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Prologue
Micah
Happy fucking eighteenth birthday to us.
Drunk off my ass, I grinned like a dork and inhaled the joint Dean had gifted me. My best buddy had hooked me up—both of us, really. We’d always been on the edge of kinky when it came to sex. Wanting to tie chicks up. Redden their asses a bit. Dominate in a way that would satisfy our mutual lust.
And Dean’s weed supplier, Chaz? He knew a woman who was into that shit and wanted to give us both a taste of the lifestyle for our birthdays.
Dean drove since I was too damn wasted to even see straight. I tipped my head onto the headrest of his Tahoe’s passenger’s seat, New Hampshire’s woods flying past my window in a blur. The radio cranked out some heavy metal shit he preferred. I didn’t give a fuck about more in that moment than the burn in my lungs and the buzz in my blood.
Although we’d been born four days apart in states nowhere near each other, Dean and I headed north for our shared celebration. We were fresh out of high school, finally graduated, and about to become real men.
Well, we would be once we met up with Ginger—if that was even her real name.
Neither of us were virgins, but we’d never experienced anything outside of fumbling girls who didn’t know their bodies any better than we claimed to. I’d made a few come, but that shit was hard work. An older woman seemed the way to go for a proper education, and I couldn’t fucking wait to get my hands on her.
Getting higher by the second, I still sported a semi at the mere thought of finally marking up a woman’s skin. Listening to her moan and beg for more pain with her pleasure. She wouldn’t mind a little biting, probably. Nibbling, maybe?
Fuck, who was I kidding?
I wanted to sink my teeth into satiny flesh, leave indents behind. I lusted to see my ownership imprinted on her—handprints or flogger lashes. Wanted her quaking beneath me. Begging for my cock. Harder. Deeper.
“Fucking hell, would you hurry up?” I hollered over the ruckus Dean considered music while putting the joint out on the bottom of my sneaker.
He barked a laugh and turned down the radio a bit. “Can’t wait to finally fuck an ass.” A woohoo sound left his mouth as he pumped his fist out the open window. “Might even use my belt on her too. Chaz told me Ginger loves that shit.”
“Pain, you mean?”
“Fuck yeah.” Dean adjusted himself, glancing in the rearview before swerving into the right lane to exit off Route 16. “She’s got a full-on dungeon in her basement. Cross. Spanking bench. Hoist. Sex swing. And all the toys men like us dream about wielding.”
That wordwieldingreminded me of swords and Thor’s hammer, not exactly sexually charged images.
“Floggers and crops aren’t weapons,” I slurred, shaking my head and getting dizzy from the movement. “Whoa…” I snorted with laughter even though a deeper part of me worried about being high as fuck going into tonight. “The hell was in that joint, man?”
“The good shit.” Dean winked at me and accelerated up a hill.
“Goddamn.” I groaned and slumped into the seat, unable to keep my eyes open. Probably shouldn’t have smoked the whole thing by myself.
“You gonna be able to pop a boner?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I muttered, causing him to laugh again. “My dick will get hard when it needs to.”
He would know. We’d shared girls a few times. The last being two girls home from college over winter break. Older, but not the types we fantasized about. I’d been high, drunk, and nervous that night, but when the time came to fuck, I’d risen to the occasion. And I’d been assured by the girl who’d let me smack her ass a couple times that I’d done a damn fine job of blowing her mind.
She’d tasted sweet as sugar…chocolate like the birthday cake Mom had made for me earlier in the day. A memory of blowing out the candles and my baby brother’s tantrum over not getting any presents slid through my mind, but I had better shit to think on.
“What else do you know about this Ginger woman?” I asked Dean.
“She’s thirty. A submissive who likes to play with newbie Doms.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And, she owes Chaz big time.”
“What’s she look like?”
“Who gives a fuck? As long as she’s a warm, willing body with holes to fill, I don’t give a shit if she’s cross-eyed and missing teeth.”
I grimaced, my standards a bit higher than my horndog friend.
Ginger proved to be easy on the eyes when she opened her front door to Dean’s knock. Red hair hung around her shoulders, and her wide-spaced blue eyes were made up all smoky with liner and shadow. I lusted to see tear tracks lining her pale cheeks. Wanted her eyes watering while she choked on my dick while Dean fucked her ass.
