The Dom's Bride: A BDSM Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  “Maybe there wasn’t an opportunity,” she says carefully.

  I grab a towel and clean my cum from her body, making a dismissive sound at her response. “The Dom gloves may be off, but if you want to blatantly lie to me, I reserve the right to grab a paddle.”

  She grins. “Okay. There were opportunities. But I’ve just never been interested in something long term.”

  I sit her up, standing behind her as I work the stress out of her shoulders. She groans against my touch and leans her head back luxuriously.

  “That’s not ordinary,” I say.

  “Oh come on,” she says. “Not every woman wants a long term relationship.”

  “No, but most of the ones who don’t, have a good reason for wanting to stay away. So what’s your reason?”

  “I could ask you the same thing. Most guys don’t actually want to be bachelors their whole lives. And never dating? That’s way less ordinary than my hang ups.”

  I grunt noncommittally.

  “Ah,” she says, turning to look at me from beneath those long eyelashes. “So you expect me to open up, but you get to be a closed book?”

  “Fine,” I say with a half-smile. “You can keep your secrets.”

  “Wow,” she says, shifting on the bench until she faces me completely now. She holds her hands in her lap to cover herself in a self-conscious way that makes her all the more sexy. “You’re that committed to keeping your own secrets that you’ll give up on finding out mine?”

  “I don’t talk about my past,” I say.

  She looks thoughtful. “So it was something that happened a long time ago. I see.”

  I shake my head. “We’re not talking about this.”

  “What can we talk about, then? I barely know anything about you except, well, this,” she says, motioning to the room and then to my still exposed cock with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I don’t even know what you do for a living.”

  “I buy failing businesses, make them successful, and then sell them for a profit.”

  “And why do you still do it? You already have so much money. Is there still more you want?”

  I open my mouth to speak but pause uncomfortably when I realize her question is one I’ve never even bothered to ask myself. “The money is just a number now,” I say slowly, almost thinking out loud. “For a long time, making money was just my way of saying fuck you to my…” I wince when I realize how much I was about to divulge about my past. I really don’t talk about my past. I never have. I don’t keep close friends. I keep everyone at arm’s length and now it has only taken one slip up to get me wanting to rant and ramble about all my problems? Fuck.

  “Fuck you to your dad?” she tries. She continues when I don’t tell her she’s wrong. “I can kind of relate. My dad and I… We had problems. I guess you could go on with your life and let the past crush you and define you, or you can try to struggle against it and prove everyone wrong. You proved everyone wrong, and me?” She laughs sadly and shakes her head, eyes welling with tears. “I’ve just been hiding from it.”

  Seeing her so sad is enough to make me want to say whatever it takes to help her, even if it means dredging up things I’ve never talked about with anyone. “My dad…” I say slowly, voice feeling distant and hard. “He let one of his girlfriends abuse me when I was just a teenager. It started out because he was shit for a father, and she acted like she cared about me and wanted to be like a mom for me.” I feel my face contort in rage and shame as I talk about it. “But she was almost worse than him. He’d help her do things to me just because he was fucked up and he liked the power trip. You think you’re hiding from your past? Every day of my life since then has just been me putting up wall after wall because I’m still so fucked up from what happened. I kill myself in the gym so no one can ever overpower me again. I worked years without days off so I’d have the money and power to never need anyone but myself. I used women to remind myself that I was in control. And I never let anyone get close because I was too afraid they’d see I don’t have it all together.” I laugh humorlessly, shaking my head and letting my hands fall from her shoulders. “So maybe don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  I watch her face for a few moments, feeling like I’ve just ripped open an old scar and the skin is left raw and exposed. It was never something I planned to talk about. Never something I wanted to share, yet getting it out feels like a relief.

  She surprises me by throwing her arms around me and hugging herself tightly to my chest, cheek pressed against me. “I’m sorry, Tristan.”

  I put my arms around her, eyebrows drawn as I stare down at her brown hair and the smooth, bare skin of her back. Somehow, I think my plan to have tonight be our last time together might have just gone up in flames. I’m not even sure if it would make a difference at this point whether Stephanie thinks so too. I’ve gotten a taste for more than just how good it feels to fuck her. I just felt something spark between us that I’ve never felt, and I know I’m not going to stop until I can bottle that spark up and keep it forever.

  13

  Stephanie

  “On a boat?” asks Jamie.

  “Yes,” I say, laughing. Cole is taking a nap and Tristan is at work, so I have the house to myself while I roam on my cell phone and talk to Jamie. I managed to get the week off from work while I figure out what to do with Cole, so I’m way overdue on my dose of Jamie.

  “A BDSM club on a boat?” she asks again, as if I wasn’t clear enough the first time.

  “Yes. But it was really classy. It wasn’t like some casino boat or something.”

  “Hm,” she says. “Did he mention how much the membership fee was? Maybe I should check this out.”

  I laugh. “Somehow I think it might be just out of your price range.”

  “So are you two like an item now?”

  “Well,” I say, chewing my lip. “He left for work before I was even awake this morning, and I was half-asleep on the drive home. So we really haven’t talked much since the boat. Honestly, I don’t know what he made of it all, but he did say it would just be for the night.”

  “But he meant the sex, right? You said you two kind of had a connection. It sounds like he might be wanting more if that’s the case.”

  I sigh. “I don’t know what he wants. It’s like he has armor on all the time and I’ve only seen through the chinks a few times. There’s a good guy in there, but he seems to go back and forth on whether he wants me to know that or not.”

  “What about you?” asks Jamie.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, are you still planning on taking the kid and running when this is all over, or are you starting to think you might want to stick around and be Mrs. Billionaire?”

  I roll my eyes for my own benefit. “You make me sound like a gold-digger when you say it that way. And no. Well, maybe. I don’t know is the answer. I’m still not sure what I want. Every time he leaves the house I feel like I get my senses back. I start thinking I’ll just focus on Cole and the adoption and I’ll stop letting Tristan cloud my judgment. Then he comes back here and it’s like someone flips a switch upstairs in my head.”

  “You like him,” she says slowly. “You liiiikeeee him.”

  “You can be such a kindergartener sometimes. Of course I like him. But that’s not the question. The question is whether I think he would make a good enough father to seriously consider a relationship.”

  “You do realize most people don’t start thinking about whether guys would make good fathers before they start dating, right? Not really, at least. It’s not all-or-nothing. You just date the guy for a while and if it’s going well, you keep dating him. If it’s going badly, you break it off. I still don’t see why you try to make it so complicated.”

  I want to shut her down, but I realize she’s not wrong. “I don’t want to mess this up, Jamie. I’ve got a real shot at adopting Cole if this all works out. It’s what I’ve wanted for years.” I shake my head and bite at my thumb nail. “I do
n’t want to mess this up,” I say again more quietly.

  “What if letting Tristan slip through your fingers is messing it up?”

  “Since when are you the voice of reason?” I groan. “You’re supposed to just make dumb jokes and agree with whatever I say.”

  Jamie lets out a long breath. “Steph,” she says in such a serious voice that it gives me chills. “I can be an idiot sometimes, but I care about you. You’re my friend, like it or not, and I want you to be happy. I want you to be over the fucking moon happy. So give Tristan a chance. You can still make everything with Cole work, but don’t shut Tristan out. Okay? I swear to God I’ll come up there and shove a sandwich down your throat if you don’t listen to me,” she says with sudden ferocity.

  “Jesus,” I laugh. “A sandwich? Did you miss breakfast or something?”

  “No, but I’ve been trying to wait to have my lunch for the last hour now and it’s killing me a little on the inside.”

  “It’s ten in the morning, Jamie.”

  “Yeah, well my stomach doesn’t have a clock, so fuck you very much.”

  I sigh. “Thank you for the advice. I’ll try to take it.”

  “No. You will take it. Sandwich in throat. Don’t forget.”

  “That’s probably the lamest threat you could make, you realize that right?”

  “I’ll slather it in mustard first.”

  “Okay, okay. Don’t get crazy now. I’ll… I’ll give Tristan a chance.”

  I hang up the phone and set it down on the counter as I stare out the patio windows of his house. For all my talk, I don’t even know if Tristan wants more from me. Maybe last night didn’t feel like anything special to him. He might come back tonight and pick up where he left off ignoring me every chance he gets.

  “I’m hungry,” says Cole from behind me.

  I jump like a startled cat, making him giggle gleefully.

  “You scared the bejeezus out of me, Cole,” I say with a breathless laugh.

  He does an impression of my jump, putting his little hands up over his face and bulging his eyes as he screams.

  I plant my fists on my hips. “Very impressive. You better start working on your acceptance speech for the Oscar that performance will win you.”

  “Oscar?” asks Cole.

  “Never mind,” I say with a grin. “What are you hungry for?”

  “Mackie cheese!” he says, giving himself a round of applause as if it is done and decided already.

  “Mackie cheese it is then.”

  Once I have Cole sat down with his bowl of macaroni and cheese, I lean against the counter and watch him eating. It’s only then that I make the connection between what Tristan told me last night and why he took Cole from his father’s house.

  He was afraid the same kind of abuse would happen to Cole. The realization sends goosebumps down my spine. On one hand it shows me a side of Tristan that very much makes him seem like he would be a good father, but on the other hand it makes me all the more determined to make sure Cole never goes back to that house. I think again about what Tristan said when he mentioned pretending to get married. If it was just for show, what would be the real harm, after all?

  We’d probably have to lie about how long we’ve been dating to avoid making things look suspicious to child services, but other than that, it would likely hurry things along. Besides, we’re already lying about being together, so it would hardly be uncharted territory. A small voice in my mind wonders if I’m only considering it because deep down, I’m enjoying the fantasy of Tristan and I deciding not to cancel the engagement after this is all over. I wish I could write it off as ridiculous, but I know there’s a kernel of truth in the thought.

  Somehow, Tristan has started working his way into my mind and I don’t feel like I can just call it a meaningless fling anymore. I know I can’t. He means something to me, I just need to figure out what that something is.

  14

  Tristan

  Stephanie probably thinks I’m working today, but I’m sitting inside a smelly, dirty diner while I wait for my father to show up. I should’ve figured he’d be late.

  I tried suggesting a nicer place when I asked him to meet me, but he didn’t trust me at a place I picked. It’s probably some side effect of his drug abuse making him paranoid, or maybe he’s right to be worried. Either way, I just want to talk to the asshole and get this over with.

  After last night on the boat, I realized I need to finish what I started when I dredged up the past with Stephanie, and that starts with him.

  It’s nearly half an hour past the time we agreed to meet when my dad finally slinks in. He’s wearing a patchy brown jacket and jeans that look like they are one wash away from falling apart. He sits down across from me with a yellow-toothed grin. “Wanted to gloat, did you?” he asks.

  “No,” I say.

  It’s the first time I’ve really seen him since I was a kid. The day I grabbed Cole out of there wasn’t like this. He was asleep and I could forget the ugly way his eyes glean when he looks at me, like he’s picking me apart and just waiting for his chance to cut my legs out from under me.

  “Then how about you give me my fucking boy back.”

  I lean forward, ignoring the smell coming from him as I inch my face closer to his. “He’s afraid of you. Why might that be?”

  My dad leans back, shaking his head and laughing dismissively. “Because he’s a rotten little shit who can’t follow directions.”

  “Yeah? And we both know what your solution is when rotten little shits can’t follow directions, don’t we?” My hands ball into tight fists just from looking at the asshole. All those years he was bigger and stronger than me, all those goddamn years when he lorded his strength over me like a whip, and now the tables are turned. I lost track of how many times I thought about what I would do to him if I saw him. How I’d punch his face in or throttle him until he begged me to stop. Seeing him now just makes me want to walk away. I can see him as an adult for the first time, not the way a kid sees his father.

  My dad is a drug-addict bum. He’s weak. He’s filthy. He’s desperate. He’d fold in on himself like a wet paper bag if I laid a hand on him and I wouldn’t feel any better. I let my hands relax again, narrowing my eyes at him. “I can’t figure out why you want him back. I’ve got papers in my car. You sign them and Cole is ours. No drama.”

  “So you can take your smug ass back home knowing you’ve won? Fuck.You.”

  “It’s not about winning,” I say, slamming down my fist hard enough on the table to draw a few curious glances from around the diner. “It’s about not letting you fuck up some other kid’s life.”

  “Oh yeah,” he says, leaning back with crossed arms. “Just look at how much I fucked up your life with your fancy clothes and car. Poor little baby. Daddy wasn’t nice to you so you’ve got it real hard, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, you know what?” I say, standing suddenly. “I thought it might heal some old wounds or some shit to just get you to agree to sign custody of him over. But fuck all that noise. I’ll get custody of him, and hell, maybe they’ll even find a few reasons to put you in jail where you belong in the process.”

  “Don’t you walk away from me, boy,” he says, reaching to grab my arm.

  I reflexively knock his arm away with my left hand and my right cracks out across his jaw. He slumps back into the booth with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

  I grimace. “Fuck,” I growl. “Now I need to wash the shit off my hand.”

  I’m in a sour mood when I come home that evening, but I’m hoping the sight of Stephanie will cheer me up. I find her upstairs just closing the door with a finger to her mouth as she puts Cole to bed.

  She follows me out to the kitchen and smiles once we are clear but I can tell from her body language she feels a little awkward. “Well,” she says, clapping her hands against the side of her thighs. “You’re home.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “How was Cole?”

  “He’s great,” she
says. She pulls out a barstool at the kitchen island and sits down, smiling as she seems to pull up some memory from today. “He’s so much like you. You know? I guess it shouldn’t seem so strange since you’re brothers after all, it’s just that the age difference is so big. It’s like he’s your kid.”

  I nod. “He’s not, though.”

  “I know,” she admits. “Obviously, I know. I just wonder what it feels like for you. But I guess that answers my question.”

  “I just want to make sure he never has to go back to that house.”

  “Me too,” she says.

  “Have you heard anything new from child services?”

  “Yes,” she says slowly, and from the way she’s watching me I feel like it’s going to be something I won’t like.

  “What?”

  “They want to come do a sort of walk through tomorrow. But they need us all to be here. It would look good if we were doing something that seemed like a family activity.”

  “Like what?” I ask.

  She’s trying to hold back a grin but failing. “Like playing a board game or something.”

  “Seriously?” I ask.

  “Go fish,” I say dryly.

  Cole giggles and accidentally shows Stephanie and I his cards for at least the tenth time. I still can’t believe she talked me into playing this stupid game, but the child services worker should be coming any minute, and if Stephanie is right, it won’t hurt to do what we can to look like a better home for Cole. I probably should feel guilty that we’re deliberately trying to trick the system, but I know we’re doing it for a good reason so frankly I don’t feel bad at all.

  It’s only a few minutes later when the doorbell rings. When I open the door, I have to tilt my head down to see the small man with thinning hair who waits on my doorstep. He has a long, sharp nose and eyebrows that seem permanently furrowed, like he stepped in dog shit and hasn’t had a chance to clean it off his shoe.