Read Yellow (The Safeword Series, #2) for Free Online Page A

when he retrieved the cat o’nine whip.
    “Will it hurt?”
    The leather strips of the flogger danced across my skin. There had to be something seriously wrong with me because I wanted him to say yes.
    I wanted to say green, more, and we hadn’t even begun.
    “Sin,” he breathed into my ear, “I made you a promise...and I’m a man of my word.” His voice darkened in the most delicious way. “I’m gonna make you scream.”
    ****
    I t took me awhile to warm to Lindsay’s ‘parties’.
    Dozens of people were stuffed into our two bedroom, one bathroom walk up, with the festivities and drunken actresses spilling into the hallway (and in my bedroom, giving me unsolicited retellings of their last audition). I’d flee to Denny’s, grumbling with my cell phone in hand, Craigslist beaming like some light at the end of the tunnel. I dreamed about the day I’d be able to afford my own place. With time, and finally loosening up by having a shot or two myself, I realized that Lindsay threw these parties because it made her feel less lonely.
    Lindsay’s parties became our parties. We trimmed down the guest list and instead of bass thumping EDM music, we met in the middle with electronic tunes that didn’t make our neighbors pound on the walls. We branched out beyond naked Twister to Cards Against Humanity.
    Changes aide, my upbringing still made me a nervous wreck when it came time to get ready for a party. In the Slade household, even one of my mother’s friends returning a book was cause for cleaning our house from top to bottom. My mother wasn’t happy  unless the place glittered and sparkled like a model home, complete with her perfect little cardboard cutout family. I threw a wrench in it in my own way; smudging a freshly polished glass table, leaving a Starbucks cup on the counter, not folding the end of the tissue paper into a triangle. You know, leaving it free flowing and ready to actually be used instead of admired.
    Despite  my small acts of rebellion, I was still the one in the rubber gloves, armed with the Clorox cleaner and determination, turning me and Lindsay’s apartment into the house I couldn’t wait to escape.
    But not tonight.
    I didn’t wince when her artist friend, fresh from the studio and coated in paint, plopped down on our couch. If the stain didn’t come out, who cares? It would give the old thing some character.
    When her handsy coworker, a bouncer who liked to hug a little too tightly pulled me in for a bear hug, I darted away with a laugh instead of a scowl.
    I didn’t cringe when one of her model friends, already drunk or high or maybe both, started giving me a lap dance. In fact, I took a handful of Monopoly money from Lindsay and made it rain.
    When Peter showed up, his cap on backwards, looking all doom and gloom like was surprised he was invited back after our last dinner party, I threw my arms around his neck, thanking him for coming.
    My life was bright and sunny and filled with counting down the moments until 7:30. That’s when I slipped into the cab that took me to another world. D’s world, which felt like our world when he lit me up with his hand, his fingers, or that cat o’nine tails whip that I’d first looked at with a mixture of curiosity and terror.
    After he disciplined me, he caressed me with gentleness and tender strokes. I’d even got a laugh or two out of him a few nights ago. I still felt him holding back, but tonight, all bets were off. I’d get some liquid courage at the party, then I’d find him at Hush and tell him that I was ready. We were ready...to finally be honest about what was happening between us.
    I realized that I was still holding onto Peter and blushed. The person I really wanted to hold was the man in the black mask.
    Peter looked down at me, surprise glowing in his eyes as a tentative smile crept across his face. “Quite the welcome - and I thought you'd avoid me after what happened the last time we saw each other.”
    I frowned,