Not Your Damn Dom (Denial Book 2)

by Amy Valenti

  She hugged her knees, her brow furrowed. “That’s your problem? But we don’t know that. And I was gonna discuss it with you beforehand if I was offered the part, so please don’t freak out.”

  “I’m not freaking out; I just…” I sighed, hating that I was acting like an unreasonable asshole without telling her why. It went against anything a Dom should do, but then again, I hadn’t been a Dom in a long time.

  Say something, at least.

  “This…stuff.” I picked up the book she’d pushed aside, turned it over and got a fresh shock. She was reading Screw the Roses, Send Me the Thorns. Widely considered one of the essential non-fiction BDSM books for anyone in the lifestyle. This was serious.

  I threw the book down as though it had burned me. I just couldn’t help myself. Panic rose within me and I stood up abruptly, doing up my pants, which were still unfastened from the blow job she’d just given me. And I was leaving her with nothing in return. Selfish bastard. But if I stayed, knowing what was in my head—how could I control myself?

  “I don’t like it.”

  Alex stared at me, obviously shocked. And I couldn’t fucking blame her. The way I acted with her in bed, she’d have to be a fool to not realise I might be open to a little more than vanilla. Having me turn around and claim the opposite would throw her. Hell, it was throwing me. I didn’t think I’d ever told a lie this big in my life.

  “You don’t like it,” she repeated slowly, as if checking she hadn’t misunderstood.

  “Do you know how destructive this stuff can be? How it can turn happy people into nervous wrecks? If you had any idea, you wouldn’t even talk about this stuff with me, let alone read for a part involving it. God, Alex.”

  Angrily, she pulled on her shirt, covering her naked breasts defensively. “You know what? I never thought you’d be such a bigot. There are a ton of ways to enjoy sex, and not all of them have to be stamped with your approval, Spencer. Even if you don’t like it, I’m interested. It’s fascinating. I might like it in practice or I might not, and I kind of hoped you’d be the one to help me find out, but it looks like you’re too judgemental for that, huh?”

  I stared at her. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. If I spoke, more lies would come from my lips and I didn’t think our relationship would survive that. I wanted to leave the room, but I was frozen to the spot. Everything I’d been afraid of with Alex was coming to pass. She’d realised she had submissive tendencies and she wanted to explore them, and I ached with the urge to take her in my arms and promise her I’d help, that I’d keep her safe, that she could trust me.

  I wished she could trust me.

  Alex

  He had a problem with me being submissive? After the way he acted in bed—controlling me, dominating me? He was like a textbook case of a Dom and I’d been so sure—

  “Alex…” Spencer held out a hand to me as though he wanted to smooth this whole thing over.

  Screw that!

  “I just bared an incredibly personal part of my soul to you—something that I only just realised about myself—and you look like I’ve just told you I have cancer. We’re not okay right now.”

  Spencer nodded. “I understand. Completely. And I wish I could make this easier for you.”

  All my naughty daydreams went up in smoke. He’d never lead me around a fetish club by a leash. I’d never kneel at his feet and wait for his commands. I’d been a fool.

  “If you won’t do these things with me, at least I get to pretend for the duration of this role, huh?”

  “No,” he said sharply. “Alex, you can not take that part. Not if we’re gonna survive this.”

  I wanted to scream at him to make me understand. It made no sense to me. It was the exact opposite of the reaction I’d expected from him.

  I kept calm by a thread. “Spencer, I need to know why you’re being like this. I don’t get it, and I’m not gonna be able to move past it until I do get it. You laying down the law and saying I can’t take this job isn’t gonna help either of us. I’m angry and confused and…” A hard lump in my throat made it difficult to talk. My voice broke. “…disappointed, and I don’t have any logical explanation from you.”

  He stood up and put his hand on my shoulder, one on my waist, turning me to look at him.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to. Sometimes it’s all I think about.”

  Okay…that was a turn-around. I was completely confused now. Slowly, I sat back down on the bed and waited for more.

  He took my hand but stared off into space, as if unable to look at me and process this at the same time. His jaw was clenched—against what words, I didn’t know. But I made myself wait, knowing that by prodding him for answers I’d do neither of us any favours.

  Finally, he took a deep breath and let it out. “I told you at the beginning of our relationship that I couldn’t get into anything with you. Remember?”

  I wasn’t likely to forget. “I remember.”

  “This is why.” He didn’t elaborate. Was he even going to?

  I curbed my impatience by breathing slowly in and out, the way I dealt with nerves before an audition. God knew it wouldn’t help to put pressure on him. I didn’t want to be that kind of person.

  He squeezed my hand, as if to reassure himself I was still there. “I told you I had a bad break-up. What I didn’t tell you was that it was a BDSM relationship. We were together six years. I was her Dominant. She was my submissive.”

  My mouth dropped open. A six-year relationship with the kind of stuff I’d been fantasising about? And he’d never, in all the months we’d been together, done anything more than occasionally pull my hair and order me around a little?

  That kind of hurt.

  He was waiting for a response, and I didn’t know what to give him. Part of me was feeling inadequate, like he didn’t want to do that stuff with me because I was me. It was a stupid reaction, but I’d been excited to try BDSM with him. To discover what we liked together.

  Finding out he’d been there, done that, bought the T-shirt—that, I hadn’t seen coming.

  “It must have been tough,” I said slowly. “Breaking up from that intense a relationship.”

  Spencer nodded. “I don’t want to go into the details, but she left very suddenly because of something I did. It tore us both to pieces. Her even more than me. Ever since then, I don’t trust myself in a Dom role.”

  In retrospect, his reaction made perfect sense. Of course he had some hang-ups about it. Who wouldn’t? “I understand.”

  “Do you, Alex?” He stared at me. “I hardly even trust myself with you in the relationship we have. To go any farther than that… God. I don’t wanna break you.”

  I returned his stare with as much warmth as I could. He needed my support, and any hurt I felt could come later. “It means so much to me that you let me in in the first place, you know that.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry I got mad. I don’t blame you for being curious, and God knows I don’t judge anyone else who’s in a D/s relationship. But it’s not somewhere I can go again.”

  I nodded, pushing aside my disappointment. “Okay.”

  I wasn’t sure if I meant it, but it was what he needed to hear. And if it were any other day, he’d probably have seen through the lie and called me on my bullshit—but today he didn’t.

  He pressed a soft kiss to my lips and pulled me into his arms, thanking me for understanding.

  I held him tightly, my chest aching with the urge to cry for the man he’d been before this had broken him, and for the relationship we might have had. Because now I’d discovered Pandora’s Box, all shiny and full of promise, how could I not want to open it? How was I going to settle for normal sex now I knew Spencer had at least six years of BDSM delights in his past, and that if he chose to, he could give me a taste of a whole different experience?

  I’d just have to suck it up. There was no way I could put him through a world of hurt just to be selfish.

  Still, I wanted…<
br />
  * * * *

  Alex

  I continued reading Screw the Roses whenever Spencer wasn’t around, and picked up my own copy of that and a couple more books online before returning Giselle’s copy. We met for coffee in our usual local café and sat far from the other patrons in order to secure our privacy to talk.

  “I think I’m a submissive,” I confessed.

  “Hang on, let me just call the tabloids,” she joked, fishing her phone half out of her bag, and I scowled at her until she laughed. “Relax, I promise I’m not gonna say a word. Really. I’d be shunned by the whole community if I said anything, especially in LA, when there are so many famous kinky people. I’d be lucky to get into the local clubs ever again.”

  I relaxed and handed over her book. “God, don’t ever scare me like that!”

  Giselle brushed her wavy red hair back from her face and smiled. “So you think you’re a submissive? I’m not surprised. Aren’t you dating Spencer Hyde?”

  I’d never discussed our relationship with her before, and I blinked at her. “Do you know something I don’t know?”

  She shrugged. “Only that he and his sub used to be regulars at Scene One—the club—right up until they split. I still don’t know why it was, but I do know there are a lot of Doms in the community who are kind of angry with her. And then a lot of people who are angry at them for blaming her for what happened. It’s a whole big mess.”

  I groaned. “How can you know all that, but not what split them up?”

  Giselle shrugged, stirring sugar noisily into her coffee. “It’s kind of cliquey on the local scene sometimes. You hear rumours, but if you’re not in the enlightened inner circle you never actually get to the truth. It’s annoying, but then, there seems to be a lot of drama in those circles. Most of the time I’m just glad I’m not part of it.”

  I changed the subject. I was still too confused about how to handle Spencer to talk about it with anyone else. “So how long have you been a sub?”

  She smiled. “About five years. I haven’t ever had a steady Dom—I dunno why; it’s just never felt right to get into anything serious with anyone. And it’s nice to play with a whole bunch of different people. I like the freedom there.”

  Fascinated, I quizzed her on some of her experiences, asking how different things felt, what it was like to have sex in public with people watching all around you. Giselle didn’t seem inclined to hold back, and I drank in her experiences vicariously, sadly aware that it might be the closest I’d ever get to experiencing them in person.

  “So Spencer hasn’t done anything with you? God, maybe Kristin broke him.” Giselle sighed. “Such a waste. He was amazing to watch. The things that man could do with a flogger, I can’t even describe. I asked him if he wanted to play once, but he only had eyes for his sub.”

  I pushed back irrational hurt that she knew things about Spencer that I didn’t, and probably never would experience first-hand with him. “Thanks for talking about this stuff with me. I feel a little less confused now.”

  Giselle smiled. “No problem. Hey, if Spencer’s serious about not doing Dom stuff anymore, maybe he’ll let you get a platonic Dom on the side. You know, someone to whip you and order you around before they send you back to him for a good fucking.”

  Sometimes the things Giselle said kind of made me uncomfortable, as well-meaning as she was. I couldn’t imagine Spencer letting me do anything of the sort, and it wasn’t really her business. Overall, though, she was a good friend.

  I thanked her again for the loan of the book and headed home.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Spencer

  Alex was quiet that night, uncharacteristically subdued. It was obvious what was on her mind; there was no use trying to ignore her. “What’s on your mind?”

  Ruefully, she passed me a cup of coffee before sitting down with her own. “That transparent, huh?”

  I nodded.

  She inhaled the steam rising from her cup and took a sip of coffee before asking, “I know you had a bad experience in your past, but does that really mean you’re gonna give BDSM up forever?”

  Her eyes pleaded for answers. I couldn’t blame her. When I’d first considered the idea that I might be a Dom, I’d wanted to jump straight in with both feet. It had been incredibly frustrating to learn that I needed to master my techniques with the tools of BDSM before it would be safe to use them on another human being. I’d held back with an effort, taking the introductory Dom class a friend had recommended and practising for countless hours at home, on pillows, before allowing myself a scene with the submissive girl who’d caught my eye.

  I’d known my patience would pay off and had a good reason behind it. Alex was floundering in the dark, being told ‘no’ but not the reason for it. And now she’d found out about submission, vanilla sex would have that tinge of ‘what if…?’ to it until she found out what she was missing.

  Would I lose her if I denied her a taste? Maybe she wouldn’t crave it as much as she thought she would, and we could stay within the realms of vanilla-with-sprinkles once she figured it out.

  It was against my own better judgement, but I was desperate to hang on to her. If I refused to Dom her, she’d try to stick it out, but eventually leave. That writing on the wall was in mile-high letters.

  If I gave her a session, the novelty might wear off. Submission would lose its forbidden mystique and she’d be happier doing without. Happier than if I wouldn’t give her anything at all, at least.

  I wasn’t convincing myself with the far-fetched argument. The truth was, I wanted a scene with her, too.

  “You want to do this? Really want to?”

  She looked over at me, startled by the anger in my voice. “Yes.”

  “One scene, Alex. Just one, and that’s it.”

  She regarded me hopefully, her face lighting up, but then becoming troubled. “What if I want more than one?”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and spoke as clearly as I could. “Then I guess we have to go our separate ways.”

  She knelt on the floor in front of me, devastated, and put her hands on my knees. “You don’t mean that. Do you?”

  I couldn’t speak, so I just covered her hands with mine and looked away.

  Alex took a long, shuddering breath, as though stealing herself to sign a binding agreement with far-reaching repercussions. “Okay. One scene.” She paused, then added, “But I want everything you’d give an experienced submissive. No breaking me in gently if we’re not working up to anything more serious.”

  I stared at her. She was absolutely determined on that point; I could tell. There was no point disputing it because she wouldn’t give an inch.

  “Then I’m gonna need a lot of information from you beforehand, pretty girl. I’m talking an entire Internet checklist. And then we’re gonna have to talk about what you meant when you checked a few of the boxes.”

  A flash of irritation crossed her face before she smoothed her expression out. “You’re being over-protective, Spencer.”

  I leaned down and took her face in both hands. Not as gentle as I would have usually been with her; I wanted to make sure I had her full attention. “No. I’m not. There are two ways to do this right. One is to introduce things a little at a time, over days or weeks or even months, and to get you used to them bit by bit. That’s the way I’d usually do this with a novice sub, but I…can’t.”

  “I want you to.”

  “It would break me, Alex.” I almost winced at the harshness in my voice. “I’m sorry, I really am. Don’t ask me to do this.”

  She swallowed, then nodded. “What’s the other way?”

  “We figure out what happens beforehand together. No surprises for either of us.” Yeah, like that worked on that last night with Kristin, a sardonic voice at the back of my mind reminded me.

  “If that’s the only way you’ll agree to a full-on scene, then that’s what we’ll do. When?” Instead of the anticipation I’d expected she’d have, her face w
as sad, her voice dispirited. It only solidified the feeling that I was about to fuck up again. Why couldn’t I shake this?

  “I’ll get the checklist for you tomorrow. Maybe the weekend?” Four days. That was the length of time I had before I either lost her completely or sowed the seeds that would lead to her seeking out another Dom.

  Alex laid her head against my knee, though whether she was seeking comfort or giving it, I wasn’t sure. “Thank you, Spencer.”

  I stroked her hair, the motion so familiar. I used to do this to Kristin all the time. Not just her, either. It was such an easy way to show a sub that you cared.

  She gazed up at me with a small, hazy smile, as though kneeling before me had put her into the right headspace straight off. God, she was perfect.

  Before I knew what I was doing, I tightened my hand in her hair, dragging her head slowly but firmly back, leaning forward to make sure I had all of her attention.

  She shivered, her lips parting slightly.

  I was lost.

  “Just one tiny taste now?” she pleaded. “I can tell you want it.”

  I sighed, but couldn’t make myself release her hair. “I’m not your damn Dom, pretty girl. I can’t be.” Even though the words were harsh, my tone lacked force.

  She wilted like a flower in a darkened room. “I trust you,” she murmured. “Can’t you trust me?”

  My cock was at direct odds with the rest of me, insistently pushing against my jeans. She noticed, slipped a hand between my legs to rub the aching ridge, and I bit back a groan.

  “I’ve heard friends talk about being spanked and tied to the bed without any reference to BDSM at all. Surely those things are safe?”

  The mental images and the stimulation were too much to resist. Something snapped inside me, and I tugged more firmly on her hair. “If you want this, really want it now, put your hands behind your back, pretty girl.”