Page 28 of Rushed

Keenan

Sarabeth’sis busy. For close to four years now, each of them have met up here after a night of revelry to eat and start the year off together. This is their ‘Sex in the City’ moment, regardless of couples, hopeless singles, or newly created friendships.

I’m regarded as Carrie today, as I brought my Mr. Big who hardly has time anymore for this kind of companionable relaxation. Troy and Jax were at an all-night party in Soho, so they are a bit worse for wear, as they creep in with oversized shades, heads tucked low, obviously hungover. Charlie and Jim decided on a quiet night in and celebrated together. Tig and his wife came with the new baby, and Ty sat quietly in the corner, musing about something for sure. He won’t break and give us details, but I have the distinct feeling he had a night worth remembering, as he’s less pissy today.

Rush and I held out to the early hours at his club after the ball dropped. We waited for close, kicked out the Conditioners (as he calls them) and took over. I was taking full advantage of his time away from pelting the bag to wear him out, Keenan style.

Before we left the house to go to Times Square, he’d asked me to dress warmly, but I conveniently forgot to wear a bra and panties. As we stood in in the cold, kissing and ringing in the New Year, his wandering hands took measure of my lacking accoutrements. I swear it was the fastest trip to his club on foot that he’s probably ever made, but by the time we arrived, he was definitely up for a show.

“I believe I’ve told ya this before, Kitten, but yer a dangerous woman.” We walk up to the third floor where his office and the DJ booth were located.

“Strip down, love.” Rush grinds out the words as he turns down the lights around the club. Starting a selection of music, he wanders around while I wait on him, excitedly. As a heavy beat wafts through the empty floors, Lincoln tosses his pea coat to a chair and pours us both a glass of whiskey.

“Yer still dressed,” he growls.

“Yes.” I don’t always do as I’m told, and I think it turns him on more. So I wait as I sip on my drink, and watch as a fire dances in his eyes.

“I’m gonna show ya why it’s best to do as yer told, Kitten.” Lincoln kisses me with a fire that consumes me, I feel it in every fiber of my being. Our tongues mesh, my heart speeds up, and my breathing rushes out of me. I’m so turned with anticipation of my punishment.

“Come with me.” With a final peck on the lips, Lincoln pats my ass, turns me towards the wall then walks past me. Touching the wall, a click rings out through the room as it separates, revealing a doorway.

“Secret rooms? I’m intrigued. Will you be chopping me up into pieces, sir?”

Flicking a switch on the wall, the room illuminates. Staring wide-eyed, I walk inside. The door clicks closed, locking in place, while I continue to gaze around at the space. Dark gray, concrete walls are adorned with hooks holding various implements: whips, a black leather padded chair, clamps, chains, dildos, and so on. I feel as if my head might explode with all the dirty thoughts it’s conjuring.

“Wow. This room is—”

“Too much?” Lincoln asks, sounding fearful of my answer.

Smiling, I turn to him. “No. It’s perfect, Lincoln.”

“Rush,” he states stiffly. “In this room, I’m Rush. I can’t be Lincoln in here.” Stepping close, dragging a soft hand down my face, I melt into his touch. “At home I’m Lincoln, but here, I let it all out. All of what I am comes to light in this room. If ya need to stop, I’ll stop. If ya find somethin’ is too much for ya, I’ll give ya the opportunity to back out, but I have to show ya who I am inside.”

“I can handle who you are, Rush. I think I’ve handled all of it pretty well, so far.” I can feel his trepidation at my acceptance.

“I’m more than I’ve let ya in on. If yer okay with this, I can give ya all of me.”

I think about what he asks. He wants me to accept him willingly, and to give in to his baser needs. “I trust you. Show me,” I say, turning back to look at the focal point of the room. A cross in black wood, with shackles in all corners of the room.

Stepping around me, Rush picks up the whip, petting its surface with care. “Thank you,” he breathes out. He doesn’t expect an answer, that’s clear enough. I can see it was more for his own peace of mind to say it. He’s glad, and still afraid I’ll run screaming, but that’s not going to happen.

“It’s a St. Andrews Cross, and it’s one of my favorite things.” I’ve never seen one, but I have to admit that I’m fascinated. Just the idea of being trussed up is turning me on.

“Strip, Keenan.” I move to do as he’s commanded, and feel a rush of power. He may be the one asking, but I’ve given him my free will. I’m the one truly holding the power, even though I’ll be at his mercy.

I take the last of my clothing off and place it on the chair. “Where do you want me?” I ask quietly.

“Stand by the cross.” His face is hard, giving away his internal need.

“Rush, I trust you implicitly. Show me all of you, please.” Standing naked and fully aroused, I’m not totally sure what to expect, but I want all of him.

He nods. “There is a safe word in this room. It will always be the same word, and once it is spoken, we are done. There will be no restartin’ once it’s said. Ya’ll grab yer clothing and walk out. After ya enter the other room, I’m no longer Rush to ya. I’ll be Lincoln once more. Do ya understand, Keenan?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good. The word is Beetlejuice.”

“Pardon?” I try my best to hold in the giggle, but I can’t. “The word you want me to say is Beetlejuice? Do I have to say it three times?”

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