mine. “Why?”

  “Why?” For some reason that’s not the answer I expected.

  “Yeah. Why should I? It’s more like your third chance, isn’t it? Fourth?” She arches a brow. “Why is this time any different? We meet at the club, we end up doing something, and I’ll think we’re having a good time and finally getting somewhere until you suddenly decide that the sky is falling and it’s all, ‘I can’t do this to you,’ and, ‘I’m no good for you.’ “

  It’s only the gravity of the situation that keeps me from grinning at her attempts to mimic my much deeper voice. Em couldn’t sound gruff if she tried.

  “How do I know that if I say okay tonight, you won’t do the exact same thing again tomorrow?” She shakes her head with a sigh. “You’ve cried wolf too many times.”

  It stings that she’s right. I nod, not willing to give up without a fight, but steeling myself for having to accept that I’ve used up my chances.

  “So what are you sorry for?” Her question is pointed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tell me. I want to hear you say it. To hear if you understand.”

  “Everything?” I raise my hand as she opens her mouth to snap at me. “Sorry, that’s a cop-out answer. For rejecting you. No, wait, that's not true either.”

  Her furrow deepens and her frustration is turning to anger. “If you're going to—”

  “I'm sorry for not trusting you.” The simple truth. That's what I've fucked up. I haven't trusted. Not her, and not myself. “I'm sorry for letting my past dictate everything instead of realizing that you aren’t Anne, and I’m not who I was when I was with her.”

  She blinks. Not a word, just staring at me like I've just fallen out of the rafters. Slowly, like she's not sure I'm real, she reaches out and tentatively touches my arm. Our eyes meet, but I really have no idea what she’s feeling.

  Wetting her lips like she's weighing her words, she finally speaks. “Who are you?”

  “What?” That definitely wasn't what I'd expected.

  Her lips curl up slightly at the corners. “Who are you, and what have you done with Paul?”

  “Em, I'm not fucking around.” I might be a little slow on the pickup, but what's becoming more and more obvious is that wherever this is going, I want Em there, feeling it with me.

  Seriousness returns to her face. “Paul, neither am I. I know you think I’m young and naive, and maybe I am sometimes, but I'm not here for you to play with when it's convenient to forget your ridiculous guilt complex.”

  “Ouch.”

  Her touch on my arm firms into a solid grip. “I can't keep doing that, Paul. That's why I told you to leave me alone. I can't fix you if you don't want to let me.”

  “Em, I trust you.”

  For a second, hope lights her eyes. Caught off guard, maybe? Then they harden again. “You can't just tell me what you think I want to hear.”

  “It's the truth.” And I know it is. Certainty floods me. I trust her. “I can even tell you why.”

  She cocks her head, her expression still skeptical. “Okay. I'll bite. Why?”

  “Because you used your safeword, even with that other jerk.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Of course I did. I was freaking out. That’s what it’s for.”

  “Anne never would've. Never did.” I close my eyes briefly. “You have no idea how often I’ve gone over every single time she and I scened together, trying to figure out if I missed something. If she was trying to tell me to stop or if we were both having fun. I’ll probably still drive you crazy asking how you’re doing, but I want to move on.”

  She's warm against my bare chest. She smells so good, and I embrace her.

  “So how do I know you're for real this time?” Her finger traces circles on my abs, and whether she knows she's doing it or not, it's fucking distracting.

  I swallow deeply, steeling myself, then sink down onto my knees.

  21

  Emily

  “Paul! What are you doing?” This better not be what it sort of looks like.

  He looks up at me with those clear blue eyes and a mischievous smile. “You put your trust in my hands even when I’m not sure I deserved it, and now I’m putting mine in yours.”

  People are starting to stare, probably wondering if they’re about to get a show. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say. I’m just this huge ball of emotions right now, and… I mean, what am I supposed to do here?

  “No, really. What are you doing, Paul?”

  “Tell me how I can make this right. If it’s in my power to do it, I will.

  “I run my hand over the flogger he gave me. “So, if say… I wanted to tie you up and get some flogging lessons of my own?”

  He winces, but nods.

  Someone goes, “Aww,” in the crowd around us.

  I almost laugh. Not at the gesture. Knowing him, that must’ve been so hard to do, but at the idea of actually going it. It’s like a bear telling the field mouse to do what she wants with him. “Get up.”

  “If that’s what my mistress wills,” he says, barely holding back his smile.

  My cheeks light on fire. “That’s not what I meant.” I hold out the flogger. “I think this thing works a lot better in your hand than it does in mine.”

  He gets to his feet and takes it gently from my hand. “Only if it’s what you want.”

  Mirroring his own gesture, I drop to my knees in front of him. “I want to learn and explore with someone who appreciates me. Do you know anybody?”

  He practically sputters in surprise. “Em—”

  “Well, do you?”

  “It’s a good thing I fit that description, because I’d be forced to jail anyone else who tried, and there are rules against that sort of thing.”

  “And I know how you feel about rules.” I lick my lips. “Master.”

  “Fuck.” With a quick sweep, he picks me right up off the floor and cradles me across his broad chest like I don’t weigh a thing. I knew he was strong, but… wow. His voice is husky. “You’d better be sure about this, because you’re stuck with me now. Not going to shut you out.” His grip tightens. “Not going to let you go.”

  I run a finger along one of his powerful forearms. “What if I have to pee?”

  “You're going to have to hold it.”

  I give him a questioning look. “For ever?”

  “Yep.” He grins. “I've fucked up too many times. I'm not letting you out of my sight again.”

  I sigh, but it's with a smile. “Well, this could get awkward.”

  “Do you have to?”

  “What? Pee?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No.”

  “Good.” Pushing through the crowd, who apparently think this is the either the most hilarious or most romantic thing ever, he sets course for the private rooms, leaving a trail of whoops and applause in our wake.

  I dig my fingers into him. “Wait, so now you think we're good? A few nice words, and then you can just sweep me off to a back room to do unspeakable things to me?”

  “I suppose I was hoping.” He stops, but he doesn’t turn around. “How else will you know
if I can play and not ruin everything afterwards?”

  With a slow nod, I make a show of thinking it over. “Yeah, guess that's true. But I can't just let you drag me off like this.”

  “No?”

  “Not without a kiss first.”

  The words are barely out of my mouth before he covers my lips with his, pressing insistently. He tastes so good, and he holds me close. I melt into him as his hand slips in between one of the slits in my skirt to cradle my ass. I wiggle into his grip.

  Then he kisses me like he can’t breathe without me, making me his. And him mine.

  22

  Emily

  I push off, separating our lips for a moment. “Where are you taking me, you brute?”

  He smirks as he walks. “You're under arrest. Anything you say can and will be used to administer some serious punishment to your backside—”

  “That's not how that goes,” I protest with mock indignation.

  “It is tonight.” He switches back to his official police tone. “You may at any time waive your right to punishment, using your safewords yellow and red to respectively change or end the session. Do you understand your rights?”

  His piercing gaze is so serious that I swallow nervously. I've never wanted to be a criminal so much in my life, because if that's the look you get when he brings you in… well, I'd be doing a lot more breaking and entering, that's for sure.

  He stops at a door with a green light, but doesn't open it. Oh. He's waiting for my answer. Meeting his gaze with all the determination I have, I give my reply in a steady voice. “Yes.”

  He presses another panty-melting kiss onto my lips before carrying me into the room and kicking the door shut behind us. Immediately, his fingers work at my straps to get my top off. “God damn, this thing is sexy as hell, but it's like a fucking puzzle to get it off.”

  I laugh at his grumble while I find the right snaps and buckles to release it.

  When it finally goes, it's all at once and my top drops to the floor between us, leaving me bare from the waist up. I suppress the urge to cover up, realizing this is actually the first time he's ever seen me like this.