Con Man: Complete Series Box Set: A Bad Boy Romance (35 page)

I
grinned
as I told another joke, this one dirtier than the last. If my mom heard me saying any of these things, she'd wash my mouth out with soap. Probably beat my ass too. But it made my friends laugh, and that was all I cared about right now. These guys were my only friends, the only ones who hadn't made fun of me for coming to school in ratty hand-me-down clothes. They didn't question my stories about why I had a black eye, or any of the bruises, the sprained wrists and elbows, my dislocated shoulder.

I pushed those thoughts away. I was having fun with my buddies. We'd had a great game. Beat the shit out of the other team. I snickered. I'd said a bad word. Some of my friends said it and worse. Sometimes they said damn and fuck. Bobby Ringwalt said 'cunt' the other day, and I pretended to know what it meant. I'd heard Dad call Mom that, but he called her a lot of things. Some of them were bad words. Some of them I didn't understand either. I didn't want to ask anyone so I let them think I was cool and knew what they were saying.

My steps got slower, my feet heavier with every inch I moved closer to the building. I kept the smile on my face, but it felt fake. Probably because it was. Before, I'd been laughing and joking with my friends, but now I was just pretending to smile. I wasn't even really listening to what they were saying anymore.

No, I was straining my ears for something else. Straining to find out if it was safe to go home.

Safe.

Now that was almost a joke.

Except it wasn't funny.

We stopped at Bobby's building first and shot the bull for a bit until his older sister came down and yelled at him to come up for dinner. We all watched her go. I was just starting to appreciate watching a girl walk away. I wasn't really sure what it meant yet, but I was pretty sure that when I was a little older, I'd want to spend more time with Bobby's sister than with him.

My building was next, and I was torn between wanting to linger downstairs and being scared my sister would come down and start talking. Madison was only six. She didn't know when to keep her mouth shut. She got in a lot of trouble for that.

So I didn't stay. I grinned my fake grin and told my buddies that my mom would tan my hide if I was late for dinner. They grinned back and crossed the street to the building where Grady and Jimmy lived.

I trudged up the stairs alone, thankful that no boys my age lived in my building. If one had, he would've wanted to walk together, talk. And if he'd lived on my floor or above, he would've wanted to come to the door. Maybe try to sneak in, see if what my mom was cooking was better than what he had waiting for him.

I heard them as soon as I stepped off the landing. My gut felt like I'd gotten punched, but not because I didn't expect it. More like I'd been hoping that this time would be different. That this time, when I got home after Dad, I wouldn't know he was here because of the yelling. I'd actually have to walk inside and see him sitting at the table to know he was there.

But that was too much to ask. No matter what Father Bailey told us in catechism, miracles weren't real. My damn father was proof of that.

Rage swirled inside me as I dragged my feet down the hall. I hated him. I knew we weren't supposed to hate anyone, but I hated him. The more I heard him yell at my mom, the deeper the hatred grew.

But I couldn't do a damn thing about it.

The swear words weren't funny now. I meant them. Meant them as much as I'd ever meant anything.

And it was all because I couldn't do anything except listen to Dad scream and call her horrible names. Then I heard him yelling at Madison too, and the hall got longer, went on further, forever and forever.

I didn't want to hear him yelling at Maddie. She hadn't done anything wrong. She was just being a kid.

Why couldn't we just be kids?

It was so damn unfair!

Then I heard something else, a different sound. And I shouldn't have been able to hear it, not as far away as I was. But I did. And I knew what it was.

The thump of flesh against flesh. A cry of pain.

I couldn't tell if it was Mom or Madison, and I knew there was nothing I could do, but I also knew I couldn't just let it happen.

I started to run, determined to burst in, to at least distract him. He'd hit me, I knew. Maybe even break some bones. I could take it though. Madison couldn't.

I ran forever, putting each foot in front of the other, but I stayed in the same place. I didn't feel like I was standing still, but I had to be since I couldn't get any closer.

I kept hearing them, blows coming down over and over. Madison and Mom crying. Screaming in pain. But the door didn't get any closer. I couldn't get to it. Couldn't stop him from hurting them.

I couldn't protect them.

He was going to kill them...

I jerked awake, heart racing, drenched in sweat.

“Fuck me!” I swore as I ripped off the covers and jumped to my feet. “Fuck!”

I ran my hands through my hair, grateful I'd decided to spring for a hotel room after I'd left Nance's place. Yet another reason why I rarely stayed the night with anyone. Soldiers didn't really think much of nightmares. And we didn't talk about them either. No one wanted to force a fellow soldier to relive the things that plagued him when he closed his eyes.

Sure, sometimes I had nightmares about things I'd done as a soldier, but not very often. Most of the time, when something haunted me, it was from further back. Like tonight – way back.

I looked at the clock. Not even five.

I knew myself well enough to know I'd never get back to sleep. Nearly a decade in the military meant I'd have been getting up in a bit anyway. No matter how much leave I had, I'd never been able to sleep for more than a few minutes past the time I normally woke up.

I couldn't stay here though. Check out wasn't until ten, but I didn't want to just sit around here and wait, stare at the television. I'd come back before then so I could get my things packed up, but for right now, I needed to be somewhere else.

I pulled on my jeans from where I'd left them on the floor, then my shirt. I didn't care if they were dirty. It wasn't like I was going for a booty call or something. I stuck my feet into my shoes and headed out. I'd been in San Antonio a while, but not to this part of the city. This seemed like as good a time as any to explore.

It was nice weather tonight. Cool, almost chilly, but to my overheated skin, it felt good. I picked a direction at random and went with it. I'd always had a good sense of direction, so I knew I'd be able to find my way back, even if I didn't pay too much attention to my surroundings.

I didn't want to pay attention, didn't want to think about anything. Except I knew that wasn't going to happen. My head was too busy, too full to not think.

And it was all the wrong things to think about.

The elements of my nightmare wanted to come back, wanted to remind me of all the little facts that had been hidden in the distortion of memory. And there were plenty of them.

The sounds of him yelling and hitting. Those had been real.

The dread in my stomach every time I'd come home after playing with friends, knowing he'd be there.

The way I'd had to fake things to keep people from figuring out the truth.

All of those were real memories.

What wasn't real was my failure to get to them in time. Sometimes I wasn't there, but when I was, I got between them. Stopped him from hurting them. Got myself hurt in the process.

But I'd always gotten there.

And he hadn't killed them.

No, the fucking bastard had left before he managed that.

The only decent thing he'd ever done was walk out that day and never come back.

I didn't know what happened to him, but I hoped he'd died in a painful and slow manner, preferably getting the shit beat out of him.

Because it hadn't done us a damn bit of good.

He'd left, and they'd died anyway.

Both of them. Mom and Madison. My whole family. Gone.

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and tipped my head back, looking up at the stars. I needed to stop my thoughts before they went any further down that path. My past was far darker than the sky, and if I got lost in it, I didn't know what would happen.

I ran my hand over my face. I needed to forget. Dammit all. I needed to stop thinking.

A bright light caught my eye and I frowned. I'd never been much of a drinker. A bit to take an edge off. I'd never wanted to risk being like
him.
But now, for the first time in my life, I wanted total oblivion. It was taking all my willpower not to jog across the street and buy something strong enough to make this all go away.

Instead, I reminded myself of where I'd come from, of what I'd been through. I reminded myself that I had a duty to this country. A life to live, and I didn't want to do that from the bottom of a bottle.

I wouldn't be my father.

I wouldn't be the man I'd started to be.

I would continue to be better.

I started to jog, then to run. Hard. Exhaustion was my best option, and I intended to pursue it.

W
hen most people
heard the term BDSM or any phrases including Dominates and Submissives, images of leather and whips were generally what came to mind. Blindfolds and ball-gags and handcuffs. Most people only thought about the kinky stuff that went with this sort of lifestyle. Spanking and all that.

I knew. Before I met Tanner, that's what I'd thought. Alpha males and the dewy-eyed innocent girls they corrupted into becoming their playthings with silk scarves and floggers.

And then I'd learned just how wrong that was.

Yes, there were those who liked their leather. There were uses for handcuffs and blindfolds and all of the kinky stuff. Yes, there were the more extreme aspects of the lifestyle. And, yes, there were the people who either didn't understand or didn't care about the true nature of what all of it meant.

But that was the same of any lifestyle or belief system. There were the extremists who didn't go too far, but their desires were beyond what others could understand, and then there were the ones who gave everyone else a bad name.

Tanner had taught me – shown me – that with a good person, BDSM could be as healthy a lifestyle as anything else. He and I were a good match. We both wanted monogamy and a real relationship, not just sex. He never took on a dominating personality when we were outside the appropriate situation, never tried to control who I was friends with or how many hours I worked. Neither of us were jealous people, and most importantly, we trusted each other implicitly.

Trust, he'd taught me, was the key to a good Dom / Sub relationship. I had to trust him to take care of me, and he had to trust me to know my own limits. We'd worked on those limits and establishing that trust the first couple years we were together. Now, it was as natural as breathing.

I sometimes thought it was strange how Tanner had seemed to know this secret part of me. No one else ever had. I'd dated on and off in high school, never anything really serious, and no one had ever as much as hinted that they'd seen something like this in me.

It shouldn't have been surprising. After all, I'd never seen it in myself. Never imagined the sort of relief that could come with giving over control. One would think that sort of thing would be nerve-wracking, and it was at first. Then, as Tanner and I built that trust between us, it had gotten easier because I'd known he'd take care of me.

A part of me had felt guilty at first for feeling like I needed someone to take care of me. In a time of feminism and woman power, admitting to needing anyone, especially a man, was often met with derision and scorn. But as I grew more comfortable in Tanner’s world, I saw that it wasn't a male-dominated world or a female-dominated one. The difference of power was only in how it manifested. I wasn't denying who I was, or relying on a man to make my life worth something. I was just acknowledging that there was a part of my personality that needed sexual submission.

“Your mind is far away this afternoon.”

I blinked, Tanner’s voice bringing my attention front and center. His arm tightened around me and I tried to burrow myself even closer to him.

“Sorry,” I said quietly.

“Nothing to apologize for,” he said amicably. “I know how much it bothers you to see your dad like that, to see how much it hurts your mom.”

I nodded. Last night, when we'd gotten back to his place, I'd told him all about the call from my mom, going to my dad's, and how tired all of it made me. Instead of pushing sex, he'd run a bath for me. He'd pampered me, washing every inch of me and then fingering me to an orgasm that had helped me relax enough to be able to sleep.

It hadn't, however, been able to clear my mind completely, because when I'd woken up this morning, all of it had still been there.

Tanner stood suddenly, his arm steadying me so I didn't fall. “Come on,” he said. “Let's get you out of your head.”

Less than ten minutes later, we were in his playroom. He was shirtless and barefoot, but I was completely naked, my clothes in their customary pile on top of the dresser closest to the door. I stood at the foot of the bed, legs spread too far apart to be comfortable, but not so far that it was painful. Each ankle was secured to the bed legs with leather restraints. The insides were soft enough that they didn't chafe, but I was still unable to move. I was bent over, my arms spread out, wrists restrained with leather similar to what was around my ankles. My breasts brushed against the silk sheets, but I wasn't close enough for anything more than a hint of friction.

That alone was driving me crazy.

“Do you remember what I said last night?” he asked.

I nodded. “You said to watch because you were going to do the same thing to me.”

I felt Tanner behind me, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against my sides as he straddled me and leaned down. I didn't look up though. He'd tell me if he wanted me to look at him, and he usually didn't during the preparation stage.

One hand slid under me and cupped my breast. I swallowed a moan. He hadn't said I was allowed to make noises. I was always allowed to answer direct questions, but sounds of pleasure were something he controlled.

I couldn't, however, keep in the gasp when I felt the intense pressure close on my nipple. We didn't use metal clamps, but the cloth-covered ones worked just as well for heightening the intensity of sensation. I was more prepared for the second, but my body still jerked when they rubbed against the bed, pulling on my nipples.

“Now for the crop.”

I closed my eyes. Shit. He was really going to act out what we'd watched last night. I knew he wouldn't go quite as far – Melanie was into more pain than I was – but I knew it was the spirit of the thing.

His fingers ghosted over my spine, then disappeared for a moment before he brought his hand down on my ass. It wasn't hard, but enough to tell me that he intended to push my limits.

“You can make as much noise as you want,” he said as he stepped back. “While I plan on enjoying myself, this is about you. Let yourself go.”

I nodded and flexed my fingers. We'd come here before, Tanner and I, when I needed to clear my head. He knew exactly what to do and how to do it.

The first crack of the crop made me cry out. The sting was quickly replaced by heat spreading across my skin. Then it came to the other side. Again and again, each one evenly spaced so that they didn't cross over. Each delicious stroke was timed perfectly so that just as the pain from one was fading, the next took its place.

The clamps on my nipples kept me from putting my head on the bed, but I let it hang forward, gave myself over to the sensations coursing through me, focused on them rather than anything else. The term 'sub-space' was used in the BDSM world to describe the place a Sub went to in their head during a session. I didn't know if that was exactly what happened to me, but I didn't care about the name. What I cared about was the feeling of freedom that came with it.

“Such a pretty pink color,” Tanner murmured.

I flinched as his hand caressed my skin. Sensitive and hot, I knew I'd be feeling it the rest of the day, maybe even tomorrow too.

“I'm not done,” he continued. “Do you remember what happened next?”

I did remember, but only a split second before the crop came down on my pussy. I screamed, vaguely thankful that Tanner had soundproofed this room. I twisted, pulling against my restraints. It was pointless, I knew. Closing my legs or putting my hands on my throbbing skin wouldn't make me feel better, but I still wanted to do it.

“One more,” Tanner said.

I tried not to tense, but it didn't work. My body was already anticipating the pain to come. And then it was there, bright and hot. Tears ran down my cheeks as I gasped for air.

Then something soft and wet was moving over my tender skin, and I remembered what else Alan had done last night. He'd given Melanie far more cracks with the crop than I'd received, but once he'd finished, he'd gone down on her, soothing her with his tongue. Tanner did that now, licking and teasing every inch of me before sliding his tongue inside me.

My head fell forward as pleasure mixed with pain. The movement jarred the clamps and I jerked involuntarily. I felt Tanner chuckle, but it was impossible to be annoyed at him when he started doing wonderful things to my clit with his tongue and lips.

I was nearing the edge of what was sure to be a great orgasm when he suddenly stopped. I swore and he laughed, but there was no malice behind either sound. Then I heard the sound of a zipper and nearly sighed with relief.

Hands slid over my hips and down my sides. I whimpered as he played with the clamps, pulling and twisting them until I was sobbing, begging. I wasn't sure exactly what I wanted him to do, only that the tension inside me had built to a breaking point and if I didn't get some sort of release, and soon, I was going to shatter.

Suddenly, the pressure was gone and his hands were on my hips again. Even as the blood started to rush back into my nipples, sending pins and needles of pain through me, he drove forward and buried himself inside me with one thrust.

Everything went white and time stopped for one delicious moment. I wasn't thinking, wasn't even really feeling. I just was.

And then I slammed back into my body, felt every thrust, every place where my skin had been touched. Heat and pleasure mingled, turning pain into something else, that familiar sensation that was somehow more and less than anything else. I fell into it, letting my mind blank, my body move and writhe however it wanted. No coherent thinking, just that primal need and urge that drove two people together.

I rode it even as Tanner rode me. I was aware he was there, of course, could feel every inch of his thick cock stretching me. I could feel his hands on me, feel all of the things he'd done. But a part of me was still alone as I let go. I trusted him, knew he'd never take things too far. He was safe.

I wrapped myself up in that thought even as I came again. I sagged against the bed, making some sort of sound when my sensitive nipples came in contact with the sheets. Then Tanner was coming too, and I felt him go inside me. Again, familiar and safe.

He slumped over me for a minute, pressing his lips to the back of my neck, my shoulder. Then he was up, pulling out, and working on releasing me. I didn't try to help or move. I knew he'd take care of all of it.

He was familiar and safe. He understood me. Knew what I needed and always got me there. He was constant and reliable, things that most people usually didn't associate with the S&M world, but he was those things. I could always count on him. And I loved him.

But...

I didn't let the thought process go through to a conclusion, but I couldn't help feeling that there was something missing, that there was still some part of me he couldn't quite reach.

I didn't know if he felt the same way, but I didn't want to ask. Didn't want to risk losing what I had. Didn't want to hurt him. I couldn't make him feel like he wasn't enough simply because something in me was broken or defective or whatever.

So I said nothing as he cleaned me up and put me under the covers. I said nothing as he climbed in behind me and wrapped his arms around me, letting me take my time coming down, giving me – always – what I needed.