Corruption: Part One (BDSM Flash Romance)

Cole is exactly the wrong kind of guy for me—the kind you can just smell the trouble on. 

All the girls at the restaurant know to stay away from him, whether it’s his reputation, his Harley, or just that look in his eye.

So why can’t I stop thinking about him?

Ever since Nick cheated on me, I’ve felt like a second-hand pair of shoes. But there’s something about the way Cole looks at me, something that lights a fire in me and makes me feel powerful.

I should look the other way. Bide my time until I graduate and leave this place in the rearview mirror.

But I’m just not sure I can help myself.

---

“Lucy. Guy at table three has been waiting on you for twenty minutes. What the fuck is taking so long?” 

Gary stands too close to me, the way he does with all the girls here. His big nose and silver hair make him look something like an aging hawk. But that could also be the fact that he keeps sticking his nose in my work.

I clear my throat and hold my ground, refusing to back down from his intimidation. “He wanted a re-order on a perfectly fine steak. I’m still waiting on it.” And the guy’s a royal jackass, but I leave that part out.

Gary’s eyes tighten, his cornflower blue tie at odds with his soul-sucking personality. “Well. Hurry up before I have to comp his meal or it’s coming out of your tips.” 

“Yes sir.” I roll my eyes when he turns his back, returning to the two drinks in my hands. The guy at table three can go fuck himself for the one-dollar tip I already know he’s going to leave me.

To think I dreamed of working at this place, back before I knew that Gary preys on any girls about my age with a decent enough rack. As far as I know, he’s never made a move. He just likes the view.

“Here you go, guys. Margherita and a scotch. Can I get you anything else?” Smiling at the young couple at table two, I clasp my hands together in front of me. 

She shakes her head while he toys with her fingers across the table. It might be cute if I hadn’t just broken up with Nick. “No, thank you.” She doesn’t take her eyes off of him when she answers. 

“Let me know if anything comes up. And have a lovely meal.” Touching the edge of the table before I turn away, I rush back to the kitchen just in time to see Cole set the re-ordered steak on the warmer. 

“Thanks.” I offer him a tight smile as I grab the plate. He looks overworked and sexy as hell, as always. He’s such a control freak in the kitchen it’s a wonder he lets any of his other chefs touch a plate.

He nods, wiping a tattooed hand on his towel. “Tell Gary to keep his panties on. It takes time to create art.”

Laughing under my breath on the way to the table, I plaster the biggest smile I can manage on my face and deliver the steak to a plump man with sweat beading on his brow and a beer belly that barely fits in the seat. 

“I’m so sorry about the wait, sir. This one is just the way you like it.” I should have spit in it, but that’s not my style. Even if he does deserve it.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves me away and cuts into the meat while I struggle to keep my face even. The second he gets through, I cock my head.

“Does that look better for you?” I will have to unscrew this damn smile by the end of the night. He comes in twice a week and every time he finds something to complain about before leaving the world’s smallest tip. 

He grunts in response, settling into his seat with an air of superiority I’m not sure I could ever match.

It’s only another year, Lucy. The second I graduate college, I’m out of here. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.” Like a fork in the leg. 

“Did you—” Gary points a finger at me on my way past, his beady eyes boring into my skull.

I hold a hand up to stop him, passing by his silver hair without a second look. “Already taken care of.”

The rest of my shift drags, even with Angela to keep me laughing between tables. Of all the girls here, she’s the only one who has enough personality to be remotely interesting. The rest of them are drones.

Busy as we are, I can’t stop looking at Cole every time I pick up an order. How on earth can he look so sexy in my least favorite place on earth? 

His broad shoulders and toned biceps are visible through his white uniform, as is the shadow of a massive tattoo on his left arm. Sweat glistens on the back of his neck while he works, a familiar rhythm in his step.

“Try not to drool,” Angela whispers in my ear as she scoots around me with a tray in her hands. Her tiny blonde form is already on the way out the door while I gape at her.

“Shut up,” I hiss after her, even though she can’t hear me. I do not drool. But even if I did, Cole seems like a pretty damn good excuse.

There are so many couples in my section tonight, I’m starting to wonder if Gary had the hostess seat them there on purpose to rub it in my face. The night after I broke up with Nick, I called in. And he has been looking for an excuse to fire me ever since. 

Nevermind the fact that I’m his fastest server. Or the fact that I’ve turned at least thirty customers into regulars in the last two years alone. He can’t afford to lose me, no matter how strict he is about his rules. 

The longer the night wears on, the more sweat beads on the back of Cole’s neck. I’ve heard the warnings since I started here: Cole is trouble. Do not engage. In his thirty-something years, he’s broken more hearts than you could imagine. 

But all I can feel when I catch him looking at me is heat—and it has nothing to do with the kitchen. When I pick up what I hope is the last order of the night, I swear I catch him winking at me.

My cheeks flush on my way to the table. Did I really just see that? Or am I just so hot and bothered that I’ve started imagining things? Either way, I’m not sure how much longer I can hold out.

---

I stumble into my dorm room, exhausted after another long and grueling shift. The weight of the day clings to my bones, dragging me down. 

Part of me knows I shouldn’t be working so much with my current class load, but I can’t help it. The distraction from being on my feet all day is pretty much the only thing keeping me sane right now.

The world outside seems distant and hazy as I close the door behind me. All I want is to collapse onto my bed and disappear into sleep.

But as I sink into the worn-out mattress, a familiar scent hits my senses. 

Nick. 

His lingering presence haunts every inch of this room. When I close my eyes, I can still see that night, beads of sweat rolling down his back while he fucked her into his mattress.

I shouldn’t have been surprised, really. For days after I caught them, memories kept shifting frames - all the times I couldn’t get hold of him, or when he canceled plans last minute.

Smug son of a bitch probably went back to finish with her right after he chased after me.

The sheets I've washed countless times still carry his essence, a constant reminder of what we had, or rather, what we didn't have.

He never cheated on me in this bed, but it doesn’t matter; I can't bear it any longer. The longer I lay here, the more his manipulative words and controlling behavior still echo in my ears, replaying like a broken record. 

Fuck him.

I force myself up, the ache in my heart overpowering my fatigue. Determination fuels my steps as I gather the sheets and make my way to the laundry room. One more wash, one more attempt to erase him from my life. But deep down, I know that no amount of washing can cleanse the stains of his presence.

As I wait for the cycle to finish, I try to distract myself with homework. It’s too late to be doing any of this, considering I have class tomorrow. But I can’t sleep if I’m smelling him all night - even if it is imagined. 

Try as I might to focus, though, the words on the page blur together, my mind wandering to thoughts of Cole. Did I imagine that wink he gave me? Probably. 

But I’ve been thinking about it ever since. 

The timer on my phone rattles me, but I quickly turn it off and head for the laundry room, hauling my sheets out of the dryer without a basket. My brain is on overdrive, wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to feel the warmth of his lips against mine. Would it be different? Would it be healing?

Or am I just kidding myself, when the reality is I’d probably just be thinking about Nick?

Abandoning the open textbook on my desk, I dress the bed robotically, barely seeing the bed in front of me while I think of his tattooed skin. 

Cole might be trouble, but there’s no harm in fantasizing a little. Crawling into my freshly made bed, I wait for my heartbeat to slow. 

When it doesn’t, I close my eyes, allowing my imagination to paint vivid pictures of Cole's lips on mine. In this ethereal realm, I can taste the possibilities, the sweetness of a connection yet to be explored.

But the fantasy is short-lived. The reality of Nick's presence lingers, suffocating the air around me. I can't escape his ghost, and the stench of his memory invades every breath. It's unbearable. In a surge of determination, I rip the sheets off the bed, casting them aside. They're tainted, irredeemable.

With trembling hands, I gather my belongings and make my way to the nearest garbage bin. One by one, I discard the remnants of a love gone wrong. The weight of the fabric leaving my hands brings a strange mix of relief and grief. It's a small act, but it symbolizes my defiance, my declaration of reclaiming myself.

As I return to my dorm room, the bed now stripped and bare, I feel a flicker of liberation. The room feels different, as if the suffocating presence of Nick has been pushed aside, if only for a moment. I'm left alone with my thoughts, my wounds, and the glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance for healing beyond the torment.

Tonight, I'll sleep on a bed stripped of tainted memories, surrounded by the possibility of new beginnings. And in the depths of the darkness, I'll dream of a kiss that carries the promise of something real, something different.

---

When my shift is finally over, I lean my head against my locker and close my eyes. 

“You alright?” Angela touches my shoulder, her face filled with concern. At twenty-eight, she should have aged out by now. Gary prefers his girls under twenty-five. But Angela looks as young as I do, if not younger. And grad school isn’t going to pay for itself. 

Forcing my eyes open, I nod at her. “I’ve got two exams coming up this week and no time to study.”

“Well, you could always ask Gary to cut you  a break.” She rolls her eyes and busies herself in her locker changing out of the black polo we all wear in favor of an old t-shirt. 

“Yeah,” I scoff, stuffing my apron in my locker and gathering my things. I had to bribe the woman in the dorm office to let me switch rooms, after my ill-formed lie about serious allergies failed to convince her, and my new roommate has serious hang-ups about any shred of light in the dorm past eleven.

Angela fixes her ponytail, slapping my ass when I bend over to switch into tennis shoes. “If you end up fucking Cole, will you at least tell me about it? Some of us aren’t so blessed.”

“What?” My face goes red instantly. Other than the girls who are about to quit, Cole stays away from the wait staff. Fantasizing about him helps me get through my shifts, but that’s as far as it could ever go. And I really ought to heed the warnings, anyway. I’m still smarting from my last foray into romance.

“Come on.” She gives me a look that tells me I’m missing something huge. “You think we haven’t noticed the steamy looks you guys have been giving each other? He doesn’t even look at me—or Kendall or Jamie, for that matter. And Kendall’s a D-cup.”

“Yeah, right.” But I can’t help the images flashing through my head. How much I’d like to know what’s underneath that white chef’s coat…

She laughs on her way out, poking my shoulder with a knowing grin. “Trust me. You’ve got a chance if you want it.” Pausing in the doorway, she takes a deep breath. “But if you’re smart you won’t,” she adds before she disappears.

I take a deep breath and close my locker, shaking the thought from my mind. There is no good reason to ruin my life over a bad boy when I’m this close to graduation. Aside from the fact that just looking at him makes my stomach clench.

Outside, the air is cool, the smell of exhaust thick in the air even on the back side of the building. I spend a full minute digging around my backpack for my keys before I smell the smoke and stiffen, my head jerking in the direction of the scent.

Cole leans with his back against the wall, a cigarette in his mouth and his eyes on the dark clouds above us. My heart beats out a frantic rhythm, Angela’s words mixing with my own imagination to cloud my thoughts.

When he sees me, he offers me a short nod, the end of his cigarette glowing in the night. His hooded eyes penetrate the darkness, and I feel a shiver run up my spine. 

“Long night tonight,” I comment, my throat tight. What an idiot. Angela is so wrong I’m going to wring her neck for making me embarrass myself like this. I need an exit strategy before I can say anything too stupid. 

He nods, flicking away some ash. “Gary’s had it out for you for weeks.”

He noticed? I didn’t think he paid attention to in-house politics. Gary tends to stay out of his business, the rumor being that Cole held him up by the lapels and put the fear of god into him the last time he tried to interfere in the menu. 

“Yeah, well. I brought that on myself.” Taking slow steps toward him, I shove my hands in my pockets and lean against the wall two feet away from him.

“You’re the most competent server he has. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” He takes another drag, closing his eyes when he exhales. He has ditched his jacket, leaving only a white t-shirt and jeans that he must have changed into before he came outside. 

An uninterrupted sleeve of tattoos snakes from his hand up past the line of his shirt, the designs a mix of bold and intricate lines. I know I should stop staring, but I can’t stop myself from tracing over the lines to make sense of the designs.

“When do you graduate?” he asks, turning to face me as his eyes run the length of my body.

“Next year,” I answer immediately. It’s like he has a direct line to my libido. I can feel my skin heat beneath his stare.

He nods again, dropping the filter and putting it out with his shoe before he lights another one. “Well, you won’t have to deal with it for long, then.”

A small laugh escapes me, warning me that I might be a bit hysterical.

You have a chance if you want it. Is Angela right? Is this my chance to find out whether all those fantasies are legit? I can’t believe I’m even entertaining the thought. But then I think of Nick and my heart aches, so deep I don’t know if I’ll ever escape it.

“Do you want to grab a drink?” I ask, the words tumbling out and making me sound certifiable, probably. 

He remains calm, flicking ash away and taking his sweet time to answer. Never in a rush, this man. “Are you even legal?” he asks at last, running one hand through his perfectly mussed hair.

“Yes.” Only just. My twenty-first birthday is a night I can barely remember, which is for the best all things considered.

He looks me up and down again, his gaze lingering on my breasts, my hips. Keeping one hand in his pocket, he takes a long drag of his cigarette. “I’m too old for you.”

“Who gives a fuck?” I ask before I can think better of it. His brows rise immediately as he struggles not to laugh. Cars sound in the distance, the only witnesses to my embarrassing attempt at flirting.

A year ago I never would have felt so nervous. It was easy to find dates in high school. Easy to get screwed over, too. That’s why I held on for dear life when I found Nick.

“I’ve had my share of corruption,” he says at last. “You ought to get home.”

There’s no home to go to—Nick saw to that. “I don’t take orders from you.” I meant for it to sound threatening, but my voice sounds squeaky and frail.

“Is that so?” Now I have his attention. He stalks up to me, all trace of humor erased from his face. Placing one hand on the wall beside my head, he inhales, turning his head to blow the smoke before he looks at me again, dropping the cigarette on the pavement.

His green eyes stare through me as he traces a finger over my jaw. “So if I told you to kiss me, that would count as an order, right?”

He’s daring me. I know it, and he knows it. From the looks of it, part of him is counting on my refusal. And it’s not like I don’t have my reasons. Fear mingles with excitement low in my belly, warning me to tell him no.

For a long time he just stands there, face an inch from mine and his long, muscular arm locking me in. Emboldened by the lust in his eyes and the slight bulge he’s packing, I grab his neck and pull him in, tasting smoke on his lips. 

He groans into the kiss, letting his body fall flush against mine. I expected to see Nick when I kissed him, to remember those big brown eyes and wish I had never been so stupid. 

But there is nothing outside the feel of his lips on mine, tasting me as he parts my lips with his tongue and claims me, one hand dropping to my waist while the other one stays on the wall.

“Christ,” he murmurs when he pulls away, surprise clear in the little crease between his eyes. His hand doesn’t stray from my waist, his fingers squeezing into my hips even as he looks for an excuse to walk away.

I could leave it at a kiss. I’m sure I could come up with some impressive visuals tonight and just take care of myself. But with him standing so close, the heat rolling off of him and his gaze trained on me in a way that makes me feel more wanted than I have in weeks, I don’t want to do the right thing. The smart thing.

“I’m not some fragile little flower, you know.” I’ve been chasing away cruddy guys away since I was a pimple-faced fourteen-year-old with a c-cup.

He grunst in response, brushing a stray hair from my face with his thumb.

“Nick was supposed to be the nice guy. We were together for almost three years.” My mother loved him, along with both my sisters.” Why the hell am I talking so much? The words just spill out of me. “He was everything I was supposed to find. Everything that was supposed to make me happy. 

“I thought I was done chasing boys when I found him,” I continue. Painful memories of all the plans I envisioned for our future together hit me full force. “Because he was the good guy.”

Again, he doesn’t answer. He just stares at me with that impenetrable look of his, chest rising and falling with his steady breaths. 

“Until I got off work early and caught him fucking my roommate.” This memory is the most visceral, filling me with such rage my fists clench at my sides. I have never felt so stupid in all my life.

Finally I see his face change, shifting into something between sympathy and resentment. He opens his mouth to answer, but I snap at him before he can reject me.

“The point is, I’m not delusional. I know what you are. But at least you have the balls to be honest about it.” At least he doesn’t parade around like he’s god’s gift to women, all the while screwing my best friend behind my back for who knows how long.

Quiet stretches between us, broken up only by the distant sound of cars on the road and feet shuffling down the sidewalk.

“I won’t be nice to you,” he says at last. He looks serious, eager for me to take it for what it is: the same warning everyone else has given me.

“I know.” I don’t need nice. God, I am so sick and tired of nice. Every last trace of trepidation leaves me, replaced by a fire in my belly I can’t control.

His eyes narrow on mine, searching for what, I don’t know. But eventually he grabs me by the hand and yanks me toward the parking lot, leading me to his truck. Good thing he didn't bring his bike tonight.

He doesn’t open the door for me, because this isn’t a date. I remind myself of that truth over and over again as we drive in silence, his attention fixed on the road.

Part of me yearns to hear him talk—to say anything to fill the silence. But the wiser part knows it is for the best. He’s not the kind of guy I can afford to get attached to.

---

By the time he pulls to a stop outside a modest apartment building, my nerves are at an all time high. Am I really about to do this? Casual hookups have never been my style; I’m a serial monogamist. But I can already feel that my panties are soaked in anticipation. 

“This is a one time thing. I don’t want you getting attached,” he reminds me on the stairs. I trail after him, trying to keep my breathing under control. 

“I know.” There are plenty of stories to back him up. If I’m going to do this, I need to get in, get out, and forget. It’s the only way to go back to work.

The apartment is surprisingly clean and sparsely decorated, other than a huge flat screen TV and an impressive stove. It is nicer than the exterior led me to believe, with stainless steel appliances and hardwood floors. But then he would spring for a nicer kitchen.

It smells like him, I realize, the musk of cologne mixed with a hint of smoke and something masculine I can’t put a name to. 

It’s intoxicating. 

“We’re going to need a safe word,” he says, wasting no time. I freeze in the front room, blood pumping in my ears. When he said he wouldn’t be nice, I’d assumed he meant he wouldn’t act like my boyfriend. I didn’t realize he meant the sex itself. 

“Why?” I ask, my spine rigid. What exactly is he planning to do to me?

He cocks his head and takes a deep breath. “Because you’re going to be saying ‘stop’ a lot, but you won’t mean it. We’ll need something else in case you want out.”

I can’t hide my gulp. He pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the full tattoo. It curls up over his shoulder and spills onto his chest, carving through the lean muscle there like a pen over rock.

He looks gratified at my surprise as he wads up his shirt and throws it on the couch. “Don’t worry. I’m not a psycho. I just like to play rough.”

His words send a spike of adrenaline straight down my belly, all the way down between my legs.

Nick didn’t give a shit about you, I remind myself. He was callous and privileged. Meanwhile Cole lays everything out in the open, not caring how bad it might sound. His candor gives me strength enough to pretend I’m not three seconds from chickening out.

“Pineapples,” I choke out, stuffing my hands in my pockets. One corner of his lip quirks up, and he nods. 

“Pineapples it is.” Holding out one hand, he waits for me to find my courage. I suck in a deep breath and take his hand, letting him lead me through a dark hallway to his bedroom. 

His sheets are deep green, so dark they’re almost black. The large window on the west wall is uncovered, but we are high enough I doubt anyone will see. Still, the yellow lights outside and tiny figures on the sidewalk make me tense.

He reaches for a metal chair in the corner of the room and sets it at the foot of the bed before rifling through a drawer, his silence making everything seem too slow and too fast at once, a never-ending moment.

Is this really happening? Or am I stuck in one of my fantasies? Pinching my thigh, I wince at the pain, watching quietly while he throws a pair of handcuffs on the bed, followed by two lengths of rope. 

Holy shit. I had no idea this is what they meant at the restaurant when they said he was trouble. Everything about him screams bad news, from his leather jackets to the familiar motorcycle I saw parked outside. But no one said anything about ropes.

“Have you ever heard of edging?” he asks, kicking off his shoes. I shake my head, twining my fingers in front of me. At the sight of my fear, he closes the distance between us and cups my face in his hand. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He kisses me, his lips soft, holding back what he delivered in the parking lot. “Well,” he corrects, “nothing more than you can handle.” 

My blood heats in my veins as fear gives way to a strange brand of excitement, like I’m about to pet a rare, dangerous animal. “Okay.” I nod a couple times, more for my benefit than for his. A devilish smile replaces the concern on his face and he takes a step back. 

“Strip down to your underwear,” he commands, reaching for the button on his jeans. I do as he says, ignoring my racing pulse. 

I can count the number of people who have seen me naked on one hand. If my parents had any idea where I was, they’d kick my ass.

As soon as I get my jeans off, he circles me. Had I known I would end up here, I would have chosen something other than white cotton. At least my bra has little lace detailing. Meanwhile the bulge in his black underwear is huge, sending a shiver down my spine.

“You’re so fucking sexy, you know that?” Stopping behind me, he places a hand over my stomach, pulling me back to his defined chest. My breath hitches as he lowers his lips to my neck, grazing over my shoulder and back.

After adjusting his crotch, he turns me around to face him. “Sit.”

I do, squirming against the cold metal. He starts with the rope, tying one ankle to the leg of the chair and then repeating his inescapable knot on the other leg. Pulling at the rope, I find I have less than a centimeter of wiggle room. 

“No escape baby.” He brushes a hand through my hair before retrieving the handcuffs. Guiding my arms over the back of the chair, he cuffs me to the bar on the bottom. These ones I can pull against, but every time I do they cut into my wrists.

“How do we…” I’m not sure what to ask. How are we supposed to have sex if I’m stuck in this chair?

A dark grin passes his face. “Pace yourself. I’m not going to fuck you until you beg. Maybe not even then.” Gone is the professional chef, replaced by hard muscle and a chiseled jaw, complete with a dark look that has me trying to press my legs together.

“You said you don’t take orders from me.” He walks slowly across the room in search of something, as if he has all the time in the world. “That’s about to change.” When he returns, a long black riding crop in his hand, I suck in a breath.

“You know what this is?” he asks, touching the end with his fingers. I gulp and nod, pressing my lips together. 

“Answer me,” he presses.

Not sure my voice will work, I manage to squeak out a quiet, “Yes.” 

He slaps my inner thigh with the crop before leaning in, grabbing my jaw in his hand. “Yes what?”

“Yes sir.” My pulse hammers across my skin as blood rushes to the faint red spot on my leg, the sting bringing clarity to all my senses. 

“Good girl.” He kisses me again, shoving his tongue in my mouth to swallow my moans as he starts kneading my breasts. It should feel patronizing, but instead his praise fills me with a sense of power. All I want is to hear him to say it again.

Pulling out of the kiss, he swats me again, this time on the other thigh. It begins slow, his pattern changing so often I can never prepare for the next strike before it comes. Each time it does, the sting is shocking and life-giving. So much so that I find myself eagerly awaiting the next one.

“Please,” I gasp when the crop comes down at the edge of my underwear.

“Please what?” he asks, a wild look in his eyes. I have never seen him look more at home than he does right now. It’s as if he was made to be here, towering over me as I shrink away from the blissful punishment of the crop.

“I want you.” I don’t do dirty talk—Nick was never into anything like this. The one time I asked him to spank me he totally chickened out, leaving me to feel like some kind of heathen for even asking.

Cole paces back and forth in front of me, every bit the lion portrayed on his forearm. Running his fingers over his lips, his gaze rakes over me, lighting up at the smattering of red over my thighs. 

He doesn’t answer my question, pulling down my bra cups instead so my breasts swell overtop of them.

“I always knew you had perfect tits,” he says, rubbing his thumb around one of my nipples before he slaps it with the crop, earning a surprised yelp from me. 

“So you were watching.” It wasn’t my imagination. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. Maybe more. For all his attempts to turn me down, it appears he’s spent a lot of time planning what he’d do to me if he got the chance. 

The realization sends a flood of warmth between my legs.

His dark laugh fills the room. “Kind of hard not to.” He uses the crop on my nipples, my stomach, until my skin is raised in little pink lines. Already I can feel something building low in my stomach and I ache to have him inside me.

After he sets the crop down, he rubs his bulge, biting his lip while he considers me. Anticipation flutters in my belly. This morning I would never have let a man touch me like this. Now I never want it to end.

Eventually, he kneels in front of me, rubbing his hands over the welts on my thighs. “I hope these aren’t your favorite panties,” he says, looking up at me through thick lashes before he shoves his thumb through them, tearing them all the way to the seams.

“Fuck,” I breathe, throwing my head back as I yearn toward him, pulling on the restraints until they bite into my skin. He scoots the shredded panties out from under me, dropping them on the floor before he touches the most sensitive part of me. 

“Excited?” he asks, showing me two slick fingers before he’s even parted my folds. I can’t answer; every nerve in my body is focused on my pussy and eager for him to touch me again.

At last, he runs his fingers from the top of my slit to my opening, pushing them inside me with such agonizing slowness I can’t help but arch my back.

“That’s it baby,” he nods his approval, grabbing one of my tits in his free hand while he continues to torture me, moving too slow to get anywhere but with enough pressure to drive me wild. “Now it’s time to show me how you take orders.” 

His words snap me back to reality, my eyes focusing on his as he rubs his thumb leisurely over my clit. “When you feel like you’re about to come, I want you to tell me to stop. Got it?”

Why on earth would I do that? 

“Yes,” I answer anyway. At this point I would do just about anything to keep him touching me. “Sir,” I add before he can correct me. I’ve never felt so wanton, breasts spilling out and my pussy dripping all over this chair while he kneels before me.

“If you come without permission,” he whispers, kissing my stomach, “I’ll have to punish you.”

Without warning, his fingers start to slide in and out of me, rubbing my g-spot as he continues to toy with my clit with his other hand. The momentum builds fast, making my stomach clench and my heart race.

He seems to know my body better than I do, hitting all the right pressure points as his mouth falls slack, caught up in my pleasure.

“Stop.” The word is breathy and weak, but he stops at once, pulling his fingers out of me and running his hands over my body, from my shoulders all the way down to my knees. 

“Good girl. I knew you had it in you.” Tipping the chair back against the bed so my legs are in the air, he props himself on the edge of the mattress with one arm, his rippling chest looming over me. “Let’s count to five, shall we?”

After I’ve had enough time to cool down and my breath returns to normal, he starts again. This time he holds eye contact, watching the pleasure roll over my face until it builds to an unruly precipice. 

“Stop,” I gasp again, hating myself for saying it. I am so close to coming just the slightest brush of his fingers would send me over the edge.

“That’s two.” He leans down to kiss me, careful to keep his hands off my body while I wait for the next round. With my hands and feet bound, I do what I can to claim him, circling his tongue with mine and grazing my teeth over his bottom lip.

“Feisty. ” He kisses the corner of my lips and starts again. Each time the momentum builds faster, bringing me to the brink in just a few seconds of precious torture from his fingers. The longer it goes on the more I yearn to have him inside me.

“Please,” I beg after round four. “Please, I need to come.” I need to let go of this insane high I’m riding before it crushes me.

He bites his lip and shakes his head. “You’ll come when I tell you to.” This time he sets out a punishing rhythm, his hand moving so fast it increases the heat tenfold.

The wave continues to rise while I remain stuck, feet in the air and hands useless behind me.

“Stop.” My eyes are closed, tears threatening as I feel the release slip away from me yet again. Every inch of my skin is a livewire. The sensation is almost too much to bear.

When I open my eyes, he is breathing heavy, his chest heaving while he watches me. “Hard part’s over.” His hair falls in his face, but he pushes it back, taking a deep breath. “You’re a natural.”

As he unties my legs I flex my ankles, feeling the pool of warmth beneath me. His hand is still slick but he doesn’t seem to mind, undoing one of the handcuffs with deft fingers.

“I’m going to worship you for making it through that. And then, I’m going to fuck you till you scream,” he growls, pushing me onto the bed. 

I fall with a giggle, practically incoherent as he scoots me toward the iron-wrought headboard, handcuffing me once again with my arms over my head.

“This isn’t what I pictured,” I confess, staring down at him as he pulls off his underwear, his massive erection springing free. Holy fuck. I’m not even sure it will fit.

“You’re saying you’ve pictured it?” A glint enters his eye as he rubs his impressive cock, closing his eyes while he touches himself. I watch in awe, content to stare for as long as he’ll let me.

“Only about a dozen times,” I breathe. What’s the harm in him knowing I’m a stalker at this point? It’s all relative considering his special tastes.

Laughing in his low timbre, he climbs on the bed and  straddles me, placing his hands on my stomach. “Honestly I didn’t think you could handle this.”

“I’m tougher than I look.” And still scared shitless. 

He is glorious, sitting on top of me with his throbbing cock pressed against my pussy, his broad hands covering my stomach, and his shoulders tensed and ready to pounce.

“I’ve noticed.” Taking his time, he leans down to trail kisses down the center of my sternum, following the imaginary line over my belly button and scooting back until his lips reach my slit.

Parting me with his tongue, he traces it over my clit, holding my thighs down when I squirm. He continues to play, alternating between my thighs and my stomach to hold me down.

After everything he did to me in the chair, his touch is multiplied, singing through me until I can feel myself getting close again.

“Not yet,” he cautions, sticking his tongue inside me with impressive reach before returning to my clit.

“Holy shit.” I pull at the handcuffs, not sure whether I want to tear away from him or push closer. Holding back my orgasm takes all my concentration, the muscles in my legs tensing so hard I fear they’ll snap.

“Come for me, baby girl.”

His words are my undoing. I surrender to the pleasure at once, letting it roll through me and curl my toes, making my vision go white. The world slips away for a moment, leaving me with nothing but the aftershocks as I convulse, a slave to his touch.

He crawls over me, taking my nipple in his mouth and sucking hard. The world comes back in little pieces, bringing with it the awareness of his hands on my skin.

I’m going to fuck you until you scream.

Only now does his meaning sink in. He’s nowhere near done with me yet, and I’m not sure I can handle it. My mind still feels hazy when he reaches for a condom on the bedside table and rolls it down over his length, positioning himself between my legs.

“You taste phenomenal. But if you think you’re getting off that easy, you’ve got another thing coming.” The double meaning is not lost on me as he positions himself and drives into me, his erection filling me, stretching me until there is no space left.

“Oh, fuck.” I bite my lip and close my eyes, embracing the feeling as he pumps in and out, slow at first.

“Ever had a cock this big?” he asks and I shake my head, writhing beneath his weight. He sits up, moving my legs to his chest so my feet dangle over his shoulders.

The pressure is amazing, his cock reaching places no one else ever has. I can’t help the sounds that escape me, ranging from breathy to animalistic as he picks up speed, pressing against my legs until they touch my chest. It’s a good thing I’m flexible.

“Just like that, baby. I want to see you come.” He thrusts harder, grunting as he drives into me with the devil on his heels. The wave rises again, threatening to drown me. I will not survive another orgasm, I know it. But he gives me no choice.

The second orgasm rips through me, my walls squeezing around him as he continues to thrust in and out, savoring the clenching of my pussy with a powerful, deep moan. 

“Fuck, I love feeling you come on my dick.” He stops for a moment, only to grab something from the nightstand. Too late, I realize it is a vibrator.

My chest is still heaving from the last one when he presses the vibrator to my clit, still inside me with my legs on his shoulders.

I squirm and wriggle away, but he has his weight on me. I am his prisoner, panting at a sensation I have never felt before. My clit is too sensitive, swollen from all our exploits and in need of a break. 

“Don’t you close your fucking legs.” He lets one of my legs drop to the bed and covers it with his knee, keeping the other one up so I am nearly doing the splits. “You’re mine tonight. Say it.” 

The sensation is so powerful I can’t think straight. Between his weight on top of me and the pleasure that borders on pain between my legs, the words come slow. “I’m yours.”

“That’s right.” His hand moves to my neck and I panic, but his grip is just tight enough to restrict some of the blood flow. I find I can still breathe, though my breath comes in ragged pants with the vibrator on high. 

“Please. Please,” I beg, for what I don’t know exactly.

“Please what?” he snaps. 

It takes me a minute to understand his question. “Please, sir.”

He turns off the vibrator and repositions me, kneeling at my opening with my legs draped over his thighs. Running a tender hand over my face, he sucks on my nipple once more and starts to move, his biceps rippling as he holds himself over me. 

“Come for me, slut.” He tries out the name, and to my surprise I like the way it sounds on his lips. Despite the ache in my joints, I feel powerful, like he has unlocked something inside me that was always there but in need of the right key. 

I continue to moan, biting my lip when his thrusts grow so hard I can feel his hip bones ramming into me. Sweat beads on his forehead, the tops of his shoulders, his neck.

“Give it to me,” he says. “Give me everything.”

My stomach clenches, my pussy squeezing tight around him as another orgasm takes hold. Every muscle in my body tenses, orbiting around my center and focusing all my attention on the feel of his rock hard length inside me.

He stills when the convulsions slow, finding his release with a satisfying gunt. His face is priceless as he comes undone, his jaw clenched and the vein in his neck standing out. 

When he has emptied himself inside me, he pumps in and out a few more times to exhaust every last drop.

“God, your pussy is so tight,” he pants, pulling out of me and falling just to the side so he doesn’t crush me before he pulls the condom off and tosses it in the bin beside the bed. “You’re a fucking goddess.”

My cheeks glow at his compliment, my body completely spent. I feel as though I’ve just run a marathon.

“Here.” He gets up on his knees abruptly, kissing my shoulder on the way up. It takes him less than a minute to unlock the cuffs. I rub at the red lines on my wrists, idly wondering how I’m supposed to have normal sex after this.

“How long have you had that planned?” I laugh, draping my arms around his neck when he lies on top of me. 

He buries his face in my chest, reaching underneath me to unclasp my bra and pull it off. “I never had a plan. But I’ve wanted to see you cuffed since the first time I saw you.”

A low tingle rises in my belly. 

Don’t get attached, I remind myself. Cole doesn’t date. And if the rumors are correct, he never comes back for seconds. 

Still, I can enjoy these last moments, massaging the back of his neck while he moans appreciatively into my chest.

---

“You’re a mess. We should get you cleaned up.” Rising from the bed, he holds a hand out for me. I take it hesitantly, brow sinking. I assumed he’d kick me out as soon as we were done, after all that talk about not being nice to me.

His bathroom is beautiful, with black towels and a glass-walled shower. As he reaches in to turn the water on, I take a moment to admire his exceptionally toned ass. How much time does this guy spend in the gym?

“So much for the bad boy rep,” I tease, stepping in with him. He pushes my hair back from my face, backing me up to the cold tile.

“It’s called aftercare. Those welts are going to need some attention, too.” He kisses me, just once. A chaste, soft kiss that seems at odds with everything else about him.

I hadn’t realized they were still there, but now that I look down I can see the raised skin all over the inside of my thighs. The marks on my breasts and stomach have faded, but he must have hit my legs harder. All I can remember is craving more.

Swallowing back the nerves his look inspires, I put my hands on his waist. “So you do this with all of them?”

“Just you so far.” Pushing me under the stream, he tips my head back, wetting my hair all the way through before switching places with me. Why does that make my heart do a little flip? It doesn’t mean anything. 

“Shampoo is on the shelf.” He points behind me, and I reach for the expensive-looking bottle. I had no idea he had such fine tastes. 

It smells intoxicating, the same scent I’ve smelled on him more than once when I got too close.

He watches me lather, keeping his eyes on me when he takes the bottle to do the same, his hair longer when it’s wet. Damn he’s sexy, the hard lines of his bones softened by swells of muscle that contract every time he moves.

“Enjoying the view?” he asks, winking at me when I blush. After I’ve rinsed my hair I can’t help it. Stepping toward him, I brush my fingers over his cock, which twitches in response. 

He catches my wrist, looking down at me with serious eyes. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish.”

I press my lips together and wrap my hands around him, squeezing gently until he hardens under my grip. He closes his eyes and groans, pushing his hips forward into my hand.

“Like you said,” I murmur, “I’m enjoying the view.” I doubt I could handle him inside me after what he’s done, but he had his turn to make me come apart. I want to see him finish one more time before I have to go.

He is rock hard as I begin to stroke, spitting on my hand since I don’t have any lube. His eyes are alight with mischief, his abs tightening when I rub my thumb over the tip, catching the moisture that beads there.

“Fuck,” he growls, pulling me closer by the small of my back until the only thing between us is his erection. I can feel him throbbing under my fingers as his eyes flutter, long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks.

I pick up speed, relishing the sounds he makes as he careens toward another finish. Without warning he backs me to the wall again, slamming one hand into the tile by my head the way he did in the parking lot.

Covering my gasp, I pump my hand faster, squeezing up from the base and swirling my thumb over the tip with every stroke. He is at my mercy, even as he pins me to the wall. 

It is exhilarating to see him so lost to his pleasure after everything he did to me. He’s huge—everywhere—and always in control. But now he’s grunting and moaning for me and I can tell he’s about to come.

He shifts to his elbow on the tile, his face right next to mine as his breathing speeds, his chest hitting mine with every inhale. Soon enough, his cock tenses in my hand, shooting warmth all the way up my belly.

I continue to pump until he is spent and twitching against me, his muscles slowly relaxing.

“Who knew you were such a fucking vixen?” he growls, kissing me with one hand on my throat. His kiss steals my breath, his teeth tugging on my bottom lip in between thrusting his tongue in my mouth.

When he pulls away, he looks me up and down, his gaze pausing on my stomach. “Look at you, all covered in my cum.”

I can’t help my blush, gasping when he pushes me under the water to clean me off again. He takes the loofah from the hook on the wall and dribbles soap on it,  rubbing it between my legs with a tender touch.

“I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” I giggle, enjoying his arm tight around my waist as he wrings out my hair and turns off the water.

“Damn straight.” That wicked look is back in his eyes, making me wet all over again. How does anyone get anything done around him? I’m going to have to start bringing a second pair of panties to work.

Work—that’s sure to be awkward now. What the hell am I supposed to do? Walk around and pretend he hasn’t fucked me into next week? 

Regret washes over me as the dread creeps in. My mind is so far away I don’t even notice him leading me around until he hands me a towel for my hair, pulling me back to the bedroom where he lays me down on the bed.

“What are you doing?” There is panic evident in my voice as he pushes my legs apart.

“Relax,” he laughs, brandishing a tube of lotion. “Aftercare, remember?” He squeezes the lotion into his hands and rubs them together to warm it before anointing my thighs.

A cooling burn seeps into my skin, followed by soothing relief. When he’s done, he goes to the dresser and pulls on a fresh pair of underwear before tossing me a pair.

“Since I ruined yours.” He points to the white cotton, still shredded on the floor. As the silky fabric slides over my legs, I already know I have no plans to return them. 

When I reach for my bra, he steps up to me, taking the bra and exchanging it for one of his deep blue v-necks. There is so little space between us I can smell his shampoo, combined with something musky and entirely natural. 

“I want to do this again,” he whispers, as if the confession will bite.

He wants to what? It goes so far against everything I know about him—which, granted, isn’t much—that my mouth falls open.  

“You never want to see the other girls again.” That’s why he always waits until they’re leaving. So he doesn’t have to deal with them at work.

“I’m not friends with the other girls.” He shrugs, looking oddly boyish for the man who had me trussed up and whimpering less than an hour ago. It’s true, he doesn’t joke with the other girls the way he does with me. He hardly talks to anyone at the restaurant if he can help it.

“Besides,” he grabs hold of my ass with both hands, pulling me into a kiss. “I have so many ideas for you.”

I bite my lip, trying to get my bearings. Here I’ve been building myself up for the inevitable moment when he sends me packing, and now he’s asking for more? It doesn’t seem real.

“You said you’d had enough corruption.” He said a lot of things, like how he wouldn’t be nice to me and that he was too old for me. How could he have changed his mind so quickly?

“I know what I said. But as it turns out,” he runs a finger down my cheek, stopping on my lips, “I quite like corrupting you.”

Before I can answer, he releases me and tugs me forward, waiting for me to pull his shirt over my head before he takes my hand and leads me into the kitchen. What on earth has gotten into this man? I’ve never heard him say this much in three years of working together.

“Are we eating now?” I ask when he gestures for me to sit at the bar.

“Once you’ve had one of my grilled cheeses you’ll be hooked.” He is in his element now, barely conscious of me as he gathers supplies. Every scrap of food he owns is high-quality. There’s not a single trace of store-bought bread or canned goods.

I watch him work, mesmerized by his easy movements. No one has a right to look so talented cooking in their underwear. But he makes it look effortless, moving around his exceptionally outfitted kitchen like he grew up at a stove.

I’ve sampled some of his stuff at the restaurant, but I’ve never had the money to order a full plate. It’s nearly three in the morning, but the smell of toasting bread and cheese makes my mouth water.

“So you want to do this again.” I can only look at him for so long before I fall under his spell, and I know if I do there will be a reckoning. This was supposed to be cut and dry.

“Mm-hm.” He slides a sandwich onto a plate and hands it to me over the bar, serving up the second one for himself. But instead of coming to sit beside me he simply leans over the bar and takes a bite, gesturing for me to do the same.

It tastes better than I could have imagined, melting in my mouth with more flavor than I ever knew a grilled cheese was capable of.

“Holy shit,” I say through a blistering mouthful, “what did you do to this?”

He laughs, taking a huge bite of his own sandwich. “I’ll never tell.”

Now he’s being playful? There are so many sides to him I can’t keep up. What happened to the man everyone warned me to stay away from? 

He’s still there, I realize when I catch a glimpse of wickedness in his eye. But for some reason he’s letting me see beyond the curtain. Damn him for making this so complicated.

“I’d still fuck you like a whore,” he says, as if he can read my thoughts. “But you’re better company than I expected. Plus, you’re feisty. And I like a good challenge.”

My jaw goes slack at his words. Why is it so damned hot when he says stuff like that? If Nick had ever spoken to me like this I would have dumped him on the spot. But when Cole says it my body responds, leaning closer to him over the bar.

“I don’t know what that means.” Clearly he doesn’t mean he wants to date me. And I can’t say I’m opposed to letting him handle me again. But can I really become his fucktoy without any strings? There’s no way that’s going to end well for me.

“Neither do I.” He places both hands on the bar and considers me, his head tilting until his hair spills over the side. “I’m not offering any labels. I just know I want to see you again.”

He reaches for my hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. I can’t believe I’m actually considering it. This was supposed to be a one-time thing, a palate-cleanser to get me back in the saddle after Nick nearly destroyed me. 

But even as I try to talk myself out of it, I can feel my resolve waning. I’m still sore from the last encounter and already I am hungry to have him inside me again.   

“Sleep on it,” he says at last, shrugging his broad shoulders. 

“I’m staying over?” My brow quirks. Here I was prepared to do the walk of shame.

He glances out the window, the sky dark and void of stars. “I’m not an animal. I can’t send you home at this hour. And your car’s still at the restaurant.”

I had forgotten about my car. Hopefully his kindness will continue tomorrow and he’ll give me a ride.

Walking around the bar to meet him, I put my hands on his taut abdomen. “I beg to differ about you being an animal.” 

He growls playfully in my ear, wrapping one arm around me and kissing my neck. “Don’t tell me you’re not craving some more.”

There it is, that attitude that has my knees trembling. He is all around me, towering over me and engulfing me in his delicious scent. I don’t fight it when he moves his hands to my thighs, hopping up to wrap my legs around his waist. 

He carries me to the bedroom, switching off the light on the way to the bed. His lips cover every inch of skin not covered by his t-shirt, his arms strong and sure around me.

Maybe I can do this—whatever this is. Because as many alarm bells as I can hear in my head, there is something undeniable between us, some chemistry that begs me to test my limits. 

In just one night he unlocked this whole new side of me I never knew existed. There is so much more to discover, and I want him to be the one to do it.

He is asleep within seconds of hitting the mattress, his arm an anchor over my waist. In sleep he looks peaceful, his jaw relaxed and his breathing slow. 

He is still a lion. I cannot forget that fact, or I’m a goner. I have to keep my bearings if I have any hope of surviving him.

But even lions can be tamed.

---

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Published: 2021 Brooke Carpenter