Bound to be Dirty (11 page)

“You're blaming me because we bought the condo? Dax, you're never home. I couldn't look after a house and yard, not with—”

Again, he held up his hand. “I know. I'm only saying there's not much here for me.” He cocked his head. “Except you, but you're always at work.”

“And now we're back to that.” She pushed forward in the chair and stood, carefully avoiding touching him where he sat on the rug in front of her chair.

He gazed up at her, seeing slender, shapely legs and his loose tee concealing the rest of her. “I'm just saying, our lives aren't so compatible.”

This time, she scraped both hands through her light blond hair. “No. But I guess the first thing is to figure out whether you and I are compatible. And for some reason, we thought sex might help.”

She'd had multiple orgasms and now she was complaining? Trying for some of his old bad-boy spark, he winked. “Can't hurt, can it?”

Humor twitched her lips before she straightened them. “I honestly don't know, Dax. I'm confused and tired. I need time to think.”

“Okay.” He rose too, unsure where this was going.

“And we need to talk some more, or, uh, whatever.”

Play at BDSM? “Okay. We'll take it one day at a time and figure it out as we go.”

She nodded. “I'm going to have a shower, and then I really need to read that book.” She gathered up her clothes and headed for the door, then glanced over her shoulder. “Dax, last night was nice, the massage and all, but . . .”

“I get it. You need time to think.” Last night, they'd gone to sleep wrapped up together, the way they always used to.

In the “one day at a time” thing, was tonight a step forward or back?

Eleven

O
n the SkyTrain from Olympic Village to downtown Vancouver, Lily pulled out her Kindle to skim the last bit of this week's reading.

Crouched on her hands and knees at Neville's feet, her ass tipped up to him, Cassandra moaned as the leather paddle slapped wickedly against the already burning flesh of her buttocks. Yet, even as she moaned, even as she wondered whether she could stand another moment, the hot honey of her arousal drenched her thighs. How was this possible, that he could hit her, hurt her, and yet she was more turned on than ever before?

A sixth sense told her the paddle was again whipping toward her tender flesh, and she automatically flinched away.

The leather never hit.

Instead, a moment later, Neville's hand descended in a stinging blow that made her gasp. Then he massaged the sore flesh, and a pleasant heat radiated through her whole buttock. “The paddle hurts, doesn't it, pet?”

“Yes, master.” She wanted to twist her head to look at him, but the leash he'd tied to the heavy table leg tethered her too tightly. Her hands weren't bound; she could free herself if she wanted to. Yet she obeyed his command to stay still. If she moved, he'd find a punishment worse than the bite of the paddle. He might abandon her, leave her wet and burning, and not bring her to climax.

“You aren't sure you can take it.”

“N-no, master.” She wanted the intense arousal, but not the pain. Could she have one without the other?

“You can, pet. I know you can.” He pinched the aching flesh of her ass so hard she was sure she'd have a bruise.

She bit her lip. She wanted so badly to please him, but could she stand any more?

“Trust me to know your limits. To take you where you need to go. Breathe deeply, breathe into the pain, let it fill you and heat you until you're ready to burst into flame.”

Yes, that was how it felt. How did this man who she'd met mere hours ago know her body better than she did? “Yes, master,” she said, and tilted her ass upward in invitation.

Frowning, Lily turned off her Kindle and stood to get off at her stop. She couldn't wait to hear what the others thought about this novel.

For Cassandra, it was all about sex—about what she needed to do to get the kind of sex she wanted. For Neville, it was about his dominant nature, as much as or more than about sex. He needed to control Cassandra, to initiate her into his world. She wanted to please him, he wanted her to trust him, but neither appeared to have feelings for the other.

Lily reflected on the parallels to her and Dax. They were having the best sex they'd had in a long time, yet they weren't sure if they loved each other. Still, they did care; they'd cared about each other for fifteen years. She couldn't imagine being intimate—much less playing dangerous games that required trust—with a stranger. When she'd been seventeen and given her virginity to Dax, she'd been falling in love with him. Now . . . For months, even years, she'd built protective layers around her heart, trying to prevent him from hurting her too badly. If she started to peel back those layers, what would she find? And what would she risk?

Lily walked east on Georgia Street, the flow of pedestrians and traffic light since it was Boxing Day. With the clinic closed to patients, she'd had a quiet breakfast with Dax, enjoying Aldonza's bolo rei and not talking about anything in particular. Then he'd headed off for a day of flying sightseers and she'd gone into the clinic. There, she found that someone had unboxed the mini Zen garden and set it up on her desk. She'd shoved it aside to catch up on some patient files, then forced herself to address scheduling and budget issues—issues that seemed to get more unsolvable the longer she spent on them. Now, as was so often the case these days, she had a niggling headache.

Since she preferred not to take meds, she hoped a martini and an hour of chat with the book club would fix the problem. Dax was picking her up for an early dinner. He'd texted in the afternoon to suggest it, and she'd agreed. They would talk. There was nothing else to do but eat and drink, no possibility of being distracted by kinky sex. Talk was a good thing, even if the idea made her nervous.

Using the GPS on her smartphone, she rechecked the route to Pivo Public House. The club members took turns choosing meeting spots. When it was Lily's, she played it safe with lounges in good hotels. It was always interesting to see what the others came up with.

Pivo, near Rogers Arena and BC Place, was Marielle's choice. When Lily entered, she saw it had the stark style that was trendy, brightened by a string of multicolored Christmas lights draping the bar. Marielle sat on a bench seat at a corner table, and George on a chair across from her. Lily shed her coat and took the seat beside Marielle as they exchanged greetings.

George, who on work days came straight from the office, was dressed casually today in jeans, a beige tee, a cinnamon cardigan, and a pretty copper necklace and earrings, an outfit that looked great with her flaming red hair. She'd ordered her typical winter drink, a glass of red wine. Marielle, in navy jeggings, high boots, and a blue-and-green-patterned sweater that hugged her curves, didn't have the usual cocktail glass in front of her. Instead, she was drinking something tall and slightly amber-colored. “What's that?” Lily asked.

“Gastown lemonade. Jack Daniel's and peach schnapps, lemonade, a hint of rosemary. Want to taste?” The brunette pushed the glass toward her.

“No, but thanks for the offer.”

Kim arrived in a rush, and peeled off her jacket to reveal black jeans, a turquoise sweater, and a long, hand-painted scarf in shades of blue with gold accents. Today, the highlights in her spiky black hair were turquoise and gold. Her eyes sparkled and, as she slid into the chair across from Lily, she said, “Wait 'til you hear—”

She broke off as the waitress came to ask what she and Lily would like to drink. Lily ordered a martini and Kim, who usually studied the beer menu intently, said, “Some kind of light beer.”

When the waitress started to list the options, Kim said, “The first.”

As soon as the waitress left, Kim said, “Guess what? I'm engaged!”

They all squealed, congratulated her, and bombarded her with questions.

“Hold on, hold on.” She held up both hands, laughing. “Let me answer. Ty proposed on Christmas Eve, when it was just the two of us. No, I don't have a ring because he's arranged for one of my friends, a jeweler, to make it, and he wants me to have input. And yes, both sets of parents gave us their blessing.”

“That'll make things easier,” Lily said enviously. Kim's parents had initially been adamant she marry a Chinese man, and Ty's parents had wanted him to marry a country girl. How fortunate that the young couple had managed to win them over. Lily reached over to squeeze Kim's hand. “I'm so happy for you.”

Kim filled in more details until the drinks arrived, then the four women ordered appetizers: buttermilk onion and pepper rings, spicy chicken wings, and mojito fries with lime, cilantro, mint, and garlic.

Lily took a long swallow of her martini, willing the alcohol to ease her headache. “Did you get your parents out riding?” she asked Kim.

“Once, but it's not their thing. Actually, they just don't know how to relax. They're happiest on the Internet keeping the company running, and taking breaks to enjoy Ty's mom's cooking. Anyhow, enough about me. George, how was your Christmas, with all the family and friends there?”

“Great. And Woody absolutely loved the tee you made.”

“Dax too,” Lily broke in. “It was the perfect gift.” Then she said to George, “Sorry to interrupt. Go on, tell us more.”

George shared a few stories, then Marielle took her turn, then said, “How about you, Lily? Did you have a good one?”

“A midday family meal, then a late dinner at home with Dax. Nothing special.” She sure wasn't going to tell them about ice cubes, or mention how seeing Dax cradle baby Sophia had sent a pang of longing through her heart. “We should discuss the book. What does everyone think so far? Marielle, are you glad you suggested it?”

The brunette nibbled an onion ring. “Haven't made up my mind yet.”

“I can't relate to Cassandra,” George said. “If a man tried to put a collar on me and treat me like a dog, I'd be out the door in a second. The same if he hit me.”

Remembering the sting of Dax's slap against her buttock, Lily sipped her martini and kept quiet.

“But she's choosing it, right?” Kim said. “They each have their agendas. Neville's a dom, and he's determined to show her she's a submissive. What Cassandra wants is to experience intense sex. She's using him as much as he's using her.”

“Which sure isn't my idea of a relationship,” George said. “Mutual using? Yuck.”

Marielle said, “Don't we all do that? I mean, we don't choose sex partners as some kind of charity work, right?”

They all chuckled, and Marielle went on. “We pick sex partners and friends because we expect to get something out of the relationship. Pleasure.”

“Surely that's not all it comes down to,” Lily said. “Get into a relationship for mutual pleasure then, when the pleasure ends or it's outweighed by inconvenience or worry or whatever, you bail?” Was that her and Dax's situation?

“No,” George protested. “For most people, it's more than pleasure, it's caring. But as far as I can see, Neville and Cassandra don't have feelings for each other.”

Before Lily could agree, Marielle snorted. “And you were madly in love with Woody when he humped you on that boardroom table right after you met.”

“Oops.” The redhead grinned. “Point taken.”

“Yeah, George,” Kim teased. “I at least talked to Ty and danced with him. I knew him a couple hours and liked him before we went at it on the hood of his truck in the parking lot.”

“You did what?” Marielle exclaimed. “Girlfriend, you told us you hooked up with Ty that first night, but seriously, on a truck in a parking lot?”

Kim shrugged. “What can I say? Book club was reading
Ride Her, Cowboy
and I'd just read that sex scene under the stars. And there was this hot cowboy I'd been lusting after all day, and there were stars in the sky. Not to mention, I'd been slugging back beer and didn't have a single inhibition left.”

“Inhibitions should be banished forever,” Marielle declared, taking a chicken wing. She glanced at Lily. “Hey Doc Lily, aren't you going to argue that one?”

After letting herself be tied up and blindfolded? “Inhibitions can get in the way, but if you're going to banish them, you need to be sure you're in a safe situation.”

“Neville told Cassandra it was, uh . . .” Kim paused. “Safe, sane, consensual, wasn't that it?”

“Which brings us back to the sex with a stranger thing,” Marielle said. “If you're going to do it—and Kim, George, and I have—you need to trust you'll be safe. Right, girls?”

The other two nodded, and they all looked at Lily.

“I've never had sex with a stranger.” Or anyone other than Dax. “Personally, I think I'd have trouble trusting a stranger enough to be intimate with him. For me, I need some emotional attachment before having sex. George and Kim, you did it the other way around: sex led to deeper emotions.” If she and Dax continued to have passionate sex, could that lead to recapturing their true love and commitment?

“And then there's my way,” Marielle said. “For me, liking a guy and having fun, not tying myself down to just one, that's what works.” She nibbled a mojito fry. “Man, these are good. Somebody else eat some and save me from myself.”

Kim took a fry. “You and Lily are saying we're all different, and that's okay. So what Cassandra's doing with Neville is okay.” She bit into the fry.

“I have trouble with that,” George said. “Even the term ‘submissive' makes me cringe.”

“Me, too,” Lily agreed. “If a woman's submissive to a man, it can be a fine line before that tips over into something degrading and abusive.”

“Exactly,” George said.

“Who says the woman has to be the sub?” Marielle asked.

“True,” Lily said.

Marielle gave her a cheeky grin. “You, I'd figure for a dom.”

Kim and George giggled, while Lily rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks for that, Marielle.”

“So you've never had an urge to tie up your hubby and have your way with him?”

Into Lily's mind sprang an image of role-reversing Saturday night—and then Sunday, with the blindfold and ice cubes. “I never had an urge to do that,” she forced herself to say, adding a silent amendment:
until now.

“George, is there anything you like about the book?” Marielle asked.

“No.” Then she said grudgingly, “Well, there's one concept I find appealing, at least in theory.”

“What's that?” Lily asked. Though she didn't want to spoil her appetite for dinner, she snagged a couple of fries before the others polished them off.

“The idea of a man knowing what his woman needs in order to experience sexual satisfaction, and giving it to her.”

“Isn't that what men are for?” Kim said flippantly. Then, “No, seriously, that's what being lovers should be about.”

“Hey, you know I love men,” Marielle said, occasioning another round of laughter, “and they can definitely come in handy, but a woman has to look out for herself.”

“Exactly,” George said. “She shouldn't give up control to a man.”

“Hear, hear,” Lily said.

“Wait,” Kim said, “that's a really black-and-white statement. There are different kinds of control. Like, of course a woman should be in ultimate control of her body. She gets to say no, which in the dom-sub world means saying a safe word. But if the woman does have that ultimate control—and if her man's giving her the best sex of her life—what's so bad about giving up some degree or type of control? Like, putting aside the whole BDSM thing for a minute, just, oh, letting the guy decide where you'll have sex this time and who'll be on top.”