Switch Master: 6 (Ink and Kink), page 3
Needing to remember what was at stake, Sam thought about the reason she’d come to Taran in the first place, a teenager named Luke Walker who needed both legal advice and a mentor to ground him.
Chapter Two
Taran Maddox refused to acknowledge that his hand was shaking as he placed his razor to his shave-gel-covered cheek.
It didn’t help knowing Samantha was in his office waiting for him. It sure as hell didn’t help to recall the way she’d come into the bathroom and watched him shower.
He’d never really put voyeurism on his list of fetishes, but when it came to Samantha, he’d chalked having her watch him right up there with wanting to see her naked and bound to a cross or strapped to a bondage chair, legs spread wide for whatever the hell he wanted to do to her.
Thank fuck she didn’t know how badly he’d wanted to crash through the shower door and give her the fucking she’d denied him for months. It was hard enough keeping his attention on shampooing his hair, much less trying to think of less erotic images to keep his erection in check.
Not that it’d helped to recall the workout he’d undertaken with Alex Grant last weekend. His muscles still ached from the whooping his friend put on him, but kung fu had helped take his mind off worrying about Samantha when she’d gone into hiding.
He’d wanted to call and apologize after he’d nearly fucked everything up at that football playoff party earlier in the month. However, she’d gone back to ignoring his phone calls. Before that, she’d given in and texted back, she’d even sent him a smiley face icon.
Taran had long ago learned that being an alpha in your day job wasn’t the same as being a Dominant. He knew plenty of corporate executives, judges, attorneys and bigwig execs such as Alex Grant who gave off Dominant vibes but were submissive or switches with their partners.
While he knew plenty of people in and outside work who weren’t into the BDSM lifestyle at all, his social circle tended to include members of Druid Creek Castle’s private club. As he himself was a Dom, much as his older brothers were, it made sense that he’d find Samantha attractive, even if she’d yet to completely realize how she fit into the lifestyle.
At work, she was an alpha among detectives. In private, he suspected she was a switch with a strong need for submission. He needed to help her come to terms with her sexuality by doing the one thing he’d never done with another woman, let her dominate him when she needed to.
It didn’t matter that he’d turn thirty in August and Samantha foolishly used her age as an excuse to keep him at arm’s length. Age was irrelevant. To him, she was his equal. He hoped someday soon she’d see herself that way too.
Thinking about Samantha, Taran finished shaving. With a quick splash of water to his face, he grabbed his towel to wipe away any remaining gel and gargled with cinnamon-flavored mouthwash.
He’d already put on the pair of boxers he’d set on the countertop when he’d entered the bathroom. His clothes were in his office closet.
Looking around, he noticed her leather coat was on the floor. Picking it up, he set it aside long enough to run a comb through his hair, thought about putting it into a ponytail but nixed the idea.
He still couldn’t believe they were going to a roller rink. He’d last skated when he was in the eleventh grade because his girlfriend at the time promised to give him a blowjob if he took her there. Admittedly, that was a long time ago and the girl was a part of his wilder past. Samantha was now, hopefully for well into the future.
Finished at the sink, he picked up her jacket again and went to his office. He found Samantha studying his wall of family photos, certificates and diplomas.
“Sorry if I took too long,” he said, going around his desk and setting the jacket across the back of his comfortable leather chair.
Something was different about her since she’d returned. He didn’t know what it was. She looked, well, softer, more approachable. She’d always been the prettiest woman he’d ever seen. When she’d come into his bathroom, she’d looked beautiful.
Samantha turned so she could look at him over her shoulder. Her green eyes swept up and down his body. In an instant, his cock thickened. Proud of his erection, he let her have her fill.
A fresh pink flush crept into her cheeks. Her sexy-as-hell mouth that rivaled any Hollywood starlet’s without needing injections parted and her tongue sneaked out to swipe at her soft, full lips.
“Interesting,” she said almost to herself.
“What’s interesting?”
“I was expecting you to go commando,” she admitted, her eyes trained on his boxers.
“At home, I tend to abandon clothes altogether. When I have to wear pants, I hate chafing.”
“You are certainly not the typical lawyer,” she commented, her eyes still glued on his boner.
“Is that a good thing?”
“Yes. I’ve known some really great lawyers, criminal and civil. It’s just that I know very few with hair down to their shoulders and tattoos.”
“I should hope you haven’t seen many lawyers with their clothes off,” he countered.
“You’re my first.” He liked being her first, especially a tattooed lawyer.
“Look your fill, doll. Although I’d have to warn you that licking your lips at the same time is a surefire way to end up on your knees.”
“You expect me to suck you off?” Her eyes snapped upward a second before she caught herself licking her lips again.
“You will if I tell you to,” he said, enjoying the way she kept fighting her need to look down at his cock.
“You’re expecting a lot after one little kiss.”
Moving in closer, he compelled her to face him. She backed up fast, stopping when her ass collided with the wall.
“What happened in the bathroom was more than a kiss. You opened the door. You know perfectly well where the two of us are heading.”
Samantha bravely maintained eye contact at first. Taran stood steady, staring her down until her shier nature compelled her to cast her gaze to the floor.
“Am I in trouble for coming to you without invitation, Taran?”
“Depends on your answer,” he said.
“You should get dressed,” she countered, trying for nonchalance and failing when he purposefully shifted right into her personal space. She trembled, unable to hide it from him even as she squeezed her thighs together, tight.
If he tested her, he bet she was extremely wet. Her submissiveness was on display, the Dominant in him wanted to claim her then and there.
“Samantha, focus on me.” Putting enough push in his request to emphasize that he’d meant it, he waited until she complied.
At last, she lifted her gaze. “I’m sorry. What was your question?”
“Why did you come into the bathroom?”
She blinked rapidly. “Be…because of Luke. He’s sixteen and needs a lawyer and a male role model. I thought you could help him.”
Seeing his detective get so nervous made him feel like an ogre. Wanting to show her that he could play nice, he touched his hand to her face, stroking her soft skin.
“We’ll talk about Luke in a bit. I promise, baby. Why did you come into the bathroom?”
Samantha swallowed harshly, her eyes darting right to left before nailing him head on. “I knew you’d be naked and I couldn’t resist finding out if you were as beautiful in reality as you are in my dreams.”
“Did I pass muster, Samantha?” Her admission made him want to devour her sexy mouth. Instead, he gentled his touch, stroking her jaw and leaning in close. She sighed, closing her eyes, accepting him, softening.
“You’re far sexier in person.”
“That wasn’t difficult to admit, was it?”
“It was,” she said sadly.
“Why?”
“Because now that I’ve seen you naked, I can no longer deny how badly I want you.”
“I want you too. What’s the problem?”
“Fantasy Taran made me feel all gooey and girly before I saw the real one. Now, no matter where I go or how much I fight it, you’ll dominate every thought, night and day.”
“Gooey and girly, I like that. What were we doing in your dreams to make you feel that way?”
“You know, Taran. You said you’d be nice.”
“I’m being nice. What were we doing, Samantha?” he insisted, coming to understand that with her he’d need to dominate with kindness not muscle.
“Having sex,” she whispered.
“Was I good?”
“You were the best imaginary sex partner I’ve ever had.”
“Then I’m going to have to live up to my fantasy image’s reputation.”
“You’re young and beautiful. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’d be amazing in bed.”
“Thank you. Tell me what scares you about the two of us being lovers.”
She nearly looked away. Taran waited patiently, stroking her skin, nothing more as she nibbled on her full bottom lip. Lowering his head, he tested how much she’d permit and was pleased when she let him kiss her softly.
“Tell me,” he urged quietly, trapping her lip between his teeth and sucking before letting her answer.
“I’ve always known you were a Dom, Taran. Same as I knew Ethan was soon after he became my partner on the force, same with Phalen when he wasn’t trying to tear apart a hapless witness.”
“You’re right, they are Dominants. But they don’t scare you the way I do, right?”
“In my dreams, it was incredibly erotic to submit to you. It was easier because I knew you could never hurt me. Right now, I’m trembling in my combat boots.”
“Do you think I’d beat you? I’m a little bent, a little kinky, not a sadist.”
“No, it’s not that at all. You’re a Maddox. It’s ingrained in you to treat women with respect.”
“Then what scares you about your sex dreams?”
“It’s not often,” she hedged. “Sometimes I dream about dominating you.”
“You come whether you’re submissive or dominant?”
It seemed to take forever to hear her quiet-spoken, “Yes.”
Brushing his hand back to her usual ponytail, he caught it and gave enough pressure to hold her in place without threatening harm. She had really pretty straight blonde hair that fell halfway down her back when unbound. It was soft as silk, smelled faintly of honeysuckle.
“Which is more prevalent when you’re masturbating, wanting to submit to me or vice versa?”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. Luke, he’s the one we need to talk about.”
“I’ll ask one more time. It’s important for you to answer. Which is more prevalent?”
“Usually you’re in control and it’s not scary at all. The few times our roles were switched, you were tied up and completely at my mercy.”
Her eyes widened even as she thought about seeing him in bonds. That was her kink.
“You like the idea of having me bound?”
“Very much,” she admitted shyly.
“There’s nothing wrong about wanting that kind of relationship with me, Samantha.”
“You’re a Dom. I’m not sure what I am.”
“You’re a switch,” he told her point blank.
“Can’t be,” she denied, inclining her head even as she said it.
“You’ve a definite preference for submission, but the idea of being in charge intrigues you. When you mentioned tying me up your eyes sparkled as brightly as emeralds. I’m guessing you’ve been doing your homework into bondage.”
“How did you know?” Her eyes widened even more, confirming his suspicion.
“My sisters-in-law Cassie and Morgan would have talked to you and you’re a wiz with computers. You can find out anything on the internet and verify whether it’s real or bullshit. A little bird, Phalen, told me you’d been talking to Alex about joining Druid Creek Castle’s BDSM club until we had our big fight during that football playoffs party.”
“Alex Grant gave me some interesting books to read. One particular book was on rope bondage.”
“Did he now? Was it Shibari?”
“Yes. The images were incredibly erotic. After I told him I couldn’t join the BDSM club at Druid Creek Castle without your permission, he started giving me all sorts of direction and advice.”
“Doll, Alex is a switch.”
“It doesn’t matter what I’ve researched or what Alex is. Fantasy aside, I’ve only had vanilla sex. I don’t date much. My job either scares men away or they see me as a buddy. Do you know how many times I get slugged in the shoulder?”
“Vanilla sex can be fun. Stop worrying about what other men think. I’m proud of what you do for a living. Should any dare slug you again, they’ll answer to me.”
“Are you saying you’d go vanilla for me?”
“French vanilla is my favorite flavor of ice cream, but you know how much I like rich, dark double chocolate cake with fudge icing.”
“I haven’t forgotten. I’m not sure why we’re talking about ice cream.”
“Too much vanilla would bore you. We both need the darker side of sex to balance it all out.”
“You don’t understand, Taran. I will not be owned or treated like some docile little pet to be coddled,” she said emphatically, temper igniting in her eyes. She meant every word.
Letting go of her hair, he resumed caressing her face. After a second, she calmed and turned her cheek into the palm of his hand.
“With me, you will always be free. There’s only one question left to be answered.”
“I’ve answered a lot.”
“You did great.” Kissing her, he lingered and licked at her lips, pushing his tongue deep into her mouth when she granted him entrance.
“What’s your question?” she murmured when he sent a trail of kisses from her jaw to her throat.
Grasping her ponytail, he snapped the band and chucked the thing. Running his fingers freely through the silken length, he marveled at how nice it was to be the man touching her like this. It was nicer knowing she let him touch her.
“Will you trust me enough to be your lover, Samantha Riley?”
Samantha lifted her gaze of her own accord and stared into his eyes. “You have no idea how scared I am to say yes.”
“If you say yes, I will move heaven and earth to prove I’m worthy of you.” Placing a whole lot of faith on her answer, Taran hoped she didn’t break his heart. “You should know I’m difficult as hell and I’m not intimidated by your bad-cop routine.”
“I saw the hero in you the first time I laid eyes on you at the precinct.”
“Is that a yes, Samantha?”
“It’s a yes…but not right now.” She reached out, brushing her fingers through his damp hair to smooth it back.
“Because of Luke,” he said, realizing that she was right to hold off.
“Yes, and I need some time to think. Please?”
“The right to say yay or nay is always in your court.”
“It’s important that I hire a lawyer for Luke. He’s desperate and I’m afraid he’ll run away. If he does, he’ll lose his aunt, his sisters.”
“He has a lawyer.”
“He has no money, Taran. I’ll pay his legal fees.”
“We already talked about this. If you like this kid, I’ll help him, no questions asked.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, her concern for Luke very real. Strangely, he’d never heard of the kid before, but he obviously meant something to Samantha. Whenever she said his name, her voice became softer, maternal.
“I’m positive, doll. The only payment I need from you is a smile.”
“A smile?” she repeated.
“Please, whenever you speak of Luke, you kind of smile. I want to see the real one,” he answered and she gave in, smiling softly, the kindness she tried so hard to hide from coworkers and those she didn’t know coming to life. “That’ll do, baby, that’ll do.”
“I’ve told him all about you,” she said in turn. “He’s a good kid. Luke simply needs a chance and he’d like to meet you tonight at eight.”
“Then we better get going instead of making out,” he said, although making out was fun.
“You started it,” she pointed out, still grinning as she drew away.
Samantha dusted her hands down the front and sides of her faded blue jeans and turned back to the wall she’d been studying. Her jeans were nice, tight and hugged curves he wanted to lick, bite and suck until his love marks were as indelible as tattoo ink.
She wore a black tee shirt with the slogan Slam Bam, Thank You, Sam, in day-glow pink lettering and a pair of roller skates outlined in fancy pink glitter. He glanced down at himself. Glitter dusted his chest.
How he’d missed the day-glow pink glitter, he’d no idea. He could only say he’d been looking at her, learning about her in the process and hadn’t bothered looking at her clothes.
“Um, Samantha, what’s the deal with the tee shirt? Did you buy stock in a craft and hobby store?”
“I’d hoped to tell you en-route to Framingham,” she answered, glancing back over her shoulder.
“Tell me now. Why Slam Bam, Thank you, Sam?” he asked.
“It’s a play on my pseudonym, Slam Bam Sam, and ‘wham bam, thank you, ma’am’.”
“Kind of got that part,” he said with an emphasis on kind of.
Still curious, he started off toward his closet, stopping in midstride to look at the roller skates. Within all the sparkles were the words Femme Fatales.
“What have you been doing the last few weeks?”
“To be accurate, for a couple months now, I’ve gotten into roller derby.”
Hell yes, roller derby, as in women in hot pants or short skirts and roller skates and girl-on-girl action, roller derby? That was enough to get his erection tent-pole hard. Not that he’d softened much since she’d walked into the bathroom.
“Roller derby?”
“It’s not naked mud wrestling, pretty boy,” she answered, smirking. Smirking was cute on her.
