Chapter 5
Chapter Five
She was artless.
She was a wonder.
If Zachary wasn’t so big on control, and if he didn’t practice that control first and foremost on himself, he was pretty sure he’d have lost it by now.Like the dumb teenager he’d never been.
As she lavished her attention to his fly as if it was a feast she’d never thought she’d get to partake in.
As if he was some kind of dessert.
And God help him, but she was such a pretty thing. Her tits were high and round, with dark nipples he couldn’t wait to suck and bite to see how he could drive her wild. Exactly how, and how far.
He had already found her worryingly intriguing just by watching her skulk around the neighborhood, sometimes oblivious and sometimes seemingly spooked by her own shadow.
Now all he could think about was what a tasty morsel she was.
How she tasted in his mouth, tart and perfect.
How she looked naked in his apartment and kneeling at his feet.
Now all he could think about were all the different ways he could indulge himself in her.
Zachary had spent a lot of time over the last decade or so learning how to keep himself fully contained within the boundaries he’d decided would keep him safe once he left prison.
No gluttony. No bingeing of any kind. No overindulging in the kinds of things that could wreck a man, if he wasn’t careful.
That didn’t necessarily mean substances, though he was a controlling fuck when it came to his own body, too. Thing was, he knew from experience that emotion was twice as deadly as cocaine, could get a man a lot higher, and didn’t take any prisoners when it got toxic.
Zachary wasn’t about to lose his shit again.
He’d already paid that price.
These days he kept his indulgences on a strict schedule. He allowed himself to long for more at times, because he thought it was healthy to partake in the equivalent of a glass of the hard stuff without downing the whole bottle. But he never actually broke the promises he’d made to himself.
It was about discipline.
It was about control.
He excelled at both.
The Club was a perfect example. His friend Frederick was building the brick-and-mortar version of the place not far from here, the one they’d all wanted for years but only Frederick had the vision, capabilities, and funding to actually make happen.
That was why he was called Master Frederick by everyone, even those outside the scene.
He exuded what and who he was from every pore and never pretended to hide it.
He was the perfect person to make and lead the Club.
But to Zachary and all the other existing members, the Club was already real. And had been for years now.
After all, this was the Bay Area—though the app was used all over the globe.
Kinky people of all stripes could find their own wherever they happened to be.
The Club was already a community, where weekly health tests through pre-approved clinics allowed access to the otherwise private profiles of the members so that only certified clean individuals could play the dominance and submission games that all the Club members preferred.
The vetting process to join was stringent and uncompromising, requiring just enough personal information and double-checking for users to risk breaking any rules. In the years it had been operational, Zachary had heard of very few violations.
He liked it because it was easy, convenient, and meant he didn’t have to play games with vanilla girls in dark bars who only wished they wanted the things he did. It was how he’d hooked up with Daniela earlier tonight.
Zachary only allowed himself to play once a week if it was an intricate scene. Twice a week if it was quicker, but never with the same partner.
No messes. He outlined his expectations in advance. He saw to his partners’ needs. They always parted amicably.
No messes was his watchword.It was who he was.
He hadn’t permitted himself a blank slate like Romily in a long time.
A blank and yet clearly messy slate, if his reaction to her was anything to go by.
She was here in front of him, kneeling before him without any clothes on, working on his cock with true dedication even though he was wearing jeans.
And he was fully aware that it skated perilously close to the kind of indulgences he hadn’t parceled out to himself in a long, long time.
Then again, Romily was the exception, not the rule. Because he had denied himself for the past six months. He had seen her, been aware of her, even protected her from time to time, but he’d left it alone.
He’d left her alone.
Because Zachary didn’t do the hard shit any longer.
She was the one who’d changed everything by showing up at his gym door tonight. She was the one who’d looked in that window.And critically—hadn’t looked away.
Had, in fact, looked again instead.
This time it hadn’t been Zachary chasing the buzz of another lost soul that needed the kind of saving only he could provide. Another lost cause that he’d try to solve, giving up pieces of himself along the way. He already knew how that went.
She could have walked away from him tonight.
But she hadn’t.
She hadn’t.
Romily was the kind of temptation he’d been avoiding for a long time, but she’d come for him anyway.
And he couldn’t decide if he was better off avoiding that temptation entirely — which was wildly unappealing, obviously— or drowning in it so that it held no power over him, like some kind of aversion therapy.
He supposed that tonight was his chance to see.
Or see if she was something else entirely. Something he didn’t want to name, even in the privacy of his own head.
She tipped her head back after moving her mouth all over him and the fly of his jeans. Her gold gaze met his and he found himself stroking her face.
Like this was about more than sex, and that was the kind of thinking that was going to get him in trouble.
So instead he concentrated on the kind of trouble that would get them both off.
He had his own toys and a bed that he’d constructed to suit his whims and favorite fantasies, but he doubted very much that Romily had the kind of experience that would make that work for a first-time tour through the kind of sex he liked.
And was certain she was going to like too, if that hungry, blissed-out look on her face was any indication.
Tonight was going to have to be a little appetizer. A taste of what was to come, to stimulate the appetite.
And besides, he’d always been a little bit earthier than some of his friends in the scene. A little more down to earth, or so he like to think.
Less drama, more fucking.
Because to Zachary’s mind, props were all well and good. He had quite a few favorites himself. But he’d always thought that if you didn’t know how to create the kind of power exchange that got you off without them, you probably weren’t very good at it.
Guess he’d find that out tonight too.
He reached down and helped Romily up, keeping his grip on her shoulders as she breathed a little too heavy and seemed uncertain on her feet.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he told her, his voice a low, authoritative growl.
He watched the effect it had on her. The way she stood a little straighter, even though she shivered more. He watched as goosebumps wound their way down the sides of her neck, and made her nipples into even tighter points.
If he reached down, he knew she’d be wet and silky.
So he kept going. “Hard. Deep. That’s how I like it.
And there’s no telling what I might do while I’m pounding into you like that.
I’m going to get my hands on that ass. At least one finger in your asshole.
Because someday, probably soon, I’m going to bend you over and fuck that hot little ass, too. ”
Zachary studied her as he spoke, taking inventory of her responses. The way her pupils dilated. The way her lips parted, and that pulse that went wild at her throat to match her breath.
The way the things he said he’d do made her flush and shift where she stood, betraying her arousal.
One green light after another.
Because of course she was fucking perfect. He’d known it the moment he’d seen her. And every moment since, but especially this one. She was like a wet dream come true, and she was right here in his apartment.
“If we met the usual way, you would already have filled in a long list of the things you like. The things you don’t.
” He kept his gaze on her, drinking her in.
“I would already have decided which boundaries I would push and all the ways I would make you beg. Tonight we’re going to go old school and see where we end up. ”
“You…”
Her voice was ragged, and he watched as she had to moisten her lips more than once. He didn’t think he needed to tell her how he felt about face-fucking and how much he like to get balls-deep down a pretty throat. She’d watched him earlier. She knew.
Besides, he was pretty confident he’d have a chance to show her his take on that particular pleasure. Soon.
She was still struggling to speak, and not because she was afraid. Over stimulated, maybe, but not afraid. He could see it all over her. “Y-you like that? The begging?”
“There are few things I like more than a beautiful woman begging for my cock,” he assured her. “And imagining all the ways I can make that happen. Not all of them comfortable, but all of them hot.”
“I don’t know how I feel about that.” Her hands moved at her sides like she wanted to push away, but she didn’t. “I don’t think… I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never…”
He stroked her face again, reveling in the flushed heat of her cheek and the way she pushed it deeper against his palm. Like a pet.
The real truth—a truth he didn’t much like or want to admit—was that he’d been wanting his very own pet for a long, long time.