“Growing up is overrated,” Q said.
“But necessary. Speaking of not growing up…” he said with a mischievous smirk at Sabrina, “how can I help with your ghost hunt?”
She narrowed her eyes. She’d ignore that little insult for now. “Anything you know about the former occupants of the house would help.”
“Well,” he leaned forward in his seat, “there was quite a scandal back in the eighteen hundreds.”
“A scandal!” She could almost feel her eyes lighting up.
“A tragic romance, a love triangle, and a murder,” he added in an exaggerated tone. “Some of it’s in the town records. But I had to read between the lines to get the real story.”
She clapped her hands excitedly. “Do tell!” If he was shitting her, she didn’t care. She could always kick his ass later.
Jude told the story. It was eighteen-fifty-three. The mayor lived in the house with his wife, three kids – one an infant – and several servants. His wife had fallen ill after giving birth and one of the servant’s young daughters came to help with the children. Her name was Naima and she caught the mayor’s eye with her stunning beauty and grace. She was keen on him as well and, as was common in that time, they had a tryst. As his wife, Grace, recovered, she and Naima spent time together looking after the children. Grace suspected the affair and grew jealous of the pretty girl. But Naima admired her and begged the mayor to ask his wife to allow her into the bedroom. Grace was appalled at the request. Jealousy and bitterness grew and formed a poisonous knot in her heart. Finally, she couldn’t look at the two exchange flirty glances any longer. She took the pistol from her husband’s study and shot him first. After, she went to the nursery to find Naima. When she walked in, Naima was facing away, looking out the window. Grace raised the gun and shot her in the back. But when she fell to the ground, Grace’s baby boy rolled out of Naima’s arms, bleeding from the head. He too, died.
Grace lived the rest of her long life in a miserable sorrow.
“Former occupants have said they could hear a woman wailing from time to time, especially in the early morning,” Jude finished.
“That’s awful!” Q cried.
“Yes, but that was ages ago.” Sabrina was practically bouncing out of her seat. A real haunted house! God, she must’ve looked like a hyper poodle that had to pee. But she couldn’t stop her excitement.
Jude laughed when she squeaked in anticipation. “Alright, little ghostbuster. Get to it then,” he said as he walked from the room.
She wasted no time unpacking her gear. It wasn’t dark quite yet but maybe, with some luck, she’d find something. And it still gave her a chance to charm her way into his good graces so he’d let her come back.
After throwing on her fishing vest to help stow her gadgets – which she’d bedazzled to match her knock-off designer denim skirt – she turned to check on Q.
“Do you have your camera stuff?” she asked her.
She was crouched as she assembled some fancy lens. “Yes.”
“You’ve got it on a fast shutter speed, right? I don’t want to miss anything.”
She gave her a tired look. “This isn’t my first time, little girl.”
“I know. Sorry.”
She snorted. “No you’re not.”
Sabrina grinned. Right again. She tucked the final EMF detector into her back pocket then sucked in a deep breath. “Ready.”
Q rose to her feet, her camera strapped around her neck. Jude returned and froze in place as ran his gaze over Sabrina, from head to toe.
Sabrina looked down, trying to see herself from his point of view. Lit up monitors and tape recording devices were stuffed into the vest pockets. A few gadgets hung from her utility belt, swinging into her bare thighs when she moved. A flashlight stuck out of one tight-fitting skirt pocket, her cell phone from the other.
She turned her head to peer at Q. She looked all photographer-like with her fitted black t-shirt and dark jeans. Her long straight black hair was perfectly styled to appear as if she’d just had a good tumble, which made her all the sexier. And here stood Sabrina, usually the fashionable of the two, looking like she’d dressed for some high-tech fishing-wear fashion show while tripping on acid.
Jude stared, his forehead creased, lips tight as if he were biting the inside of his cheek. Then he burst into laughter.
Sabrina put a hand on her hip and waited. “Go on. Get it out of your system.”
Q bit her lip but, like a good friend, didn’t laugh.
“I’m sorry,” he managed between the roars. “I’m sorry. You just look so cute.”
She stomped a foot. “Cute?”
He sobered and cleared his throat. “Sorry. You look very foreboding. I’m sure all the ghosts will take you very seriously.”
“This is Sabrina,” Q told him, matter-of-factly. “She’s at the height of fashion even while hunting for ghosts.”
Stomping past them with a scowl, she muttered, “Shut it, you two.”
Jude walked them up the rickety old stairs. When she grabbed the banister for balance, it teetered and she pulled her hand away fast. This place was fraught with danger. She grinned. So fun.
Jude ushered them from room to room – most were in the same decrepit condition as the front foyer. No action on any of her equipment, sadly. The largest bedroom had already been renovated, like the living room below. Empty, it would’ve made a lovely room. Large windows, refreshing light blue paint, beautiful hardwood floors. But she couldn’t ignore the laundry pile in one corner, the messy bed in the center of the room, and the cluttered dresser across from it. Definitely a bachelor pad.
“Sabrina,” Jude said. “Come here. You’ll be happy to see this.”
He stood by a closet door, hand on the doorknob.
A boy’s closet? She tossed him a skeptical look. “If it’s a porn collection, I’m not going to be impressed.”
“I will be,” Q piped from behind.
Jude swung open the door and motioned them inside. A tiny alcove with racks of clothes, as well as shelves – this wasn’t just a closet. Two walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Her mouth dropped open. Not just that but filled with books. She flitted over the titles quickly to gauge the kind of reading material the man owned. Everything from The Great Gatsby to The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.
“Be still my heart,” she gushed. “Books and clothes in the same place!”
She heard two chuckles behind her then Jude scooted by and put his hand on the side of one of the shelves. “Check this out.” He pushed and one of the shelves moved, opening to reveal a narrow passage.
“A secret passageway!” Sabrina bounced on her toes. “Where does it lead?”
Q stepped up with a sly smile. “To the dungeon where straight girls are defiled then pleasured until they scream.”
Jude laughed.
Ignoring him, Sabrina turned to give Q a challenging glare. “In your dreams, sexy.”
“Every night, beautiful.”
A loud bang from downstairs interrupted their heated stare-down. Jude excused himself with an explanation of materials being delivered.
Sabrina broke eye contact and peered inside the passage. “Should we see where it leads?”
“You’re not scared to be in a dark, abandoned tunnel with me?” she asked with a raised brow. “Especially after the dressing room?”
With a gulp, she pushed on the shelf and it slammed shut.
Q laughed. “I guess that answers that.”
They continued on their tour while Jude was gone, staying in the same wing so they didn’t get lost. Then, at last, her equipment came to life.
“This is it,” Sabrina said with the seriousness of a funeral attendant. She stared at the blue door ominously.
“It is?” Q squinted as she stepped closer.
“Yes. Get your camera ready. I’m going to open it and you snap as many pictures as you can.”
“But what if we catch some ghost in the m
iddle of getting changed?” Q asked. “That would be awkward.”
Sabrina glared at her friend. “Very funny. Just do your part, please.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said with an exaggerated salute.
With a deep breath, Sabrina slowly pushed open the door. It creaked on the hinges as the dark interior lit up from the hallway light.
Q’s shutter clicked several times in succession while Sabrina pushed the door open all the way.
“A closet, Sabrina?” Q sighed and perched a hand on her hip. “A haunted closet?”
Sabrina’s heart sank. She frowned at Q and mumbled, “Sorry.” This time she meant it.
Q’s expression softened as she wrapped her arms around Sabrina and pulled her close. “Don’t be sad.” She kissed the top of her head. “We can always try again.”
Q was kind to humor her, despite failure after failure. Maybe she should let her off the hook and start going alone. Or maybe she should just hang up her badge and give up for good. In a fit of discouragement, she tugged away from Q’s embrace and pulled off all her gadgets, tossing them on the floor. Then she shucked her vest, lowering it more gently – she had spent time decorating it, after all.
When she looked up, Q was standing in the closet, holding Sabrina’s flashlight. “Fuck.”
She rushed to her side. “What?”
Q looked at her with a wicked grin. “Someone’s got a kinky side.” She fingered a long stick hanging on the back of the door.
Next to that stick was another, this one with tendrils of leather hanging down. Like an old-fashioned whip. No. She’d seen that on one of Q’s websites. A flogger, she thought it was called.
On a shelf inside the closet sat neatly displayed items, all in pristine condition. Toys, looked like. Adult toys. She recognized the vibrators, she wasn’t a complete idiot. Every girl had one. Hers was purple.
The rest of the toys were foreign. A few downright scary. She looked at Q then did a double take. Her eyes gleamed as she toyed with the flogger tendrils, her lips parted in a small smile. Holy shit. Q was turned on by this?
“You know what this stuff is?” she asked her. Q didn’t move her gaze from the flogger. “Of course you do. Creepy as you are.”
She snapped her head to Sabrina and raised a brow. “You’re not so innocent. I’ve seen you browse that fetish site.”
Her face heated. “To buy clothes!”
“Mm-hm.”
Changing the subject, Sabrina grabbed a chain with two clips off the shelf and analyzed it. “What’s this?”
“Nipple clamps.”
She gulped. Her eyes must’ve looked like saucers because Q chuckled beside her. She tried to imagine the ends attached to each nipple, pinching it tight. A rush of warmth slid through her, tingling her most intimate parts. She threw the thing back on the shelf. She picked up a long, flexible stick with a leather tip instead. “And this?”
Q’s gaze flicked from her face to the toy in her hand then she smiled. “Turn around and I’ll show you.”
Sabrina spun, putting her back to the wall so fast she slipped off her heel and toppled all the way into the closet. Her heart raced and her clit throbbed. What the hell? Why was she turned on by this?
Q laughed and took the crop from her hand. “No? You’d probably like it.”
Yes. She squeezed her eyes shut. What? No! No, no, no. She was not a freak. Not like Q. A delirious giggle escaped her. She opened her eyes to see Q staring at her in question. “I just called you a freak in my head.”
Q took a step toward her. “Don’t count yourself out of that number so soon, little girl.” She swung the crop twice, smiling when it whistled through the air then placed it back on the shelf.
What would that feel like against her skin? On her ass and thighs? She could almost feel the sting as it slapped against her flesh. She felt herself clench…down there. She was getting wet. Was this what had been missing from her sex life all this time?
“Here.” Q placed a pair of leather cuffs in her hand. “What do you think of these?”
She turned them over. The leather was soft but strong. The silver buckles made them look industrial but still sexy. “Um.” She cleared her throat. “They look very…well-made.” She tried to hand them back but Q had turned away.
“See anything you like?” came a deep voice from the hallway.
Shit. She scrambled out of the closet with her hands behind her back, feeling like a toddler caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Jude stood, arms crossed, in the hallway.
“It was her idea,” Q said. “I tried to stop her.”
Sabrina could’ve kicked her. “Traitor,” she hissed with a glare.
He took several steps closer, a stern set to his jaw and a determined look in his eye. Now why did that fill her with dread at the same time as making her flush with excitement?
He put out his hand as he stared at Sabrina. “Bring them here.”
Instinct had her moving toward him before logic kicked in. Why was she obeying him so easily? She did Q, most of the time, but that was because Q had proven she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Apparently all Sabrina needed was to hear a stern tone and she turned into a puppet. How annoying.
He kept eye contact the entire long-ass journey from the closet to where he stood. When she gingerly placed the cuffs in his hand, he looked at Q. “Do you know how these work?”
Q looked a little less affected by his presence but still nodded obediently.
Gaze back on Sabrina, he said, “Would you like to see?”
The challenge in his voice had her stumbling for a reply. A simple no would do. But she waited too long. His mouth shifted the tiniest bit – like he’d assessed her and found something he liked.
The tension in the room cranked up a notch.
“Give me your wrists,” he demanded.
She hesitated, looking to Q for help. Her eyes were locked on Jude. Sabrina’s silent pleas went unanswered. Some friend. Where was that damn stick when she needed it?
His voice drew her back. “Afraid I’ll trap you in my sex lair, Jersey girl?”
Hmph. Not one to back down from a challenge, she slapped her hand into his. With a smirk, he wrapped the first cuff around her wrist. He took his time fastening first one then the other securely, buckling it, searching for the right hole to slide the metal tongue into. His expression remained focused but every once in a while he looked in her eyes, as if checking her reaction.
Her heart thudded in her ears. Swallowing was suddenly difficult. Each touch seemed electric – sizzling across the sensitive skin on her wrist. Her eyes fluttered closed as she soaked in each feeling. Hard, uncompromising cuffs, callused but gentle hands. The sensations blended together and put her in some kind of mind-numbing haze.
She realized he’d stopped touching her and popped open her lids. Jude was there, his lips quirked up in an amused but sexy smile. She looked down at her bound wrists – one cuff on each, with two buckles fastened, and a length of leather hanging off each. She could tell the two could connect if he chose to buckle them together – or onto something, like a headboard or railing. An image came to mind – her tied, spread-eagle, to a bed, Q stalking around her like a lion assessing tasty prey. And damn if she didn’t get wetter.
She gave her head a shake and twisted her wrists this way and that. Funny how her movement wasn’t constricted yet they still made her feel trapped – in a deliciously exciting way.
“So…” she said, forcing herself to speak matter-of-factly and not betray her arousal. “You do this to women then?”
“I do. When they want me to. I don’t lure young women who don’t want it.” He gave her an ironic grin. That deep male voice, right there and up close, did such nice things to her insides. “But you…” He traced a finger along her bottom lip. “You look like you need it.”
Q appeared beside her. “If she says yes, you have to share.”
Share? What?
“And you.” He drop
ped his hand from Sabrina’s mouth and fingered a piece of Q’s silky hair. “What side of the crop do you fall on?”
“Both,” she answered.
What the hell were they talking about? Some secret kink code? She needed to pay closer attention to those websites. Or, heaven forbid, read one of Q’s dirty books.
Q looked Sabrina over with a calculating eye. That never boded well. She nodded to Jude as she backed away a little. “Fasten them behind her.”
Sabrina gasped. “Q!”
Jude raised his brows. “Usually I’m the one giving orders, but I’m curious to see where this is going. However, she hasn’t said yes. I need that.”
Her tight breathing settled a bit. At last someone was making sense.
Then he focused on her and put a single finger under her chin then made her look up at him. “Willing to try this, little ghost hunter? I’m letting your friend call the shots here.”
No almost spilled out, but, there was a yes too. Mouth half-open, ready to speak, she tried to think. Her mind spun to a halt.
It came out as a squeaky whisper. “Yes?”
Before she could say more, he turned her, gathered her wrists in a firm hold and fastened them together. If Q wasn’t here she’d be bolting for the door but… She glared at her traitorous friend, vacillating between terror and a fucking annoying as hell desire to keep tumbling down this rabbit hole of debauchery – with Q at her side. Or standing over her with a wicked smile, stick thingy in hand.
Sabrina looked up at the ceiling and whimpered. Dear Jesus, where were these thoughts coming from?
“Can you hold her against you?” she heard Q ask.
Jude tugged her tight up against his chest, facing her forward, arms locked in his hands.
Q nodded in approval then stalked toward her. “Now you’re in trouble.”
Sabrina felt her breath go in and out in shaky waves. And were her knees trembling? She hadn’t been this nervous since that first kiss when she was thirteen.
Q stepped in close and pushed her hair back from her face. Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned into the touch. Was she so sex-starved?
“Relax, beautiful,” Q said softly. “Just tell me you don’t like it and I’ll stop. Jude too. Okay? We’ll let you go if you tell us to.”
The Dom with a Safeword (Badass Brats #1) Page 4
