Cook (The Ridge MC Book 4)

Chapter 11

Cook

The stars blinked to life as my motorcycle roared down the two-lane road, carrying me toward something new. Something for Maddie. Fuck, how I wished she were wrapped around me on this bike, keeping me grounded. Instead, I might as well have been a kite, blowing about in every which direction.

I rolled the throttle, but no matter how high the speedometer climbed, I couldn’t outrun my past. Reminders of it slapped me in the face at every turn. The burst of anger over the photo Maddie found had been unnecessary.

Uncontrollable, but I’d scared Maddie.

Something I’d been trying very, very hard not to do.

Chalk that up to an epic fucking fail.

I had stopped outside the Ridge, calling Sloan Mercer—Ward’s contact at Club Serenity, but I wasn’t going there. I needed to check on Mom after having left her alone today, sending her home health aide away. I needed to make sure she was well.

But then why did I veer right off the highway instead of left? Why had I aimed my ride for downtown Phoenix rather than the burbs? Why did I end up outside a red brick building, staring up at the almost unnoticeable Serenity sign?

“Don’t worry, Cook,” I said aloud to the seemingly vacated block. “It’s only kinky the first time.”

I kicked down the stand and swung my leg off. My bones still vibrated with both the rattle of the road and the adrenaline. No matter how many years I had been riding, the thrill of it still made me tremble. The power and speed and danger were addictive. Like Maddie.

I needed to put her out of my mind. She was safe and warm, sated and sleeping in fresh sheets at my childhood home. Yet she was the reason I came.

The nudge of eyes on me made my hackles rise, and I checked my surroundings. I’d been careful when cruising through Park Ridge, not wanting to alert anyone in the motorcycle club of a lone bike’s departure. Others might’ve followed.

My brothers could be good company. We could write it off as bachelors going in for something raunchy, but I needed to do this alone. While the Mafia had sent a threat our way, Ward believed they were full of shit. With Gambino behind bars and his wife sucking six feet of sand, that left an ancient acting Don—Enzo Gambino.

Of course, our LA crew would stay on guard and keep eyes on his club, Enigma, but I didn’t really think his shriveled balls could muster enough piss or vinegar to come after us.

The other problem we had was the cartel. That big motherfucker Sasquatch had drawn the attention of the Medellín cartel with his new drug deals, and there would come a time to deal with the warehouse explosion. However, we hadn’t seen any sign of enemies since they’d blown up our stash of blow.

Regardless, if the cartel had eyes on me, I had bigger fucking problems than being caught walking into a sex club. That’d put Mom and Maddie in danger. Hell, all the MC’s ol’ ladies.

At the door, I sucked in a deep breath. “Here goes nothin’.”

Inside I went.

For Maddie.

I had to learn how to give her what she needed, and this was step one.

When I stepped inside Serenity, I immediately rocked back on the heels of my boots. I had been in many clubs before, ranging from smoking joints to techno-party nightclubs. This wasn’t anything like those. I wasn’t even past the dark velvet curtains and the receptionist before I wondered if I had stepped into another dimension, like this might be Marvel’s fucking Multiverse.

I half expected to see pink slime floating through the air.

Everything I thought I’d known was wrong. Including Ward and Belle. My stomach twisted, and I dragged my heels, like I should be backing away slowly rather than moving forward. I reached back to check that my gun was secure in the waistband at my back, or that I could grab it easily if needed.

“Can I help you?” asked the receptionist, dragging their eyes up my body, implying a shit ton of What the fuck are you doing here?

Yup, fish out of fucking water.

I searched my mental file of double entendres but came up dry. Guess that said something about how jacked up I was.

“I’ve got it,” said a man, coming out of the velvet curtains. “He’s my appointment.”

“Of course, Mr. Mercer,” said the receptionist.

The man couldn’t be more than half my size but radiated energy that made me want to grab my gun. Sloan Mercer also looked like a goddamn nerd. Preppy hair. Wire-frame glasses. Beady eyes. Dude looked like he should be at a desk with an abacus.

The same way I scrutinized him, he measured me, like he could read my social security number and cock size on my forehead. I stood a little taller, crossing my arms over my chest.

He inclined his head to the back. “Let’s talk in my office.”

Behind the giant mahogany desk, Mercer sat in a wingback leather chair and steepled his fingers in front of his chest. I took the facing chair—the only one available. It was half the size of the little man’s, and I had to stuff my ass in it.

Regardless, Mercer offered for his receptionist to get me brandy or whiskey, expensive liquors I couldn’t pronounce, but I shook my head. I needed to keep my head on straight. He leaned back in his chair, which creaked under his slight weight like a scream. Perhaps the smaller chair was sturdier and could better handle my two-eighty frame.

My ears pricked as someone screamed in the distance before it turned into a moan. I looked, but then turned my head away from the sound, facing Sloan’s dark eyes again.

“The sounds of pleasure bother you?” he asked.

“Are you asking me if I enjoy eavesdropping?” I grumbled. “No.”

He dropped his gaze to my jeans, and my spine stiffened. My cock didn’t rise to the sounds of people being tormented until their pain turned to pleasure. This appointment only had to do with Maddie and what she wanted. I didn’t need a man staring me down like that, showing off his pearly whites.

“What?” I demanded through clenched teeth.

“I’m surprised by you,” said Mercer, unmoving. “And I don’t get surprised often.”

“Congratulations to me,” I said dryly.

“Not sure about that.” His eyes lowered to my shirt.

A half-smile curled my lip, and I opened my cut so he could read.

His eyes rolled—perfect reaction. “Masturbating cows? Really?”

Smirking, I asked, “Beef stroking off. Get it?”

At the end of a long sigh, Mercer said, “You’re lying to yourself, Mr. Cook.”

I barked a laugh. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know Ward Pascale,” said Mercer.

A scowl crossed my face. I wasn’t sure I knew the Warden’s last name before that.

Mercer continued, “He sent you to me because you’ve got a sub and you need training. You’re not the first referral I’ve had.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” Ward hadn’t said anything about training.

Mercer chuckled. “If you didn’t know the answer to that on some level, you wouldn’t be here, now would you?”

I bristled at his attitude. “She needs me to help her,” I gritted out. “All I need is for you to tell me how.”

“There’s a lot more to it than that, but I can show you.” He didn’t move.

I, on the other hand, wanted to squirm in the chair. Fortunately, I couldn’t manage in the tiny seat.

“You can do this, Mr. Cook. As long as you don’t fight yourself.”

There wasn’t going to be a fight between me and myself, but I couldn’t guarantee this little dweeb’s safety if he didn’t start giving me straight answers.

I scooted my chair forward so I could lean my elbows onto the desk. “Just be real with me. No dancing around the goddamn topic.”

“This undertaking is as much about being comfortable with who you are as it is understanding your sub and their needs, Mr. Cook.”

“Quit calling me that.” I took a breath, hating the mister part of the address.

“Is it not your name?”

“There’s no mister,” I replied.

Mercer pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “When you understand yourself, you’ll be less likely to sip at people that way.”

“Fine, who exactly do you think I am?” I asked, keeping my tone stone cold as I pasted a smile on my face.

“A natural Dominant,” said Mercer.

I spread my hands, palms up. “And what gives you that impression?”

“Would you like the list in alphabetical order or order of most importance?”

My fingers curled as if craving the butt of my gun, but I managed to only drop them into my lap. “Whatever fucking order you please.”

“Well, now. Quick to anger means you need an outlet. The fact that you’re immediately on the defensive with me, another natural Dom, means there’s concern over territory. Then there’s the MC.”

“What about my brothers?” This asshole had no fucking clue. The MC meant friendship and brotherhood, nothing about this Dom-sub shit.

“The motorcycle club mostly makes their own laws, am I right? Who cares what authorities say, true?”

There, he had a point.

He continued, “I’m sure Ward spoke to you about wolves.”

“Yeah, and?”

“The same kind of alpha behavior radiates off you. I see it in your eyes. You are so dominant you try to fight against this because it goes against everything you know or think you know. And you’re hiding behind stupid pranks.” He spread his hands. “Like that shirt.”

I ground my teeth. “You. Don’t. Know. Me.” I loved my shirts and the rise they got out of people.

He quirked a corner of his lips, but his voice never wavered. “Your way or the highway, right? Ride or die? I’m familiar.”

“This was a mistake.” I pushed myself out of the little seat.

“The first step is to admit who you are.”

“I admit that I’ll do what it takes for Maddie to feel safe and secure,” I said.

“Only her?”

“Yes.” Only ever her.

“There are many people out there—all genders—who need the structure a true Dom can give. At a club like Serenity, we do scenes with various partners. You could get your toes wet.”

“I’m only doing this for Maddie,” I growled.

Sloan Mercer measured me for a long minute, like he was trying to pick through my armor. He was deciding if I was lying, but I knew who I was. Or I did until I met Maddie, and since I was the only person she seemed comfortable with, I would fit the mold she needed.

The man raised his chin. “Why don’t you sit and tell me how you met Maddie?”

I glared at the chair.

“Or if you’re not comfortable here, we can sit in my lounge.” He waved toward the door to his left.

I really didn’t want to fold myself into that chair again, and he clearly read that.

Standing, he said, “You’ll be more comfortable in here.” Then he crossed to the door and went through first.

Alone in his dark office with dark leather and wood furniture, I seethed. I needed to understand this better, but every instinct I had said I should run for the hills. My instincts, though, hadn’t helped me when it came to Maddie.

I joined him in his mostly black lounge, a small room with two plush red-velvet chaise lounges and a... “Is that a fucking throne?”

Mercer took a seat on one of the couches. “It is, but let’s sit here.”

He gestured to the facing chaise, and I sat on the edge, my elbows on my knees and hands clasped. My eyes kept cutting sideways to the huge chair with more red velvet and inlaid gold scrollwork. Aside from that piece, it felt more like a shrink’s office, not that I’d seen many of those except on TV.

“Where were we?” Mercer started with a twinkle in his eye.

“How I met Maddie.” I told him the story, mostly, saving the part about who we rescued her from.

When I paused, he asked, “And she focused only on you when there were three others in the room, her sister included?”

“Yes.”

“And when you went to see her at the recovery house, she only responded to you?”

“Fuck.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Yeah.”

“Tell me,”—he leaned forward, mirroring my position—“has she done anything yet that’s just to please you?”

“Goddammit, everything she does seems like it’s to please me.” I threw myself back onto the chaise, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. “She’s even called me—”

I swallowed hard.

“What,” prompted Mercer.

“Daddy,” I murmured. My cheeks flamed. I didn’t need to be telling this to a guy. To anyone else.

“Can you say that again? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Daddy,” I said, tasting the word on my tongue. My voice was stronger this time, but I was still careful with how loud it came out of my mouth.

Sloan tilted his head to the side, like the bastard didn’t hear me. “What?”

He played with me, and I sat upright, roaring, “Daddy!”

A smile broke out across his face. “Ah, yes. Daddy is one of the best. Sir, master, lord, king, captain, chief, they all apply though.”

His tone was as casual as if we were walking in a park, but it was laced with some kind of psychopathic bullshit. I wasn’t someone for him to manipulate or toy with. “I’m not playing your games.”

“Then let me make this clear. You’ve admitted you’ll be who she needs. You’ve described actions that are begging for a Dom. You need to calm the fuck down and think about how to handle yourself and Maddie. Especially if this is only for her.” He rolled his eyes and reached over to a table, pouring a glass of liquor from a crystal bottle into a crystal glass.

“Fine,” I ground out. “Are you going to teach me or just fuck around with me?”

He smirked. “This is one tell that you’re not a submissive. Submissives like to be played around with. They get off on the structure and the game and for some, the pain.”

“I’m not going to hurt Maddie,” I said with certainty.

She’d already experienced too much pain in her life.

Mercer swirled the amber liquid. “You need to grow more comfortable with the power.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, staring up at the ceiling and refusing to take the bait again. I wouldn’t be his bitch.

Sloan lifted the lowball glass to his lips and then sighed. “This will be a journey for you as much as it will be for her. You’ll need to learn how to be direct and succinct with what you want her to do. Then you’ll need to reward her when she meets expectations.”

I gulped. I had already tried to give her orders, but I didn’t want to be like Signora’s clients.

“If she doesn’t meet expectations, then you punish her,” continued Sloan.

I rolled my head over to glare at him. “I refuse to hurt her.”

“Even if it helps her?”

“You’re sick if you think it’ll help her.”

“Even if she begs for it?” he pressed.

“Why the fuck would she beg for me to hurt her?”

Mercer shrugged. “While you’re correct that I may be sick, that has nothing to do with what you’re asking from me.” He took another sip from the glass, then continued, “Punishment is often part of the Dom-sub agreement. You’ll find some very naughty subs out there, and they’re usually seeking punishment or correction.”

My brain went back to earlier this evening. You can punish me if you want. I didn’t mean to upset you.

“But it’s not only a submissive’s need,” he added. “When you punish your sub, it gives you knowledge. You’ll learn how hard you can push her and how to care for her afterward.”

“What?” The man spoke in riddles. Maybe hard-core Doms like the Warden would understand his bullshit, but I needed examples.

“You said she’s been hurt, yes?” asked Sloan. “Perhaps she’s been raped?”

“Yeah, and I’m not going to be like those sons-of-bitches!”

Mercer pursed his lips, seemingly considering my words, but something else played through his mind. I didn’t ask.

“Some people will need that level of dominance.”

I opened my mouth, but he held up a hand.

“Let me explain. It may be unnatural for her to want that again, but with the control of knowing who rapes—”

“I’m not going to fucking rape Maddie. Or anyone,” I snapped.

“She decides when you can stop. She decides how far you take it. She decides how much she can take,” listed Sloan. “You play the game for her, releasing her from her human worries and allowing her to work out the pain. You are releasing her from her mind, taking away her pain by giving her a safe place to explore that.”

I blinked at him, speechless.

“Her body has healed, I assume?”

Except for the skinniness and scars, I thought so and answered, “Yeah, pretty sure.”

“The mind is a wicked thing,” he said. “All of our terrible, sad human minds are what cause us pain. She’s giving you the control and power to free her from those mental bonds.”

He drained his glass and leaned back. “The fun thing is that you get to weave a lot of pleasure into that process. Pleasure overrides shitty memories.”

“So, what you’re saying... is that all submission is bred from trauma?”

“Not at all. There are many subs who need structure for other reasons. Everyone, every couple, every scene is different.”

Sloan Mercer put his hands behind his head, silently waiting for me to gather myself. My thoughts ping-ponged around my skull, forming a picture of the woman back at my house. The woman who had been touching herself in my old bed.

For Maddie, I reminded myself.

“Go on,” I said at last. Bile burned the back of my throat.

“She’s already leaving clues as to what she needs,” said Mercer. “She’ll never outwardly tell you. It’s your job to interpret those clues and do what she needs. Answer the call, if you will.”

We rested on the mirrored chaise lounges for what must have been a quarter of an hour, maybe more. I may have even dozed.

Eventually, he stood. “Would you like a tour?”

Even though he’d phrased it as a question, he wasn’t actually asking. He took me around to every room. Some were in use.

“These couples have consented to having voyeurs, so it’s okay to look inside,” Mercer said, pulling open one an ornate covering to reveal a peephole.

My upper lip twitched into a sneer. If we did this, and that was a big if, there would be no consent for people to watch. Despite my disgust, I peered inside to see a woman bound in ropes on her knees and sucking off a man wearing a mask. Raising my brows, I moved on.

Swings. Tables. Rubber floors. Crossed boards with shackles. Lots of tools for spanking. If it could be imagined, this place had the goods.

A smile grew on Sloan’s face like an excited child when he spoke about his favorite areas. Ward and Belle might frequent places like this, but I would leave this club to them.

I needed to focus on Maddie.

Only Maddie.

Sloan took me back to the front, where the receptionist sipped a cup of coffee. “I’ll give you a free coaching session. You won’t regret it.” He held out his card to me.

I already had his number, but now I had all his contact information, surrounded by a snake logo and the word Serenity on the back. When I looked up again, he smiled and revealed his forked pink tongue.

Geez, piercing was one thing, but splitting the tongue entirely? Sick mo-fo!

Clearing my throat, I left Serenity and the weirdo behind me. I couldn’t decide if it was worth coming here. I’d gained some information, but I had also left Maddie alone. I got on my motorcycle and sped off.

When I reached my house outside the Ridge, I cringed. The lights were on inside, bright against the starry night. The light streaming out from the windows created shadows under the smaller cacti near the house.

Maddie was surely awake, because who could sleep with every light in the house shining like it was high noon? Fuck, she probably waited for me. In my stupid head, I believed she’d fall asleep and wouldn’t miss me for the few hours it took to go to Phoenix and back.

The situation before I left had scared me enough to drive a need to better understand. I hadn’t been able to control myself before, fucking my hand, pretending it was her. Deep inside, I thought wanting her after all she’d been through made me a sick bastard.

Women to fuck was never my problem. In fact, I hadn’t been a virgin since before I shot my daddy. I had never had to pay whores, but still had my cock sucked regularly. There were enough sweetbutts in the Ridge and LA, and Phoenix bred women hungry for cock.

This was different.

Maddie was different.

Getting all romancy and shit had never been on my radar. Then again, Serenity had been the farthest thing from a romantic venue.

I had never thought of having an ol’ lady like Celt or Wilde or even Angel. I had never cared enough for another person, but then came Maddie.

I wouldn’t be an easy man to love.

But could I make her obey?

If I could give her the structure Ward and Mercer talked about, would she respond? There didn’t have to be anything sexual about it.

I leaned my bike on the kickstand, stood, and stretched my back, resisting going inside.

Maddie needed help, real help. And I didn’t have the skills to give it to her in Mercer’s way, Ward’s way, or Doctor Richardson’s way. I couldn’t even take care of myself enough to get over the fact that I’d shot Daddy. The episode with that photo proved that shit.

But then I went to the hospital for her and gave her what she said she wanted—an out. And now, if anyone tried to touch her, I would rip off their arm and stick it up their ass.

Whether I knew what the fuck to do or not, she was mine.

Could I do what Sloan Mercer described; what he said I would need to do?

For Maddie?

My nizhóní.

Tossing my head back and bracing myself for what I was about to find, I walked inside.

Maddie

On my knees, I tried to keep my breathing calm, but when I was near Cook, his presence set my skin on fire. A current ran through my blood and up my bones, and my heartbeat quickened. I knew Cook was back by the roar of his motorcycle, and I got to my knees, waiting fretfully through the long moments before he came inside.

I kept my head lowered but felt how his gaze burrowed into me, basically ripping into me and splaying me open.

The floor creaked, and the door snicked shut. Cook’s boots entered my field of view.

He said nothing. Did nothing. Didn’t budge from the spot he stopped.

Slowly, I lifted my head for a peek at him. His mouth was set in a firm line, and his gaze traveled over me, like he was searching for something. Our eyes met for a split second, and I ducked my head again, waiting. My knees ached with the pressure between my bones and the tile ridges. My toes had gone numb.

I studied the juncture between the tiles, the old grout now browning with age. It needed a good bleaching.

There was so much to care for in this house, and I had barely made a dent in what needed to be cleaned. The dust was caked on every surface, and cobwebs draped in the corners. I had scrubbed the first layer of muck off on the stove and fridge, but there were layers after years of sitting unused. The whole house needed to be sanitized.

With Cook in front of me, I put away thoughts of cleaning and my rumbling stomach to concentrate on him.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I whispered, and the floor creaked as Cook shifted again. This had to be what he wanted. “I was bad for masturbating. I should have been more clear in my question. I understand why you decided to punish me by leaving me alone.”

“Punish you?”

I swallowed. “You left me. Because I touched myself—”

“No.” Cook stepped up to me. His boots dirtied the floor that I had worked hard to clean. I stared down at the scuffed tips until Cook put his hand on the top of my head. “Don’t ever apologize for pleasuring yourself. Ever. Do you understand, Maddie?”

I nodded.

“Say it aloud, Maddie.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

The touch on my head lightened then returned. “Not that, Maddie. Repeat what you are not allowed to do.”

“I won’t apologize for...” I didn’t know if I could finish.

“Go on.”

“. . . um, pleasing myself?”

A sharp intake of breath made me tense. And wait.

His fingers combed through my hair before he pulled back his hand. Reaching under my chin, he lifted my face to him. “I’m tired, Maddie. I need to sleep for a few hours.”

Yawning, he walked away.

Orange dust lingered where he had been standing, outlining where his boots had been. The grooves were lifted. I waited on my knees, now losing feeling in my hips as I listened for his door to close.

“Maddie, get up,” said Cook. “You don’t need to be on your knees.”

Slowly, I stood. My knees trembled as hot blood rushed down to my bare toes. I wiggled them, ignoring the pins and needles. My toenails were painted red, and the polish had chipped. Signora sometimes gave me heels to wear, and Tommy G. always required at least three-inch open-toed shoes. The man had a thing for toes, something I’d never understand.

“Maddie, look at me,” said Cook.

I raised my head. He stood halfway between the bed and me. Dark bags hung under his eyes. His hair was messed up by the wind with the silver strands running from scalp to tip in the otherwise black silk. Even his clothes seemed off kilter. This wasn’t the same Cook who left the house.

What had happened?

Cook scanned the living room, his hands stuffed in his pockets. “It looks nice. You worked hard while I was out.”

“It’s still dirty,” I said, not seeing what he did. Or what he pretended to see. Maybe he was lying to make me feel better, but I saw the truth. It needed a lot more work.

“It’s better than it was.” He pursed his lips. “In no time, you’ll have it all fixed up.”

It was going to need a lot of time, but that comment gave me hope. He liked what I was doing. I’d stay up day and night for weeks until it was gleaming and spotless.

All for Daddy.

“After the sun comes up, we can have breakfast and then develop the film,” he said, and I raised my head. Light illuminated his eyes, and he dragged his gaze down my body. “Come, help me get ready for bed.”

He turned on his heel, and I chased him into the bedroom. He already had his shirt halfway off, revealing his toned stomach muscles, chest, and ink for days. His arms were like iron, bulking in the right places. He dropped it to the floor, and I picked it up. The fabric smelled like him, leather and cinnamon, but as I stood so close to him, the scent engulfed me. A little exhaust from his motorcycle mingled with his natural spice. My stomach twisted, a low warmth ebbing up from my sex.

He had the perfect V, dipping into his low-hanging pants. Dark hair trailed from his belly button to below his pants. I wanted to discover where it went. Licking my lips, I tried to ignore the throb in my sex.

Cook twisted away from me, grabbing two boxes from his pockets and putting them into the top drawer of his dresser. He closed the drawer quickly, and I glanced that way, forcing my eyes off him. I couldn’t pounce on him unless he wanted me to, and he wasn’t ready for that. Instead, I would have to lay in my bed again and stroke myself.

I cleared my throat. “What’s that?”

“I’ll let you see later.” Then I forgot about the boxes as he dropped his pants.

His jeans pooled around his ankles, and he kicked them off. The fabric laid across the floor, but I didn’t grab them yet. His muscles rippled across his body as he stopped for sweatpants. His boxer briefs were tight across his ass, but I wanted to see his bulge. Sadly, he was turned away from me.

Still, saliva built in my mouth, and I swallowed it.

Cook threw on a T-shirt and then faced me. There was an illustration of a motorcycle with a few words: “Forget the bike; ride the biker.”

I rolled my lip between my teeth, and he glanced down.

“I don’t have anything blank,” he said.

Could I tell him I loved his T-shirts? They made him look younger than he actually was. Maybe one day.

When he sprawled across the bed, I crept up the side, dragging the blankets over his body. My fingertips trailed up his thigh, and he caught my hand. His glare had hardened on me. Heat spread across my body, burning for him. Especially when he gave me that calculated and hardened gaze.

Fighting against his grasp, I pulled the blankets to his chest and stared at the tails of the tattoo peeking under his sleeve. I imagined being in his arms again, falling asleep in the safety of his embrace. But he didn’t invite me into his bed. Instead, he closed his eyes.

“Take a break, Maddie. Sleep or read or listen to music,” he mumbled.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Cook sighed. “I’ll be up soon. Sleep never stays with me for more than a couple of hours.”

I watched him rest for a moment before backing away. I had my memories and imagination of him, and now I had a house to myself.