Chapter Twenty
In which sometimes, bruises are prized souvenirs.
Roman…
Violet cooks dinner that night, a huge seafood feast sent over from one of our suppliers who owes me a favor. She insisted that the twins' security team and Ivan join us because, "God knows these poor men deserve a decent meal after what my sisters put them through."
"Put me to work, Chef," I say as she darts between the broiler to an enormous pot of boiling water, and piling sliced lemons and limes into bowls.
"I'm sure a big, strong man like you knows how to work a grill, right?" She gives me a saucy little smile.
"I'm pretty sure I would have my dick removed along with my man card if I didn't."
"If you wouldn't mind grilling these scallop and shrimp skewers, I would be grateful," she says, cheeks pink.
"Are you sure you don't want more help?" I ask. "I can drag some of the men in here…"
"Iris and Rose already made a lemon torte for dessert, and I like cooking, it relaxes me," she says.
"Do you think I've been making all these dinners because I was trying to be courteous and thank you for your extended hospitality?
" She winks at me as she buzzes by, stirring a bowl of melted butter and lemon.
"My chef's getting aggrieved that you've taken over his job," I say, "but I've never eaten better."
"Don't you dare let him go!" She points her spatula at me. "I love that man's stroganoff."
It's a good night.
I rarely entertain at home, so my deck has never been filled with so many people.
When there's so many Morozov clubs and restaurants, why bother?
But these are all people I trust, they have worked alongside me for years.
It's good to watch them relax and let off some steam, since traditionally, this only happens at a strip club.
Everyone dives in, cracking open plump lobsters, piling clams and mussels on their plates, bathing them in butter.
There's a big salad, that everyone ignores, and loaves of crusty bread.
The night is warm and everyone's laughter is loud as bottles of wine and vodka are passed around, but there's not a neighbor on this street who'd dare complain.
Rose and Iris are in heaven, surrounded by my large, tattooed security staff and after dinner I take advantage of their distraction to slip onto the garden swing with Violet. She's holding a glass of wine and smiling at her sister's antics.
"You've outdone yourself," I say, putting my arm around the back of the white wicker swing.
Just close enough that if she wants to, she can nestle against me.
She does. "I think..." My low voice is just for her to hear.
"That tonight, after everyone is gone and you're sleeping so sweetly in your bed, I should wake you up with my mouth on your volcanic pussy and then, introduce you to my playroom on the second floor. "
Her foot, which has been lightly pushing us back-and-forth, pauses mid-swing.
She carefully stares at the group, not meeting my eyes, but I can see the bright flush blooming on her cheeks.
"I love it when you blush for me," I say.
My dick is already uncomfortably hard and pressing against my jeans.
"In fact," I say, standing up and stretching ostentatiously.
"It's late. Time to urge everyone to head home.
" I pull my shirt over my tented pants. Violet makes a high, affirmative sounding noise in her throat that I take as a yes.
My crew looks up from the long, butter-splattered table, puzzled, until they see my expression.
Everyone leaps up, carrying the platters filled with the shells from our seafood massacre into the kitchen and helping with the cleanup.
Ioann washes the pots and pans, and there's nothing more entertaining than a scarred, hulking bodyguard up to his elbows in bubbles at the kitchen sink.
They all hastily say goodnight to Violet and the girls before Ivan hustles them out the door.
Rose and Iris tread up the stairs to bed, sleepy from more wine than Violet thought they had, and I can hear their soft snores before midnight.
I take a shower before I go to Violet, I'm bracing one arm against the tile and the other wrapped my cock, picturing how good her mouth would be, right where my hand is. Wrapping her hair around my fist, pulling her up and down on my cock, feeling the tip slide down her throat, her choked gasps…
Groaning, I grip my cock tightly, forcing myself to stop.
Silently, I open the door to her room. She's asleep in her usual aggressive starfish pose, arms and legs spread wide.
The silk camisole she's wearing is loose, showing the rosy tip of one breast and I start there, putting my lips around the nipple, swirling my tongue around it.
She sighs, turning her head, but she doesn't wake up so I slide down, peeling her silk shorts with me.
She's perfect.
Her pink pussy has a little patch of well-groomed hair, a piercing would look so good on that plump little clit. Hmm… a piercing might take some negotiation.
Groaning silently, I press my hips into her mattress.
I heave a breath of hot air over her pussy, and she sighs again as I lick her from her clitoris to her opening and back again.
Her sighs are louder, turning into moans, her eyelids flutter before she falls back asleep.
The heat of her against my tongue… I jab it into her opening, swirling, tasting her delicious pussy.
She's getting wetter by the second as I suck each lip into my mouth and toy with them for a bit before my mouth closes around her clitoris.
I slide two fingers inside her curling over her G-spot, swelling so nicely for me.
I scratch it lightly with one fingernail as she comes awake, sitting upright, eyes wide, looking down at me.
I'm looking up at her with my mouth still attached to her pussy as her breath hitches, looking shocked.
Her arms flail, back arching as I curl my fingers again, sucking on her clit, and then, with the tiniest nibble from my teeth, I watch her break apart with a strangled little sob.
Slowly taking my mouth away after I've wrung the first round of pleasure from her, I surge up and kiss her mouth.
"I love hearing your little sobs," I growl, sucking on her tongue.
"Every whimper, every moan. I love how you fight coming, how you don't want to give up your control…
And then, I pull you into an orgasm whether you want to or not. I think you like that, too, don't you?"
She's staring up at me with her pretty amber eyes glimmering in the low light, lips tightly sealed as if there's some secret she's still too shy to share.
Kissing her again, I whisper, "I'm going to make you come over and over tonight, even if you fight me. Especially if you fight me." She gives a little shiver and my cock swells harder as I stand up, holding out my hand.
There's a choice to be made here. Sex with Violet has been good. It's been explosively good, but any of the darker pleasures she'd seen at Sinful Secrets haven't been explored between us.
Yet.
She looks at my hand and rises from her bed, taking it.
I feel such a surge of triumph as she gives me her trust. Leading her down the stairs to the second floor, I put my hand on the biometric panel and the door swings open.
I lean against it when I've closed it again, arms folded, watching her hesitantly look around.
There are no black walls and red leather.
Nothing stereotypical. The dark gray walls are soundproofed.
Big windows with remote controlled blackout drapes.
An enormous iron four poster bed with multiple hooks, places to chain, to bind, to bend.
The dark oak armoire is filled with toys, kept hidden for now.
Her gaze is fixed on a low padded bench that works as a cage, with a series of bars underneath the bench.
I know she understands its use immediately.
The St. Andrews cross in the corner however, she looks at it and hastily turns away.
We won't start with that one tonight.
Violet looks back at me, glorious in her little silk undies, her thick chestnut hair flowing down her back. "What do you want to do?" she asks in a whisper.
I groan, pressing the heel of my hand down on my aching cock.
"Everything," I rasp. "Everywhere. To begin, I'm going to tie your beautiful body in knots, suspend you.
Maybe tug on your beautiful nipples with some butterfly clips.
" I check her response, her eyes widen again but she doesn't move.
"Your safe word is amber. Repeat it back to me. "
"Amber," she whispers.
"Louder."
Clearing her throat, Violet says, "Amber."
Leading her to a soft, cushioned stool, I seat her on it.
"Raise your hands." She does as I select a blue length of rope to start.
"This rope is softer than you would think," I murmur, creating a complex Shibari pattern from her wrist to elbows.
She wiggles her fingers experimentally and I kiss her palm. "Do your hands feel numb or tingling?"
"They're fine." She's looking at the pattern the blue rope winds along her arms.
"My first rule." I put a hand under her chin, tilting her head up. "You always tell me if any part of your body is going numb. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she whispers.
I loop the other end of the rope over a hook in the ceiling, and pull her up on her feet very gently, her eyes apprehensive as she goes up on tiptoe.
"The line of your body is beautiful." I run my hands over her breasts, her taut ribcage, and the soft curve of her hips.
"Every part of you is so fucking tempting. "