The Dom with a Safeword Page 2

  Could she be any more fucking adorable? Q could just eat her. She’d once thought Sabrina an airhead, but now she knew a lot of intelligence lurked behind her general enthusiasm for life. “You hate Slipknot, Sabrina. You’re going to sit around bored and insist we leave early. You’re also going to dress all cute. You can’t dress like that,” Q gestured to her current green sundress, “to go to one of my concerts. I saw what you were looking at on that fetish website the other day. A tutu? What are you, five?” she teased. It was a running joke between them. Granted, the tutu would have looked sweet on her – it just wasn’t acceptable for a Slipknot concert.

  Sabrina glared at her indignantly. “It was a punk tutu!”

  “There’s no such thing, girly. And there’s no way you’re coming unless I get to dress you. Why do you want to come anyway?”

  “To check out the hot rocker guys with the long hair.”

  “Rocker guys? Seriously? You can’t still use terms from the eighties. We were born in the eighties!” Q shut the lid to her laptop. “How did you manage to stay so innocent all these years, anyway? You’re almost twenty-seven for fucksakes.”

  Sabrina grinned and started to dance, singing some song she didn’t recognize. She was always doing that – like her life was a Broadway musical. Though Q was honored to get to play a bit part in it, even if that’s all she ever was to Sabrina. The light that shone from Sabrina was dazzling, and sometimes she felt like an ugly moth that couldn’t bear to be away from it.

  Q rolled her eyes. “I should go alone.”

  Sabrina ended her solo number and frowned. “You can’t go to a concert alone. That’s creepy, even for you.”

  “I’m nothing if not creepy. Or so you always tell me. I don’t want to take you to see Slipknot if you’re going to act and dress like a doofus.”

  “I won’t sing if I don’t know the words and you can help me pick something to wear. But it has to be cute. I don’t want to look like you.”

  “Oh? And how do I look?”

  Taking a step back, Sabrina examined her, gesturing for her to turn. Q just crossed her arms and raised her brows. Sabrina huffed. “Like a scary, dyke, mentally-unbalanced goth chick who needs a makeover.”

  A laugh burst from Q’s mouth. Sabrina was nothing if not blunt. “I’m not goth. But it’s nice to feel the overwhelming love you have for me.” Q stood and stretched, her back popping satisfactorily. It was a constant battle between them – Sabrina trying to make her over, while she steadfastly refused.

  That description had been the best yet. There was still no damned way Sabrina was getting her into a dress. She had detested them since she was little – always getting in the way and needing to be careful you didn’t flash people. So much trouble. Nico had insisted she wear dresses when they were dating – he’d said if he wanted to date a guy, he would have.

  Sabrina slid her arms around Q’s waist. “You know I love you, sexy. You’re my best friend.”

  It was impossible for her not to hug Sabrina, even though having her close was such a temptation. Leave it to me to fall in love with a straight girl.

  Q leaned her temple against her forehead. She wasn’t a tall woman at five foot four, and Sabrina was only a couple inches shorter, but somehow she felt like an Amazon beside her. “If you want to go, I get to pick out your clothes. No negotiations. I have no problem going alone.” It was a lie, but she’d rather go alone than go with Sabrina looking like she’d just come from an art gallery.

  Sabrina smelled like bubblegum again. It always made Q want to lick her.

  “Okay, okay,” the smaller girl conceded. “But I want a skirt. And cute shoes.”

  ***

  The shop Q dragged Sabrina into was a sea of black with hints of red and lime green. The prospect of picking out clothes for the girl was an interesting one. Pulse racing, she thought of being alone in the changing room with her, helping her dress, running her hands over her smooth, tanned skin. She rolled her eyes. Sabrina had given her imagination a lot to play with today.

  In the midst of the evil-looking displays, Sabrina resembled a virgin sacrifice. The little white sundress and shiny pink lip gloss marked her as prey. She had even tied her shoulder-length blonde hair back with a big white ribbon. It was Sabrina’s idea of a joke, dressing like this to go to some of the edgier stores in town and it was keeping Q in a constant state of distraction. Visions of Sabrina bound and helpless flashed like an old film in her head.

  Q avoided looking at her. Mouth-watering yet unavailable. The sexual tension tortured her. From the twinkle in her eye, Q could see this was the reaction Sabrina was hoping for.

  She was so damned confusing. Sabrina swore she was straight, but she was such a tease. She obviously liked Q’s attention, but rejected her on an intellectual level. However, physically she was starting to give Q mixed messages. It gave her reason to hope.

  At that very moment Sabrina was leaning over a glass jewelry display, the hem of her little sundress barely covering the bottom of her ass. Q caught a flash of the stylized purple butterfly tattoo Sabrina had gotten on her ankle a couple of years before. They’d gotten their tattoos at the same time though Q’s covered almost the whole side of her torso.

  Sabrina sent her a sassy smile over her shoulder and turned back to shopping.

  The thickly-muscled, tattooed store owner cast an admiring glance over Sabrina’s shapely legs and nodded at Q, giving her the thumbs-up. “Yours, Q?”

  “I wish, Cross,” she muttered back.

  They browsed the racks fast, since they were short on time. Several armfuls of clothes later, Cross showed them to a big fitting room at the back. He threw Q a wolfish grin. “Don’t make a mess in there.”

  Q rolled her eyes and ushered Sabrina in, dumping a pile of dark clothing onto the bench. She stepped back and tried to close the door, but Sabrina caught it before it swung shut.

  “Come in and help me. I’m going to need you for the buckles and things. You know how to put them on right.” She toyed with a lock of her hair, like she did when she was nervous. What was she up to?

  Her grip on the door tightened, making the edge dig into her hand. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” All the images she’d ever had of Sabrina naked slipped back into her mind. She tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth.

  “Oh please! You’re not going to try to have your way with me in a dressing room, are you?” she asked with a flirty smile and naughty gleam in her eye. Sabrina knew damn well Q would love to do just that.

  Heaving a sigh, Q walked in and shut the door behind her. She was making a big mistake. As she chanted in her head that she could control herself, she locked the door. Sabrina shucked off her dress, and Q averted her eyes. At times like this she wished Sabrina was a little shyer.

  “What do you think?” she asked after a few moments.

  Q looked up and swallowed hard. Sabrina was standing in front of her in a white lace bra and panty set. The wispy fabric left little to the imagination.

  “I just got them yesterday. Are they cute?” She turned to show Q that the underwear were of the thong persuasion. The curve of her perfect ass beckoned.

  Q balled her fists at her sides. There was no way even Sabrina was this naïve. What was she playing at? The feeling of her clit throbbing hard against the seam of her jeans made her lightheaded. “Very... uh... pretty,” she gasped.

  Sabrina smiled seductively. “Pretty? Is that all you have to say?”

  With every second, her control was slipping away. “Put some clothes on before I make you regret it, little girl,” she growled. Maybe spanking her ass – or biting it – would teach her to behave.

  “Little girl? I’m older than you are.”

  “By six months. You’re also lighter and shorter than I am. I could do all sorts of naughty things to you and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.”

  “I dare you try.”

  This close, she could see Sabrina’s breathing deepen and the faintest tremble take
hold of her.

  Q took two steps and glared down at her. “I don’t take dares.” Their gaze locked and there was a silent battle of wills. The pupils of Sabrina’s eyes dilated and she blinked. Slowly, Q lowered her lips until they hovered just barely above hers. The other girl shifted her gaze to her mouth. Q brushed her lips softly against Sabrina’s, then drew back.

  Sabrina made a little mewling sound, frowned, then gave herself a shake. She turned fast and grabbed the topmost skirt and slipped it on as though nothing had happened. The rapid rise and fall of her chest suggested she wasn’t as unaffected as she was trying to act. The matching purple PVC shirt she’d picked buckled up the front, and Sabrina fumbled with it for a few minutes before conceding defeat.

  “Can you help?” she asked in a small voice.

  Q sat in the pile of clothing on the bench and waved her over. Could a person faint from lust? Sabrina stopped in front of her, reddening. By the time Q got to the third buckle up, the soft swell of Sabrina’s breasts became impossible to ignore. She brushed her fingers lightly over the tops of them. Her breath caught in her throat. The nerves in Q’s fingertips felt like they were sizzling with electricity.

  Sabrina’s eyes closed and she thrust her chest out in a silent plea for more.

  “You don’t act like a straight girl.”

  “You don’t make me feel like one,” she breathed, looking down at Q.

  “Unhook your bra.”

  “What?”

  “Do it,” Q commanded. She was often shocked at how easily she could get Sabrina to obey her. This was pushing things. Would she do it?

  “Uh...”

  “You can’t wear a bra with this shirt. This one’s got a hole in the back and the strap will show.”

  “Oh!” Sabrina gave a nervous giggle and turned away, unclasping it and slipping it off through the armholes. She tried to yank the edges of the top together to cover herself before turning back. By holding it in place, she just barely concealed her nipples. “I think it’s too small.”

  “No, it’s fine. It just needs to be tied. Let go.”

  “But...”

  “Now, little girl.”

  Sabrina’s fingers slowly let go and the sides of the shirt slid aside of their own accord. The shirt didn’t cover anything important anymore, but held her breasts up like a bustier. She brought her hands up and covered her nipples. “Just buckle it already!”

  “No. I want to look at you first. Drop your hands.” If Sabrina did this, there was no more wondering about where things stood between them. Q waited, holding her breath and shifting to ease the seam of her jeans away from her clit.

  Sabrina whined and flushed terribly red, but she obeyed.

  Oh fuck. Q leaned back against the wall and let her gaze slide over her friend, from her conflicted eyes to her parted lips, and down to the luscious curves of her breasts. Her pretty pink nipples were hard and Q fought not to touch. Yet.

  “Are you done now? Help me get this buckled. What do you want to look at me for, anyway? You ogle perfect models all day.” Sabrina’s words came out in a rush, like they were falling over themselves to leave her mouth.

  “You’re perfect. And as for the models, if I was into plastic, I’d buy myself a Barbie.”

  She grumbled and her brow creased. “Well just take a damn picture already. It’ll last longer.”

  “I’d love to take pictures of you. Are you volunteering?” Q felt a little guilty for pushing her – Sabrina did think of herself as straight. This was a big step.

  “Can we discuss this some other time? I need to find something for tonight so we can go home and get ready.” And yet, despite her protests she didn’t move.

  Interesting.

  “Can I touch you, Sabrina?”

  A fresh flood of color rushed to her face, but after a pause she nodded, looking at her toes. She bit her pretty bottom lip endearingly.

  Q squirmed in her seat, trying not to let on that her control was evaporating. God, she makes me so crazy.

  The first touch of Sabrina’s skin was like silk and she barely held back a groan. Part of her brain clamored for her to stop, but she couldn’t will herself to do so. Possessed by her inner hedonist, her hands slid up to cup Sabrina’s breasts. She rubbed her thumbs gently over her nipples.

  The hiss of Sabrina’s breath spurred Q on, and the girl thrust forward into her caress. “Please, Q! You’re killing me.”

  “Shh! Cross is going to hear you. He’d probably come watch. And such a pretty show he’d get. It’s a shame not to share it.” She rolled both nipples between thumb and fingers.

  “No, Q,” she whimpered quietly.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  “No! Just don’t call your friend in here. I’d die.”

  “Okay then…quiet.” Q leaned forward, the light scent of bubblegum on Sabrina’s warm skin making her want more. Even the smell of her was intoxicating.

  Her gaze met Sabrina’s as she swept her tongue over the point of her nipple. It tightened, and Q kissed it lightly before sucking it into her mouth. She pressed Sabrina closer with a hand on her lower back, her other hand brushing from just behind her knee, upwards under the PVC schoolgirl skirt. As she sucked, flicking her tongue, Sabrina’s little moans of pleasure encouraged her. Q traced her fingers under the skirt, along the globe of Sabrina’s ass then drew them toward the front of her panties.

  A loud knock made them both jump. “Yes?” Q managed to say, hoping she didn’t sound too breathless.

  “You two are taking awhile in there. You need a hand?” The bastard was laughing.

  Q grinned up at Sabrina who still looked dazed. “Do we need help?”

  Sabrina’s eyes focused and she shook her head emphatically.

  “No, Cross. We’ll be out in a couple of minutes.” Internally, she swore a blue streak. The interruption was welcome, in a way. She didn’t know if she would have been able to stop without intervention, and Sabrina deserved better than to be with her first girl in a changing room. They were too old for that shit.

  “Suit yourself, Q. If you change your mind just holler.”

  Sabrina covered her face with her hands. “Let’s just take this and go. Can I wait for you in the car? Take my bank card.”

  “It looks like it will fit and it’s hot on you. You okay?” Q stood, drawing her friend into her arms. Sabrina clung to her, which pleased her immensely. She kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll go to the cashier. Here are my keys. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Sabrina changed back into her little white dress so fast Q didn’t get a good look at anything. She bolted out of the fitting room for the car.

  As she paid, Q wondered if Sabrina would ever let her touch her again, and hoped to hell she hadn’t just fucked everything up.

  Chapter 3

  Jude

  Jude leaned back in his chair. Fifth row back from the front row of the seats, with the mosh pit swarming in front of him – almost the best place at a Slipknot concert. He’d not dared the mosh pit itself. His father’s words ran through his head whenever he considered it.

  Think ahead, Jude. Keep your head on your shoulders, think ahead, and stay safe.

  Well. Done that. Thought ahead. A surgeon didn’t need broken fingers from some overweight wrecking ball bouncing off him in the pit. Though… He heaved out a sigh. This would be his last heavy metal concert.

  He scrubbed his hands through his hair, feeling the short strands curling over his fingers. His surfer cut had gone too. He hadn’t worn his guitar-playing Fuck-the-Empire Stormtrooper t-shirt in case somebody here decided that made him a pussy. In the future, that and the Dethklok shirt he’d bought in Germany would only see the light if he was mowing the lawn of his picket-fenced mansion.

  What about his kink life? Would he have to give that up too? That was one thing he didn’t think he could live without. A quarter of the kinksters at the local BDSM club seemed to be professionals, so maybe not. Tying up women, d
ominating them – since his early college days, he’d delved further and further into that fascinating world. Though he’d never checked out the BDSM community in Michigan, maybe it would be the same?

  He looked down. Plain black buttoned shirt. Boring. Stable. Black and boring like his future. Years of pre-med, then diversion in Europe for a few years to “get his head straight” but now he was cornered. Even since he was a kid, his father had expected him to be a doctor. Planned it, labeled him, squashed him into a mold.

  The music pulsed to life, ramming straight into his skull and clearing away all his good, doctor-like thoughts. The crowd screamed. The mosh pit surged inward.

  “Fuck.” He stood up, feeling the sheer energy from swearing course through him like a storm tide sweeping a beach clean.

  Playing it safe and thinking ahead could wait another day. He edged along to the aisle and jogged down. The strobing lights flashed on something purple ahead of him. A woman? At least she was staying on the edge. Up on the tiptoes of her black boots, she strived to see past a shaggy-haired teenager. She jiggled about, teetering. Her curves invited appraisal, especially where the pert mounds of her ass showed beneath her short skirt, and he admired them as he walked closer. There must be a boyfriend, here, moshing.

  Tendrils of her hair curled down to the neckline of the little purple outfit – the back of which was wide open and displayed a delicious amount of skin. The PVC schoolgirl skirt drew his eye to her beautiful legs. Fetish wear – he’d bet his life on it. As he drew closer, aiming to squeeze between her and a six-foot bruiser of a guy, her profile stopped him dead.

  He knew that face. The right shade of blond hair too. The name snapped into place in his mind – Sabrina – the smart-mouthed crazy one who liked ghost-hunting. How could he ever forget the two sexy girls who’d invaded his yard a few nights ago?

  Fetish wear, though? His mind wandered down that kinky path for a second. But…so what? Some wore it just for fun. Didn’t mean she liked getting tied up and dominated. Unfortunately.

  Despite the drowning volume of the heavy music, he heard her scream.

  “Q!”