The Dom With the Perfect Brats (18 page)

When she found herself thinking too much about how
Izzy had tasted when she’d kissed her last time, she turned back to the screen to distract herself. “Oh!” Gemma pointed to the next paragraph. “See? It says some Doms like brats and find the challenge fun and interesting.”

Izzy sighed. “I don’t think that’s our Dom.”

“Who says he’s our Dom?” she bit, offended he didn’t find her teasing funny. “I bet we’re on a trial run anyway. We’ll fail and he’ll move on.” Fuck if she was going to bust her ass to live up to anybody’s standards ever again. It hadn’t worked out so well with Sean, no matter how hard she’d tried. He’d still moved on.

Izzy bumped her arm. “Don’t be such a downer. Maybe we can convince him to like brats. As long as we’re not too cheeky.”

“I don’t think we’re that bad. Do you?”

“Bad is subjective.” She started to close the tabs they’d been looking at. “Seems like most BDSM is
subjective too.”

“Wait.”

Izzy froze.

Gemma leaned in toward the computer. On the right column on one of the websites, there was a link called
The Road to Submission – One Woman’s Journey
. “Click on that.”

It opened to a blog. She scanned the entry at the top of the page. At the word “Master” she scoffed and moved to the second entry called
Submission from the Heart.
Izzy stayed silent behind her as she read the few paragraphs. One sentence stood out from the rest.

Submission is the ultimate act of courage – nothing tests the bonds of trust more than putting your body and soul in the hands of another.

“Hmm,” Izzy said. “These websites are all very dry and instructional.”

Gemma stared at the screen – the words wiggled their way into her head and she couldn’t shake them. Courage. Trust. Was that what submission was about? Not weak-willed people who needed to be told what to do because they couldn’t decide for themselves?

Trust was hard won by her, especially now, after tasting betrayal with Sean. Would she be able to give herself to a man again? Trust was a risk. Risks took courage. It made sense. And what better way to prove you trusted someone than to volunteer to be trussed up like a sacrificial lamb? Maybe there was more to submission than she thought. But one thing was clear – submission was hard. He wanted too much from her. Pride got in the way of humble obedience, especially when it came to humiliating things such as standing in a corner. She’d always struggled with humility. It felt like Cross wanted to strip her bare – body, mind, and soul – then gaze at her most vulnerable parts. Or maybe he wanted to take away her personality too. The thought almost brought tears to her eyes. She liked herself. Couldn’t he?

“I’d prefer the porn,
” Izzy said on a laugh that startled Gemma out of her haze.

“Uh, y
eah.” She pushed her deep ponderings away for now. “Or learning hands-on.”

Izzy walked around to the other side of the counter and leaned on her elbows. “Maybe we should,” she said with a sly smile.

“What?”

“Maybe we should practice.”

She didn’t know if she liked that greedy glitter starting in Izzy’s eyes. “Here? By ourselves?”

“Yeah.
” She stood up. “Come on. I’ll spank you.”

Gemma felt her cheeks heat.
“Uhh.”

“Oh
, now you’re shy?” she teased. “You were practically begging for it the other day.”

A dare?
“That was different.” She scowled. “And so were you, brat.”

“Come on.” Izzy came around the corner and grabbed Gemma’s hand then gave it a tug. “Let’s call it research. Cross will be pleased we experimented on our own.”

She snorted. “Like extra credit?”

“Yes.” Izzy tugged harder and reluctantly Gemma followed her. “Here.
Bend over the couch.”

She swallowed hard. Was she really going t
o do this? It was one thing to be
forced
into a spanking, it was quite another to do it willingly. And for a girl, no less. But Izzy wasn’t a Domme. This was just for fun. And Gemma doubted the skinny little thing could do much harm. With a sigh, she bent over the back of the couch.

“For extra credit,” she told Izzy firmly.
“And you’d better leave my shorts where they are.”

Izzy
chuckled. “Quit being such a baby. I’ll let you do it to me next.”

She had no interest in that past possible revenge, depending on how hard Izzy hit her.
A hand rested softly on her spine just above her ass. She exhaled a breath and waited. Nothing happened. The hand on her low back slid down, slowly, over the waistband of her jeans. She clutched a throw pillow. Waiting was the hardest part. Izzy’s hand drifted over the curve of one cheek then grazed the top of her thigh. It tickled and made her wiggle.

Just do it already
, she wanted to scream.

Izzy’s hand lifted away. “Fuck.”

Gemma turned to look over her shoulder. “What?”

Her eyes were squeezed shut as she drew in ragged breaths. “I don’t want to spank you, Gemma.”

“You don’t?”

She finally opened her eyes. Her gaze landed on Gemma and pinned her in place more than her trembling hand did. “
No,” she breathed almost too soft to hear. “I want to kiss you.”

Gemma turned around to face her fully and leaned against the back of the couch.
Izzy moved forward, crowding her, making her have to arch backward to keep their breasts from touching. In fact, if Gemma leaned back any further, she’d flip backward over the couch and land on her head. What was she running from? This was just Izzy. They’d kissed before, though the last time had been after the belt and she was feeling a bit...giddy.

She s
topped trying to get away and went forward instead, meeting Izzy for the kiss. She could smell her signature chapstick before their lips even touched. Soft lips. Warm breath. It was familiar – even more than Cross. He kissed with his whole body. Izzy liked to nibble and play. Gemma had never thought of lips being an erogenous zone. Kissing had always been an obligation. But with Izzy, it was...fun.

Gemma started to tease back – nipping at her top lip then pulling away a bit. Using the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip then stopping. Before long, Gemma realized Izzy was grinding up against her hips as she kissed her.

She pulled away, flushed and breathing hard. They gazed at each other awkwardly for a moment. Finally, Gemma whispered hoarsely, “You’re bi, aren’t you?”

Izzy flinched back a bit. “What? Why –”

“Don’t lie to me. Please.”

She sighed
and her shoulders sagged. Gemma felt the urge to pull her in for a hug but stopped herself. Encouraging a bi chick to lust after a straight one seemed like a bad idea. And despite all the girl-on-girl action recently, she was still straight. Experimental and adventurous, but straight. Wasn’t she?

“Yes,”
she answered quietly.

It didn’t surprise her but it did change things – a little. What
started as an adventurous fling now felt much more serious. To be sure, she asked, “And you like me...like that?”

Izzy
finally looked at her. With brows raised, she smirked. “If that’s not obvious, I must be kissing you wrong.”

Sh
e broke out in a nervous laugh. “No. The kiss was...the kiss was good.”

Her smirk changed to a wide smile and she placed her hands on Gemma’s hips. They felt hot even through her sweater –
like two marks of desire. She panicked. That Izzy had admitted she was bi and liked her more than just platonically took this adventure to a whole different level.

“Checklist,” she blurted.

Izzy’s smile faded and her brow furrowed. “What?”

“Cross wanted us to fill out that checklist. He’ll be mad if we don’t.” Izzy’s hands on her felt good – too good – and she held her breath, waiting for her to remove them. When she did, she finally exhaled
, but she didn’t like Izzy’s look of disappointment. “We can fill it out together. I’ll sit with you.”

She could handle sitting close, but she needed to focus on something else. Her mind off
of every move Izzy made, every facial expression, would help her relax and control her own confusing desires. At least she hoped so.

Izzy pushed away. “Okay.”

Her words said one thing but her trembling hands and shaky smile said another. She couldn’t stand that look of anxiety on her friend. Grabbing both Izzy’s hands she said, “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

She gave Gemma a sideways glance. “You didn’t give me much choice.”

“I don’t know why you hid it for so long. It’s no big deal. I had lots of gay and bi friends growing up.”

Izzy looked surprised. “It doesn’t bother you that I’m bi?
People back at home...didn’t like it.”

“Of course not.” She laughed. “No offense but it was kinda obvious after a while.”

With an exaggerated scowl, she yanked on Gemma’s hands so she fell forward into Izzy’s body. Izzy planted a quick peck on her lips. “Obvious, am I, Miss Will You Be My Girlfriend?” She pretended to swoon and Gemma scoffed.

“Shut up! I wasn’t asking
you
that.” She nibbled on her lip.

Izzy arched a brow, smiling. “Who were you asking then?”

She thought for a moment. “Cross’s belt.”

They both burst into laughter.

“Figures you’d like his belt better than me, you crazy masochist bitch,” Izzy said, wiping her eyes. “And here I thought we had something special.”

Feeling silly and bold, she licked the side of Izzy’s neck.

Izzy giggled and tried to get away but somewhere in their burst of laughter, she’d gotten Izzy pinned up against the back of the couch. “Ew. Quit slobbering on me!”

“We do have something special,”
Gemma said, running a finger down her neck, over the wet spot she’d made. It wasn’t a lie or an exaggeration. What she felt for Izzy rivaled what she’d felt for Sean when they’d begun dating. Puppy love. Maybe it was the margarita talking but why fight it? “And now I’m asking you, not Cross’s belt, do you maybe want to be girlfriends? With me?”

Izzy stared at her blankly for a moment and Gemma started to panic. Did she read her all wrong? She couldn’t stomach a rejection.
Despite the fact that she didn’t identify as being bi, it would hurt if she only wanted to be friends. Then Izzy cracked a smile.

“That was the cutest proposal ever.” Her voice cracked
as she tried to hold back laughter.

Gemma rolled her eyes. “I’m taking that as a yes
. Now let’s do this stupid checklist so we don’t get in trouble.”

They printed two copies of the checklist. Izzy handed her a pen then sat on the loveseat. She gazed up at Gemma with a sly smile, knowing full well there wasn’t much room on the seat and Gemma would have to be squished up against her.

She shook her head but had to smile. “Brat.”

After plopping down next to her
, she looked over the list. Their knees touched but she didn’t pull away. Focus! She scanned the list of at least thirty names of activities with boxes next to each one marked yes, no, and maybe. Some of the terms, she understood, some she’d merely heard of, some were downright frightening. It was overwhelming and her head started to spin.

With a heavy sigh, she looked at Izzy. “Wanna ditch this and watch a movie?”

“Absolutely.”

An hour later, in the middle of her all-time favorite comedy, her head ended up in Izzy’
s lap with Izzy’s fingers sliding through her hair as they laughed and repeated lines from the movie. And for some reason, bi or not, it felt right.

Cross

The messages flashed at him from his corded landline, menacing, making him wish he could delete them without listening. His girls and his friends had his cell number and would just text him rather than resort to something as archaic as home voicemail.

His girls? How had that thought snuck in? He’d promised himself some time off from anything serious after things had gone south with Josie. Real time off – not just a few
months.

He eyed the flashing light on the phone again and sighed. No use delaying the inevitable.

There were only three messages from his mother demanding money for medication from her whore son. Only three messages in twenty-four hours? She was slipping. The next number was blocked.

“One thirty-four PM.” Why were the computerized voices they used so irritating?

“Hi, Sir? It’s Sarah. Um...”

There was a pause and he forced himself not to roll his eyes.
Be kind
, he admonished himself.

“I just wanted to tell you I was a good girl, Sir. I drove by your shop today but I didn’t go in to see if you were there. I didn’t even stop my car, Sir.” Her voice fawned – ple
aded – with his voicemail. “I know it’s been like a year since you retired, but... I’m willing to pay you double. I’ll make myself available whenever is convenient for you. Please, I... just need to see you.” She sniffled.

Another scathing message from his mother, then another message from Sarah.

“Cross? Uh, I just wanted to tell you that I think my husband saw some of our texts on my phone about an hour ago. He was scrolling through my messages when I got out of the shower and he looked pissed. He tossed my phone at me and left. Maybe it was nothing though. Maybe he just saw the text from my sister saying that my new boots were a steal – I wasn’t supposed to spend money this week. Sorry. It’s just that he gets crazy jealous sometimes, even though he doesn’t pay attention to me any more than he ever did. Anyway...never mind.”

A final message was also from her.

“It’s okay. He didn’t see them. It was something else that set him off. Sorry.”

A cry for attention, it sounded like. So things with the Dom he’d weaned her onto hadn’t worked out, he was guessing. Unless she was going behind his back. It was bad enough her husband didn’t know, but that was none of
Cross’s business. He sighed, realizing he’d probably have to sit her down for a chat again. It had come close to having to file a restraining order the time he’d arrived home to find her sitting in his kitchen, uninvited. She wasn’t supposed to have known his real name, let alone where he lived. A few had hunted him down. Some days he felt like a therapist.

And at this point he sure as hell didn’t need her money.
His retirement nest egg was well invested, and he was living off of the interest at this point, thanks to things he’d learned while doing his business degree. It was kind of like the stripper paying her way through med school story, but with less nudity and education.

Pro-Domming had messed him up, Cross had to admit. The few others he’d met must have been better at compartmentalizing than he was. He’d gone from being an affectionate, emotionally engaged Dom to someone
who commanded wealthy, spoiled women with a cold aloofness. Maybe it was true, sometimes, that if you did what you loved for money, it could screw things up. Although he’d never had sex with any of them, and had guarded himself from emotional attachment, his real life D/s relationship had suffered. So had the next. And the next. Somehow, accidentally, he’d disconnected love from his BDSM, and that lack wasn’t sitting well.

More disturbingly, had he ever loved any of them? He couldn’t think of a girlfriend
who he’d been heartbroken over when he’d ended things. And it was always Cross who ended things. A few years before, he had tried to pretend that the true love thing was a myth perpetuated by card companies and writers of chick flicks. But now he’d seen what Jude had with his girls, and he knew the problem was him.

Did he have an attachment disorder? He glanced at the outdated
Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders
in his bookcase, regretting the day he’d picked it up at the university book sale. Nothing like making yourself a psychological disorder hypochondriac by browsing through a book.

Hell, it would serve him right if the girls took a shine to each other and dumped his ass. He thought about that for a moment then realized it was making his chest tight. Upset about
things ending with them? He supposed that maybe it was because things with them were new, and the two girls at once thing was always fun.

But no, he shook his head, there was something about these specific girls. They were mouthy and funny. They made him laugh and challenged him, made him think. They wanted to learn, but were scared. They fought him, but he’d seen that look when they got submissive – the one that made him feel like he could do anything, or that they believed he could.

Gemma and Izzy were teachable. They were already better behaved than Q and Sabrina. He smirked, wondering just how much he could ride Jude about that. Not that sub training was a competition, but competition was just part of how he and Jude related. And he and Malachi too, for that matter.

Cross stripped off his t-shirt and jeans and took a quick shower. He was expecting the girls in a few minutes, but he’d been talking to a guy having a smoke outside the tattoo shop earlier and the stench still clung to him. Cigarette smoke reminded him of his mother’s strident lectures, which were often punctuated with her burning him or something equally unpleasant. He was relieved Izzy and Gemma weren’t smokers. Could you dom someone out of smoking?

He buttoned clean jeans and had walked to the closet to grab a shirt when there was a knock. After pulling a random black shirt off a hanger, he padded barefoot to the door. He swung the door open. Both girls stood there, mouths slightly open, focused on his chest. Gemma’s gaze slid to his arm and up his neck to his face. Izzy’s went downward instead.

“Won’t you come in?” he invited with mock formality, bowing slightly. When he straightened, he pulled on his t-shirt.

“Such a crime,” Izzy sighed.

“Tell me about it,” Gemma grumbled. “We should seriously consider taking away his clothing privileges.

Cross eyed their short shorts and tight t-shirts and wondered how soon he could take away
their
clothing privileges without having them flip out.

“‘
A bound body frees the mind.’” Gemma read off of his shirt. “Do you own a shirt that doesn’t have a kink slogan on it?”

He grinned. “Several. Didn’t realize which one I had on. I’m glad I didn’t
grab one that’s shocking.”

Izzy nudged the door shut behind them and the girls walked to the couch
, flopping down together and looking cozy.

Cross raised a brow. “Did you look at those websites?”

He expected an answer other than Izzy smothering a laugh and Gemma blushing. Neither looked at the other or at him.

With a shrug, Cross walked to the bedroom and returned with his newest purchases. He threw them on the floor.

“Are you planning on getting a puppy or two?” Gemma arched a brow at him.

“Kneel,” he said, gesturing to the padded mats.

They stared at him, neither of them moving to comply.

“Kneel!” The barked command got better results.

Looking at Cross as though he’d lost his mind, they rose from the couch and slowly knelt on the mats. They scowled up at him.

Instantly, his cock got hard.

“Now, I asked you two a question. Answer me.”

Izzy’s eyes widened, but Gemma still looked like she was considering smacking him if he got close enough.

“W-we got together last night and...looked at the sites,” Izzy stammered. She blushed and glanced at Gemma.

“And?”

Izzy gulped. “We kinda made out a bit.” The red from her cheeks extended to cover her entire face to her hairline. She couldn’t meet his gaze. Embarrassed to tell him they’d fooled around even when he didn’t make them?

Groaning inwardly, Cross felt his cock twitch. Here he’d been wondering what they thought of the sites, and instead he got an admission that they had played together in his absence. He hadn’t forbidden it, but he certainly hadn’t expected it.
Thoughts of the two of them naked and entwined made the confines of his jeans almost painful.

“What did you do?”

“Don’t answer him, Izzy. There are plenty of
Girls Gone Wild
videos if he wants something for his spank bank. Nosy man.”

Cross leaned in close and grabbed the back of Gemma’s hair, giving her head a small shake. She gasped and her breasts heaved in her tight t-shirt. “You’ll tell me because I asked you a question, girl. Answer.”

Her glare was set to stun, but it barely fazed him. He waited.

Eventually she huffed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. We just kissed a little.”

He smiled in approval and tightened his grip on her hair, then untangled his hand and let go. Gemma sighed and her head tilted slightly to the side. Exposing her throat? Cross stroked the side of her neck with two fingers and her eyes fell closed. Her lips parted. Nah, she wasn’t a submissive. He decided to keep his chuckle to himself.

“There. Was that so
hard?”

She didn’t answer but her eyes were slightly glazed. Interesting.

“We were going to experiment with spanking but we got side-tracked,” Izzy explained. “The links you sent were sooo boring! We thought we’d play around a little so we didn’t nod off entirely. We decided we’re hands-on learners.”

“Hmm.
You two can make out anytime you want, of course, as long as I haven’t said not to. But for the hands-on BDSM part you come to me. I wouldn’t want you two to hurt each other by accident. Some activities aren’t safe to try out without training. Okay?” Two almost-vanilla girls trying to spank each other? That must have been adorable. “Now, we need to start talking a little about protocol. In a few weeks I’m taking you two to dinner with some friends of mine, and I want to make sure you know a bit about what I expect of you, understand?”

“Oh my
god.” Gemma grimaced. “You’re taking us to some kind of kinky orgy dinner party?”

“No, no
.” He laughed. Her expression was priceless. “Just over to visit some friends who are also kinksters. They’re in a relationship like ours, but it’s long-term. They’ve been together for a couple of years now, I think.”

“There’s three of them? And they’re not just a temporary threesome?” She looked thoughtful.

“They’re swingers.” Gemma replied.

“They’re in a committed relationship. No swinging.
They’d get married if they were allowed to.” The girls eyed him skeptically. “Anyway, we’re going there for supper. Jude’s women have been bugging to meet the two of you, but I wanted to give you a few more weeks of training first.”

Izzy’s mouth hung open for a moment. “
Jude? The guy who made your furniture? You’ve been talking to people about us?”

“A bit. Just to my close kinkster friends, and no
t about anything personal or private.” He paced back and forth in front of them a few times before stopping to assess their posture. “When you kneel for me when we’re alone together, I want your knees wide apart. Knees together if we’re with other people. Back straight. Hands behind your head unless I tell you they can be on your thighs.”

They stared at him, unmoving.

He smirked. “Starting now.”

Izzy snapped into position, but Gemma was sloppy and there was a long pause before she complied. She looked like she was going to roll her eyes.

“You are to look at me if I’m in front of you. If I’m behind you or out of the room, stare straight ahead.” Cross corrected Gemma’s posture with firm hands, and adjusted the angle of her head. She glared at him but stayed where he put her.

“Girl, you might want to think about your expression. You’ll get in more trouble if you’re making faces at me.” He arched a brow at her and she re-schooled her features to look like an adoring idiot. “Silent sass is still sass, Miss Gemma. Maybe you need to be reminded who’s boss.”

She frowned again. He reached out and pressed gently down on the crease between her bottom lip and chin. Gemma’s mouth popped open like a charm. She squeaked in alarm and yanked her head away, snapping her teeth closed.

“Are you going to be a good girl, or am I going to use your mouth?”

Gemma gasped and a blush rose from her neckline to her face. She recovered quickly. “And how would that work if I didn’t cooperate, huh?”

“Don’t worry.
I could make you do it. Would you like me to show you?”

She shifted where she knelt, closing her knees and rubbing her thighs together.

He snapped his fingers at her and gestured at her clenched legs. “Do you see company? No? Open, then.”

“Fuck you,” Gemma growled. Izzy burst out laughing. “No one snaps in my face. Not
–”

He yanked her to her feet and marched her across the room, one hand wrapped around her upper arm and the other hand buried in her hair. Gemma mewled and plucked at his fingers, but he didn’t loosen his hold. When they arrived at his desk, he shoved her face down on its surface. “Stay!”