Page 39 of Don't Fall For Your Best Friend

This is a temporary thing.

I bound from the couch, taking my mug with me into the kitchen and setting it in the sink. “Do you just want to watch a movie instead?”

Paxton follows me into the kitchen, slapping a hand onto the counter and sucking in a deep breath. “I have to be up early to give a tour to a few people coming into town. They own a bunch of restaurants a few towns over, and we’d love to make things work. If I can land that account, it would be huge for Atta Boy.”

“Right. Okay, we can call it a night. Hopefully, we can think of something new to do.”

Paxton steps closer. “How are you feeling? Still itchy?” His eyes are warm as he studies me.

I shake my head. “No, I’m fine. I’m going to work on my article.”

Paxton heads toward the door, and I say goodnight to him.

As soon as he leaves, I return to the kitchen and slump against the counter. Why can’t we make it through one successful scene?

I grab my notebook and pen, and head for my living room. Plopping down on the couch, I open my notebook. I’ve been documenting everything from the rules we set to each disaster that has played out along the way. Since I’m covered in itchy hives, what better time to go through and recall it all?

Why not kick myself when I’m already down? I scan the words written in my notebook:

Public play with a vibrator in my panties. Sounds hot, was hot, until it malfunctioned. Getting shocked in public, while the small town watches, is mortifying. And painful. Ten out of ten—don’t recommend.

Knife play is a sexy idea. Having your tight leather outfit cut off slowly is thrilling and erotic. Watching Paxton’s finger dripping with blood because he cut himself is horrific. The ER visit to have it stitched up was the cherry on top. Another huge fail.

Oil, yes a simple massage. How could this go wrong? Rubbing oil on each other was a turn-on. Hands gliding across each other’s skin. Touching, rubbing, massaging. It feels amazing. But when Paxton went to get more oil that we left in the kitchen it all went down. Literally. He rushed into the kitchen, grabbing the oil off the counter, which slipped out of his hands from all the oil on them. The oil spilled on the floor and when he went to pick it up, he slipped in the oil and fell on his ass. I heard him curse and ran out to watch him fall once more. Every time he tried to get up, he fell, bringing me down with him. He tried gripping the counter and his hand slid right off, smacking himself in the face as he slipped on the floor again. Oil should be left for cooking. Or the professionals.

Hot wax is supposed to be fun and we decide this is an easy one. This time I had him tied to the bed. It was hot seeing him at my mercy. I sat on his bare chest and poured the wax on him. When he hissed telling me it was hot, I may have been a little too into it. I replied, “Yeah, you like that, huh?” His voice changed, but I didn’t notice when he said, “No, Hart. I think it’s burning.” I went a little overboard with the dirty talk and said, “Yeah, burn for me. Burn.” He cursed, shouting the word, ‘strawberry’ at the top of his lungs, and my stomach leapt into my throat when I saw the burn marks on his chest. Hot wax, buyer beware. Another bust.

Moving on to something we can’t get injured with. We decided to try something completely different. Paxton tying me up and using a ball gag. I was excited and purchased silk sheets to set the sexy mood. What feels better than silk on your body? Well, Paxton tied me up, ankles to wrists, and put a gag in my mouth, because I wanted the full effect. So there I was on the bed and Paxton decided to go get some whipped cream for a little extra fun. When he left, I shifted and it was the worst thing I could’ve done. Those silk sheets are as slippery as the oil and I slid. With no way to stop myself, I continued to slide until I slipped between the wall and the bed. I couldn’t scream because of the gag. I couldn’t move, either. When Paxton came back in and I had disappeared, he was confused and completely shocked. It felt like hours until he found me, but honestly, it was probably more like thirty seconds. He released the ball gag from my mouth and untied me, and we fell into a fit of giggles, squashing the mood immediately. Once again a disaster.

Paxton showed up at my door with a butt plug. He held it up smiling and I slammed the door in his face. That was one thing I wasn’t willing to do. Especially with him. I opened the door, and said, “You want to play with that thing, you wear it.” And that was the end of that.

I did research and found genital clamps that could be used on Paxton’s balls. I bought them and a blindfold, surprising Paxton at his place. When I showed him, he laughed, cupping his hands between his legs. I explained how the gentle tug was supposed to be pleasurable. “Okay Hart, you put in the butt plug and I’ll use the clamp.” I packed up and left. Clamps and plugs should have a return policy.

Role play is supposed to be sexy and fun. We decided to give this a try, but with our relationship, it just felt forced. So we did some research and I found one that could work. Paxton would “break” into my house and tie me up. I was intrigued until it happened. I was asleep on the couch, forgetting tonight was the night Paxton planned his ‘break-in.’ When he touched me, I woke up in a panic and took the hardcover book I was reading, swinging it, and hitting him in the face. There was a moment of panic from both of us, but when he finally yelled, holding the side of his face, my eyes widened. “Hart, I will never again worry that you live alone. You’re obviously capable of holding your own.” I apologized over and over, grabbing an ice pack from the freezer for him to hold against his cheek. Even role play doesn’t play out how we plan.

Tonight the feather incident. Who knew I’d be allergic to a feather, but here I am itching as yet another experiment goes wrong.

If I were to turn in my article right now it would be one sentence: BDSM: Don’t Do It.

I’m getting ready for a new scene. One where we’ll do a little role playing that doesn’t come with a surprise visit. I’ll be a nurse, tending to Paxton’s wounds.

Hell, he has enough of them.

I’m in my bathroom, wanting to relax and wax my legs. Just in case things escalate. Because there’s one thing that rings true between us, the chemistry is electric. Usually, things heat up before bad things happen. And when they’re heated, they’re like magma.

As candles flicker, casting a gentle glow, soft melodies waft through the room, creating a soothing atmosphere. Immersed up to my neck in a sea of bubbles, I release a contented sigh and let my eyelids drift shut.

My mind wanders to Paxton. To the first night with Paxton, how controlling he was with the device in my panties.

I was so turned on.

I was on fire, and now my body vibrates as I remember the way his eyes bored into me.

Would he have continued on with the device and made me come? I think so.

And I know I would have enjoyed it.

My core heats as I rub a pink loofah sponge over my body. I can’t get over the way Paxton stared at me that night. How he’s looked at me since.