Chapter 14
Tuesday couldn’t stay quiet while he pressed the biggest ball in. After clenching and squeezing to hold the plug in for so long, the stretch hurt infinitely more than it should’ve, and she screamed into the mattress at the burning, vicious stretch.
The next two hurt despite the fact they were smaller, and he pulled them out and put them back in over and over, until her hole was quivering and pulsing with heat.
Achingly sore. When he finally shoved them back in and left them, then popped the smallest in, she was shaking and clenching desperately around the heavy, shifting fullness.
He stuck his finger in after. Wiggled it around. “Full?”
“Fuck yes, Sir.”
“Good. I want you filled and needy. No touching yourself, and if you lose any beads, you’ll deeply regret it, so hold onto them. Don’t care how you keep yourself occupied, but no playing with yourself, and no orgasms.” He motioned toward the door. “Go, so I can get some work done.”
Calling them beads was a laugh. They were so far past beads, it wasn’t funny, but she decided not to argue the point.
She actually managed to get tons of editing done despite being horny as fuck all damned day.
She fixed leftover roast beef sandwiches for lunch, and whipped up some alfredo sauce from scratch along with some pasta noodles, added chicken, topped it with actual parmesan, not the powdery shit, and added garlicky green beans on the side. And buttery garlic toast.
She took sandwiches and drinks up to him for lunch, but called him downstairs for dinner.
She tried to shoo him back upstairs after, but he told her he was just about finished, and he helped her clean the kitchen and then invited her upstairs to see what he’d managed to do since lunch.
He was right, only two more sections to secure in, and she was standing in the middle of her new closet, looking forward to loading it full, when her phone rang and she saw Willow’s face. She answered it and walked into the bedroom, so Knife could finish.
“I want to apologize,” Willow started, “for not spending time with you at the party, but Kenny was…” She sighed. “He’s beating himself up. He blames himself for not knowing you wanted to leave, and he feels as if he failed as your alpha because you didn’t feel like you could come to him.”
“That isn’t it, exactly,” Tuesday told her. “I knew he’d refuse, so there was no need in going to him.”
“I know that, and he probably does deep down, but he’s too busy beating himself up for me to even try to talk to him logically.
I can just be there as a support system, for now.
Anyway, I want you to know he doesn’t hate you, he’s just hurt.
When Boone pointed out you looked really happy, Kenny said that was good, so you should know he’s happy for you, he’s just… ”
When she trailed off, Tuesday asked, “Should I call him? Explain it was just something I had to do, and wasn’t a reflection of his leadership?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Willow said. “If you need to come back, and as much as I miss you, I hope you don’t need to because that will mean bad shit happened, but if you do, then we’ll figure out how you approach him. Silas and Boone will help, too.”
“Thanks for the phone call. I hope we can still be friends.”
“I’d like that. Maybe we can have lunch one day? The first time, it’ll be better if we meet at Silas’s place, but after that, we can go other places.”
“Yes, that sounds perfect. I’m free most Thursdays and Fridays.”
Tuesday knew Knife heard the conversation, which was fine, except she worried it would make him feel bad.
Sure enough, he stepped around the wall to give her a hug after she hung up.
“I’d give anything if you’d have let me leave the club, instead of you leaving the pack.”
She let him hold her, but told him, “No. We’re exactly as we’re supposed to be.
” It was on the tip of her tongue to add, or we would be if you’d let me fucking orgasm, but the truth was, him not allowing it kind of defined them.
She might want to bitch about it, but this was Knife defining their relationship.
Underlining the power exchange with a bright red marker.
But later that evening, he used her mouth again without giving her an opportunity to get off — and then crammed a large vibrating butt plug up her ass, turned it on low, and ordered her to go to sleep. She dreamed of denial all fucking night, and woke with her hips slowly pumping.
She found herself alone in bed, because he was already downstairs getting breakfast started. She tried to figure out what’d wakened her and quickly realized it’d been the smell of cooking bacon.
After they ate, they drove his truck and her SUV to her apartment to move her clothes and toiletries. He helped her box things up, and when her closet and bathroom were empty, he walked her apartment, looking at everything.
“What furniture do you want to bring?” he asked. “We can give some of my furniture away. Replace it with yours. I’m not terribly attached to my sofas and shit.”
She stared at her bed. She loved it, and had paid entirely too much for it.
“I can move my bed out,” he said from the doorway. “Put yours in.”
She looked at him in surprise. He’d made his bed with his own two hands, had special-ordered the handlebars, had inset the hinges on the pillory into the wood like a professional craftsman. She knew he was attached to his bed, and yet, he was willing to replace it with hers.
And that meant arguing they should stick with his simply because he’d made it wasn’t going to fly, so she told him, “And give up the pillory? Not a chance.”
He grinned, and she realized his kitchen table fit his kitchen while hers would not, which only left the living room furniture.
“I like your sofa. Maybe we just take my reading chair? My big floor lamp can go in your living room, and you don’t have much on your walls, and if you like my artwork, we can take some of it.”
He nodded. “I love the waterfall painting in your living room, and the dark forest one in here.”
“Okay then. Not really sure what to do with the rest of my things, though.”
“The MC runs a women’s and children’s shelter, and we’re always looking for clothing and furniture, so we can help the moms get a new place set up for them and their kids once it’s safe for them to move out.
We’ll take everything you want to our place, and the MC will come get what’s left, write you a receipt so you can use it on your taxes. ”
He walked into her kitchen and told her, “I’m thinking I can knock out a wall in the kitchen.
Not the whole wall, just everything to the right of the door leading into the living room.
Make it more of an open floor plan, and it’ll let me build a storage unit.
I can move the things I don’t often use there, and you can put your less-often-used stuff there as well.
That’ll free up storage around the actual cooking and prep surfaces for your things. ”
Once again, she was touched.
“You’re rearranging everything to make room for me,” she noted.
“I’ll build another house if you want me to.
It was there when I bought the land, but I made some substantial changes, figuring I could add a closet if I ever found someone I wanted to live with, which seemed unlikely.
” He shrugged. “Never thought she might be a foodie with every known size of pot and pan, and ingredients most people have never heard of, but it needs to be your kitchen, too, so we’ll figure out how to make that happen.
I’m attached to my knives, my grills, my main frying pan, my Dutch oven, and the three cast-iron pieces I own.
Everything else can go, if necessary, to make room for your things.
We can send my dishes to charity and use yours, the same with my silverware, whatever. ”
She nodded. “Yeah, okay. I am actually attached to my pots and pans, but let’s decide that another day. I’d like to get my clothes into my new closet today. Little goals.”
He brought loads upstairs while she figured out where in her closet everything should go. Between the two of them, she’d officially moved in two hours later, and thirty minutes after that, she was hanging in his ropes, still without an orgasm.
But five hours later, he gave her so many orgasms she’d have begged for mercy if she’d been allowed to speak.
Best. Housewarming. Ever.
- - - ? - - -
A month later, ninety percent of Tuesday’s kitchen was in her new place, her reading chair sat in the corner of his living room where the light was good in the afternoons, and her office was completely finished and usable.
Not only that, he’d put fixtures for permanent professional lighting into his kitchen, so she only had to pull the arms out of the wall to the exact angle, and then adjust the lights with her phone.
A super-cool hanging rack was installed over the island, since he’d seen that she prefers to hang her pots and pans for storage.
He’d also installed lighting on movable arms in her office, so she could easily handle the seated parts of her videos without much setup. In her apartment, she’d dragged lights back and forth from the kitchen to the office.
She’d kissed him until he’d leaned her over the kitchen table and fucked her to orgasm — and then popped her on the ass and told her to do a quick test video, so he’d know if he needed to make any changes.
One Sunday after breakfast at the club, the men went downstairs for their big church meeting, and the ol’ladies were planning for a big travelling party they called Girls’ Night Out.
When the men came upstairs, Brain and Knife came to get her, took her to an office, where Brain scanned in her fingerprint and palmprint, and gave her access codes for the back of the clubhouse.
“You can come and go into the hallway with Knife’s room.
If we go into lockdown, you’ll have access to the lower levels.
You’ll also be able to get in and out of the garage, and I’ve assigned you spot seventy-two. ”
Brain told her to open her contacts and gave her a number. “That’s the control room. If you ever need to reach Knife and he’s away from the clubhouse without his phone, call that, and whoever’s on duty will get word to him.”
Heat moved through her chest and threatened to push tears into her eyes while she punched the number’s description into her phone.
Control Room. Once upon a time, she’d been a secret, one who could only know the number to his burner phone.
She remembered how big of a deal it’d been when he’d given her his actual phone number.
It’d felt like being handed a key to something she hadn’t known she was locked out of.
And now she had the super-secret clubhouse number, to reach him even when he was off grid.
She stared at Knife, and he smiled and told her, “I’ll walk you through how each door works. Part of the security here means every door works a little different. If you screw up, an alarm will blare, so try not to do that.”
“Most everyone does at least once,” Brain said. “Not the end of the world, but you’ll be ribbed for it, so be prepared.”
They were talking about the locks on the doors, and she was stuck on a phone number. Fitting, that neither man had any idea how the phone number affected her.
So many changes, but she was embracing every one. The week before, her old apartment complex had called with a reasonable offer to break her lease, and she’d gotten it in writing, then transferred the funds to them.
She was now officially stuck with Knife, and she couldn’t be happier.