Good Girls Say Yes Read online

  Good Girls Say Yes

  Penny Wylder

  Contents

  Books By Penny Wylder

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  Excerpt of MY 5 BOSSES

  Books By Penny Wylder

  Books By Penny Wylder

  Filthy Boss

  Her Dad’s Friend

  Rockstars F#*k Harder

  The Virgin Intern

  Her Dirty Professor

  The Pool Boy

  Get Me Off

  Caught Together

  Selling Out to the Billionaire

  Falling for the Babysitter

  Lip Service

  Full Service

  Expert Service

  The Billionaire’s Virgin

  The Billionaire’s Secret Babies

  Her Best Friend’s Dad

  Own Me

  The Billionaire’s Gamble

  Seven Days With Her Boss

  Virgin in the Middle

  The Virgin Promise

  First and Last

  Tease

  Spread

  Bang

  Second Chance Stepbrother

  Dirty Promise

  Sext

  Quickie

  Bed Shaker

  Deep in You

  The Billionaire’s Toy

  Buying the Bride

  Dating My Friend’s Daughter

  Big Man

  Trapped with My Teacher

  My 5 Bosses

  Copyright © 2018 Penny Wylder

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or businesses, organizations, or locales, is completely coincidental.

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  One

  I haven’t seen Lily Saxon in almost two years. After college, I stayed up by Atlanta for my job, and she came down here, two hours south to Columbus for hers. Close enough that we should be able to see each other, far enough away that it’s not easy or convenient. Just one of those things…girls who are your best friends can suddenly disappear. We’ve tried to keep in touch, even though neither of us are particularly good at it. Which is why I was ecstatic when I found out she was finally getting married to the guy she’s been gushing about for three years. And which is also why my jaw dropped when I entered this church.

  The building itself is gorgeous, an old building with all the little details of something that was built in the past. Carved wood and high, arching windows. The colors of the wedding are a sensuous crimson and black, which gives the atmosphere an air of mystery and an edge of darkness that you don’t usually associate with weddings. But that’s not the biggest surprise. There’s a sign at the door with a small statement, the same one that was on the invitation that I hadn’t given a second thought to.

  This is a non-traditional wedding. Please be aware that some guests and members of the bridal party adhere to an alternative lifestyle, and that everything that takes place is consensual.

  I honestly didn’t think about what that meant until right now, when I walked into the church and the first thing I saw was a woman in a corset, tights, heels, and not much else, being led on a leash by a man in a suit. What the fuck?

  There’s a table for gifts, and I hand mine to the girl standing behind it—young and wearing a low-cut crimson dress. I’m guessing she’s a bridesmaid, though I haven’t met her before. I don’t think anyone from college is in the bridal party, though I think I’ll see some of my other classmates in the audience. There aren’t any ushers to walk you to your seat, and when I walk into the main space, I can see why. They’ve rearranged the sanctuary into a circular seating arrangement—all the chairs are surrounding the altar so there’s no division between the guests and the bride and groom.

  That doesn’t mean that the guests aren’t divided. On one side of the circle are people dressed normally, sitting in chairs and waiting. On the other side is the distinctly non-traditional part of the wedding. In the front row are men in suits, sitting in the chairs, and barely dressed women sitting or kneeling at their feet. They’re covered everywhere that matters, but it still looks like they’re wearing lingerie.

  There are others, outfits featuring leather and latex and things that I would never consider wearing in public. I’m all for non-traditional, but I’m not sure why these people are here. I guess they might be friends of the groom? But the Lily I knew in college would have been embarrassed just by looking at that side of the circle.

  Looking at them is unsettling. They’re so comfortable that you almost don’t notice the strangeness of their dress and posture, until you do. Even though looking at them gives me a strange, tingling feeling like I’ve forgotten something, I can’t seem to look away.

  One of the men sitting in the front row strokes the neck of the woman sitting at his feet, his fingers brushing the metal collar that she’s wearing. In response, she leans into his touch, the motion smooth and sensual like a cat, gathering pleasure from his touch. He’s looking at her like she’s the most precious thing in the world, and she’s smiling even though he can’t see her. I’m suddenly blushing, because I know that I’m looking at something far more intimate than a touch on the neck should be.

  I realize that I’m staring, and that there are people waiting behind me to enter the sanctuary. Yanking my gaze away from the couple, I sit down somewhere between the two sides of the circle and check my phone just for something to do, and to keep myself from staring. Lily sent my invitation with a plus one, but I don’t have a plus one at the moment, and I couldn’t even think of anyone I wanted to take. Talk about depressing.

  I look around, taking note of all the details. Bouquets of crimson and black roses and lilies line the sides of the aisle, and wrought iron candelabras are placed around the central altar and in-between the seating. The result is an intimate atmosphere with a sensual twist. It’s not what I would have predicted Lily would choose, but at least the wedding is beautiful even if it isn’t traditional. Though now that I’m here, I’m wondering if the ceremony is going to be something other than I’m expecting, too.

  The seats fill up more, the division between the guests becoming more and more apparent, and finally, right on time, the music starts. There’s a string quartet where the altar would usually be, and the music fills the space perfectly. Everyone turns to face the central aisle as the first of the bridesmaids enters. She’s dressed in a gorgeous off-the-shoulder slinky black dress touched with lace that matches the flowers, and I do a double-take at the metal collar that she’s wearing around her neck. It’s just like the one the kneeling girl is wearing.

  The next bridesmaid has cuffs around her wrists. What on earth is happening here? A dawning sensation reaches me that in the two years since I’ve seen Lily, life may have taken a different path than I thought. Like full on kinky, and by the time the last bridesmaid appears, I’m prepared to see her in full-on bondage gear.

  I’m so relieved to be wrong. Lily appears in a white gown, no strange additions in sight, and the minute she sees her fiancé—Mark—at
the altar, she transforms into a person so happy and so beautiful I almost don’t recognize her. There’s a pang in my chest. I want someone who will make me that happy. I want someone that I want so much that I have a smile that looks like it’s going to crack my face in half.

  The wedding is simple and proceeds much the way I expect it to, until it doesn’t. Lily and Mark say their vows, they exchange rings, and then Lily kneels in front of Mark like it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to do. Mark steps behind her, placing a simple silver necklace on her and fastening it, all the while murmuring words that are not loud enough for the guests to hear.

  I feel stunned more than anything. Glancing over at the ‘non-traditional’ audience shows that many of them are close to tears, and Lily is too. She looks almost happier than when she spoke her wedding vows. Is this what her life is now? Is Lily one of those women you read about in books who like to get tied up and beaten during sex? Even though we haven’t spoken in a long time, I knew Lily really well. I still feel like I know her really well, and the look on her face is genuine happiness. She’s not being forced into this. Am I okay with that? Can I be happy for my friend when she participates in something that many people consider abuse?

  My gut churns with uncertainty, and I make up my mind to ask her at the reception. If I get to talk to her, I’ll be able to know whether she really wants this. And if she does, then I’ll do my best to be happy for her. If not, I’ll find a way to get her the hell out.

  Lily stands, the minister pronounces them man and wife, and the whole audience cheers as they retreat up the aisle to a song that’s cheerier than you’d expect at a wedding that’s full of crimson and black.

  Well, one thing’s for sure. This is going down as one of the strangest weddings I’ve ever been to, and I haven’t even gotten to the reception yet.

  Two

  It’s late by the time I get to talk to Lily. You never actually get to talk to people in a receiving line. It’s kind of like an assembly line. After fifteen seconds and a hug, I half expect a woman with a stern face and clipboard to say that we’re slowing down production.

  So instead, I talk to the people at my table, I eat some of the food —which is delicious—and I drink. I’m learning a hell of a lot more about the scene than I ever knew before, because one of those couples sitting in the front row is at my table. The woman was sitting on the floor and I definitely wasn’t doing a good enough job at not staring.

  Frankly, I’m still not doing a very good job, because I can’t dismiss the tiny, nagging feeling that I’m missing something whenever I look at them. Thankfully this couple has been kind about it. They aren’t the couple I was watching in the sanctuary, but they behave much the same. And talking to them—both of them—is an experience I’m not going to forget soon.

  And now I know that Mark—Lily’s now husband— is a Dom or Dominant, and Lily is his sub. Which just blows my mind. Lily was practically afraid of men in college, to the point where I would have to drag her out of our dorm rooms on weekends so she could have some social interaction. But even though this is all new to me, Jenny and Christopher are making me feel a whole lot better about this. Jenny doesn’t seem like she’s some beaten down woman who does whatever Chris says. In fact, they seem like they have a really solid relationship. I’m relieved.

  They told me a little bit about how Lily and Mark met, and that Mark is one of the best men that they know. So when I finally manage to catch Lily alone, I feel prepared.

  “Hi!” she squeals, enveloping me in a hug that’s full of white tulle. “I’m so happy you could come. How are you? I’ve been trying to get over here for like an hour but you know weddings. Everybody wants a piece of the bride.”

  I hug her back. “I’m good. I spent that hour talking to Jenny and Christopher. Or should I call him Master Christopher?” I raise an eyebrow.

  She makes an exaggerated cringe. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you about Mark and our lifestyle. It’s not easy for people to understand, and they make assumptions. Since we haven’t seen each other in person in such a long time…I honestly wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

  I swallow, and take a deep breath, trying to calm the lingering doubts I have. “It’s a surprise. I would never have guessed based on the way I had to force your ass to socialize.”

  “That’s true,” she laughs. “But it turns out that I just had to find my tribe. It was where I least expected it.”

  “But…this,” I say. “You want this? You’re not being forced into it or anything?”

  Lily smiles at me in a way that lets me know that she’s answered this question probably a thousand times, and maybe several hundred of those times have been tonight. “I understand why you’re asking. Believe me, I do. But please believe me when I say that I am happy. Mark is a good man and he would never hurt me. Our relationship—our dynamic—is based on trust and love. I would never do anything I’m not comfortable with, and Mark would never make me.”

  I still have that little niggling doubt in the depths of my stomach, but she’s not lying. Truth and happiness are radiating from her like she’s the damn sun, and I find myself getting a little teary. “I’m really glad that you’re happy.”

  “Oh, Emma,” she pulls me into another hug. “You’re going to be happy too. I just know it. You’re going to get everything that you’ve ever wanted.”

  Someone taps her on the shoulder and she’s swept away into another conversation, leaving me alone wondering what the hell I actually want. Not this, my mind instinctively says. Not loneliness, not looking at people who tie each other up and being jealous for god’s sake. I turn to go back to the table and find Jenny and Christopher locked in a passionate kiss, and I have to look away. Why the hell didn’t I come to this wedding with a date? Nothing is worse than being alone at a wedding where everyone is coupled up but you.

  I don’t go back to the table. I go to the bar and refill my drink. And after that drink, I have another. And another until I’m not feeling sorry for myself anymore and am suddenly feeling sexy and available. This is much better.

  “I hope you’re drinking water with all of those,” a deep voice says behind me. I turn to find an attractive man towering over me, an eyebrow raised as he looks at my drink.

  “Last time I checked,” I say, “water doesn’t get you drunk.”

  “True, but it does keep you from having a hell of a hangover.”

  I look him up and down, and even though I’m well past tipsy, I can see that he’s hot. Like…smoking hot. Set off the fire alarms all by himself hot. The suit he’s wearing doesn’t disguise the fact that he’s ripped, and his face has got all those angles that they talk about when they say ‘classic beauty.’ I’d be just fine in the morning if I could stare at him all night.

  He’s laughing now, a rich baritone that tells me I spoke out loud without even meaning to. “If you’re going to stare at me all night, then you’re going to drink some water. Don’t move; I’ll get some.”

  I roll my eyes as he turns his back and I down the rest of my drink. Hot and a party-pooper. I think I’ll have a better time on the dance floor. Before I know it, I’m in the middle of the writhing bodies, losing myself in the music. I don’t need a man tonight—even if he is sexy as fuck. I don’t know why I felt bad earlier. Nothing can be bad when you feel this good. I love dancing. I don’t know why I don’t go dancing more.

  Hands land on my hips and I spin to find the sexy man on the dance floor with me. He’s a really good dancer, and he guides us with a quiet confidence that only turns me on more. I don’t mind the way his hands are wandering further than I would normally let them. I want them to wander. I want him to make me feel good.

  I press my back against his chest and his arm slips around my waist, pinning me against him as our hips move together. He’s hard against my back and it makes my heart race. I can’t remember the last time someone was so obviously turned on by me. It’s hot and it makes me want more�
�to push him so he can’t help but sweep me off my feet and carry me away. I push my ass back into him, and suddenly his lips are on my neck, and damn, I can feel those lips everywhere. It’s a good thing I wore underwear because I’m clearly not in control of myself, and Lily’s wedding is the last place I want to make a fool of myself.

  Mr. Sexy’s hand dips lower, teasing me with brushing fingers through the fabric of my dress. If the hem were shorter, I have no doubt that his hand would be underneath it. Arousal surges through me, and I’m shocked by just how much I want that to happen.

  Turning to face him again, I find fire in his eyes, and I want that fire in me and all over me. We’re not dancing anymore, just standing in the middle of the movement. He weaves his fingers into my hair, tilting my head back just far enough for him to lean down and kiss me, and I know what it means to be lit by that fire. His other arm snakes around my back, holding me against him, and the hand in my hair holds me still while he deepens our kiss. I’m fully wet now, I can feel it, and I try to kiss him back even though I can’t really move. He knows what he’s doing, and when he pulls away, I’m breathless from more than just the dancing.