Purely Professional (19 page)

Max sat beside her and took her hand, earnest and serious. “Listen, if this is what you want, I can give it to you. But I want to do this for real. I don’t want to pretend anymore that this is just for your job. Do you understand?”

Bridget nodded, tears prickling in her eyes. Why was she crying? She should be emotionally detached, right?

“I’m going home now,” Max said, standing up. “You have things to think about this weekend. Maybe we can talk on Monday.”

Bridget nodded, trying to surreptitiously blink the tears away, not ready to trust her voice to be steady.

Max hesitated, then kissed her, a sweet, lingering kiss. She wondered if it would be the last time he would ever do so.

“Good night.” And he was gone.

Chapter Sixteen

Best friends got the title for a reason, Bridget thought when Helen canceled her plans and arrived Sunday morning with a box of Dunkin’ Donuts. There weren’t many people who would respond to a distraught late-night phone call with pastry.

Helen sat Bridget down on the sofa. “All right. Spill.”

So Bridget did. She confessed everything, from the kinky sex, to the way Max made her feel, to their conversation the night before.

“And the worst thing,” she added, “is that I’m worried this isn’t just some sort of experiment anymore. I’m worried that I’m becoming a submissive because of what we do together.” She stared down at the untouched donut on her plate. “Helen, I don’t want to be some sniveling doormat. What if that’s what I’ve become?”

Helen let out a long sigh that somehow spoke of patience and exasperation at once. “Bridget, who ever told you that being a submissive meant you had to be a doormat? Didn’t you learn
anything
with Max?” She shifted on the couch to sit cross-legged. “Leslie wasn’t a doormat. And she had no problem
asking
me to tie her up and spank her.” She bit into her jelly donut, leaving a trail of powdered sugar on her chin that she brushed off. “You don’t become submissive because somebody ties you up. Maybe you always were, and he just brought it out.”

Bridget considered this, trying to keep an open mind. She finally ate some of her donut.

“You broke up with all your other boyfriends because they were pussies,” Helen reminded her. “Your word, not mine. I think you’ve been wanting someone to stand up to you for a long time. You want a challenge. Now you’ve got one. I think you’ve got exactly what you want, but you’re so worried about what other people might think that you’re denying yourself.” She waved her donut with a flourish.

“You think I want Max?” Bridget asked.

“I think you’re the only one who can answer that.”

“Helen, do you believe in karma?”

Helen blinked. “That’s kind of random, but I guess so. I want to think it exists. Why do you ask?”

“I feel like I can’t keep lying to Marcy.” Bridget looked down at her hands.

Helen nodded. “You probably have to figure out what to do about that too.”

Bridget exhaled slowly and slumped forward, elbows on her knees. “All right. So what now?”

Helen sipped her coffee. “Now we get sick on donuts, then go catch a matinee.”

* * *

Bridget’s hands shook as she dialed the extension on her work phone, concentrating on hitting the correct numbers. She’d decided this was the right course of action last night, had steeled her resolve for the whole train ride, and now had to deliver.

“Marcy?” she said when her executive editor picked up. “I need to meet with you. Right away, if I can.”

Marcy sounded pleased. “Wonderful. I need to meet with you too. Come right over.”

The walk to Marcy’s office had never seemed quite so long before. She took two deep breaths before knocking. “Come in,” said the voice behind the door.

“Bridget!” Marcy gestured to the seat in front of her desk, her face serious even though her voice sounded welcoming. “Have a seat. I know you want to talk to me about something, but I hope you’ll let me go first.”

Bridget nodded, knowing it was cowardly but happy to delay the difficult conversation to follow. She sat woodenly in her chair in front of Marcy’s desk, hands clasped in her lap.

“Excellent. You know, Bridget, you’ve been such an asset to
Sultry
. I hope you know that.”

“Thank you,” Bridget said, surprised as she always was when Marcy complimented her.

The woman continued. “I’m sure you know things have been successful with
Sultry Submissions
.”

“Yes.” God, she hoped Marcy got to the point quickly. If she had to listen to another bundle of praise about her excellent work, delivering the bad news was going to suck so much more.

“Juanita Diaz wants to meet with you.”

“Juanita Diaz?” Bridget was unable to keep her mouth from falling open. “She…wants to meet with me?” Great, now she sounded like an idiot for repeating exactly what she’d been just told, but this was Juanita “Fucking Awesome CEO” Diaz they were talking about.

“Yes.” She handed over a business card. “She asked me to have you call her and set something up.”

Bridget stared at the card, trying to remember that she had important bad news to deliver. “Did she say what it was about?”

“It’s to discuss the terms of your promotion.” A smile cracked Marcy’s stone-serious expression. “We’d like you to be the managing editor for
Sultry Submissions.
”

Bridget pressed her hands more tightly together to stop them from shaking. This was everything she’d ever wanted. She should be happier than she’d ever been, and instead, she was about to shoot her career dead. Damn it. Damn her newfound integrity. She carefully set Juanita Diaz’s business card in her lap. Maybe she could frame it or something after she lost her job.

“Marcy, you can’t imagine how much I’ve wanted this promotion. Making managing editor has been my dream since I started here as an intern.” Bridget moved her hands to the armrests of the chair, gripping them to keep her stable. “But I have to confess something.” Her mouth had gone dry. Across from her, Marcy scratched her cheek, her eyes narrowing.

She had to own up to this. “I lied to you. I didn’t have any experience with BDSM when I let you think I did. You asked me to write edgier content, and I wanted to prove that I was up for anything, so I faked it.” Now that she was confessing, it was all coming out in a flood. “I didn’t expect it to go as far as it did.”

Marcy’s nostrils flared, her eyes growing flinty. “So you made up the whole thing? You copied someone else’s work, plagiarized the blog posts…”

“No!” Bridget quickly interrupted. “No, it’s all my own work. When you wanted me to write an article, I really did find and interview Erebos. And when you wanted a blog, I convinced him to teach me enough so I could write from experience.” She took a breath and let it out. “But I misrepresented my involvement in the BDSM community and took the assignment under false pretenses. I understand that this might mean the end of my career at
Sultry.
” She swallowed. Almost done. “For what it’s worth, I’m very sorry about all this. It was unprofessional, and I don’t want this to reflect badly on you or the magazine.” She exhaled. Confession was supposed to make her feel better, so why did she feel like she was going to throw up?

“Answer me this.” Marcy’s voice was cold. “Are those blog posts fictional or fact?”

Bridget swallowed again. “Fact. They’re all true.”

Marcy leaned back in her chair. “So let me get this straight. You mentioned BDSM as a topic, but didn’t know about it. When I wanted you to pursue it, you did the research, found someone to teach you about it and became part of the lifestyle so you could write from a position of knowledge?”

Bridget nodded. “Yes.” It didn’t really seem so bad when Marcy put it that way.

Marcy turned a pen over in her fingers and studied it, not saying anything for a long moment. Bridget wanted to fill the silence, to apologize again, but she made herself stay quiet. Maybe she was learning some patience after all. At last, Marcy spoke. “Bridget, you’re one of our most talented writers and one of our strongest assets. Your decision to misrepresent your experience was indeed a breach of ethics, one that I will need to record in your personal file.”

Bridget exhaled, some of her anxiety easing. She was getting a mark in her file, but it looked like she wasn’t going to lose her job.

“However,” her boss continued, “your initiative in researching the field, your personal commitment to developing authority in an unfamiliar area, that shows the tenacity we prize in our staff. That sort of dedication to the story is representative of your dedication to the magazine. With that in mind, the offer for managing editor still stands.”

Bridget blinked, completely taken aback, as Marcy slid the offer letter across the table to her. She composed herself, her heart beginning to beat more quickly, as she skimmed over the document.

“Thank you,” she said at last, feeling a bit breathless.

Marcy gave her a thin smile. “Juanita will be able to answer any questions you might have. You can let HR know tomorrow.”

Chapter Seventeen

Bridget hesitated outside Max’s front door, recognizing this as a turning point. She’d walked the city that afternoon, pondering her future, and now she found herself standing on his front step. This wasn’t for her job anymore. This was entirely for her. She rang the doorbell.

Max’s smile was tight when he opened the door. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, but his body language was anything but casual. “Hi.” His eyes flicked to hers, then away again. She realized he was nervous. He didn’t know what she was going to say to him.

He ran a hand through his hair as they walked to the living room. “Did you eat? I have leftovers if you want some.”

“No, I ate.” She perched gingerly on the edge of the leather armchair.

“Beer? Or a glass of wine?” He sat down on the sofa and crossed his ankle over his knee, absentmindedly jiggling his foot.

“No, thank you.” Bridget folded her hands in her lap. “So, I told my boss the truth today.”

“Really?” Max stopped tapping his foot. “What happened?”

“Well, I’m not fired.” Her laugh sounded unsteady, maybe a little manic, her own nerves surfacing. “And actually, she offered me the managing editor position.” She watched him, trying to gauge his reaction. “I accepted.”

“Congratulations.” He smiled despite the tension in his body. “So you got what you wanted.”

“Yes. And…no.” She looked down at her interlaced fingers, then back over at him. He was waiting, his blue eyes bright and a bit vulnerable. “I want you.”

Max shook his head slowly. “Bridget, I told you what kind of relationship I wanted.”

“I know.” She got up from the chair and sat next to him on the couch, trying out a tentative smile. “If you’re up for it, I think I want to give this a try.”

The way his face lit up made all her anxiety worthwhile. He opened his mouth to speak, then paused, his smile hesitant. “Are you sure? You’re not just doing this because you feel some kind of obligation to me?”

“Hell no.” She had to laugh at that. After a pause, she added, “I mean, I’m not getting engaged to you or anything.”

“Good.” He laughed, sounding relaxed for the first time since she’d arrived. “It’s just dating.”

“Well, you’re a little different than my past boyfriends.” The word sounded foreign on her lips, a word for younger people, but she liked it.

“I hope so. You said they were all pussies.”

Bridget grinned. “You’re not a pussy.”

“Definitely not.” He kissed her.

She pulled away a few minutes later, feeling more than a little disheveled and breathless. “I have terms.”

“Terms? Like a hostage negotiation?” His eyes crinkled with laughter as he leaned back in to kiss her again.

“Yes.” Bridget held him off with a hand on his chest. “I miss having orgasms whenever I want.”

“Those are your terms? You want freedom to masturbate?” He removed her hand and leaned back in.

She turned her head away, avoiding the kiss. “Yeah.” It was difficult to work up some indignation when he was nibbling on her neck.

“Will you still obey me if I ask you to hold off for a day or two now and then?” He caught her earlobe between his teeth.

“A day or two now and then? I think that’s fair.” She was trying to remember if she had more to say, but it was becoming difficult to think with his hand molded to her breast.

“Anything else?” He twisted her nipple.

“Y-yes.” It came out more like a moan than a word. She drew back. “I don’t want you to get mad when I use a safe word. It’s not fair.”

Max nodded and dropped his hands. “Okay. You’re right. But will you let me try to push your limits? I’d like you to use your safe words when you’re uncomfortable or frightened, not just embarrassed. I’d like you to trust me.”

She nodded. “All right. But I still want the camera back.”

Max laughed. “Okay, fine. Now, is there anything else?”

“Yes. One more thing.” Bridget took a deep breath and let it out. “When you came over the other night, I was mad at you for sending me home. I was about to disobey you and touch myself.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Why are you telling me this?”

She licked her lips. “Because I’ve been bad. I think you need to punish me, sir.”

He smiled at her, a brief glimpse of Playful Max, before his expression grew stern and he became Dominant.
Her
Dominant.

“Is that so?” His voice sounded quiet and dangerous.

“Yes, sir.” Her skin was beginning to tingle with anticipation.

Max stood quickly, towering over her, then grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Then come downstairs.”

Bridget wasn’t sure what she was expecting when he led her downstairs, but when he turned on the light, she was sure this wasn’t it. The basement had been painted in warm, light colors that reflected off the polished hardwood floors. In some ways, it resembled a bedroom. A large four-poster bed dominated the back half of the space, and one wall was lined with bookshelves. A closer look, though, revealed that the bookshelves were full of toys, not books, and she spotted some hooks and eyebolts in the ceiling beams. Along the far right wall, she noticed some unfamiliar wooden structures that were obviously some kind of bondage frames.

Her feet had frozen in position right in front of the spiral staircase. “Move,” Max said, giving her a not so gentle swat. Bridget walked forward, more excited than afraid, although fear pricked at her, sharpening her senses. The cool basement air wafted over her overheated skin, making her shiver.

“Take off your clothes.” Max’s voice and mannerisms belied no trace of insecurity or vulnerability. She quickly shimmied out of her clothing, heart quickening, anticipating what was to come. The smooth wood floor felt cool on her bare feet.

When she was naked, Max approached her with a pair of leather cuffs with trailing straps. The sensation of the tight leather being wrapped around her wrists made her quiver with arousal, but his face was expressionless as he tested their snugness. When he lifted her arms above her head and hooked the straps to an eyebolt in the ceiling, she bit her lip to suppress a moan. The way was tied, she had a little give in her arms, able to bend her elbows slightly, but still feel thoroughly trapped. Max disappeared behind her. She pressed her knees together, knowing she was growing wet.

“Oh, we can’t have that,” Max murmured, coming up behind her and pushing a knee between her legs to nudge them apart. Bridget jumped, not expecting the contact, and looked over her shoulder to see what was happening. Max knelt down between her legs and began securing her ankles into leather cuffs on the ends of a bar, which he then began extending. The motion of stretching her legs apart took all the slack out of her arms, pulling her body taut. When he stopped spreading the bar, she was lewdly exposed and completely helpless, panting with want. Max walked casually around to face her and thrust a hand between her thighs. She yelped in surprise.

He smiled, not his warm, playful smile, but the dangerous, devious smile that made her entire body tingle. “Wet already.”

“What are you going to do?” Her voice sounded a bit unsteady.

“Whatever I want. You’re mine, do you understand? And you will call me
Sir
or
Master
or you’ll be sorry you didn’t. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” she breathed.

Max disappeared somewhere, and though she strained her neck to look behind her, she couldn’t see him. Unsure what was going to happen next, she felt hypersensitive, waiting for his touch.

Her only warning was a swishing noise and a snap before she felt sudden ribbons of pain all over her ass and thighs. Bridget jumped and cried out, losing her balance slightly, putting too much weight on her arms and struggling to right herself. Max waited until she recovered, then she heard the swish again, followed by more stinging stripes.

“Why am I doing this?” he asked behind her.

“Because I was going to disobey you, sir.”

“Good.” He gave her three more strikes in quick succession. Once Bridget recovered from the initial surprise, she realized it stung more than it hurt, like being snapped with a dozen rubber bands. She instinctively wriggled to get away and found that she couldn’t go anywhere, and that immobility enhanced the sensation until her body was singing, every nerve on fire. When Max came around to her front, she saw that he held a flogger with long, rubbery strands.

He reached down and slipped a finger through her folds.

“Only sluts like getting punished.” He raised an eyebrow and stepped back. “Maybe I need to do something you won’t enjoy so much.” He brought the flogger down, this time against her breasts.

Bridget jumped again, the pain sharper as the strands stung her sensitive nipples. Then Max swung the flogger upward, landing it hard on her exposed slit. Tears sprang to her eyes and she gasped, but she felt her pussy clench even as her clit still throbbed from the sting. He seemed to know, because he smiled.

Max walked out of sight, and she heard him getting something off a shelf, but she just focused on recovering, breathing heavily, opening and closing her hands around the leather straps to stop from trembling. When he reappeared, he stepped right up to her and leaned down to whisper in her ear, his breath warm on the side of her face. “You like it when it hurts, don’t you?”

“I…I don’t know, sir.” She couldn’t make sense of her dripping pussy and the residual pain still stinging her cleft. He squeezed her nipples, first gently, then harder, and she bit her lip as her sex pulsed with want.

“These are for you.” He held up the nipple clamps so she could see them.

“No.” She shook her head, suddenly dizzy.

“Red or no?” he asked, and she felt a swell of affection for him.

“No.”

“I didn’t ask you.” Max was once again the Dominant, completely in control of the situation. He squeezed the sides of the clamp to open it, then closed it over her taut nipple.

The pinching pain took her breath away, and she twisted in her bonds as he clamped the second one in place and then stepped back. Max tugged lightly on the chain that now ran between her breasts, sending shooting pains into her nipples. Even as she gasped and writhed, she felt her clit pulsing with her heartbeat, her body crying out for more.

“Please,” she breathed, not really sure what she was requesting.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Who has control over your body?”

“You do, sir.” Then he reached down to rub her aching clit, and the pain quickly subsided into a dull throb of pleasure. She looked at him, eyes glazing, the hot rush of want overwhelming her.

“I’m going to make you come,” Max whispered, looking right into her eyes, before stepping back and swinging the flogger up against her slit once more.

He wasn’t swinging at full strength, she knew, the tips of the strands just flicking her oversensitized skin, but it stung and felt amazing all at the same time. He continued to flog her over and over, hitting exactly the right spots between her legs. Bridget couldn’t get away, couldn’t close her legs to block the sensation, and the helplessness and stinging pain combined to drive her higher and higher and higher until she shattered, crying out in pleasure and pain that blended so acutely she could no longer tell them apart. Her nipples throbbed under the grip of the clamps, escalating the intensity of her climax until she felt like she might shudder apart. Just then, he removed the clamps, and the blood rushing back into her nipples sent a fresh shot of agony and an unexpected second wave of pleasure through her.

When the high abated, Bridget hung limply from her bonds, barely able to stand. Max unfastened her ankles from the spreader bar, then reached up and unfastened the straps on her wrist from the ceiling, catching her when she sagged.

He waited for her to look up at him, a question in his eyes. She nodded, knowing what he was asking, and he gave her a smile so brief she might have imagined it.

“I’m not done with you yet.” His words were pure sex and dominance, spoken low and rough into her ear, and it shouldn’t be possible to get turned on so quickly after an orgasm like the one she’d just had.

Max tugged her across the room by her still-bound hands, leading her to a contraption that looked like a padded sawhorse. Before she knew it, she was bent at the waist, her arms and legs secured to the legs of the bench, once more unable to move. She wriggled slightly, testing her bonds, feeling even more vulnerable in this position than she had standing with her legs spread wide.

Max’s hands on her hips made her jump; she hadn’t heard him move behind her. Without preamble, he thrust hard inside her.

Bridget cried out, her pussy still tender after orgasm, muscles quivering around his cock. He began fucking her slowly and steadily, saying nothing even as she moaned and shuddered beneath him. She felt the cool trickle on her ass, then a firm pressure as something slipped inside, penetrating the outer ring of muscle. The sensation of being filled in two holes was nearly too intense for her, and she closed her eyes, overwhelmed.

“Do you like it when I finger your ass?” Max asked, and she felt herself stretching as he added another finger.

“Y-yes, sir,” she gasped. He began to thrust his fingers in and out, moving in sync with each thrust of his hips, and she could feel another orgasm building. He added a third finger, the fullness too much until it became not nearly enough. He continued his punishing rhythm until she felt about to explode.

Then he stopped and withdrew. Bridget moaned at the loss, her muscles clenching at nothing. When she heard the unmistakable sound of a condom wrapper, she froze, knowing what was going to happen.

“I’m going to fuck your ass,” Max whispered, running a hand down her spine. “You know your safe words. Stop me if it hurts.”

New anxiety drove away her impending orgasm, but then he reached down to rub her clit and she felt him hard against her ass as a fresh pleasure rushed through her. She felt her body yielding to a burning pressure that was not quite pain, and then he was inside her. He kept rubbing her clit as he eased in, his process agonizingly slow, filling her like she’d never been filled before. She was keening, a desperate, needy sound. At last, she felt his hips pressed flush against her, and she knew he was all the way inside. He grasped her hips to steady himself.