Free Not In My Wildest Dreams (Dream Series) by Isabelle Peterson Page A

was absolutely enthralled and at peace. The leather strands smacking her ass, left her cheeks good and pink. I bet it was warm to the touch too. And when the crop was added… She knew it was coming. I knew that a riding crop could hurt. My brother, Kurt, once thought it would be funny to whip me like a horse. It didn’t feel sexual at all. It hurt like a mother fucker and left a mark for a week. Why was it different when that girl had it done to her?
    The guy who was strung up and getting whipped was the most intriguing to me. What was he getting out of it? He stood and took the whips to his back. I was surprised that there were mostly only markings on his back and that he wasn’t bleeding much at all. What I was most curious about was the look on his face when we saw the front of him. He looked pained while waiting for the crack of the whip, but when it came down, he looked purely relieved. And the way his tied up cock reacted had me more confused than all of it.
    My cock was rock hard and needed relief. Becca was passed out and therefore unavailable. As I stroked it with my hand, I imagined what it would feel like had my balls been tied up like that guy. What was the point? With my other hand, I closed off my balls as much as I could and I continued to stroke. While normally stroking made my cock hard and I came easily, with my balls shut off, my cock was wickedly hard. And when I couldn’t stand it anymore, I released my grip and mother-fucking-holy-shit! I came so hard and loud, I was scared I’d woken Becca up.
    I cleaned up and checked in on Becca. She was snoring like a lumberjack.
    Laying back in bed, I hated Lisa for taking us there, but at the same time, I wanted to ask her to take me back. I needed to see more. I needed to learn more.

CHAPTER 12

    T he next morning, Becca didn’t mention the club, nor did I. I had a feeling she was thinking about it, but I wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. Instead, I quietly served her coffee and toast. Becca was quiet when she was hungover, but this morning she was absolutely melancholy.
    We sat quietly, both of our minds turning. Not sure what was going through her mind, but I had so much running through mine I thought I’d explode.
    “Becca, can I ask you a question?” I asked quietly.
    “You just did,” she replied, throwing on an interview ready smile, already trying to deflect what she sensed was coming.
    I chewed on my lip and cracked my knuckles which earned me a glare. She hated when I did that. I couldn’t help it. I always cracked my knuckles when I was nervous.
    “Out with it,” she growled.
    “Are you… You know…” I let the sentence trail off, not sure which word to use. Gay. Lesbian. Homosexual.
    “Impossibly beautiful? Outrageously talented? Wickedly smart? Yes. Yes. And hell yes!”
    “Forget it,” I muttered. This was going to go nowhere.
    “What, Jackie? Just say it.” I gritted my teeth. I had to get her to stop calling me that. “Are you gonna ask your question or what?”
    I took a deep breath and let it out in a puff. “Danny. The g—the person that broke your heart just before I moved in. Was that short for Danika?”
    “What the—? That’s how rumors get started. Why would you even ask that?”
    “Well, I overheard you and her… talking… It sounded like—”
    Becca got up off the sofa and went to the window. She pulled back the curtain and stared silently.
    “I’m sorry. I overstepped,” I apologized. I got up and went over to her. I was surprised to see tears in her eyes again. Becca never cried, now this was the second time in two days. Critiques, harsh reviews, or being rejected from a job, she was always strong and it didn’t seem to bother her.
    “I knew it was over. I was just being silly,” she whispered. “First love, you know? You never get over it, I guess,” she sobbed, turning into my chest and clutching around my waist.
    “Gotta say, I never saw this coming,” I said, shaking my