Chapter Ten – Felix
“Holy shit,” Athena breathed as I led her into the BDSM room connected to my bedroom.
Three days had passed since we’d taken our relationship to the next level, days filled with endless fucking.
My suspicion that she was a submissive had been correct, and it reminded me that appearances could be deceiving.
Because, despite being the president of an outlaw MC and tattoos littering her pretty skin, she was among the best subs I had.
Teasing, a tad bratty, but ultimately obedient.
It was a combination I enjoyed and led to explosive sex.
“You just have your own Red Room ?” she continued, stepping further into the room.
I frowned at her, though she couldn’t see my face, too busy admiring the many toys and contraptions I had. “The room isn’t fucking red, so no, I don’t.”
Unlike the fictitious billionaire she referred to, I hadn’t dished out massive amounts of cash for something so extra.
Instead, my cabin’s BDSM room was still wooden, just with shelves and hooks for sex toys, blindfolds, gags, and restraints.
A bed dominated most of the space. The footer resembled a medieval pillory, meant to restrain my subs when I wanted to fuck them from behind.
The headboard, meanwhile, had built-in leather cuffs, connected to the wooden header by a sturdy chain.
A heavy-duty leather ceiling sex swing was in the center of the room, with a pole-dancing setup in the corner.
Chairs faced the pole, and a stereo was located less than a foot away, allowing my subs to give me a private dance.
My favorite part of the room was the mirrors lining the ceiling, giving me a perfect view whenever I fucked.
“I don’t know what you call your sex dungeon,” she responded.
“I don’t call my ‘sex dungeon’,” I began, using finger quotes. “Anything but a BDSM room.”
She snorted. “Always so formal, Mr. Good.”
My lips twitched into a smile as she walked to the swing and ran her fingertips along the edges. “I’d never been fucked in one of these before.”
My cock twitched. The thought of introducing Athena to something new excited me, as did the idea of her nude and bound with her pussy on full display.
“Would you like to?”
She considered my words for a second, then nodded.
It took everything in me not to bounce up and down in excitement, like a kid on Christmas.
The thought made me remember how my daughter and son used to look forward to the Holidays, even though I spoiled them year-round.
It made a pang go through my chest. Now, both were teens who had minimal contact with me, thanks to their mother’s lies.
Athena snapped her fingers in front of me face. “Earth to Felix.”
I blinked, then shook my head. Now wasn’t the time to think about my bitch of an ex-wife and how she’d destroyed my family, not when I had a beautiful woman in front of me who trusted me enough to explore something new.
“I’m sorry, repeat that,” I asked, feeling sheepish at my distraction.
“Hey, if you don’t want to use the swing—”
“I do,” I said quickly, my eagerness making her snicker. Instead of admitting the truth, I said, “I was just thinking about what position I want to fuck you in.”
Lust darkened her eyes, though the wariness that lingered in her gaze let me know she didn’t believe me. However, she was smart enough not to call me out on my bullshit. Instead, she began to undress, making my mouth water once she stood in the middle of the room, naked as the day she was born.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” she purred, sauntering to me and trailing a finger down my chest. “I’m yours to do whatever you want with, sir.”
Just like that, my dick became hard as lead.
For a tall woman, she was thin, so it was a breeze to pick her up and haul her to the swing.
“Lie back,” I ordered as I sat her in the leather seat.
She obeyed, reaching back and grabbing the chains that held the swing upright as I guided her feet to the stirrups. By design, position left the dripping folds of her pussy fully exposed. Swallowing coarsely, I released my hold on her and stepped back.
“Comfy?” I asked, my voice strained with desire.
“Very,” she replied, propelling herself forward to rock back and forth. “This is kind of fun. You ever use it just to swing?”
Chuckling, I shook my head, heading to my collection of gags and blindfolds. “Nope.”
Although, in theory, it was possible, as I’d made sure the swing was sturdy, and accommodated up to four hundred pounds, a weight limit that neither of us came anywhere near meeting. The idea of using it for anything but sex just wasn’t tempting.
Athena seemed to have experience with BDSM, so I opted for an ‘O’ gag instead of a breathable ball gag. Speaking wouldn’t be possible, but I’d be able to hear her sexy little noises in all their glory. I considered grabbing my dildo mouth gag but decided I’d introduce her to that one another time.
My mind made up, I grabbed the gag and a silk blindfold and returned to where she was waiting. My eyes drifted down to her pussy, delighting me with the sight of her arousal dripping down her thighs.
“Open your mouth,” I directed, putting the gag into place once she did.
When the blindfold was on, I undressed quickly, eager to feel her wet cunt gripping my cock.
First, however, I satisfied my hunger and tasted her.
Stroking my cock at a languid pace, I dropped to my knees and traced her pussy lips with my tongue.
Then, I used two fingers on my free hand to spread her open and speared my tongue inside her.
The strangled moan that escaped her made me jerk my cock faster, my nose grazing her clit with every lap.
The swing did an excellent job at holding her open, allowing me to plunge my tongue deep.
It was more for my benefit than hers—I wanted to taste her from the source and lacked a lizard tongue to stimulate her G-spot at the same time.
Pulling back, I blew on her puffy folds, smirking when she shuddered.
Satisfied with her reaction, I wrapped my lips around her clit and sucked her, her noises becoming higher-pitched as I feasted on her sensitive bundle of nerves.
When she came, I fucked her with my tongue again, wanting to taste every drop of her sweet nectar.
Once she stopped shaking, I stood up. Gripping her butt, I thrusted inside her. A moan left me, the sensation of her juicy cunt heavenly, her core still clenching rhythmically from the aftershocks of her orgasm.
“You feel so fucking good,” I panted, sweat beading on my brow as I set a rough pace.
Her whiny whimpers were music to my fucking ears.
I used my grip on her ass as leverage to thrust hard and deep.
The position allowed my cock to hit her G-spot, sending her hurling towards another release as my balls began to tighten and tingle.
Eager for us to find our release together, I began playing with her sensitive clit.
She clenched around me, her thighs trembling as she tensed.
Her orgasm triggered mine, and I filled with my seed as she came on my dick.
Only when my high subsided did I stop thrusting.
When I pulled out, I was greeted by the sight of her creamy pussy dripping with our combined releases.
My cock gave a twitch of interest at the sight, but I decided aftercare was more important than another round.
I’d been rough with her when she was still recovering from getting shot.
The scent of sex was heavy in the air as I removed the bondage devices and helped her out of the swing. She was unsteady on her legs, so I carried her bridal-style to my regular bed, kicking the door to my BDSM room shut behind me. Setting her onto the mattress, I went to fetch a damp towel.
While in the bathroom, I wiped my cock off and splashed some water on my face, before going to the kitchen to get us something to drink.
She was in the exact position I’d left her in, her breathing returning to normal, and a small but pleased smile on her face.
I set the bottles of water on the nightstand, then knelt beside her as I used a cool cloth to cleanse her body, taking care not to press too hard against healing wounds.
“I’m going to call you Dr. Feelgood from now on,” she announced, her voice still breathy. “Because you sure make me and my pussy feel good.”
Despite her lewd words, I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“You were calling me that even before we started having sex,” I reminded her, thinking back to the night I found her.
“Feminine intuition,” she replied, earning another laugh. “I’m just saying, your parents chose the right name for you, and you chose the right profession.”
“My name is Felix, not Feel,” I reminded her.
She waved me off. “Close enough to make a pun.”
Once her wounds were cleaned of sweat and her cunt free of semen, I settled in the bed next to her. When our water bottles were empty, I took her into my arms. Immediately, she melted into me, our bodies fitting together perfectly.
Almost as if we were made for one another.
I pushed the thought aside quickly. I wasn’t the sentimental type, and I wouldn’t let a woman I barely knew change that, no matter how enticing I found her.
“I just realized who you reminded me of,” Athena said, catching my attention.
“And who might that be?”
“I saw this rich CEO motherfucker in a tabloid magazine one time, and you look like him, but younger. Took me a minute, but I remembered his name now. Benedict De Goede.”
“Yeah, because he’s my father,” I said casually, seeing no reason to hide it from her.
“No shit? But your last name—”
“Is the Americanized version of his,” I explained. “He moved from the Netherlands as a child, and he and my mother decided their kids should have a more common last name.”
“That’s fucking boring.”
“Yeah, well, it’s what happened. My mother took his last name, but she goes by Cynthia Good in public.”
Her eyes bugged. “The mega-preacher?”
“The one and only.”
“That tracks,” she said, making my brows furrow. She smirked up at me. “The kids of preachers and pastors are usually freaks.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. She wasn’t wrong. My siblings had all been involved in sex scandals of some sort. In comparison, they made my love of BDSM seem tame.
“And how many children of preachers have you been around?”
“Enough.” She turned to face me, propping herself on my elbow. “Back in Memphis, I used to kick it with the kids of my neighborhood’s pastor. They were fucking wild.”
“Memphis?” I echoed. “You aren’t from Kansas City?”
“Nope. Born and raised in Downtown Memphis,” she explained, a Southern twang that wasn’t there before tinging her words. “Moved to KC when I was eighteen.”
“For school?”
She snorted. “For dick. I was involved with a biker at the time whose club is in the city. He came to Memphis for a job and brought me back to Kansas with him. When my parents died, he brought my siblings to live with us. We were good together, for a while. Then we weren’t.”
I tried to push down the irrational jealousy I felt. The man was in her past, and I had no claim on her.
“What happened?” I asked, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.
“I lost our baby, and our relationship imploded. He wanted me to walk away from my lifestyle but didn’t want to give up his. When I called him a hypocritical asshole, he made me choose. I chose my club.”
The sadness in her words was unmistakable, and my heart ached for her.
“I’m sorry,” I said, pulling her back into my arms. “My ex-wife, a year or so before our son was born, got pregnant again. She miscarried. Things went downhill from there. I can’t imagine the trauma of a stillborn.”
Ultimately, Iris’s blackmail attempt and the subsequent discovery of her affair led to the implosion of our marriage.
Following her miscarriage, however, she fell into a deep depression and began to pull away from me.
Often, I wondered if that child had survived, would our marriage have lasted longer.
“Yeah, well, I don’t recommend that shit,” she replied softly, sagging into me. “I had her nursery all decorated. I planned to name her after me, like fathers do with their sons. Warrior—my ex—liked the meaning of my name.”
“Which is?”
“Gift from God. I’m not religious, but I thought it was fitting. My little Mimi was going to be my gift.” She sniffled and swiped at her eyes, meeting my gaze. The pain on her face crushed me. “My name is Michelle, for reference. Don’t go sharing that shit, but I thought you should know.”
“Nice to meet you, Michelle,” I said to lighten the mood. “Tell me a little more about you.”
“First, I have a question of my own. How many kids do you have?”
“Two. An eighteen-year-old daughter and a fourteen-year-old son. When’s your birthday?”
“September 18 th . I’m a proud Virgo. How about you?”
“January 15 th ,” I answered, how much I was enjoying our back-and-forth taking me aback, especially considering the depressing start of the conversation.
“You’re a Capricorn,” she noted.
I shrugged. “I’ve never kept up with zodiacs. My mother thought they were unholy.” She snorted, and I took that as a cue to move on. “What’d you want to be when you were a child?”
“An automotive engineer. I’ve always liked fucking with around with cars, and engineers make bank. Things didn’t work out that way, though.”
The more I learned about her, the more I realized I’d misjudged her.
Right now, the feisty, defensive biker I’d first met was gone, replaced by a vulnerable woman sharing intimate information with me, information that made me feel like a dick for my initial harshness.
It was clear that her life hadn’t been easy.
Athena was a persona she crafted to protect herself, and right now, she felt comfortable enough to drop it and be Michelle.
Despite everything, the thought warmed me.
“Did you always want to be a doctor?”
“I used to be a trauma surgeon, before I pivoted to plastic surgery.”
“More money?” she asked, her guess spot on.
I nodded. There was no shame in the truth.
“I can respect chasing a bag.”
With a heavy sigh, she straddled me. Without a second thought, my hands went to her hips.
“I’m tired of talking,” she purred, though the anguish in her eyes hinted that she had another motivation for wanting to end our conversation. “Ready for round two?”
Right now, I knew she was using sex as a distraction. Fortunately for her, I was eager to help her. If an orgasm chased her pain away, who was I to judge?
Flipping our positions, I pinned her beneath me and pressed my lips to hers. She fisted my hair, kissing me back within seconds, the heaviness hanging in the air disappearing as we lost ourselves in each other’s bodies.