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“For her or you?”
“Both. Mutual decision.”
“So… You’re not into that.”
“Again, say what you mean, Fallon.”
“You’re not into whips and chains and all of that.”
“Turns out I ain’t.”
Her lips twitched when she tried to imagine the process he went through to discover that.
“How ‘bout you?”
She hadn’t expected that turnabout, but it was only fair that she answer. “Umm…” She shrugged. “I can’t say I haven’t tried a few things but it usually didn’t go past a man’s necktie being wrapped around my wrists.” And then tied to the headboard.
His sexy smirk appeared. “Did you like it?”
“Not with who I was with.”
That smirk quickly disappeared again. “Why?”
“I didn’t trust him.” She didn’t know much about kink or BDSM lifestyle, but she did know enough that trusting the person restraining you was important. So was communication.
But that was important with any partner, vanilla or not.
The man was back to not mincing words when he said, “You trusted him enough to fuck him.”
That was all it ended up being, a fuck.
No matter how smart one thought they were, it was hard to avoid an occasional bad decision. No one was immune. Ideally, one would learn from it for the future. Fallon did in this case. It was one reason why after that night she hadn’t dated much. And when she did, she was much more cautious. When first meeting someone, that person seemed to put on a “good face” to impress. But it was what was under that surface that counted.
You could coat shit with sugar, but once you bit through that sweetness, you could still taste the shit.
“Once I was restrained, I realized I had put myself in a bad spot.”
Before her eyes, he went solid, every muscle locking. “He hurt you?”
She shook her head. No, but she’d never been so uncomfortable before. “Let’s just say I was glad when it was over.”
He grabbed her chin and held it, dipping his head enough to catch and hold her eyes. “He hurt you?”
“No. Even if he did, what could you do about it?” It was years ago and back in Chicago—
“Fuckin’ hunt him down and—” He pressed his lips together and a muscle jumped in his cheek.
The intensity in his eyes was unexpected. Especially since it was over something in the past and had not affected him. This man kept catching her off guard. “And?”
“Teach him a lesson ‘bout hurtin’ women.”
“That wasn’t what you were going to say.”
“Close enough.”
Maybe the man before her wasn’t so sweet at his core after all. Even though his unnecessary protectiveness was flattering. “While I appreciate the sentiment, I don’t need you to teach anyone a ‘lesson.’ I got myself into that situation and I got myself out. Luckily, with no damage done.”
“Not every woman’s as lucky as you.”
“That we can agree on,” she said softly. “But these women… these sweet butts… They’re here by choice and could leave at any time without any repercussion?”
“Yeah.”
“Do all your club brothers take them up on what they offer?”
“Not the ones with ol’ ladies.”
She stared at him. “So, only the members without ol’ ladies. Like you.”
He tipped his head slightly. At least he didn’t deny it because she knew that would’ve been an outright lie and would’ve lost some respect for him if he lied to her like that.
She wasn’t stupid and Whip didn’t treat her as if she was. Unlike some “professional” men who liked to talk down to women.
Misogynistic pigs.
Every time someone of that breed opened their mouth, she heard the silent, patronizing, “little lady” added on to whatever bullshit they were spewing from their mouth. She would grind her teeth and do her best to refrain from kicking them in the nuts before calling them “little boy” in return.
But, of course, then she would be labeled as “overly emotional” or “on her period.”
She mentally rolled her eyes and focused her attention on the man who did not give her that vibe at all. “Now that she’s a sweet butt, do you still hook up?”
“You mean with Billie?”
“If that’s her name, yes. Do you two get along?”
“Yeah. Like I said, it was mutual. We both realized it was better for both of us. I didn’t give her what she needed, she didn’t give me the same.”
“That was a very mature decision.” When Fallon was in her twenties, she didn’t remember men her age being so mature. “How many sweet butts does the club keep around?”
He took a long sip of his beer. “It matter?”
“I’m fascinated with this MC culture. It’s… unique.”
He snorted softly. “Yeah, ain’t a country club. Guess you’re more used to that kinda atmosphere.”
“Actually, no. I didn’t come from money. Everything I have, I earned myself. And I never got into the country club scene. Tennis, golf, swollen egos and non-stop bullshitting never did anything for me. Well, maybe it did. Some of it turned me off.”
