Handling Cynthia: A Second Chances Novella (8 page)

"Sure they did. They hated my dad laying off all those people at ElyraCon, even though it was the only way to save the company. They hated me for beating out Denitra for head cheerleader. They hated me for being pretty and for getting straight A's. Oh, and most of all, they hated me for dating the most popular boy in class, because it meant they had to be nice to me—to my face at least."

Rick sliced into his waffle. "A few people might have felt that way. Not the people who knew you."

"The only people who cared about me were you guys."

"Cyn, people can hear you," Trent said.

"I don't care what these people think of me."

"You should," Rick said. "They're potential customers for your novels. You should be friending them all on Facebook. You need them for word of mouth."

"Ugh," she murmured.

"Think of it like Katharina in
Taming of the Shrew
," Jordan said. "Lie so you can profit from them."

She scrubbed her face with her hands. "I don't know why I'm in such a bad mood this morning."

"It's a lot to take in," Jordan said. "You've been gone five years."

She glared. "I feel bad enough about that without being constantly reminded."

"Cyn," Rick warned, "don't take it out on Jordy."

She drew a ragged breath. "I don't fit in here. I never have."

Rick reached across and cradled her hand. "You fit with
us
. Everyone at this table loves you. I've missed you like crazy. So stop talking like that." He looked at her intently. "You
have
to come visit us from now on."

She pulled her hand away and looked over at Trent. His eyes were hard, his jaw stiff.

She rose and got some orange juice from the pitcher on the counter. Trent had no right being jealous of Rick. He'd been her boyfriend for three years—of course she felt close to him. Nothing in her behavior toward him had been sexual, while she'd basically let Trent do whatever the hell he wanted to her.

Trent walked up behind her and rested his hands on her waist. "Cyn, if you're upset, we'll talk about it. This isn't the place."

"You're not the boss of me." She pulled from his grip and sat back at the table, eyeing Rick.

But he was distracted, watching Jordan, while Jordan was turned away. "What's going on?" She looked from one to the other. "You guys are fighting."

Rick shrugged. "Disagreement."

"You guys never fight. You yell at each other, then you make up."

"We're not kids anymore, Cyn." The edge in Rick's voice was harsher than anything she remembered from him. "Jordan thinks if you don't give him a hundred percent of what he wants, you're not on his side. Ninety percent isn't enough for him."

"Sometimes it's all or nothing," Jordan said.

She shrugged. "I'm a good listener. Maybe we could talk about it."

Jordan laughed, a sharp, frightening sound coming from that gentle soul. "Yeah, Rick, why don't you tell her about it?"

"Because this is between you and me."

Trent squeezed her hand. "Don't worry about these losers. What's the plan, now that you've quit your job in New York? Are you moving to Connecticut?"

He said it so casually, no one would have known they'd had red-hot monkey sex the night before, and he probably wanted to do the same again. Or maybe he didn't—he'd gotten her out of his system, and now he felt as blasé as he sounded.

She shrugged. "I can work anywhere. Maybe I'll move to a tropical island."

"Did you have an island in mind?"

Why was he acting like this was a casual discussion? If he wanted her to move to Delaware to be with him, he should ask her to.

Did she want to move to Delaware? Would she change her whole life because of a hook-up? She should have realized she and Trent weren't the same people they were in high school. They'd have to get to know each other again before they considered a serious relationship.

"No rush, right?" she said, a rebuke hidden beneath her careless tone. "My lease isn't up until June. I like being close to my folks, at least for now. Might as well stay in New York until I decide what's next."

Trent nodded, his jaw set. Obviously, that wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. Well, too bad. She wasn't ready to change everything for him.

***

Trent sipped his black coffee, ignoring the tightness in his gut. Cyn had been tense before Rick and Jordan showed up, and the two of them were making it worse. She absorbed the feelings of the people around her. He had to get her out of there.

Sadness tugged at his chest. He now realized why Cyn had stayed away so long. When her family had moved to town, her father had been the new CEO of the town's largest employer. She was in a different social sphere from the rest of the kids in class, and they never let her forget it.

It broke her heart when people called her a snob, when she was nice to everyone. By junior year, she'd turned more aloof, giving up on the idea that her kindness would be returned. She had two more years until she could move out of this little town and on with her life. Rick, Jordan, and Trent were her only close friends, and she accepted that. But coming to this reunion—that couldn't have been easy on her. No wonder she looked down.

Once they were alone, he could fix it. Hold her in his arms, trail kisses along her pale skin, silence the discord in her head. From the little he'd read, it seemed like subs most needed the Dom to take control when they were feeling overwhelmed, like Cyn was now. To give them something to focus on other than their thoughts.

"What time should we meet for lunch?" Cyn asked, waking Trent from his thoughts.

"Mom wants us at her place by noon," Rick said. "So, maybe 11:30? We can be there in fifteen minutes, but I don't want to be late."

Cyn giggled. "I haven't forgotten how much your mom hates it when people are late."

Trent set his jaw. He didn't remember actually agreeing to lunch at Rick's parents' house, but Cyn seemed excited about it. She'd been close to Rick's family when they were together. Naturally, she wanted to see them again. Yet jealousy burned in his chest and seeped into his stomach at the easy way Cyn talked to Rick, the shine in her eyes, the smile on her lips.

He swallowed, pushing away thoughts of his fist connecting with Rick's jaw. Did it matter that Rick had been the one to cheer Cyn up? Trent had been the one in her bed last night—the one she had sought out.

They had a long way to go before they could settle into a relationship. Their old friendship would be a good foundation, though, and discovering the new Cyn and her desires would be an adventure.

Hidden by the table, he touched his hand to her knee. She turned to him with a bounce of her hair. Her gaze quickly swept over him in a sultry, inviting way.

"You done?" he asked, rising and picking up their empty plates.

"Thanks," she said. "I'm going back to my room to do some writing before lunch."

"Yeah, and I should call my lab partner to make sure everything's okay." With a nod to Rick and Jordan, he deposited the plates on a tray by the trash can. He and Cyn walked to the elevators together, but she kept her distance. She didn't seem inclined to reveal yet what was going on between them.

Trent bit his cheek. He'd had enough of the coziness between her and Rick. He didn't doubt Rick would respect the boundaries once he knew Cyn was taken. It was her behavior that needed to change. Helping her understand that was next on his agenda.

The door to Cyn's room closed behind them, and Trent drew her into his arms. He planted a kiss on her neck, running hands down her red cashmere sweater and squeezing her ass through her black skirt. The scent of her cinnamon perfume, an innocent fragrance the night before, now filled him with decadent longing.

She settled onto the couch in the sitting area across from the TV, giving him a sly glance. His gaze skimmed the curves of her body as he sat beside her. "Do you really want to write before lunch?"

"No, I needed to get out of there. The energy in that room was making me crazy."

"I know Missy's comments upset you—"

"Misty."

"Whatever." He stroked her hair. "She's irrelevant. Don't let people like that upset you. You were irritable with Rick and Jordan, and I know you didn't want that."

She cast down her eyes. "Being here, being judged by these people—who do they think they are? Can you blame me for staying away?"

"No one's blaming you, Cyn. We've missed you."

"I've missed you guys, too." She sniffled as tears sprang to her eyes.

He squeezed her hands. "You're overwhelmed. Let me help. Sometimes, submissives need a release when pressure builds. At breakfast, you were distracted by what Misty said. If you let me take control, I can respond in situations like that. Pull your attention away from the petty things bothering you. Refocus it on pleasing and obeying me."

She shifted in her seat, wriggling and crossing her legs.

"You said that BDSM is foreplay to you. Perhaps it could be more."

She scowled. "What does that mean? You want to spank me for snapping at Jordy?"

He chuckled. "No, but if it would make you feel better—"

"Why would it make me feel better?"

He stroked her hair. "Because you want to be held accountable for your behavior."

She pulled away and glared.

Shit
. He shook his head. He was handling this wrong. "Look, Cyn, I'm not saying you've got anything to feel guilty about. Jordan understands you were upset. BDSM can be a pressure valve. Maybe you need that."

"We sleep together one night, and now you're an expert on what I need."

"I'm not an expert. I'm trying to help. That's what a good Dom does."

"I told you, it's a sex thing for me. I don't need you to be my Dom at breakfast."

He took her hands and kissed them. "I'm sorry. Look at this another way. You gave up a good job to work full-time as an indie author. That's incredibly brave, but it's a lot of stress, right?"

Tears formed at the corners of her eyes, and he slid his arm around her.

"I can take away some of the burden of decision-making. Not in your business, but in your personal life."

She fidgeted with her necklace. "I think we're getting ahead of ourselves."

His cheeks went cold. He rose and strode across the room. He turned to face her, pins prickling his heart. "What do you want from this relationship? Is this weekend it?"

She scrubbed her face with her hands. "I can't talk about this now."

"When should we talk about it? I'm going back to Delaware tomorrow, and you're going back to Manhattan."

She stood and took his hands. "I want a relationship. I just don't know how we’ll manage it."

His heart swelled with relief and tenderness. She wanted to be with him. That was what mattered.

He kissed her and brushed a finger down her cheek. "Let me worry about that."

She drew her brows, her eyes hard. "Let you decide my life for me?"

He rubbed his hand over the back of his head. "We don't have many options. I won't finish my PhD for at least three years. Either you come to me, or we do this long-distance, or we break it off now. I vote for you moving to Delaware, but if you'd like to try it long-distance for a while first, I understand."

She rested her forehead against his neck. "I need time."

"Say the word, and I'll find you a nice apartment near mine, within walking distance to a park and shopping—you'd like that, right?"

She gave him a sly grin. "Maybe."

He kissed her, tenderly at first, then more deeply. She moaned into his mouth, her body soft and pliant again. "Cyn, I want to make this work between us."

"Me too. But I meant what I said. You're not the boss of me. That isn't what I'm looking for."

"It's not what I'm looking for, either. I love your independence. But I don't like how upset you got at breakfast. You spiraled out of control. I can help you break that cycle."

She looked at him sideways.

"And I hate that Rick is the one who finally made you laugh."

She shrugged. "He's had more practice."

"Yeah." He pulled her close and kissed her. "If we're going to be a couple, we need to tell him about us."

She pulled away and looked at him with wide eyes. She sat on the couch, holding a pillow to her chest.

"That's not an unreasonable request," he said.

"Now's not the time. He's already upset about something. He and Jordy are fighting, and they never fight."

"You haven't seen them in five years. You don't know how things normally are between them now. Whatever's going on, it's between the two of them. Rick said as much."

"Why are you so resistant to talking about this?"

He worked to keep his anger from seeping into his voice. "Rick isn't your boyfriend anymore. You should be thinking about me, not him."

"Trent, seriously, I'm upset. Can't you be a little supportive?"

"I
am
being supportive." A toxic mix of rage and jealousy rushed through him. "I'm doing my best to be patient and understanding, and meanwhile, you're obsessing over your ex-boyfriend."

"I'm not obsessing. I'm worried. I dated him for three years, and I've never seen him this upset. Jordan, either."

"But there's nothing you can do about it." He sat and took her hands. "We've got two days to figure out where we go from here. Let's focus on that."

She pulled her hands away. "So everything has to be about you now? I'm not allowed to have other friends?"

"Cynthia. I'm trying to help you. Turning your attention to pleasing me is a way to distract yourself from the noise in your head. Take a deep breath, and try to be rational."

She stood and crossed her arms. "Don't you
dare
talk down to me."

He paused and collected his thoughts. He was doing this wrong and making things worse. He needed to show leadership in this situation, and not let his emotions get in the way.

Her rigid expression crumbled. "All those great talks we had in high school, was that because you wanted to get me into bed? And now that you've succeeded, you think you don't have to be nice to me anymore?"

"Of course not." He rose and rubbed her shoulders. "I care about you. But you're worrying about things you can't control. It's upsetting you. Let's talk about something else."

She raised her brows. "We can talk about you being a prick."

"Another outburst like that, and I'll put you over my knee."

"The hell you will. I don't do power exchange unless we're playing a scene."

He raked his fingers through his hair. "When subs get upset, a spanking can relieve the tension."

"You know what would relieve my tension? If you would fucking
talk
to me. I'm worried about my friends, and all you can think about is sex."

"What good would it do for us to talk about it?" He scanned her eyes, surprised by the hardness in them, so different from the wanton submission the night before. A spanking would distract and help center her. But the two of them were still finding their legs. He had to prove she could trust him—not just in the bedroom, but in all facets of their lives.

"Cyn, I love how you care for your friends. But what you said before…Rick and Jordan fight. I've seen them ready to beat the crap out of each other, and five minutes later, they're laughing like nothing happened. Whatever's going on with them, they'll work it out."

"So I should mind my own business." Her tone was hard and cold.

He brushed his fingers through her hair. "We've got our own stuff to deal with. Your attention should be on me, not Rick."

She glared at him a moment longer before her gaze fell to the floor.

"BDSM can be a sort of mindfulness meditation. When you're feeling out of control, it can help you turn off the outside voices and focus on the present moment."

She looked up at him. "So it's like yoga."

"That sarcasm is uncalled for. You're acting like a brat. No good Dom would put up with that."

Tears filled her eyes and fell onto her cheeks. She drew a ragged breath. He encompassed her in his arms, shushing and caressing her. "I know this morning has been hard on you," he said. You're a jumble of emotions. A spanking will help you release them, and wipe the slate clean between us."

Her eyes darkened. He bent his head toward her, brushing his lips along her neck.

"I don't want…" Her protest died as she turned and captured his mouth, her kisses soft and needy. His hands skimmed down her back and over her ass. "I don't like fighting with you," she said in his ear.

"I don't like it, either. Power exchange can eliminate that struggle. If you trust and obey, we won't have to argue over petty things."

"I don't know if I can. Or even want to."

"I'll earn your trust, baby." He slid his hand up her thigh. "You're so turned on right now, and we both know why. You've been naughty, and you want me to punish you."

She shuddered, melting into him. "I haven't been naughty. Just honest."

"It's okay to admit it, Cyn. It doesn't make you weak. It doesn't make me respect you less."

He pushed his hand up further and touched her through her panties. "Ask for it, Cyn." He nibbled her ear. "Ask for what you want."

With a breathy moan, she murmured, "Please, sir. Show me what happens to bratty subs."

He smiled, and she bit her lip, giving a nervous little laugh. She didn't resist as he led her to the couch and guided her across his lap.

His cock responded to the pressure of her body, and even more to the pliancy of her will. His heart pounded, his breath quickened, but he reined in his eagerness. This was about Cyn, about establishing the terms of their relationship, showing he could be the Dom she needed and more.

He situated her with her torso resting on the cushion, bearing her weight so she wouldn't lose her balance. He lifted up her skirt, revealing lacy red panties, which he lowered to mid-thigh. She whimpered.

His hand instinctively caressed her white, tender ass. Her breath rasped at the contact, and he moaned, wishing he could simply enjoy the softness, the decadent exposure of her body to him. But he had a responsibility to prove he was a Dom worthy of his beautiful sub.

"Hands behind your back with your wrists crossed."

She obeyed with a whimper. "Please, sir, I didn't mean to be naughty. I'll be a good girl next time."

"I'm sure you will, once I show you what happens when you lose your temper." He gripped her wrists firmly with his left hand, holding them down. She ground her pelvis against him.

"This is your punishment for using a disrespectful tone with me. When it's over, I expect you to apologize. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Her voice wavered.

"What's your safe word?"

"Mustang, sir."

His cock thickened against the fabric of his jeans. He licked his lips. He raised his hand and brought it down hard, leaving a bright red print on her pale flesh.

***

Cynthia flinched at the impact, not simply a sting like the night before, but a deeper ache she wasn't expecting. She wriggled, instinctively trying to escape, but he held her firm with one arm as he rained down blows with the other. "Ow, Trent, please!"

"You need to accept your punishment, young lady." He spanked her harder, and she yelped, her ass blazing, her dignity in shreds.

Worst of all, she was so wet, she was sure he could see her sex glistening from his vantage point. He was right. She wanted this, craved it. She loved being at his mercy, experiencing his strength in this absolute, visceral way.

She gave herself over to his heavy hand, the fight leaving her. The blows continued to fall, but her body slackened, yielding to the pain, aroused by it. "I'm sorry," she croaked.

The spanking slowed before stopping altogether. "On your knees," Trent ordered.

She scrambled to the floor and lay her cheek on his knee. Her head was a little woozy, and she craved his comfort and his touch. "I'm sorry, sir."

Trent stroked her hair. "That's my good girl. You accepted your punishment well. You deserve a reward."

He lifted her to her feet. Encompassing her in his arms, he led her to the bed. She leaned against him and let out a little sigh. Her whole body glowed from his attention.