Bad Behavior (Bad in Baltimore) (14 page)

He might not know furniture, but he knew enough about Baltimore to ballpark a property. He’d done lots of looking for a place for him and his mom and Gina and Sammie when he first came home from school before discovering it was way the hell out of his reach. Nic’s place was an easy one point five. In David Beauchamp’s budget, one and a half million was probably what he spent getting high in six months.

Tai wished he knew which one of the two versions he’d met was the real one. David, choking as much on his need to surrender as his resistance to it, or the party boy who’d swaggered into Tai’s office two days ago. Only two days ago. And already Tai wanted David owned. Collared. Marked as his.

Sense and self-control had gone flying out the minute he had opened his door and seen David kneeling in the hall. Everything Tai had worked so hard to keep leashed had torn free to meet that challenge. Maybe Nic could help him get it back.

Tai knew Nic well enough to expect some kind of show. Nic didn’t disappoint.

When Tai stepped into the long second-floor room, he found Nic with his dick down another guy’s throat. Not that there was much to see. Nic was fully dressed, long-sleeved dress shirt, cuffs rolled over his forearms, trousers not even unbelted. And Tai would bet there was a superthin sheath on Nic’s cock as well.

The guy on his knees was only missing a shirt. Baggy jeans, ball cap with brim sideways. The sub’s hands were cuffed behind him, chain looped around the floor-to-ceiling pole in the corner.

Nic glanced up and waved, as if they were meeting in a restaurant. “I’ll only be…” he checked his watch, “…two and a half more minutes.” He rocked his hips forward, pushing a groan out of the man on his knees. “That’s all the time left this little bitch has to work for my load if he wants to get that chastity cage off this week.”

Another groan and the acceleration in the frantic bob of the sub’s head indicated he’d gotten the message. Tai knew it wouldn’t matter. Nic wouldn’t come if he didn’t want to. And from his voice, he might as well be ordering a pizza instead of fucking a desperately willing mouth.

“Help yourself to a drink.” Nic tipped his head toward the bar and minifridge along the inside wall.

Two minutes was a long time to not stare, and Tai hated to give Nic the satisfaction of knowing Tai enjoyed the well-timed show. He crossed the floor to the fridge. Next to two stainless-steel butt plugs were mini bottles of water, juice and club soda. Tai grabbed a water.

He could manage casual too. He’d certainly seen—and been part of—enough playtime in this room. “You want anything?” he called back.

“Club soda, thank you.”

Tai reached in for one. The guy was getting somewhere; Nic’s voice wavered on the
you
. As Tai eased into one of the swivel chairs at the bar, Nic’s breathing started to echo under the high ceiling. Either the sub had stepped up his game, or Nic had decided to reward him. From this angle, Tai couldn’t see Nic’s face.

A thin beep cut through the room, followed by a deep sigh. Tai couldn’t tell if it came from Nic or the sub.

“Guess you get to wait longer.” Nic cupped the wet face then turned the cap around, pulling it down over the sub’s eyes. “And don’t think that’s your only punishment. You should have begun like that.”

The man sagged. Tai could see if his hands weren’t bound to the pole, he’d have put his forehead on Nic’s foot.

“I should let my friend see if you’ve learned anything.” Nic glanced at Tai who shook his head. “But I don’t want to waste his time. You will think about how you can do better.” Nic reached into his pocket and took out a mini MP3 player and headphones, which he fitted on the sub.

Nic stripped off the condom and tucked himself away before joining Tai at the bar, chair turned to keep an eye on the man who slumped in a rejected heap against the pole.

Tai raised his eyebrows.

Nic shrugged. “Humiliation kink. Service sub.” He lowered his voice. “Been seeing him a couple times a month.”

“You should have told me. It could have waited.”

It was Nic’s turn to arch his brows, except he had a skill that had always eluded Tai: the ability to raise just one. Maybe because it had a thin diagonal scar slicing through it. “Your email was ominous.” Nic’s faint Greek accent only came through on the
r
’s,
t
’s and
s
’s. The sounds, combined with sharp features and a compact, hard body, made Tai think of a jaguar. Nic’s eyes had that look too, predatory. It had subs dropping at his feet.

“All I said is I wanted to talk. Face-to-face.”

“Please tell me you did not take Donte back.”

“No.”

Nic relaxed into his chair and opened his club soda, gaze darting from Tai’s face to the sub kneeling, head bowed.

“You have eighteen minutes before I go back and let him have some success. You can spend it staring at me or tell me about—” Nic’s dark eyes lasered in on Tai’s face, “—your new submissive.”

Tai had been trying to fend off Nic’s too-perceptive stare with his water bottle as a barrier. At Nic’s successful pronouncement, Tai crushed the plastic, sending a spurt of water into his own face and neck.

“If you wanted a facial, I’m sure Bobby would have obliged.” Nic’s chin jutted toward the guy in cuffs.

Tai wiped his face with his arm. “It’s freaky when you do that.”

“It’s not that difficult to pay attention, Toluaotai. Seventeen minutes.”

“He’s— I shouldn’t have— I met him through work.” It wasn’t entirely true, but it was a big part of the problem. “I shouldn’t be having sex with him.”

“It’s already happened. So let’s move on from there. What is the problem?”

The problem was too big for seventeen minutes, but it was also too big to keep chewing on alone. Learning about himself with Nic’s help had given Tai the control he’d thought he had to fight for all his life. A way to manage his anger and desire. Now David’s bottomless appetite had Tai on the edge with him. And damn if he didn’t want to take that fall. “He’s new. Never experienced D/s before.”

“So he has no bad habits to break.” Nic drained half of his soda in one gulp.

“He’s pushy. Not bratty so much as challenging.”

Nic’s brow went up, but there was a smile on his face. “All things guaranteed to intrigue you. I’m waiting to hear the problem.”

“He won’t—”

“Not your submissive’s problems, Tai. Yours.”

He crumpled the bottle and tossed it away. “It’s been two scenes. In two days. And I want him.” Even now Tai’s palm itched as if it could call up the memory of David’s skin, his hair, some tangible proof of that obedience in the quiet moments when David surrendered. “When we’re in that space—”

“You love him.”

“I never said—”

“Falling in love is easy. That connection and that focus means that for the moments when you’re in D/s space, you love every submissive for what he offers you. Staying that way when it’s over, that’s what takes effort.” Nic spun the cap back onto his bottle and placed it on the bar. “I read somewhere that attraction registers in less than a second. That in thirty seconds you make up your mind whether or not to have feelings for someone.”

“Love at first sight. Really?”

“Leave the hearts and flowers of romance out of it.” Nic’s gaze softened as he looked beyond Tai to where Bobby waited. “There are people you can easily walk away from and people you can’t. And if you both can’t, you see what you’re willing to do to make it work.”

“You make it all sound easy.”

“Of course it isn’t. Who he is and who you are, those are things neither of you can change. Whatever you feel for him now, what attracts and repels you, none of that can be erased or hidden by reciprocal orgasms once the endorphins fade.”

Which meant what? Beauchamp was a careless, manipulative shit, and David was everything Tai wanted with a big red bow around his neck. Once the endorphins faded today, David had taken to being hand-fed as if he’d been waiting for it his whole life.

Nic sighed into Tai’s thoughts. “I wonder if you’re aware what you’re looking for,” Nic said.

“But you know. What I’m looking for, I mean.” When Nic didn’t answer, Tai said, “Are you going to tell me or just sit there being all superior about it?”

“Yes.”

“Asshole.”

“One of the things D/s offers is a crucible to reveal the essence of a person.”

“What does that mean?”

Nic slid off the barstool. “It means you’ve had two scenes with him. If you found a reason to walk away, you would have already done so. Instead you’re here, looking for advice.”

“Fuck.” Why had Tai thought coming to Nic was a good idea?

“I believe the expression is
screwed
. Best of luck staying on the right side of the leash.”

Tai stood.

“Don’t bother wiping that up.” Nic indicated the water splattered on the polished wooden floor. “Bobby will enjoy the task.”

C
hapter Ten

T
alking to Nic was supposed to make things clear, not drag up more questions. Tai didn’t like questions. He liked knowing the play. Everyone on the same page. His page.

He burned through an hour of leg work Sunday morning. With the throb of blood pounding under tight, sweat-soaked skin and the acid streaking in his muscles, Tai felt like himself again. He’d never been one for living in his head. He knew what he wanted.

After his shower, he still had two hours before it was time to pick up Sammie. He called David.

After four rings, a strange man drawled, “Hello.”

A shock of rage, white-cold then black-hot blasted behind Tai’s squeezed-shut eyes. He hadn’t told David anything about fucking other guys. Hadn’t thought he’d need to after yesterday. Tai dragged the phone away from his jaw and let out an explosion of breath. It didn’t help. Everything stayed tight and hard and furious.

“David Beauchamp.”

“Uh, I’ll get him. He’s in the shower.” The accent got thicker as the
r
on shower completely vanished.

Tai’s hands clenched. The right one into a fist, the left squeezing the phone until it made a creak of protest. There went any hope there was some reason other than the obvious for why this man had picked up David’s phone. Tai could hang up, but David would realize why, and that was unacceptable. The idea that David’s curiosity, his wide-eyed hunger for submission, had led to him going out to find it put Tai’s phone’s structural integrity at serious risk.

After a few moments of silence, there was a knock and the drawl again. “Beach. Phone.”

The man hadn’t bothered to mute the microphone.

Another knock, then a door opening and the hiss of water got louder.

“Sorry, Beach. Phone.”

“Christ, Clayton, I’m in the shower. It’ll go to voicemail.”

Tai’s fist relaxed. Phone-answering close but not shower-sharing? Brother? Cousin?

“No, it won’t. I, uh, answered.”

“You answered my phone? Why in the hell would you do that?” The water was still running, but David’s voice was loud with frustration.

“ID said Officer Fonoti, and you did say something about being called in for drug testing. Called you David. Figured it to be important.”

“I didn’t change the entry for— Fuckgoddamn.” The water shut off. “Give it to me and get out.”

“Makes sounds like one righteously pissed-off bull,” Clayton said.

“Out.” The door closed and there was silence, except for David’s breathing.

Tai pictured him staring at the phone, considering what to say.

At last David’s voice came through clearly, though sullen enough to have sprung from pouting lips. “It’s not Monday.”

“It’s not,” Tai agreed. “Is there some reason I shouldn’t have called?”

“No.” That was his David, the response quick but the hitch in his voice obvious on the single syllable. Almost as quickly, his cockiness came bouncing back. “You mean Clayton?”

As much as he hated to admit it, Tai supposed the jealousy was already obvious. “Who is he?”

“An old college friend. Seems to have run away from home at the ripe old age of thirty-three.” David had to be drawing out this pause on purpose. “He’s sleeping on the couch.”

Tai’s jaw relaxed. “Glad to hear it.”

“If you weren’t—I mean, is that the kind of thing that would lead to more punishment?”

The shift back was so sharp it gave Tai whiplash. The sudden hesitation, underlying yearning laid bare in David’s voice.

“For someone who says he doesn’t want to be punished, you seem focused on it.”

“I don’t— It confuses the hell out of me too.” David’s laugh was tight, as if trapped in a thick throat.

“David, does thinking about it make you hard?”

“Um, I could be…headed in that direction.”

“Stroke yourself for me. Don’t say anything. I want to hear it in your breathing.”

It didn’t take long for the first hitch, followed by a gasp.

“Good boy. Now.”

A harsher sound bounced back in answer to that word.

“Stop.”

A bitten-off grunt.

“You’re going to save that for me.”

As David’s breathing slowed, Tai felt resistance like static on the line. At last there was a sigh. “All right.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I want you to know there is only one reason you’re not spending today in my bed, learning how to please me.”

A much less resentful David asked, “What?”

“I already had plans.”

“Oh.” Surprise, hurt and embarrassment colored that single sound.

“With my daughter.”

A daughter.

Beach sat on the toilet lid and stared down at the phone. He knew people had them of course. It had simply never occurred to him that Tai had one. Had a life, connections outside of his job, outside of making guys like Beach beg to be cuffed to Tai’s bed. Beach supposed he’d been lucky so far not to have such an entanglement himself, though he was equally as careful when he had sex with women as with men. In fact, he wasn’t sure the idea of fatherhood didn’t terrify him more than the prospect of contracting HIV.

Tai had a child.

Beach barely had the sense to keep himself dry and fed. And most of his friends considered even those skills beyond him. To be responsible for another human? One utterly dependent on you? He shuddered. He didn’t even want to suffer another day with his houseguest. He’d never realized how much the warmth of a buzz smoothed away the rougher edges of his companions. Sober, all Beach could focus on was the way Clayton omitted the first half of ninety percent of his sentences, which had him thinking there must be untraceable poisons for sale on the Internet.

Clayton certainly wouldn’t have noticed what was mixed with the liquor he kept pouring down his throat. After Beach had dumped him on the couch last night, he’d hoped for a few minutes of peace in the morning, forgetting that the bastard never suffered a hangover. Screw Clayton and his metabolism and his syntax. Beach needed to get out of here.

In his bedroom, he dragged on a shirt and slacks and grabbed his cane.

“Hey.” Clayton greeted him at the counter with a frying pan in his hand. “Made breakfast.”

I
made breakfast. Beach wanted to throttle him with the dishtowel Clayton had dropped on the counter.
I. I. I.

Completely unaware of his imminent death at the hands of an alleged felon, Clayton went on. “Had to repay your hospitality. Not much in the fridge to work with. Egg whites? Couldn’t find any bacon or grits.”

Only an Earnshaw would repay hospitality by raiding the larder and complaining about its contents.

“Haven’t been to the store lately.” Christ, now Clayton had Beach doing it. He ground his back teeth and slid onto one of the stools at the counter.

Clayton scattered scrambled whites onto a plate and added toast from under the towel. “Was that your probation officer?”

“No. He’s not.” The denial sprang to Beach’s lips so fast he missed his chance at a decent lie. Clayton would have had to believe a sudden departure was due to being summoned for a probationary review. He wished he had been summoned. The things they’d done yesterday, the way that it had felt to be controlled and then praised for it…

“Oh.” Then, “Oh.”

Clayton’s exclamation derailed that perfectly lovely train of thought. Beach hated whatever was showing on his face.

“So, your gate’s swinging the other way at the moment?”

Beach jabbed at his eggs with a fork. It felt like such a mundane way to eat them after yesterday. “It doesn’t work like that.” Every time Beach swore off trying to explain his sexuality to straight—or gay—friends, he found himself back at it, like some kind of earnest conspiracy theorist. And he made about as much headway. “Hell, you ought to know as much.”

“It— Nothing really happened.” Clayton went redder than sunset. “We were only eighteen, and there was only one female in the whole school.”

“Relax, Clay. The fact that you and I enjoyed the occasional Princeton rub didn’t change you any more than it changed me. You like what you like. And I like what I like.”

“Which is?”

“Variety. God, don’t you ever stand at the registers and think of getting a different candy bar? A new flavor of gum?”

“Of course I do. Oh fuck.” The color faded from Clayton’s face, and he dropped his elbows on the counter then buried his face in his hands. “I can’t marry Iris.”

“Yes, you can. I’ve stood there with you a hundred times, stood there last night when you were three sheets to the wind and letting out the jib, and I have never seen you walk out with anything but a Snickers bar.”
Usually with me buying.

Clayton looked up, his hands clasped together like a man who’d been praying intently. “And that’s it. Whatever flavor you’re in the mood for?”

Beach followed the gaze to his phone. Tai. It wasn’t only a new taste. It wasn’t even the same hunger. The feelings ran so much deeper than what made Beach’s dick hard. He shrugged. “You go prix fixe. I go à la carte.”

“That way is always more expensive.”

“Yeah.” Beach smiled. “But it’s so worth it.”

Wh
at little hair Clayton had left would have been standing on end if he had seen the à la carte menu Beach was examining on Monday afternoon. Fortunately, Clayton had found another poor sucker to mooch dinner from tonight.

First up on the alphabetical checklist Beach had printed out: Age Play.

Beach hadn’t expected any of this to light his fire, so he was determined to consider each item for a potential new source of that incredible rush. The idea of a daddy and a boy didn’t turn him on, but it didn’t revolt him. The directions at the top—and it really was like homework—said to put a check mark if that was the case. Stars were for yes, please.
X
s for no way.

He handed out stars for the various anal-play options.

Animal Roles? Beneath that was Puppy Play and Pony Play. A quick peek online had him giving that an
X
. Not saying he couldn’t change his mind, but he liked the use of his opposable thumbs.

Ball Torture.

After a protective shift and wince, Beach gave it a check. If it was as bad as it sounded, that was what a safe word was for.

Biting. He was putting a star on that when he decided it needed a comment.
Not to the point of needing a bandage,
he printed at the side.

Blindfolds. His heart rate kicked up, that feeling of flying out on the waves in his boat, the risk. The high.
Gold star for you.

Blood Play. He really didn’t want to enter that into the browser. He didn’t even like to get a tetanus shot.
X
.

Bondage. He reached into his pocket and ran a finger over the leather cuffs. It was pretty damned safe to say that being tied up was on the cock-hardening list.

Breath Play. Tai’s hand sliding from Beach’s jaw to his throat. Tai’s thick cock cutting off his air. Beach’s lungs aching with it while the rest of him felt that buzz of hooking something big, something scary. He shifted his trousers again and drew in a careful star.

He’d made it to Medical Scenes which, given his opinion on shots and doctors in general, was getting the big old
X
, when his phone rang.

Not a number he knew, but the Baltimore area code didn’t show the pesky signs of someone looking for money.

It took a few moments to recognize the voice. It wasn’t until the lilting, “I called to see how my advice went. Did you get his attention?” that Beach was able to place the caller.

“Eli?”

“Yup. So…?”

“It was—” what the hell, “—yes, your advice came in handy.”

“Glad to hear it.” Eli chuckled in his ear. “Gavin gave me your number, but don’t be pissed at him. I’m irresistible.”

“I see.” Beach put a check next to Nipple Play and an
X
next to spanking, then realized he had a much better source than any search engine on the phone.

“Eli, what’s shibari?”

“Oh, it’s beautiful. It’s this elaborate bondage with ropes. Takes a bit of time, and it’s really restricting. But it’s gorgeous to see.” That chuckle again. “Have you heard of Google, hon?”

“I prefer hands-on learning. Or primary sources.”

“Sorry. Wish I could say I’d tried it. It looks really cool. So, you guys are going to make it a thing?”

Whether or not it was a thing—did saying
You need time to think about this
make it a thing?—wasn’t included anywhere on the checklist. Maybe Eli had insight on that too.

“Not sure.” Damn Clayton’s contagious speech pattern. “I’m going through this list right now to give back.”

“Yeah? I’ve seen those. Fetish checklists.”

Beach doodled some waves and then a marlin in the corner of the page. Fetish was a creepy word. When they were doing it, it didn’t feel creepy. Just right. Almost like their hearts and breathing got in sync and there was all this energy.

That blend of dread and want curled in his stomach as he scanned the rest of the list, and he wanted to be done as soon as possible.

Eli was still going on. “Not doing one with Quinn though. Don’t want to freak him out. Though I gotta say the guy is seriously inventive with stuff around the house. It’s nice to have someone else kinky to talk to.”

Maybe it would be, once Beach got used to having that word applied to him. For now he’d take anything that would get this over faster. “What’s sounding?”

“Ah, it’s these rods that go down your piss slit—”

“Ah, gotcha.” Big dark
X
there.

“Violet wand?”

“That’s pretty hard core. It’s an electric shock, a toy, but depends on where the shock is hitting you.”

“I bet.”

“But there’s a TENS unit thing, some people use. It makes muscles contract. They use it in physical therapy.”

Ah hell. He’d never called for a physical-therapy appointment. He snuck a look at the time on his phone. Four thirty. The text he’d gotten at one had been as direct as it had been arousing. He didn’t have to fake the urgency in his voice. “Eli, I’m sorry. I have to go.”

“Okay.” Eli’s voice had a smug smile in it. “I hope he’s the one to put that panic in your voice.”