Con Man: Complete Series Box Set: A Bad Boy Romance (34 page)

A
ll in all
, it wasn't a bad shift. Leta was knocked out on her meds the next time I went into her room, so nothing there, and Ivar was his usual joking self. There were no surprises, no medical emergencies. Everyone was pleasant, even the ones who were in pain. The meds were on time, the wounds easy enough to redress. No one cussed me out or threw anything at me.

But even with all of that, working the burn unit was never simple. Seeing not only the results of accidents, but too often the cruelty of one human to another. None of that got any easier.

I breathed out a slow breath as I got my things from my locker and headed for the elevators. Riding down, I pulled out my phone and checked the messages. Two calls from my mom and a voicemail.

Shit. I sighed. If Mom wanted to chat about something and it wasn't important, she usually just sent a text, asking me to call when I got the chance. The fact that she'd called more than once told me it wasn't something minor.

As soon as I stepped outside, I listened to the message. Not quite as bad as I'd feared, but not great either.

“Hey, Nori, sweetheart, I know you're working and you won't get this until you get off, but I need you to check on your dad. You know Friday nights are the best tip nights or I'd call off and do it myself. He's not answering his phone and I'm worried.”

I didn't need to hear the rest. I knew how it'd go because I'd gotten some version of this sort of call at least a hundred times since their divorce had been finalized about five years ago. I couldn't say it was an amicable divorce, but it hadn't been an ugly divorce either. It'd been more like the two of them hadn't been able to handle what staying together would mean. The constant reminders every time they saw each other.

The thing that made it so aggravating was that it hadn't simply ended there. I sometimes thought it would've been easier if they'd just hated each other. But Mom didn't hate Dad, even though she’d been the one who'd filed for divorce. In the past five years, she'd never even looked at another man, and she wasn't even coy about it when asked.

She still loved him.

Dad...well, Dad was indifferent. He'd been indifferent about life in general for too long. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen him express any sort of real emotion.

And that was what worried Mom. She'd married him when she was eighteen, but they'd dated since he was fourteen. Her whole life had been wrapped up in Dad and our family, and then, suddenly, it'd all blown up. Sure, some of the pieces had still been there, but none of them had fit together anymore, not the way they had before.

I shot off a text to my mom, letting her know that I'd stop by Dad's on my way home. She didn't respond, but I knew she was busy. She'd get it on her next break.

When I got into my car, all I wanted to do was go home, change and head out for some relaxing one-on-one time with my boyfriend, but I didn't even consider skipping Dad's and going straight home. If I hadn't planned on going, I would've been honest about it. I may not have approved of how my mom couldn't let things go, but I wouldn't lie to her.

The drive from the hospital to Dad's was only about fifteen minutes when traffic was good, and it wasn't good at the moment, so it took closer to a half an hour, which meant it was well past seven when I pulled up in front of the apartment building where I'd grown up. Dad had stayed there when Mom left, but I knew it hadn't been out of sentimentality. It'd been easier than finding a new place.

I pulled out my keys as I headed up the stairs. I would knock first, but I had keys just in case. Most of the time, when I got one of these calls, I ended up using them. After knocking on the door twice with no answer, I figured this would be another one of those times.

“Dad?” I called softly as I opened the door. “Dad, it's Nori.”

I took a couple of steps inside and closed the door behind me.

“Dad? Mom called. She was worried.”

Still no response.

If I hadn't done this dozens of times before, I might've been worried. I wasn't though. I just kept going, walking out of the short entryway and through the kitchen. It was clean enough, but the lack of dirty dishes didn't surprise me. Dad ate out of cartons and drank from cans. That meant more garbage, but less cleaning up.

I didn't stop in the kitchen though. I kept going until I reached the living room. I heard the tv before I saw that it was on, so I knew I was heading in the right direction. Dad wasn't sleeping in his room. And my suspicions were confirmed when I saw the cans littering the floor next to one end of the couch. The carpet there was already stained from years of spilled beer, so I didn't even bother to see if it was damp.

What I was focused on was the man passed out on the couch itself. And I knew he was passed out and not simply sleeping because I'd found him this way more times than I cared to count. His salt and pepper hair was more salt now, receding back enough from his forehead that I could see shiny skin where I hadn't been able to before. His skin was drawn and gray, far more wrinkled than it should've been for someone who wasn't yet sixty. Everything our family had been through had changed all of us, had aged both of my parents beyond their years.

I leaned down to check his breathing, to make sure I wasn't imagining seeing his chest go up and down. Once I'd made sure he was still alive, I set about my usual way of getting him up and moving. He was taller than me, but I'd spent the last few years maneuvering men bigger than my father and with just as much dead weight.

I got him into the bathroom and into the tub, turning on the cold water, then standing back. It took only a few minutes before Dad was spluttering and cursing. He wasn't fully awake, but he was conscious enough that I was able to give him clean clothes and trust that he could change without passing out again. I drew the line at dressing my father simply because he was a drunk. More than once, I'd left him in his boxers because he belligerently refused to dress.

When he came out of the bathroom, he gave me a bleary-eyed look and then headed into his bedroom. I leaned on the hallway wall as I watched him collapse on the bed. While I waited to hear his snores, I pulled out my phone and texted my mom again, letting her know that my dad was okay.

Once I'd done that, I sent another message, this one to my boyfriend. Tanner would already be back at his place, but I knew he'd be waiting to see if I was feeling up to going out tonight. I was drained from work, but I knew that a night out with Tanner would be far more relaxing for me than getting some extra sleep.

My dad started to snore even as Tanner sent a message back.

Want to hit a club, then back to my place?

He was partially right, but I didn't want to go to just any club. I needed more than a bit of alcohol and some dancing. I needed the release that came with the sort of special relationship Tanner and I had.

Black Masque.
I sent back. That was where I wanted to go. Where I needed to go.

Tanner’s response was almost immediate.

Come to my place first. I'll have clothes ready. You can dress here
.

There was only one response for me to give to that.

Yes, sir
.

A
fter an extra-long
shift of having to make decisions, and then having to be the grown-up in the family, it was a relief to walk into Tanner’s townhouse and not have to worry about anything, to know that he would take care of me.

He already had everything laid out in his bathroom. Lavender-scented shampoo, conditioner and body wash. Thick, soft towels. All I had to do was step out of my work clothes and into the shower, let the hot water beat down on me and get into the headspace that came with this part of my life. The headspace where I didn't have to do anything but exist and obey.

Tanner had a lot of money, I knew that, but I didn't know how much. He liked having a three-bedroom townhouse on the river rather than some huge mansion and hundreds of acres outside the city. While not cheap, I knew he could afford something much bigger than this. Instead, he preferred to indulge in the finest clothes, wine, accessories, food, those sorts of things.

So it was no surprise that what he'd laid out for me to wear tonight wasn't one of the outfits I'd left over here, but rather something new. I didn't know designer names – those sorts of things tended to go in one ear and out the other with me – but I'd been with Tanner long enough to know quality when I saw it.

A deep, rich green that made my eyes practically glow. Silk that caressed my skin as I slipped it over my head. The crisscrossed halter top had enough built-in support that I, surprisingly, didn't need a bra, only the matching barely-there panties Tanner had also provided. The top left wide strips of my back and stomach bare, then connected with a skirt that went to the floor. The slits on either side were cut high enough, however, that I was still in danger of flashing my panties should I move wrong.

Then there were the heels. Six inches and matched so perfectly with the rest of the outfit that I knew they'd either come together or Tanner had ordered them that way. Either one was possible with him.

He'd also set out jewelry. Gorgeous, but not ostentatious. A twisted rope of gold for a matching necklace-bracelet set, and plain gold stud earrings finished off the outfit.

I kept my hair down, the way I knew Tanner liked it and went with minimal makeup. He always said that one of the things he loved about me was the fact that I didn't try too hard. I was who I was, and that was it. Sure, I liked to dress up and look pretty, but I never went for so much make-up that it was impossible to tell what I looked like without it.

Tanner was like that too, in his own way. Not hiding behind a mask or pretending to be anything he wasn't. He was rich and had friends in high places, but he never behaved that way. He was as down-to-earth as anyone I'd ever met.

A knock at the door caught my attention.

“Come in.”

Tanner gave me an appreciative once over as he stepped inside the bathroom. That was another thing I loved about him. We'd been together long enough that we were completely comfortable seeing each other in various stages of undress. We were far from the honeymoon stage where everything still had to be nice and neat, but we never barged in on each other when in the bathroom or when one was dressing alone. There was always a knock first, the courtesy of waiting for the other to answer.

“You look amazing,” Tanner said.

“So do you.”

He was wearing my favorite pair of dark jeans, the ones that really showed off what a nice ass he had. His shirt was the same color as my dress, and I was pretty sure it was silk too. It clung to his torso and made me want to rub my hands across the defined muscles I knew were there. Tanner was in the best shape of anyone I knew, but he didn't go the whole personal trainer route. Instead, he played racquetball and basketball and tennis and swam and did a hundred other things that kept his body in deliciously fuckable shape.

He held out his hand to me and I took it, loving the warmth that spread across my skin as he laced his fingers between mine. Neither of us spoke as we made our way outside to where he had a town car waiting. Most of the time, he drove everywhere, but when we went out, he liked to have a driver in case he had a little too much to drink. His mother had been killed by a drunk driver when he was nine, so he never took that risk.

Yet one more reason to admire him.

* * *

B
lack Masque was
one of San Antonio's best-kept secrets. Beneath one of the city's finest and most expensive restaurants, it could have played into the whole 'dungeon' aspect of this world. Instead, it was tastefully decorated in reds and blacks, set up to look more like a social club than anything else. Instead of a packed dance floor with writhing, sweating bodies, membership was steep and well worth the price.

The main area was carpeted, with booths lining three of the four walls. A long bar was at the far end with hallways on either side. One hallway led to a discreet back-alley exit. The door behind the bar led to the kitchen, directly under its upstairs counterpart. The other hallway led to the club's private rooms. Clean and well-stocked, they were nothing like the seedy S&M places I'd imagined when Tanner first suggested bringing me here.

The hostess was dressed in a long, elegant dress that alternated black silk and sheer red lace, allowing glimpses of her skin beneath. Everyone employed here was dressed in the club colors, with varying degrees of skin showing. Some had piercings. Some had tattoos. All were tasteful. Some of the members here liked to wear leather and chains, but even those weren't garish.

The main thing that made it clear Black Masque wasn't a normal club or restaurant, however, was the circular raised platform in the center of the room. While they didn't always have a show going, it was Friday night, so there would be very little pause between acts. At the moment, it looked like Tanner and I had come just as one act was ending and another was preparing to take the stage.

We settled in our usual booth in the back right corner. When we'd first come here, we'd sat in the same place. Tanner said that this was his favorite spot because it gave him the ability to see around the entire club and to watch the shows unobstructed. Before he and I had gotten together, he'd used the position to see if there was anyone he wanted to take to a room. Now, he said it was perfect for just the two of us.

I slid around the circular booth until I was right next to him. I didn't have to wait long before he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me tight against him. I relaxed almost immediately. There was just something soothing about his touch, about having his arm around me. It was like, no matter what I went through in a day, no matter what problems I might've had, they couldn't touch me when I was with him.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked, his voice pitched low so that no one else could hear him, even if anyone had been inclined to try.

I shook my head. “Just the same old shit,” I said. “Nothing specific and nothing new. I just need to get out of my head for a while.”

He kissed the top of my head. “I'll take care of you.”

“Yes, Sir.” I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment, letting myself enjoy his closeness, the scent of his detergent and shampoo.

There were times I wondered if he and I had gotten to a place in our relationship and simply stopped growing, stopped moving forward. I wondered if this holding pattern we’d had for the past few years was healthy. We didn't fight, and the sex was still great, but I couldn't help wondering if this was what we really needed.

This wasn't one of those times. Being here, like this, with him, reminded me of what was good about the two of us together. How well we did fit, how we complemented each other's personalities and needs.

“Open your eyes.” His voice held that note of authority that I wasn't to disobey.

I did as I was told.

“I want you to watch,” he said, his fingers skimming over the bare skin of my arm. “And I want you to think about what it's going to feel like when I do those things to you.”

Even as a waitress set a glass of wine in front of me, I focused in on the stage. Two people were climbing the steps. A man and a woman. I'd seen them both around before, but I'd never seen them perform.

The man was tall, muscular and blond. His face had a sort of rugged handsomeness to it, rough edges and a strong jawline. I was pretty sure Tanner had called him Alan. The woman was petite, barely hitting five feet tall. She had long dark hair that was pulled back in a complicated set of braids. Her skin was flushed beneath her normal caramel tone, and I wondered if it was embarrassment or arousal. Probably both. Her name was Melanie, I knew. I'd talked to her once or twice. She was a physical therapist, so we'd conversed about our similar fields and some of the extra classes I'd taken.

T
hey were
like Tanner and me – she being a Submissive to his Dominate, and a couple outside as well. And also like us, he had been the one to introduce her to this world.

We weren't, however, like them in one way. I was okay with some touching in public, but I wasn't an exhibitionist. Neither was Tanner. He'd never once asked me to perform with him on stage or anything like that, and I was grateful. Then again, a good Dom would never force his or her Sub into something they were truly uncomfortable with. There always had to be that little edge of excitement to the anxiety to make it okay, but there were limits.

“Alan's been planning this for weeks,” Tanner said, his lips moving against my ear. “It should be quite a show.”

I nodded, more in acknowledgment than agreement, though I didn't doubt his words. I was just too mesmerized by what was happening to form much of a response.

A bench was on the stage, but not just any bench, and definitely not the kind that a person sat on. It was the sort of bench that people in our circles used for...
other
purposes. Purposes that were about to be thoroughly displayed very soon.

Melanie was wearing a wraparound dress, overly modest for this sort of setting. Alan was wearing a pair of low-cut jeans and nothing else. Since the last time I'd seen him, he'd gotten his nipple pierced. The gold hoop glinted in the overhead lights.

“Kneel.” His voice wasn't loud, but it carried well. The acoustics in the building were amazing, allowing the audience to hear everything.

She knelt on the padded rail in front of the bench, her head down.

“Strip.”

Alan's voice held authority similar to Tanner’s, but the Sub inside me didn't respond to him. I hadn't come into this world alone, exploring my desires with different people. Tanner had taught me, groomed me, but he'd made me his girlfriend as well as his Sub. I'd never been with anyone else, never felt the need to. I knew some Subs felt like they had to submit to all Doms, but that wasn't me.

It didn't, however, mean that I wasn't enjoying watching Alan secure Melanie's wrists and ankles to the bench. Her breasts hung over the edge, her ass in the air, legs spread. As I watched, he walked around to the front of the bench and leaned down. Melanie made a small, whimpering sound, and then he straightened, revealing a pair of silver clamps now hanging from her nipples.

My own hardened, throbbed, in both sympathy and anticipation. Tanner had told me to watch. That he wanted me to imagine what it would be like if he did any of those things to me. So I was thinking about it. Focusing on it. Imagining how it would feel to have those little metal teeth digging into my flesh. How it would feel to be bent over like that, unable to do anything except wait to see what he’d do next.

I jumped at the loud crack of Alan snapping a crop against his hand.

“Now, where do you suppose he's going to use that?” Tanner asked, his hand sliding up my arm and around to the back of my neck. His fingers kneaded the tight muscles there as he continued to talk. “You think he's going to use it on her ass or her cunt?”

A shiver ran through me even as Alan brought the crop down on Melanie's ass. Tanner’s fingers kept up their firm pressure, working through all of the knots in my neck as we watched Alan turn Melanie's ass a deep shade of red.

“I bet that'll be nice and hot against his skin when he fucks her,” Tanner murmured. He brushed his knuckles against the side of my breast. “You want me to use the crop or flogger on you when we get back to my place?”

My body tightened as I gave the proper response. “Whatever you want, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He kissed my temple. “Now watch. I think he'll start on her pussy next.”