Bad Boy Dom (5 page)

I
let the shower spray soothe the ache in my muscles. My hand went to my cock and
the rhythm of my fist built until I released a forceful stream of cum down the
drain. I needed that. But really, I needed her.

I’d
been to the lounge before and knew the Bosendorfer Imperial waited for me. My
fingers couldn’t have Lydia’s sub, so they craved the next best thing: making
music on a beautiful instrument.

I
was thankful there were few people in the lounge. The Bosendorfer called for
Sinatra, as it so often did. My fingers ran across the keys and then I moved
the seat to a more comfortable position. The music took over and my voice crooned
the classic song using my voice to its best advantage. I lived for music. My personal
ensemble consisted of the greatest sounds from every decade; from classical to
rap, my gift was memorizing every chord and each word. I went from the baby Abigail
induced “Ain’t She Sweet” to “Everybody Loves Somebody.” The faint applause at
the end surprised me. I’d lost myself in the music again and my lips quirked. A
waiter stood to the side and I looked at him inquisitively.

“Sir,
there’s a lady in the corner and I think you made her cry.”

Well
damn. My eyes went to the corner but I couldn’t see anyone.

“She’s
in the last booth and I thought maybe you would be willing to play something a
little more upbeat.”

“I’m
sure I can manage that. I’ll ask the lady what she wants to hear.”

The
waiter gave me a look of relief. Men just weren’t good with women’s tears, it
didn’t matter our age.

I
stood up from the piano and walked over to the corner.

Dreams
really do come true.

Her
food — or what might pass for food — had been pushed aside and her head rested
on her arms. I wasn’t sure she was crying but I reached down and placed my hand
on her hair. It was as soft as I fantasized. Her head came up and water-filled
eyes looked into mine.

She
made a sound that was half-laugh, half-groan and put her head back on her arms.

I
sat down and nudged her over with my hip. She scooted sideways and made room
for me without looking up. I twisted my body in her direction and leaned over.
I needed to smell the hair I’d just touched.

A
soft muffled laugh came from her arms. “Did you just sniff me?”

“Guilty.”

“Why?”
she asked without lifting her head.

“Because
I had to.”

That
got her attention and she sat up. The perfumed smell of her hair wafted past my
nostrils stronger than when I leaned over. I inhaled.

Her
lips tipped up on the sides. “You did it again.”

I
reached for the napkin lying by her plate and handed it to her. If I’d expected
a delicate lady-like wiping of her nose, I was disappointed, because she blew
her nose with a hearty snort.

Yet
even such indelicate behavior didn’t detract from her beauty one little bit. I was
helpless to stop myself from staring.

Her
body stiffened and she turned away. The back of the booth was obviously more
appealing than looking at me.

“You
have a way of making a man feel uncomfortable.” I sighed.

She
turned to look at me. Those cool emerald eyes snapped with a hint of anger.

“And
you think I’m comfortable when you stare at me?”

“You’re
beautiful. It’s impossible not to stare.”

It
was easy to read the disgust on her face. “You see the outside.”

“I
have trouble believing your beauty is only skin deep.”

“But
you’ll never know.” The sadness in those words overwhelmed me.

“Why
not?”

She
hesitated and I didn’t think she would answer. “Bad boys are bad for me. I
don’t handle them well and they hurt me.”

I
couldn’t lie. I was a bad boy. From drugs to orgies, I personified ‘bad boy.’
But, there was something in her that made me want to be good; as clean and pure
as sunlight.

I
was crazy. I had to be, or I wouldn’t have let the next words come out of my
mouth.

“Would
you be interested in a date?”

“A
date?”

“Yes,
you know, when two people go out and get to know each other? Explore their
likes and dislikes? Learn what makes the other tick? A date.”

“Mistress
Lydia will not allow me to date you.”

My
eyes traveled to her neck. “You’re not wearing your collar now, we’re not in
the club, and I’m asking you, not Angela the sub, for a date.”

“But
I am Mistress Lydia’s sub.”

“I’m
well aware of that but for one night, could you be my date?” My eyes traveled
from the speeding pulse at her neck to her liquid green eyes. I could have
drowned in their ocean; I was writing a really corny love song in my head.

“No,
I’m sorry, but my mistress will not allow it.”

“If
I handle your mistress and gain her permission, will you go out with me?”

She
gave me a pathetically sad excuse for a smile. “Yes.”

“Why
were you crying?”

She
looked away, but then turned back. “My grandfather loved Sinatra, and I loved
my grandfather.”

“I’m
sorry it made you cry.”

“Eminem
makes me cry too.”

I
laughed. It came from my gut and I fell just a little bit in love. My hand went
to her hair and I slid my fingers through the loose strands before bringing a
section to my nose.

“You’re
weird,” she said, the corners of her mouth twitching.

“Thank
you.”

I
stood up and walked back over to the piano. The Bosendorfer’s makers were about
to have a heart attack. I moved the bench further back and out of my way. I
needed room.

It
was time to show off my mad skills and I started the beat I needed first. Then
I started rapping Loose Yourself.

I
looked over to the back booth and saw a delighted smile peering at me. No
tears, just a smile to die for. In my opinion, this was Eminem’s best work and
defined the artist’s greatness. I knew every word and I set out to wow my
future date.

I
rapped while looking into her eyes but her grin slowly faded. Hope and longing
replaced her smile. It hit me in the gut, but I never stumbled over the lyrics.
When they ended, I knew I was in over my head but also knew if I could learn to
swim, I might not drown.

Angela…

I
stood during the last verse and then walked out of the lounge. He never stopped
watching but he didn’t follow. My heart wouldn’t quit its frantic gallop as I
made my way back to my rooms.

By
the time I reached my door, my giddiness had turned into pain. Pain from the
inside, needing to get out. I walked into the kitchen and looked at the butcher
block filled with knives. My hands gripped the counter and I closed my eyes. I
needed to scream but not here. It would bring hotel security running.

I
was walking out the door again before I even realized it. The elevator opened
into the low light of the club. Sydney stood behind the bar, but she was busy polishing
glasses and didn’t see me. I walked straight to the back rooms and opened the
last door on the right. I closed the door behind me and walked into the
bathroom. I turned the cold water on full blast in the walk-in shower and stood
under the spray, clothes and all.

I
screamed.

I
don’t know how long I stood under the water, but strong arms reached in and
pulled me out. Two voices spoke soothingly to me as towels were wrapped around
my shaking body.

It
was Damian and Lydia. They both loved me and kept me safe from myself. I should
be proud that I somehow managed to keep from hurting myself, but all I felt was
numb.

The
keening I heard was coming from me. My throat hurt and I knew I had to stop
making noise.

“It’s
okay, baby. It’s okay.”

“I
need to check her body, Damian. We need to remove her clothes.”

I
tried to shake my head but Damian held me too tightly. It felt wonderful but
they were Lydia’s husband’s arms, and not the ones I wanted. They loosened and
then removed the towels from my still-shivering body.

I
barely felt the rest of my clothes coming off. Lydia kept talking to me in
soothing tones. Right now she was just my friend. I didn’t want to think about what
would happen when she went into Domme mode. She would be so disappointed. Tears
slid down my cheeks.

“We
love you, Angela. We love you for what’s on the inside. Your love for Abigail,
your heart of gold, and the way you let Raul cheat at checkers and beat you
every time. You’re worthy of our love and we don’t give it to just everyone.”

I
was picked up again and then placed within the fold of Lydia’s arms, as she sat
on the couch. This was the way it was after a scene, my favorite time. A
blanket lowered over both of us, and a sigh escaped my throat as I snuggled
closer against Lydia’s warmth and comfort.

I
finally opened my eyes. I knew Damian stood next to the couch but I wasn’t
expecting to see Krispin standing beside him. The pity in his eyes made me look
away.

I
managed to breathe in and then exhale. This was for the best. I didn’t warrant
a man like Krispin. The outside of me might be beautiful, but my insides were a
mess. Even a bad boy didn’t deserve the pitiful excuse for a woman that was the
real me. No one did.

***

Kris…

I
left the lounge and made my way to the penthouse. Lydia needed to hear me out.
My palms were sweaty when I stood outside the ornate double doors trying to
decide what I would say first. I raised my hand to knock but the door opened
and Lydia stood looking at me.

“The
cameras have been watching you for the past five minutes and now I’m worried.
What’s up?”

I
heard a phone ringing in the background and Damian’s deep voice answering.
Suddenly his arms came around his wife and squeezed. She peered over her
shoulder.

“It’s
Angela. She’s in the back room at the club. It’s not good.”

Two
pairs of unforgiving eyes looked at me. I had no idea what to say.

“I’ll
fucking kill you.” I was surprised fire didn’t spark from her eyes.

They
both turned to the private elevator and I followed without an invitation. The
ride down seemed to take forever as Lydia threw a torrent of violent words at
me. None of my songs used the endless profanity she spewed my way. Damian held
on to her, but I think it was more to keep himself from pummeling me than
letting his wife loose to do the damage.

I
had no idea what was wrong but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out
it was bad.

The
club showed no outward sign that anything was wrong. I followed them both as they
sped across the tiled floor to the private rooms.

A
woman dressed in employee attire stood beside the last door wringing her hands.
The closer we got to the door, the louder the muffled screams sounded.

In
all my life, I never heard anything like those terrible sounds of pain. Suddenly
I was afraid for them to open the door. Lydia was running now, bursting through
the door, and rushing toward the origin of that endless scream. I followed and
watched helplessly when they pulled Angela out of the running shower.

Damian
held Angela while both of them continuously murmured words of endearment. I
stepped back when he carried her from the small room. Nothing they said quite
registered until Lydia wanted to look at her body.

My
gut tightened. I’d seen it in rehab. Blood covering the walls from a young
woman who managed to find a razorblade and cut deep gashes over seventy percent
of her body before someone stopped her.

Much
later, during group therapy, the girl explained that she was a “cutter” and
that she wasn’t trying to kill herself, only to relieve the pain. How much
pain, I had thought then, did it take to make someone slice their body open? Now,
I was looking at Angela and wanting to kill whoever had caused her so much suffering.
I had no one to fight and could only watch helplessly while Damian and Lydia took
care of her.

Finally,
Lydia sat down. Damian lowered Angela into her arms and placed a blanket over
the two of them.

Green
eyes opened and looked around, stopping when they met mine.

Those
beautiful eyes were full of desolation; no hope, or happiness. Just complete
and utter despair. I needed a drink and a double shot wouldn’t do the trick.

Chapter
Eleven

Kris…

I
paid no attention to the whispers as I stalked through the lobby and into the
ground floor bar. The drink clinked down in front of me minutes after I placed
the order. I removed the cutesy toothpick and downed the liquid. Then I ordered
another.