Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
WHIP
My apartment is on the fifteenth floor of one of the newer buildings downtown, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city.
It's not the kind of place most of my brothers would expect me to live—too clean, too modern, not enough beer cans and motorcycle parts scattered around.
But I've always liked the separation between my worlds.
The club is raw, unfiltered, a place where I can be Whip without apology.
This place is something else entirely.
I unlock the door, letting Violet enter first. Her eyes widen as she takes in the open floor plan, the leather furniture, the expensive art on the walls. The decorating was all done by some designer Ash recommended when I bought the place. Said I had too much money to live like a college freshman.
She wasn't wrong.
"This is..." Violet trails off, walking to the windows to look at the city sprawled below us. "Not what I expected."
"You expected a cave?" I joke, tossing my keys into the bowl on the entry table. "With motorcycles parts and empty whiskey bottles?"
She turns, giving me a shy smile. "Maybe. I don't know. It's just so..."
"Boring?" I offer.
"Sophisticated," she corrects. "Like you have a whole life outside the club that no one sees."
I cross to her, drawn by the golden city lights reflecting in her dark eyes. "Not no one," I say, touching her face gently. "You see it now."
Her breath catches, and I can see the pulse jumping in her throat. When I lean in to kiss her, she rises on her toes to meet me, her mouth soft and warm against mine. I keep the kiss gentle at first, mindful of her bruised cheek, but when her tongue touches mine, something inside me snaps.
I back her against the window, pinning her with my body as I deepen the kiss. My hands find her wrists, drawing them above her head and holding them there against the glass. She moans into my mouth, arching against me.
"Is this what you want?" I murmur against her lips. "Me taking control?"
"Yes," she breathes, eyes heavy-lidded. "I've never... it's never been like this before."
I release her wrists, stepping back slightly. "Like what, exactly?"
She bites her lip, suddenly shy. "Like I want to give up control. Like I trust someone enough to just... let go."
The admission sends excitement coursing through me. I've been with submissive women before—the club has its share of willing participants who understand the lifestyle—but none of them have affected me the way Violet does. With her, it's not about the power. It's about the connection.
"I need you to tell me exactly what you're comfortable with," I say, my voice low but firm. "What are your limits? What do you want to try? What's off the table completely?"
She seems surprised by the directness of my questions. "I don't... I don't really know. I've never done anything like this before."
"Like what, Violet?" I press. "Say it."
Her cheeks flush, but she holds my gaze. "BDSM. Dominance and submission. I've read about it, thought about it, but I've never... experienced it."
I nod, filing that information away. "Then we go slow. Establish safe words. Red for stop, everything ends immediately. Yellow for slow down, check in. Green for keep going. Can you remember that?"
She nods.
"Say it," I command gently.
"Red for stop. Yellow for slow down. Green for keep going."
"Good girl." I watch her reaction to the praise, noting how her pupils dilate, how her breathing quickens. "Now, is there anything you know for sure you don't want to try?"
She thinks for a moment. "No hitting. Not after... you know."
Fury flashes through me at the reminder of what her ex did, but I push it down. This isn't about him. It's about us.
"No hitting," I agree. "No pain play of any kind until you specifically ask for it, if you ever do. Anything else?"
"Nothing involving other people," she says quickly. "Just us."
"Just us," I echo. "What about restraints? Being tied up? Blindfolded?"
Her breath catches again, and I can see the answer in her eyes before she speaks. "Yes to both. I want... I want to try that."
My cock hardens further at her admission. "And what about being told what to do? Following orders?"
"Yes," she whispers. "God, yes."
I step closer again, my hand coming up to cradle her face. "Then let's start simple. When we're like this—when I'm dominating you—you call me Sir. Understand?"
Her eyes widen, but she nods. "Yes, Sir."
The title on her lips sends a fresh wave of desire through me. "Good. Now, go to the bedroom. Last door on the right. Take off your clothes and wait for me on the bed."
She hesitates for just a moment, then heads down the hallway without another word. I give her a few minutes, using the time to gather what I'll need and to calm my racing heart. This isn't just another hookup. This is Violet. My sister's best friend. The woman I've wanted for years.
I need to get this right.
When I enter the bedroom, she's sitting on the edge of my king-sized bed, completely naked except for the simple black underwear from the clothes Savannah provided. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she looks up at me with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.
"Stand up," I tell her, setting down the items I've brought on the nightstand. "Arms at your sides."
She complies immediately, letting her arms fall away from her chest. My eyes trace over her body, taking in every curve, every dip and valley.
Her breasts are full and round, nipples hard in the cool air of my bedroom.
Her waist nips in before flaring out to generous hips, and her legs seem to go on forever.
"Beautiful," I murmur, and I mean it. "Turn around. Slowly."
She turns, giving me a view of her back, the curve of her ass in those black panties. When she completes the circle, facing me again, her cheeks are flushed but her eyes are clear and focused.
"What's your color?" I ask.
"Green, Sir," she says without hesitation.
"Good. Now take off your underwear."
Her hands tremble slightly as she hooks her thumbs into the waistband and slides the panties down her legs, stepping out of them gracefully. She stands before me completely naked now, vulnerable but unashamed.
"Come here," I command, my voice rough with desire.
She walks to me, stopping when she's just inches away. I can feel the heat radiating from her body, smell the subtle floral scent of her skin.
"Undress me," I tell her.
Her fingers are surprisingly steady as she unbuttons my shirt, pushing it off my shoulders. Her hands skim over my chest, tracing the tattoos that mark me as part of the club. When she reaches for my belt, I see her swallow hard, her eyes darting up to mine for reassurance.
"Keep going," I encourage.
She unbuckles the belt, then tackles the button and zipper of my jeans. As she pushes them down, along with my boxers, my cock springs free, hard and ready. Her eyes widen, and I hear her sharp intake of breath.
"See what you do to me?" I murmur, stepping out of my jeans and kicking them aside. "Just looking at you gets me hard."
"I want to touch you," she whispers.
"You will," I promise. "But first, I need to lay down some rules."
I guide her to sit on the edge of the bed again, remaining standing so that I'm looking down at her. The position of power is intentional, establishing the dynamic between us.
"When we're like this, in this room, I'm in charge," I tell her. "You do as I say, when I say it. If you disobey, there are consequences. Not pain—never pain unless you ask for it—but punishment. Denial of pleasure. Delay of release. Understand?"
"Yes, Sir," she says, her voice steady even though she has an obvious flush on her cheeks.
"Good. Now, on the bed. On your back, arms above your head."
She complies immediately, lying back and stretching her arms over her head. The position makes her breasts rise, her back arch slightly. I retrieve the items from the nightstand—a length of soft rope, a silk blindfold, and a small vibrator.
"I'm going to tie your wrists," I explain, sitting beside her on the bed. "Not too tight. You'll be able to get free if you need to. And I'll blindfold you. The sensory deprivation will heighten everything else. Color?"
"Green," she says, eyes fixed on the rope in my hands.
I bind her wrists together, then secure them to the headboard with a quick-release knot. Next comes the blindfold, slipped gently over her eyes. Once it's in place, I wait, giving her time to adjust to the sensation of being restrained and blind.
"How do you feel?" I ask.
"Exposed," she admits. "But... safe."
The word sends a wave of satisfaction through me. "Good. That's exactly how you should feel. Now, don't move."
I start at her ankles, running my fingertips lightly up her calves, over her knees, along the inside of her thighs. She shivers, goosebumps rising on her skin. I avoid the place she wants me most, continuing up her stomach, circling her breasts without touching the sensitive peaks.
By the time I reach her throat, she's breathing hard, her body trembling. I lean down, my lips hovering just above hers.
"Tell me what you want," I whisper.
"Your mouth," she gasps. "Everywhere."
"Everywhere?" I tease. "That's not very specific."
"Please," she whimpers. "Sir, please touch me."
"Like this?" I cup one breast, rolling the nipple between my fingers. She arches into the touch, a moan escaping her lips. "Or like this?" I replace my fingers with my mouth, sucking the hard peak between my lips.
"Yes," she cries. "God, yes."
I take my time with her breasts, alternating between gentle caresses and firmer suction, using my teeth just enough to make her gasp. All the while, my other hand explores lower, tracing patterns on her inner thighs, coming close to her center without quite touching it.
When I finally slide my fingers through her folds, she's soaking wet.
"Christ, you're drenched," I groan, circling her clit with my thumb. "All this for me?"
"Yes, Sir," she pants. "Just for you."