Scandalous
FRANKIE
“Our relationship?” She asks.
“Sorry, I meant like… do you want to start hanging out? Is it just for public appearances? Do you want me to be your secret husband hiding in the shadows like a vampire? Because I know a guy who can teach me how to do that.”
“Of course we can hang out,” she laughs. “I know things got complicated between us, and… if I can be honest, I was worried you hated me, but I don’t think you’d invite me to dinner just to tell me to fuck off.”
“I never hated you.”
I felt left behind and alone, sure, and for a while I blamed her for that, but after the accident I started to take responsibility for my own feelings. She didn’t owe me anything.
“Well, that’s a relief,” she laughs. “I’m really sorry I didn’t just pick up the phone and call you. I wanted to a bunch of times, but— I guess it seems really silly in hindsight.”
“Hey, it works both ways, right? I could have done the same.”
“But seriously, I’d really like to be friends again.” She smiles and takes a deep breath. “I do have to warn you: Violet and Huxley come along with the friendship package.”
“Of course!” I grin. “You know, that carnival in Lockwood is still running. Maybe we could all go?”
“Does it still have the sketchy Ferris wheel that feels like it’s going to tip over at any second?”
“The very same. The wheel's just got more rust on it these days.”
We used to go every summer and stuff our faces with mini donuts and then go on rides until one of us puked.
“Oh, great,” she laughs. “I’ll be sure to keep V far away.”
“Maybe we could all go next weekend? If you’re not too busy with the bar.”
I feel like a kid asking the pretty girl to prom.
“That sounds great.”
Again.
“Great!”
I busy myself with the steaks while Daphne turns her attention back to Bugsy, giving her some big, full-body pets.
Is it wrong to envy your cat?
“I’m sorry I didn’t mention the timeline for this whole thing,” Daphne says after a few minutes of silence. “There’s just been so much going on, I completely spaced out.”
A year.
Married for a whole year.
I may have bitten off more than I can chew.
“It’s okay,” I chuckle. “It’s not like I’ve got a lineup of women out the door waiting for their chance with me.”
“Well, that’s a relief. I’d feel guilty for cutting the line.” She chews on her lip, and for a split second, I see a flash of the chaotic, freckle-faced girl who used to throw rocks at my window. “You’re obviously free to see other people while we’re doing this, I don’t think it’s—”
“Will you be seeing other people?”
She laughs, shaking her head.
Maybe I sounded a little too earnest.
“After what went down with Cole, I’m happy to be taking a break from the dating scene.”
“Then I will too, at least for a while. Fair’s fair.”
She sighs.
“That works. I just want you to know that I’m fine with you still going to Dominion and, uh… going about business as usual.”
“Daph, I’m thinking about optics.” I set my wine glass on the counter behind me and lock eyes with her.
“If HotGoss already thinks we’re dating, it doesn’t look great for me to be fooling around.
There are going to be eyes on us, and if someone caught me going into that club without you, that looks—”
“Bad.”
“Very. They’ll have a reason to keep digging, and maybe then they figure out it’s all a sham. Besides, I don’t need Dominion. I’ve got my hand and lube for a reason.”
I might not be an expert on any of this, but I know enough about maintaining an image, and putting up a mask. It has to be impenetrable, especially at her level.
Daphne glances out the kitchen window, staring at the big rose bush in the backyard where I got the flowers for her bouquet.
“Can I propose something?”
“Sure.”
A thousand possibilities run through my mind all at once, but I hold my breath; if I’ve learned anything in this life, there’s always another goddamn shoe about to drop.
“What if we added something to our arrangement?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…” She’s gripping the stem of her wine glass so tight her fingers have turned bone-white. “I don’t want you to have to give up the thing that helped you heal, and I’ve got that fuck it list.”
She takes a step toward me, invading both my space and my senses.
All I can smell is her perfume mixing with the wine on her breath, and all I can feel is the anticipation of her touch as her hand hovers over my arm.
I saw something similar in her the other night while I was tying her up— just a flash of desire beneath all that anxiety.
Has she been cooking this idea up all week?
“The other night… I felt something I hadn’t felt in years. I think you felt it too.” She sips her wine. “Am I wrong?”
Tension crackles and pops like embers in a fireplace.
“What are you—” I choke a little, doing my best not to sound like an idiot as I clear my throat. “Ah, what are you proposing?”
“You could be a… tutor of sorts.”
“A tutor?”
She nods.
“I’ve been trying to figure things out on my own, but it would help to have someone with a lot more experience in the field. And, to be honest, I’d be more comfortable with someone I already know.”
I’ve clearly died and this is the afterlife, because there’s no way in hell this woman is standing in my kitchen asking me to be her kink tutor.
“Are you sure this is what you want? Last time—”
“It won’t be like last time.” Her words are breathy, barely audible against the pounding in my ears. “No strings, no feelings. We both get what we want.”
No feelings.
Did she have feelings back then?
No, I’m not doing this to myself. It almost killed me last time.
“Okay.” The word tumbles out without another thought. “No strings, no feelings.”
We shouldn’t be doing this, and the smart part of my brain knows that, but the idiotic lizard part that stashed Playboys under my mattress already knows my next move. I’m too stupid to turn this woman down.
“I want you to teach me everything you know about submission. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about those ropes.”
“Me neither,” I rasp.
She places her hand on my forearm, and every nerve in it lights up like it’s a goddamn christmas tree. Behind me, the pan sizzles and the smell of garlic and butter fills the room, but it’s mixed, blending with her, with that perfume that smells like fresh peaches bathed in woodsmoke.
“If you want… we could start tonight.”
“Tonight?” I chuckle. “You’ve become quite the enthusiastic student.”
“Lessons never used to be quite this exciting,” she purrs. “So? What’s the answer, Professor?”
My whole face is on fire, even my ears are burning red. Fuck, I need to get a grip. She’s clearly got one.
“Why don’t we start by you telling me some of the things you’re into?”
Her face lights up, clearly excited by the question.
“I like to be tied up, slapped, degraded, and… can I tell you something scandalous?”
“I love scandalous.”
“The other night after I got home from the club, I touched myself thinking about all the things I’d let you do to me.”
My brain is short circuiting, picturing her on her back with those thick thighs spread wide, and her fingers in her pussy.
Fuck it.
I push the straps of her dress down, my heart hammering at the sight of her tits.
“No bra?” I ask, a little dumbfounded. “Were you planning this?”
She shakes her head.
“It’s hot outside, and I find them… stifling.”
In a second, I forget years of sexual experience; I still can’t believe this is happening to me.
“Stifling,” I murmur. “Okay.”
I manage to pull myself together, reaching over and dipping my fingers in my wine glass before letting a few drops spill onto her skin, the clear liquid sliding down her nipple. She watches me as I lick up the sweet, tangy wine, sucking it away in gentle pulses.
“Frankie…”
I’m supposed to be the teacher, so I have to keep it together.
“Get on your knees.” I lift my head, catching her eye with a commanding stare. “Slut.”
Her moss-green eyes gleam as the dying summer sun hits her face, soft and golden, with little flecks of glitter scattered like stars across her skin.
She looks like a fucking painting.
“You say wheelbarrow, and we stop, okay?”
“Wheelbarrow?” She snickers. “Why wheelbarrow?”
“Gotta pick something neither of us would normally say.”
She nods, slowly lowering herself to the floor.
“I trust you.”
I still don’t know why. I’m the one who didn’t call after she left, the one who couldn’t handle rejection, and closed himself off to any chance of saving the friendship. But then again, here we are.
“You speak when spoken to, do you understand?”
She nods again, gazing up at me, her eyes eager as she pulls the top of her dress down to her waist.
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s a good girl.”
“Say it again.”
I feel like I’m going to burst into flames.
“You’re a real good girl, Firecracker.”
I don’t even remember why I started calling her that, but it suits her. She’s wild, and explosive, and when she walks into a room, everything lights up. Either way, it’s hard not to notice her whole face going beet-red at the mention of her old nickname.
I watch as her hand wanders, her fingers absently moving to one of her nipples, but I grab a handful of hair, giving a gentle tug before she gets started.
“No. You’ll be doing exactly what I say, and if you don’t, there’ll be a punishment, understand?"
“Will you spank me?” She asks, her eyes flashing with mischief.
I ignore the question, doing my best to keep her on her toes.
“I want you to take my cock out.”
She pauses, raising her brow, but only for a moment before…
“Yes, sir.”
I unbutton my pants, watching with a mixture of thrill and trepidation as she slips them down my hips, quickly moving on to freeing my cock. A surge of glee pulses through me when her eyes fall on my piercing.
“When did you get this?”
“Long time ago.” I grin. “Feels real good when—.”
Daphne doesn’t hesitate, gliding her tongue right along the barbell before carefully beginning to flick.
“That’s it,” I groan. “Fuck, you’re an eager little slut, aren’t you?”
She giggles, wrapping her hand around the base of my cock and slowly swallowing me.
She already broke a rule. Normally there would be punishment for acting without direct instruction; at the very least it would be something to call attention to, but she’s new at this.
Besides, the groan that escapes my lips sounds like something unholy is bursting out of my chest. I’ll let it slide, just this once.
She’s soft and gentle, her mouth and hand working in perfect harmony as my eyes roll into the back of my head. There’s a real chance that if I let her keep this up, I’m going to collapse.
I wrap her hair up in my fist, giving a quick tug of warning before pulling her off of me, catching sight of the newly-formed red-hot splotches covering her chest as she pants for air.
“You look parched, Firecracker.”
Daphne licks her lips.
“I’m so fucking thirsty, baby.”
Baby.
The two of us are gonna have a little more fun before this is over.
I tip the wine glass, slowly pouring what’s left over my cock as Daphne leans right into instinct. Some of it dribbles down her chin as she moves to catch what she can, not giving a shit that she’s ruining her makeup.
“That’s it. I don’t want to see any of this go to waste.”
Her eyes flash with glee as she gets to work, alternating between lapping up the wine and swallowing my cock, lighting my whole body up. Soon she’s sputtering and choking, tears trickling down her cheeks and leaving tiny rivulets of mascara behind.
This is one hell of an appetizer.
And to think, I only set out pita chips and hummus.
Daphne’s reaching the end of her rope, and she lets out a goddamn whine of a lifetime, equal parts pathetic, sinful, and ravenous.
“Look at me, Firecracker. Show me what this mouth was made for.”
There’s a goddess at my feet, and I’m about to shoot right down her throat.
“I’m gonna come.”
I pull back, using her like a fucking toy to set the perfect pace for what comes next. My climax is a quickly gathering storm, building and building until pleasure takes over completely. Daphne swallows drop after fucking drop of my hot cum, the sound of her moans only adding to my pleasure.
“Good fucking girl,” I groan. “Keep it up, I want that cock nice and clean.”
Daphne nods, carefully finishing the job as I start to go limp. Once she’s done, she sticks out her tongue, proving she’s swallowed everything.
I smile, running my hand through her hair, wondering what’s coming next just as the smoke alarm starts to scream.
“Son of a bitch!”
I turn to find a flaming pan sitting on the stove, and the two of us spring into action, both rushing around like Mr. Bean as we desperately try to put the fire out.
She rips open the pantry, looking frantically for something to use while I toss glass after glass of water onto the flames, the best I get out of it being a few angry bursts of hissing steam.
“Move!”
Daphne comes barreling through with a fire extinguisher, pulling the pin and spraying the entire stove until there’s nothing but foam and smoke.
The two of us stumble backward, leaning up against the table, nearly breathless.
Eventually, the alarm stops.
“I guess I forgot you’re supposed to flip the steaks.”