Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
AUSTIN
“Cute shirt,” Maddox says as he slides onto the barstool that’s become his in my mind.
“Thanks. I thought so.” I don’t even look up at him, busy making a cocktail.
It’s not a surprise when he comes in anymore, it’s a surprise when he doesn’t.
It’s been a few weeks since our first date and he’s taken me on a couple more.
I’ve stopped arguing that the outings aren’t dates and gave up on insisting that we’re causal.
They still aren’t, and we still are, but I’ve decided to just let it ride.
Sleeping in Maddox’s bed keeps me out of my dad’s house, so I might as well milk this situationship for all it’s worth, even though I know it’s just going to make leaving harder.
I’m seeing him and talking to him more than I’m even seeing and talking to Kenny lately, since she’s been so busy.
He’s feeling less and less like my best friend’s older brother, more and more like I’ve got some sort of claim on him, too.
The sense of permanence settling in between us makes me antsy and the past few days I’ve been a bit tetchier than I mean to be.
I take the drink to the woman at the end of the bar and set it down on a fresh napkin. I’ve never seen her around here before. Lord knows I’d remember her.
“Here you go, babe. Holler if you need a refill before I notice, and just a bit of advice, woman-to-woman, if you’re looking for someone to head home with tonight, I’d stay away from that one,” I tell her, gesturing with my chin in Chase’s direction. “Can’t imagine he’s clean.”
Before tonight, Chase hadn’t been here since the bar fight, but he was throwing back shots at the pool table again like he’d never left.
The woman chuckles, a throaty sound that would typically short wire my brain for a second. She’s gorgeous. Long, black hair and blue eyes framed with mascara-clumped natural lashes. She’s aced the smokey eye look and her lips are painted mauve.
She’s also older than me. In her late thirties or early forties, if I had to guess. You can say what you wanted about girls with daddy issues, but sometimes I thought the mommy issues were far worse.
“Not my type,” she tells me and I nod, not thinking anything of it, but she grabs my hand when I go to walk away. Her short, emerald green nails are stark against my pale skin, but her grip isn’t domineering. “You’re my type, though. I’m Sky.”
She’s so blunt with it.
I rarely ever have the balls to flirt with women. I’m always scared of saying something stupid or coming across as creepy or something, especially when I don’t know if they’re queer or not.
Almost all of my experiences with other women have been hushed up experiments—a box for them to mark off of their bucket list or something they had to drink several shots to allow themselves to try just to run back to their boyfriends the next day.
It didn’t leave me feeling very confident, just more or less like a circus attraction in a small town where being straight was the default and other sexualities were largely suppressed.
“Austin,” I’m finally able to get out. She plays with my fingers, rubbing her thumb over a hangnail.
“Tough name for a tough girl?” she asks, but it sounds rhetorical. “What time do you get off work, Austin? I’d like to take the advice of that little crop top you’re wearing.”
I look down at my shirt as though I hadn’t just discussed it with Maddox a few seconds ago. Treat your girl right, it read, but the ‘Tr’ was in a different color than the rest of the font, making it cheeky.
“Am I misreading things?” Sky asks, finally letting go of my hand. I pull it off the bar and wipe my sweaty palm against the butt of my shorts.
“No,” I reply too quickly, clearing my throat. “No, definitely not. Any other time…” I trail off, squeezing my eyes shut. I’m hyper-aware of Maddox at the other end of the bar and I can’t stand what I’m about to say. “I’m just sort of… exclusive with someone right now.”
Her eyes flick over my shoulder, brow raising, but she hums. “I’d tell you that you’re too pretty to be ‘sort of’ exclusive with someone, but given how that cowboy’s glaring at me right now, I think it’s safe to assume you’re the one putting on the brakes, not him.”
I purse my lips but don’t respond. She smiles and downs her drink in just a couple of sips before pulling out her wallet. A business card and a couple of dollars land on the bar.
“Don’t know what you’re running from, babe, and I don’t much care since I’m only passing through myself, but just a bit of advice, woman-to-woman,” she says, nearly mocking my earlier words.
“A man that looks at his woman like Mr. Cowboy over there is looking at you, is worth standing still for. Text me if you find yourself single again and we’ll hook up the next time I pass through town. ”
Her eyes flit over to Maddox again and she smirks while I clench my teeth. “Or, if you need a third…”
“We don’t,” I snap, any attraction I had for the woman washing away at the very idea of her touching Maddox.
She laughs again as she stands from the bar, hooking her purse over her shoulder. The sound grates this time. “I’m not into men, baby. I just think watching the two of you together would be fun. Grain of salt.”
I shove her money between my tits, refusing to watch her walk away just in case she looks back to see if she still has my attention.
“Did you want anything to drink, or were you just here to glare at the other patrons all night?” I snap at Maddox when I make my way back over to him.
“Didn’t know you were into women,” he says, clearing his throat after. I’ve been a ticking time bomb the past couple of days, and now I’m fresh from Sky’s assumptions and my embarrassment over how possessive I’d gotten of Maddox. It makes me assume the worst intentions.
“Yup.” I pop the p. “You know where the door is if you’ve got an issue with it.
” I reach under the bar and pull a bottle of Coors from it, using the edge of the bar to get the top off.
I’ve never wanted to down a customer’s beer as bad as I want to down Maddox’s, but Pat’s here and he’d love nothing more than to rat on me to Dale.
Dale wouldn’t give a flying fuck, but I’d rather save him the headache.
Like Maddox can tell where my thoughts are, he leans over the bar and snatches it from me. “Fix your attitude or I’ll fix it over my lap tonight, Tex. I don’t have an issue with you being into women. I’ve got an issue with anyone putting their hands on you, though.”
His warning thrills me. He hasn’t spanked me, not seriously, since our first night together. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling so keyed up. Maybe ‘letting it ride’ wasn’t the right choice.
“She wanted to do a lot more than put her hands on me, Maddie,” I tell him, mixing another Old Fashioned for Pat, whose glass is getting low. He hasn’t flagged me down for one yet, but that’s only because he’s got his eyes glued to one of the TVs and hasn’t realized he’s nearly out.
“She wanted to eat my pussy,” I tease.
“I’m sure she did,” he says, watching me a bit too closely. “Point out one person in here that doesn’t.”
I walk Pat his drink, and he grunts his thanks, completely missing that I’ve bent forward intentionally so that he could get a peek down my shirt.
“You know, if you need a spanking, you can just ask for one,” Maddox says when I get close enough again. “Most of the time, I’ll let you have it. You don’t have to rile me up like this.”
I narrow my eyes at him, and my heart starts to race. I hate how quick I am to anger. It reminds me I’m my father’s daughter. But I’m also getting really, really tired of people calling me out tonight.
“Fuck a brat and you’re gonna get bratty behavior, Maddox. I don’t know what to tell you. Besides, I don’t need a spanking. I’m not a fucking submissive and you need to stop trying to make me into one. I can enjoy being manhandled a bit without becoming your little sex slave.”
His jaw clenches and it’s like there’s a neon sign in my head flashing Danger! but instead of a warning, it feels like a promise. Like I’ve riled Maddox up enough to get what I want from him.
As quickly as it comes, he smoothes it away. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” It feels like getting stuck at the top of a roller coaster, like being right there on the edge of an orgasm but pulling your hand away.
His eyes stick to mine. It’s too quiet for my liking, especially in such a loud bar. Chase approaches down the bar and waves me over. I get him another beer and then try to stay busy the rest of the night.
Maddox stays until close, but we don’t talk anymore. He watches the game and nurses his beer while I drown in my thoughts. He’s right, of course. I could just ask for a spanking, but I didn’t really want to admit that I needed one because it scared me to consider what that may say about me.
A woman who’s frequently abused by her father shouldn’t want a man to hit her, shouldn’t need it.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew there was a huge difference between Dad’s abuse and Maddox’s spankings.
Dad hit me to belittle me, to steal my power away and control me.
Maddox’s spankings were a product of trust and consent.
It wasn’t necessarily the pain I was seeking from him, but more the release that came from it.
If I could pretend I put up a fight and he subdued me, I didn’t have to come to terms with the fact that I was submitting—willingly giving control to a man when all my life had ever been was a man taking control of me.
It felt stupid to seek it out, to hand over control to Maddox after what Dad put me through. I should be running the other way. I should be fighting it. So I do.
I shout out for last call and head over to Maddox, intending to tell him it’s time for him to go, but he cuts me off before I can even open my mouth.
“Submission isn’t about being a sex slave, and I know you know that. I know you just said it to piss me off and I’m trying really hard not to jump to conclusions about that.”
He pauses and I swallow because he’s terrifying me. I thought he’d just been sitting here all night ignoring me, but he’d been thinking. If he got too close to the truth of things, I didn’t know what I’d do.
“If a spanking is what you’re needing, from now on, you’re going to need to come out and say it bluntly.
I’m not humoring this mindset you seem to have that angering me will cause me to punish you.
You’re right that there’s a difference between enjoying rough sex and being a submissive.
If you’re not one, that’s fine, but don’t stand there and tell me these barbs you’re throwing out are just your typical brattiness. ”
Maddox doesn’t ask me if I understand or anything else a Dom would typically say after delivering a talking-to like the one I just got. I nod anyway.
Instead of the victory and the sore ass I wanted from pissing him off, I’ve only disappointed him. There’s a deep pit in my stomach that makes me feel like a little kid again. He sighs and stands, leaning over the bar to kiss my forehead.
“I’ll be outside.”
We haven’t talked about me spending the weekend with him again, but he doesn’t wait for me to correct him, flipping off the open sign for me as he leaves.