Page 8 of The Dom with a Safeword

“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, dominating 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.