Chapter 12 – ryan
RYAN
“Fuck yeah!” I pump my fist in the air when the Rangers left wing shoots a puck right into the net.
Around me, Nate, Luke, and James groan loudly.
“What’s wrong with you?” Luke asks. “Why can’t you just be a Toronto fan like everyone else?”
“Because in my heart, I’m a Madison Square Garden boy.” I pull out my Rangers jersey proudly. “I was born in the wrong city. I’ve known it since I was eight years old.”
“You knew you wanted attention when you were eight,” James points out. “You knew being contrary would get you some.”
“Who doesn’t love attention?” I say with a shrug.
Even though I don’t root for the Maple Leafs, the guys still come over to my place to watch hockey because my big screen and sound system are unbeatable.
We’re all sprawled out on the couches with beers, except Luke, who drinks strictly whiskey.
Normally, Beau brings up catering from Terrace Steakhouse downstairs.
For some reason, he couldn’t make it today, so we were stuck ordering pizza.
“Where’s Beau again?” I ask.
“He said he had a meeting with a new chef,” Nate says, at the same time that Luke says, “Boxing class.”
My head whips between the two of them. “Wait, did he lie to us?”
“Or he mixed up his schedule,” James suggests.
Luke scoffs. “He never mixes up his schedule.”
“Maybe he doesn’t owe you an explanation for where he is every minute of the day,” James says.
“Don’t act like you’re above the gossip, James.” I give him a pointed look. I’m still annoyed at him for blabbing about me throwing Pippa over my shoulder.
Before I can start an argument, Waffle leaps up on the side of my couch, nuzzling her dark head against my hand and giving me a pleading look.
“I know what you’re really here for,” I tell her, reaching in my pocket and giving her a treat.
“Did you just pull a shrimp out of your pocket?” Luke asks in disbelief.
I pull out the plastic bag I’ve been carrying around. “Freeze-dried. Only the best for the world’s cutest kitty.”
After a week of Waffle hissing at me, I decided enough was enough.
There isn’t a pussy around who can say no to me, and I’m not about to have my flawless reputation ruined.
So I went back to the pet store where I picked up her litter box and shit to ask the clerk for the best treats.
I’ve been sneaking treats to the black cat ever since.
She’s going to like me, whether she wants to or not.
“Oh, shit,” Luke yells suddenly, pointing at the TV.
James and Nate leap to their feet as a Maple Leafs player blazes down the rink toward the Rangers’ goal.
“Come on, come on,” Nate chants.
The guy shoots the puck in the corner, narrowly missing the goalie’s hand. Nate and Luke whoop with victory, while James cheers louder than both of them. I sink to my knees, moaning in defeat.
“Noooooo, whyyyyyyyy?” I cry out dramatically.
I hear stomps before Pippa appears in the living room, wearing a loose T-shirt and cotton shorts that show a lot of bare leg. My mouth suddenly feels desert-dry.
“Can you please turn it down.” She makes it sound like a demand, not a question. “I need to focus or I’m never going to finish this piece.”
“Oh hey, is it your 12 Dates series?” Nate asks. “The first one was funny.”
Her eyes widen with surprise. “You read it?”
“Cat sends me all your articles. I always read them.”
“Thanks,” Pippa says, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. I realize that this is the first time in ages I’ve seen her without her signature red lip. Her natural lip color is a peachy pink—and thinking about her lips just reminds me of kissing her.
Fuck. I’ve been avoiding thinking about that whenever I can, and I really shouldn’t think about it now. The last thing I need is to get hard in front of all my guy friends.
“Do you need someone for your next date?” Luke asks. “Because I can help.”
Pippa cocks her head. “You know someone?”
“Yeah, me.” He smiles, and his cheeks flush slightly. “I’d be happy to take you out.”
“No way.” I’m saying it before I’ve even thought it through. “No way you’re taking Pippa out. Not happening.”
Pippa and Luke both stare at me like I’ve grown a second head. Her mouth opens, and I know she’s about to ream me out for trying to control her love life. Well, that’s just not a conversation I’m having right now.
“Sorry, man. She’s my sister, so I’m pulling bro code.” I cross my arms and scowl at him, letting him know that I won’t let this slide.
Luke clears his throat. “Anyway, Pippa, have you seen my baby sis recently? She hasn’t been answering my texts all week.”
Pippa raises a brow. “Maybe because you’re kind of a jerk to her. A pattern in this friend group, apparently.”
“Hey, I only wanted to invite her to this year’s White Elephant poker party,” Luke says defensively.
It’s an annual tradition with our friend group.
Sometime in the week before Christmas, we get together to play cards, swap gifts, and generally make merry.
Whiskey and Santa hats are usually involved.
“Nate’s bringing Cat this year, so we might as well invite Brinley and some other girls,” Luke continues. “Actually, Pippa, you should come, too!”
I snort. “Pippa doesn’t play poker.”
“She can still do the gift exchange,” Luke insists. “I don’t think Cat wants to play, either.”
“It’s nice of you to ask,” Pippa says, glaring at me. “I’ll think about it. Until then, please quiet down.”
She stomps back down the hallway, and the guys all look at me.
“Should we go up to my place?” James asks quietly. “We don’t want to bug her.”
I glance up at the screen. There’s only a few seconds left in the period. “Let me talk to her,” I say, pushing to my feet. “We need to have a little discussion about house rules.”
As I walk to her room, I rehearse what I’m about to say. The rules specifically say I can’t have women being loud late. It didn’t say anything about guys, so you have no room to talk.
Except when I open her bedroom door, I see Pippa lying on her stomach, typing on her laptop.
Her little black shorts have ridden up just enough that I can make out the crease where her ass meets her thighs.
I’ve always thought that was one of the sexist parts of a woman, and looking at Pippa’s body has my blood running hot.
Suddenly, I do want to kick the guys out of the apartment. I don’t want Luke or anyone else anywhere near my stepsister’s sweet little ass.
The door clicks behind me as I shut it, and Pippa glances up at me.
“What is it?” she snaps.
I’m about to go into my spiel about noise and house roles when I see the title on the article she’s writing.
Dom Etiquette for the Kink-Curious.
My breath gets caught somewhere between my lungs and my mouth. Pippa’s writing about kinky shit—my favorite kind of kinky shit. I assume she wouldn’t be writing it if she wasn’t somewhat knowledgeable, which means—
No. It’s wishful thinking. There’s no way Pippa’s into the same stuff that I am. Unless…
I swallow. “Uh, that’s not one of your 12 Dates of Christmas things, is it?”
Pippa’s face goes beet red and she slams her laptop shut. “No. It’s a different article, obviously.”
My pulse is going Lewis Hamilton fast. If this article really was just for work, she would’ve told me to mind my own fucking business. If she hid it, she’s embarrassed because it’s too close to home.
I slide my hands into my pockets, hopefully looking casual. “But that’s something you’re into? Dom guys?”
“No,” she says immediately, then pauses. “Actually, I don’t know. I mean, it sounds hot in theory, but can you really picture me letting some guy boss me around?”
I snort. “Nope. You don’t even take reasonable requests, let alone orders. You might be in over your head on this article, Pips.”
She groans. “Yeah, I’m starting to think that, too.”
This is the most normal she and I have been around each other since that goddamn kiss. So of course I have to ruin it by saying, “I can help.”
“You? Help? Me?” Each word is a question, which is fair. When it comes to Pippa, I’ve never exactly been benevolent.
I lean back against the door. “I’ve been a Dom. I’m happy to answer any questions for you. If I do, maybe you’ll let us watch the game in peace.”
Say yes. Please.
Pippa sits up, dangling her feet over the side of the bed. I can see the wheels turning while she considers my offer.
“The article’s about healthy consent. I’m sure you love to put a girl in handcuffs, but do you really know anything about setting healthy limits?”
“Handcuffs aren’t really my thing. Using a tie or a belt is way sexier, don’t you think?”
Pippa sucks in a breath. Her eyes get hazy, and any doubt I had evaporates. Fuck, I want to help her, and not with the goddamn article. I want to know exactly how to make her eyes roll back in her head, and if I keep talking, I’ll find out. Her body will tell me, even if she doesn’t say it.
“Not all subs are into bondage,” I say. “It’s fine if you don’t want your hands tied up above your head, or your legs spread out, you know?”
Pippa’s tongue swipes over her lower lip, a flash of pale pink. “I don’t know,” she murmurs.
But you’d like to.
“You know why people like being tied up, though, don’t you?”
“Tell me.” She blinks up at me, her pupils widening.
“So you can let someone else take charge of your pleasure. Someone who knows how to touch you, how to kiss you, how to give you what you need. You don’t need to worry about responding the right way or getting there fast enough. You can just let go while someone else makes all the decisions.”
I push back from the door, taking a step closer. Her eyes follow the movement.
“What if I want to make the decisions?” The question comes out in a shaky, uncertain tone. “Men don’t just get to decide they’re the ones in charge.”
“There are female Dommes, Pippa. Nobody’s saying you have to throw away feminism just because you’re curious about exploring a fantasy. That’s freedom to me—letting yourself explore the things you want. You deserve that.”