The Dom With the Perfect Brats (17 page)

Izzy listened for Gemma’s answer.
A moment passed, then she heard her faint, shaky voice. “This is hard.”

She sounded half a second from crying and Izzy fought back the urge to rush in and comfort her. But this was an issue she needed to settle with C
ross. He would take care of her, Izzy trusted that much.

Though he didn’t let up on his h
old, his voice warmed. “Most things worth doing are.”

With that
he rose, hauling Gemma to her feet. He marched her over to the corner to Izzy’s right and pushed her down to her knees again, but facing outward.

His hand was still on Gemma’s neck. He unzipped
his jeans and told her gruffly to open her mouth.
That
blew Izzy’s mind just a little. Gemma, looking as stunned as a woman who has had a bus fall from the sky in front of her, opened. The man stepped in and pushed his cock into her mouth. One hand shifted to her hair, the other he propped on the wall, and he slowly fucked her mouth. How long he did it for, she wasn’t sure, but when he was done, Gemma gasped and left her mouth open awhile, looking glassy-eyed and swaying, before she licked her lips.

“Good girl. Now stay.”

The world had crumbled and quaked sideways. What the hell? That had been so wrong, so kinky, and she wanted him to come over and do it to her. All the bondage and orders paled in comparison.

She folded her hands together and tried to forget how her clit had awakened. If he did that to her, she might just come. Thinking about all this, about why her brain worked this way made time blur past.

She closed her eyes, and thought some more. She was a maker of coffee, a barista, a woman with a desire to write romance novels, not a mere plaything for a man. What was she doing?

In the background for several minutes, she heard the sounds of metal tinkling, of muted human noises, of the fridge being opened and of footsteps and other strange things being done she couldn’t guess at.

But then he began to speak. “You should both consider why you’re here.”

She kept her eyes shut, her head down, and her hands clasped while she listened.

“Izzy asked if I was only interested in getting the two of you in bed with me. And I confess there’s truth to that.” Glasses clinked then he padded back into the living room and she thought he stood just behind them. “But there’s more. Even if we only think about kink, there’s more. I never want to involve a girl who’s not really into what I like. This is two-way. It’s not just me serving my kinks, or you doing yours. It’s both. I get off on Dominance. I fucking
live
Dominance. Don’t get me wrong. Nothing sends a thrill through me more than getting women on their knees, tying them up, getting them off while I do what I want to their bodies.

“But, like I said, there’s more. There’s you, as well as me. You shouldn’t be here if your kinks don’t mostly match mine. If you don’t want what I do. Think hard about this.”

My god. That statement. Just the bit about him getting women on their knees, tying them up, and getting them off while he did what he wanted to their bodies, had thrust deep inside her.

And the rest?
It had sung to life as loud as a gong struck by a hammer. That was her. She wanted that. She knew it.

She listened as he stepped closer, and again flattened her hands to the wall. Feeling dumb, she removed them, clasped them in front again then on impulse, she put her hands at her back. Because
...he was a few feet behind her at most. She could
see
him looking at her wrists, like his gaze had weight. She wanted him to take hold of her there, to lay claim, to trap her.

Ridiculous. But she left her hands there, with every part of her zoomed in on that simple part of her body, her wrists.

Her breathing hastened. With his confession of sorts, he’d made it so real. Now she didn’t know what to do with herself. Her body wanted
him,
wanted Cross.

Outside here, was the ordinary world. In here was Cross, a man who dominated her landscape like the sun ruled the earth.

It was a relief when one of his big hands wrapped about her wrists, tight. Then he moved in and crowded her a little with his chest, his chin on her head, his heavier body pressing on hers. She smelled his male body and shuddered.

“I’m putting cuffs on you, little one. Stay still.”

She bit her lip and struggled not to breathe faster.

Methodically he buckled leather cuffs about her wrists and ankles, though he didn’t fasten them together. “Come.” Then he led her over to Gemma.

The sounds before, she hadn’t understood what they’d meant. Gemma stood there naked facing the wall, also cuffed, with a strap attaching her wrists to a ring on the wall so her arms were hauled up. Her ankles were strapped either side to rings in the floor set back a few feet so she had to lean in. Holy fuck. The man had a dungeon in his living room.

The position stretched Gemma out like some ad
orable sacrifice. Izzy’s breath caught in her throat as she examined her girlfriend, her caught and bound girlfriend – beautiful rounded breasts, long legs, with her red hair tied in a pony-tail so it draped across her back – Gemma looked both self-conscious and turned on. And there was a small red ball gag in her mouth.

“Down.” Cross pushed Izzy to the floor.

At least her corner hadn’t been this well-equipped. Thank god. Or not. Her pussy clenched as she thought of being tied like this. She met Gemmas’s eyes and suddenly thought of something important.

“How does she safeword?”

“She can talk, just not loud. I find some submissives like this.” There was a gleam in his eye. “It drops them straight into sub mode. Just like putting on a collar does to some.” He glanced at her cuffed wrists. “Or cuffs, does with others.”

Me?

But it had. She stared at her wrists. That he’d fastened these to her had sent her idea of herself spiraling. She wasn’t just Izzy anymore, she was his. Then she found he’d squatted beside her.

“You want this, Izzy?” His question was murmured. Her heart took off as if on a race. Cross raised an eyebrow. “She’s yours if you want, tonight. Do you want this?”

Oh crap. No. Not like this. Morally it just seemed wrong. She shook her head vigorously. “No. No. Not at all.”

He nodded
and his mouth curled at one corner. She could see he’d figured it bothered her. “Okay. But you are going to help me.”

What the fuck? Help?

Cross plugged in a huge massager device that she was almost certain was something she’d once seen on a porn site on the net. Then he handed the thing to her, nestling the long white handle in her grasp. He bent down.

“Hitachi vibe. Use it on her clit. Lightly.” He straightened and undressed as he spoke, tossing the jeans and shirt to one side. “Now, I’m going to fuck you both. Fast. Rough. My pizza is waiting. This is a lesson. Learn.” He pointed at Izzy. “Do it.”

Though Gemma shot a worried look at her and squirmed away from the bulbous white end of the huge vibe, Izzy turned it on, and placed it on her thigh an inch away. But the vibrations sent it bumping sideways, and the three inch wide head ventured over and touched Gemma’s clit.

Her mouth gaped at the sight of Gemma stiffening, arching, and leaning into the vibe.

A small jet engine taking off might have made more sound. Or a washing machine.

“
That’s the right place, Izzy.” Cross moved up and stroked his hand between Gemma’s legs. “God, you’re ready for me, girl.”

It wasn’t difficult to sneakily lower herself enough to see what he was doing. She had a perfect view along Gemma’s pussy, of the vibe buzzing away at her tiny pink clit. And of the blunt head of Cross’s cock, nudging her glistening lips
...and spearing inside. The primitive rhythm of sex fascinated her as he pumped in and out. And she was the conductor in a way, of Gemma’s orgasm. She circled her clit with the vibe, flicked the power up a notch, and stuck out her tongue tip as she concentrated on aiming for the right spot.

Gemma keened.

Seconds later, the woman grunted and thrust herself hard onto the Hitachi. As her hips undulated, a series of small gasps and cries came from her lips.

Izzy stared up at Gemma. She’d made a girl, her girlfriend, come.
Wow. That had to be brownie points for a bisexual. She’d arrived. No going back. And Cross had pulled out. Though Gemma slumped in the straps, he only looked at Izzy, his eyes determined.

“I’ve got a hard-on to rival King Kong.” He rasped an order. “Stand and fucking face the wall. I’m not sure either of you deserved to come and if I’m not in you in ten seconds I will use more than that belt on you.”

The command had her rising and turning fast. He was already wiping off with a cloth to switch condoms.

“Good.” He grabbed the vibe from her
and pulled a condom onto it too. Then he grasped her hip and pushed her upper torso down until she had to slap her hands on the wall. He thrust into her in one long liquid slide. A groan burst from her. The unrelenting shove inside had stirred lust into being instantly.

As he thrust, he lapped his tongue across her ear lobe. Then he gripped her shoulder and bit her just below his hand, and again, below that – big mouthfuls of her body. His teeth stung her, and made little shocks of possession shudder through her flesh. A moment later the vibe buzzed to life. Despite how she’d seen it affect Gemma,
when it touched, she was shocked at how the power of the little machine ate at her self-control and spun her into the mind-numbing muscle-clenching spasm of orgasm.

Her mouth opened so she could suck in oxygen. Nothing existed but the thing vibrating down there. She gasped. Her body tensed and she tore straight into an
other orgasm. Those small involuntary jerks of her hips kept going as the climax extended way too long. Cross dropped the vibe and went into a frenzy, pounding at her until her body was shoved up against and almost melded to the wall.

He spent himself deep inside her, but she was too busy recovering and barely noticed for she was limp and exhausted in the distant realms of her climax-wracked body.

Gemma

The girly giggles coming from the kitchen table made Gemma want to roll her eyes. Her roommate Maddi had three girl friends over – two were drunk on expensive wine they didn’t seem to appreciate and they were all...
gag
...scrapbooking.

She sighed
as she pulled on a pair of jean shorts and fitted black t-shirt that had a picture of a tattooed Mona Lisa on it. No wonder she didn’t have girl friends. When it came to hobbies, she just didn’t have much in common with most girls. Doing hair and nails? Talking fashion? Her style consisted of funky clothes she bought at thrift stores. She didn’t have time to mess around with her fingernails – they broke at work all the time anyway. And if a haircut required more than a finger-comb to style, it wasn’t going on her head.

Maddi
’s disappointment when they’d first met had been palpable. She’d been hoping for a trendy roommate she could share clothes with and talk celebrity gossip. Poor girl. Now she was stuck with Gemma – who slept until noon, had a beer with her breakfast, and would rather read psychological thrillers than watch popular TV shows.

She fiddled with her hair in the mirror before pulling
it into a ponytail just as she heard a knock at the apartment door. Izzy. Finally. She got to the living room as Maddi opened the door.

After giving Izzy’s
outfit a once-over, she turned to Gemma, looking unimpressed. “Your friend is here.”

Maddi
turned and walked back to her friends, who were chatting loudly about getting their bodies ready for bikinis. Izzy smiled at Gemma and raised a brow at Maddi’s friends.

“Save me,” she mouthed to Izzy, pulling on her bo
ots by the couch. When she was done, she grabbed her purse then hustled to the door.

Izzy smirked. “You sure you don’t want to stay for arts and crafts?”

“Get me the fuck out of here,” she hissed as she brushed by Izzy.

Her friend laughed a
nd closed the door behind them.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Gemma told her. “My car should be ready on Monday.” A
fuse had blown on her old jalopy and it’d been in the shop for a couple of days. Luckily, she was within walking distance to work. But Izzy’s place was on the other side of town and that’s where they’d made plans to hang out.

How she could afford her own apartment on a barista’s
wages was a mystery. She suspected she had help from family. Gemma’s parents would’ve loved to help her but they weren’t in any position to be able to. In fact, she hoped she’d be able to start sending them money once business picked up a bit. Still the new girl, it was hard getting clients to trust her. Despite Malachi’s glowing endorsement, people felt safer with a male tattoo artist, which sucked big time.

“It’s no problem,” Izzy said as they made their way to her car parked on the street. “So what do you want to do tonight?”

Gemma shrugged. “Didn’t Cross say something about homework?”

“Yes.” Izzy
gave a small laugh. “Overbearing brute. I’d rather get shit-faced drunk and listen to obnoxious music.”

Gemma l
aughed. “Me too. What did he want us to do anyway? I got an email but didn’t have time to read it thoroughly. It looked like a bunch of websites.”

“
Yes. He wants us to browse them together and tell him what we think. There was also a checklist attached we’re supposed to fill out.”

“Ugh. Sounds like work.” She smiled. “I’d say we should fill it out once we have a good buzz going but I don’t trust myself not to tell him I want to be wrapped in
barbed wire then whipped with licorice or something.”

Izzy laughed as they got in the car. The streets were empty already, she noted. It wasn’t even that late. They’d arranged to start at eight o’clock because Izzy wor
ked afternoon shift, though she’d been late picking her up. A girl after her own heart, she mused before the thought fully settled. After last weekend, it struck a little too close to home.

They hadn’t talked
properly about the whole girlfriend thing. She still couldn’t believe she’d asked her something so silly. Might as well have handed her a note that said,
will you be my girlfriend, check yes, no, or maybe.

Izzy must’ve figured it was the adrenaline rush talking because she hadn’t mentioned it either. Secretly, the idea of Izzy being her girlfriend warmed her to her toes. And she wasn’t even bi. Or was she? Vaguely she recalled rambling about sexuality
being fluid or some psycho-babble she probably read in a book. Though it made sense in a way. People weren’t often static. They moved and changed with the paths of life.

Ugh. Here I go with the hippy shit again
! Maybe she should take up writing like Izzy.

Queen played softly
in the background at first as they drove in silence then Izzy turned it up when
Killer Queen
came on. Gemma bobbed her head to the beat and they both sang out loud when it got to the chorus. By the time the song ended, they were laughing. The chuckles faded as the next song came on and Izzy turned it down again. An awkward silence filled the car. Izzy gazed at her from time to time, looking a little flushed, a little nervous. When Izzy licked her lips, Gemma was embarrassed to find herself staring at them.

She turned her head to watch the scenery go
by and tried to keep Izzy and her sweet lips out of her mind. Trying girls was an adventure – a temporary one. It went with trying kink and Cross and this crazy rebound that would clear Sean out of her head for good. That’s what this was about, wasn’t it?

Temporary.
That thought was like a knife in the heart. She wasn’t ready to lose them. But could she keep? Being in a threesome wasn’t typical. But neither was having most of her body tattooed and trying to nudge herself into a male-dominated industry. There wasn’t much about her that was traditional, come to think of it.

It wasn’t appearances that bothered her. She was used to scathing looks, ever since she was a child and first started drawing on her skin with Sharpie
markers. So what was holding her back from jumping in with both feet?

She knew the answer, but thinking about it almost made tears prick her eyes. Deep down inside, she was scared. Scared she’d never be good enough. Cross was amazing in so many ways. Kind, generous, and though sometimes uptight, he did have a sense of humor. When he laughed
, it made her light up inside and yearn to do it again and again. They had a connection, the two of them – no, make it three. The easy way they chatted about all sorts of things, from religion to books to favorite movies, felt like magic at times. But there was always this nagging fear that eventually she’d fail him. It hurt, bad. When would somebody like her just the way she was?

Finally they turned down Izzy’s street and parked in the apartment complex garage.

“I’ll make us something yummy with vodka in it,” Izzy said with a smile as they walked to her door. “That sound good?”

“Perfect.”

Izzy’s small apartment rivaled Gemma’s bedroom for messiness. The doorway opened right into an open living room with a kitchen off to the side. She didn’t have a table to eat at, only a breakfast bar which was cluttered with stacks of mail and an open laptop. Clothing was flopped over the back of the couch and the two chairs facing the TV.

“Uh,” she said, racing around the room, scooping up clothes, “sorry about the mess. I’d say I’m usually not this messy but it’d be a lie.”

Gemma chuckled. “Don’t clean up on my account. You didn’t see my room. It was in worse shape than this.”

She smiled and tossed the clothes into a room off to the side then slammed the door shut. “Can you picture Cross’s face if he saw this?”

“He’d have a stroke then dump us on the spot.”

“Maybe we can get him to clean and organize for us.” She cleared off a spot at the breakfast bar then motioned for Gemma to sit on a stool. “I’ll make us drinks, you start looking at the links Cross sent.”

Izzy pressed a few buttons on the laptop and the screen lit up. Gemma took a moment to look her over as she navigated to her email. The black yoga pants hugged her ass and the fitted t-shirt accentuated the curve of her back. She couldn’t help but remember the soft curves when Izzy had been naked last weekend. The feel of her smooth skin under her fingertips. The way she arched her back when she’d touched her, so feline and graceful. It was such a beautiful contrast to Cross’s calloused skin – his hard body and coarse hair. Both sexy. Both enticing in different ways.

“There,” she said, pointing to the screen. “I brought up all the links in different tabs. Just flip through them. Let me know if there’s anything good.”

She gave her a sly smile. “Think he sent us porn?”

Izzy grinned. “That’d be fun.”

Both chuckling, they got to work, Izzy making drinks in the kitchen, Gemma at the computer. She clicked on the first tab.

The first few paragraphs explain
ed the acronym BDSM. Bondage, discipline, domination, submission, sadomasochism. Well they had already received an up-close lesson on all of those, hadn’t they?

The next site was about something called protocol.
The word sounded familiar and she thought Cross had mentioned something about it. “Hm. This says a submissive is supposed to keep her eyes averted when a dominant enters a room.”

“I don’t think there’s ‘supposed to’ when it comes to BDSM, Gemma. I think everyone does things their own way.”

“I think Cross likes this protocol stuff. He seems very...disciplined. I wonder how far his kinks go.” She cringed as she read down a list of common protocols. “I’m not sleeping in a cage.”

“Have you noticed that the D in Dom is always capitalized and the S in sub, lower case?”
Izzy handed her a drink that smelled like a margarita.

She took a sip, pleased it tasted like one and was strong too. She needed a good buzz to get through these websites.
“Does that mean we have to speak to him in capital letters?”

Izzy chuckled
behind her, drink in hand, and peered over her shoulder. “Being submissive means remembering lots of rules.”

“Yeah.” She snorted. “I’m not so good at that.”

Izzy leaned in and placed her hand over Gemma’s on the mouse. Her brown hair hung near the side of Gemma’s face, smelling like flowery shampoo. The warm hand over hers made a shiver crawl up her spine. What the hell was in this margarita?

“Let’s check this one,” she
murmured, clicking on another tab. Gemma could barely focus on the screen. The heat coming off Izzy was too distracting.

“Funishment versus punishment. That sounds interesting.”

Gemma snorted. “I think I can guess what that means. And which I’d like better.” Though she put up a bold front around Izzy and Cross, the idea of punishment – her will being ignored, her body controlled – she shuddered. The strap came to mind – the ugly thing that looked wicked enough to leave bruises. Would Cross really use it on her if she got too mouthy – if she disobeyed him? A secret part of her, buried way down deep, wanted him to follow through. And the rebellious part of her – that bucked conformity and hated the word
obey
– wanted to put him to the test. Could she take it if he took that strap to her? Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out.

“Look,” Izzy’s voice pulled her from
her nefarious plans. She pointed to a photo of a woman kneeling in front of a man, wearing a collar while the man held the leash. Warmth rushed downward, heating between her legs. She squirmed in the chair. Did she look like that when Cross made her kneel? Did she look all girly and adoring – ready to do anything Cross asked her to? God, she hoped not. She should at least make him earn her obedience. Important things like that shouldn’t just be given, should they?

There were words on the picture.
Good girls get spanked. Bad girls get punished.

“Do we qualify as good girls or bad?” Gemma asked and turned her head to see Izzy. She was surprised to find Izzy leaned way over, her cheek only inches from Gemma’s.

Izzy arched a brow in response.

She chuckled. “Yeah. Thought so.” Confused and slightly irritated by her arousal, she flipped to the last website.
“Bratting?”

“He called us brats, remember? A couple times.”

She’d thought he was being funny, not that it was a real thing in the BDSM world. Based on this website, she guessed he didn’t like it.

“I don’t think he likes brats,” Izzy said.

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

“‘Bratting is a term used when a sub purposefully disobeys or does something to provoke the Dom in an outright rude or playful manner,’” Izzy read the first sentence on the page. “I understand the rude part – I’d never do anything to seriously anger Cross – but if we tease playfully, what’s so bad about that?”

She mirrored Izzy’s sentiments exactly. “Ugh! It seems like at best we’re silly little girls and at worst we’re insecure attention whores!”

“
Hmm.” Izzy studied the page and Gemma watched her suck on her lip. “I think it only matters what the Dom wants.”