“Exactly right. Everything’s off the record with her, legal or illegal. You can’t contractually keep someone from going to LEO, but since we’re just a bunch of bikers who own a bar and a bike shop and a few other businesses, there’s nothing illegal to worry about.”

  * * * *

  Nickie was asleep when Bud had come to her bed the night before, and he’d awakened her long enough for a round of sex, given her a half-dozen melt-your-brain orgasms, and held her while she drifted back into dreamland. This morning he’d gone down on her with his magical tongue before fucking her face without mercy, but had insisted they shower together afterwards, where he’d given her another set of fantastic orgasms by torturing her breasts and nipples while he insisted she look at him. She’d thought he’d break her, making her orgasm and hold eye contact until she was lost in the forest green of his eyes and wasn’t sure she’d ever find her way back. Wasn’t sure she wanted to find her way back.

  And now she stood on the sidewalk in front of a nice, older house just blocks away from downtown Atlanta. Stone columns defined the wrap-around porch at the steps and the corners, and huge, ancient hardwoods shaded the yard and house. The structure looked like a two-story from the front, but she’d noted on the way over that many of the homes were actually three stories when viewed from the back. The driveway curled around the side of the house, and a privacy fence rose tall on either side, though left the front open to the road.

  “Welcome,” Bud said with a smile as he stepped out the front door and onto the porch.

  “When was it built?”

  “Nineteen twenty-five, but the inside’s been completely redone several times, most recently just a year or so before I bought it. I’ve done a little more work, mostly on the kitchen. I’ll give you a full tour before we get started.”

  Most rooms had an elaborate fireplace, and all were spotless. The colors throughout the floor were all neutral — tans, navy, and the deep forest green of his eyes.

  “Who chose the furniture and colors? The curtains?”

  “I picked out the furniture and paid someone to tell me how to do the walls. He photoshopped them the way they’d look, showed me a couple of options, and then I bought the paint and had a paintin’ party before the furniture was delivered. The MC partied at my house for the weekend and by Sunday evening it was finished. Didn’t bring any furniture with me from the old house. Needed a fresh start.” He shrugged. “I originally brought my Angel’s furniture from her old room, but it’s been changed out since she got married. Works for her and Bash to stay in when they visit.”

  “The place is spotless. I expected… I dunno. Clutter. Man stuff. A bachelor pad. Do you keep it this clean all the time?”

  “One of the sweetbutts comes twice a week to clean it. I had her come this morning.” At her look, he held his hands up and out to the side a little. “I pay her. She cleans for several of us. Not many people I can trust in my home, and she’s been around a long time. She takes care of the house and my clothes, changes the sheets on my bed. I’m not usually here when she does it.” He motioned towards the front of the house. “I can control the lock with my phone, and video cameras let me see who’s on the porch.”

  “Not jealous, just not comfortable with the sweetbutt thing.”

  “You’ll have to get over it. Way of life for us. I won’t use ’em anymore, but they’ll still be around.”

  The house wasn’t terribly wide but it was long, so they walked through the living room, a dining room, and into a huge kitchen with a row of glass doors at the back of the house. She looked out onto a large deck with way more yard space than anyone usually had at a downtown address. With all the old trees, it felt as if she were in a forest instead of downtown Atlanta. A stand of bamboo at the back corner kept people in a taller house from being able to see into his backyard.

  “You like your privacy.”

  “Yeah. This is the middle floor, let’s go down before I show you the upstairs.”

  They went out onto the deck, down the outside stairs, and Nickie fell in love with the screened in room below the deck. There were ceiling fans, plenty of comfortable seating, and it was perfectly arranged for having friends over.

  “Do you entertain a lot?”

  “Yeah. Comes with bein’ president.” He walked her through the outdoor room and into a large den with two big screen televisions on one wall, several gaming systems under them, a pool table, a dartboard, and a foosball table.

  “Mancave on steroids.”

  He chuckled. “Part of it.” He motioned her through another door, and Nickie stopped and stared at the black sixty-seven Shelby Mustang he’d told her about. It was beautiful, and flawless, and she didn’t care if it was rude, she had to ask.

  “I looked these up, just curious after you told me you had one. They can range from forty-grand to over a million dollars. That’s a huge window.”

  “She falls somewhere in the middle.”

  Nickie knew he’d paid just under a half-million dollars for the house and had gotten it at a steal. Surely his car didn’t cost as much as his house?

  “Smack in the middle would be three-quarters of a mil. I couldn’t drive something around that cost that much.”

  He chuckled. “I paid just under a hundred grand for her, to give me a project when Angel left for college. She’s insured for a quarter million, and that’s about what I’d get for her now that she’s back in mint condition, but she isn’t for sale. I’m usually on a bike, and have the truck to haul stuff or if the weather’s bad, but if I want to drive the Shelby, I drive her. It’s what she’s there for.”

  Nickie turned to look at his bikes — nine of them, perfectly lined up, parked diagonally with the back tires all about a foot from a cinder block wall.

  “Why do you need so many bikes?”

  “I really only need three, and four have sentimental value. I haven’t driven two of them much in the past year, so I’ll likely sell them.”

  “Why do you need three?”

  “One for around town, one for road trips, and one for fun on curvy roads.”

  He stepped to her, drew her into his embrace, and she melted. How had she grown to need his touch so quickly? Her subs and slaves learned her moods, but they asked permission to touch her or hug her. Bud just pulled her to him whenever, but she didn’t mind — she craved his touch, his warmth, his strength.

  “So far, you’ve liked the screened in room best.” His chest vibrated under her cheek and made her smile.

  “Yeah. I like my balcony okay at the condo, but I miss my screened in porch at home. Nothing compares to coffee and a cinnamon roll at sunrise with the trees and the birds as company. The city’s nice, but I prefer being out away from people. You’ve managed both.”

  “I have, but since my little haven is in the city, I’ve taken measures to ensure my privacy and safety. The front porch, front yard, the garage, and the fence line all have video surveillance. If you’re within ten feet of the fence, you’re on candid camera. The insurance company insists on the garage camera, the rest are for my security. However, you should know warrants have been issued in the past for video and audio surveillance at points inside my home. I regularly sweep for electronics, but with current technology someone can be in a van down the street and hear most everything in the house. That doesn’t work for me because my sex life is no one’s business, so you’ll hear music playing most all the time. Speakers are set throughout the house, and there’s a tone in the music that defeats their listening capabilities.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Americans aren’t supposed to have to worry about the government listening to them have sex. I have no reason to believe I’m the subject of an open investigation, but it’s happened before out of the blue. Just want you to have a heads up. Talk and scream freely when you hear the music, but know someone might be listening if you don’t hear it. It isn’t loud — doesn’t have to be to do the job.”

  “We come from different places. I’m usually the one hiding listening devices to catch other people at stuff.”

  “Being the president puts a target on my back. I’m used to it, but didn’t want you to get blindsided and be pissed at me for not tellin’ you.”

  “Anything else downstairs? This is supposed to be a… four car garage?”

  Bud motioned towards a bike up in the air, at the very back of the space. “Five, but if you park one there, it’ll be three deep, so I put a bike lift in it. Gives me a place for my latest project.”

  “Figured you’d do that at the bike shop.”

  “Not my personal projects. Might take me a year or two to finish it. I buy something old and restore it, and I don’t get in a rush. Just something to do when I need to get my mind off everything else.”

  Nickie expected him to throw her over a random bit of furniture and fuck her brains out, but the next hour was spent talking. A roast was in the crockpot and bread was in the fridge ready to go in the oven, but neither was hungry, so they sat in the screened in room and talked. He hadn’t taken her upstairs yet, but she figured she’d see it in due time.

  Bud is comfortable in his skin no matter where he is, but she’d noted he seemed more at peace at the bar and then at the clubhouse. Now, at home, he had the energy of a guru or swami — the calmness of a spiritual master. Or, and she didn’t know why she kept coming back to this, of a wolf in his territory. At peace with everything around him. Not just at peace with it, but in tune with it.

  * * * *

  “Tell me about the bratting,” Bud asked as they finished dinner. “When did it start?”

  “I told you from the beginning I’m more of a masochist than a submissive. For most men, I submit enough to get what I want, and yeah, I understand what’s wrong with that, so you don’t have to point it out.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “And I know you’re having fun picking at me, but the clubs I go to list me as a SAM, not a brat.”

  “The first time you asked someone if that was all they had, was it a relationship or a play partner in a club?”

  “Club. Someone who’d whipped me before, but it felt like he was taking it easy on me.”

  “How long ago?”

  She shrugged. “Ten years? Fifteen? I honestly don’t know.”

  Long enough it was part of her psyche, which was fine with Bud.

  “You’ll have to figure me out, but I don’t mind a little lighthearted, fun bratting. When I need you to be serious and submit for me though, you’ll be wise to fall in line.”

  “Yeah. I picked up on that.” She said it totally deadpan, but the roll of her eyes added a touch of humor, and Bud chuckled.

  “Okay, one more thing. You’re gonna have to find your place with my men and their ol’ladies. You might want to eventually brat to me around them, but I don’t think you want to start out that way. Not telling you what to do or how to act, just trying to steer you in the right direction until you figure it out yourself.”

  Bud sipped his water and sat back in his chair. “I’m not too terribly out there when it comes to kinky. I mean, I don’t do fire or needles, I’m not going to cut you open, and I don’t have a secret dungeon. I have a heavy, four-poster bed I can use to tie you up in fun ways, and every piece of furniture in the house is sturdy enough for me to fuck you on it. I have wooden spoons in the kitchen, the belt around my waist, and I can grab an electrical cord, loop it over, and whale on you until you’re black and blue. I don’t have paddles, whips, or floggers here, but I can more than make my point if you need to feel it.”

  He smelled her disappointment, but her poker face gave nothing away so he couldn’t mention it. Instead, he asked, “If you could only bring one thing in — a toy or piece of equipment, what would it be?”

  “Leather wrist and ankle cuffs. Just wearing them puts me in the right space, knowing you can clip me to something in just a second and I’ll be immobile. They’re like a trigger or something, to get me in the right headspace. I’ll miss them if I never feel the weight of the leather and metal on my wrists and ankles again.”

  “Next five things?”

  “Flogger. Probably two, a moderate and extreme one. Is that two of the five, or one?”

  “We’ll call it one.”

  “Butt plugs, nipple clamps, TENS unit…”

  When she didn’t add anything else, he prodded, “One more thing.”

  “I’ll let you know. My guess is you have rope, lube, and lots of things to bend girls over for a spanking.”

  “I do. We have a violet wand at the clubhouse.”

  Her scent went sour. “Rosso. No. I end up with actual burns from them.”

  “Good to know. Tell me the rules your slaves lived under.”

  She looked down a few seconds before asking, “Can we not? At least, not yet? Telling you will put me in the mindset of the one in control, and I’m kind of happy with the energy right now.”

  Bud smelled the truth in her words, so he nodded. He’d want to get it out of her at some point, but it could wait.

  “I have some clamps in the garage I know work well on nipples, and I’m well versed in how to keep a woman in line with a plug stuffed up her ass. We’re on the same page there, even if you hadn’t said anything. Haven’t bought any plugs to use on you yet, but we’ll make that a priority. Never used a TENS on someone.” He’d hooked people up to a car battery to torture answers out of them, but probably best he didn’t bring that up. “Maybe we’ll wait a bit for that, but if it makes you scream and writhe around while you beg for mercy, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

  Nickie chuckled. “You say you aren’t versed in the BDSM kind of kinky, but only someone in the lifestyle can negotiate as casually as you.”

  “Some of my men are into it, and we’ve been educated on some of the details in the clubhouse. I’ve been a sadist since long before I understood what it meant, though. Found my own ways to make it happen.”

  Nickie washed dishes while Bud stored the leftovers, put things away, and wiped everything down.

  He put the crock pot away last, and turned to look at her from across the kitchen. “I need to gather a few things from the garage. You go on up — my bedroom’s at the end of the hall, and there’s a hot tub on a little deck off my room. The way the points of the roof are situated, no one can see you between the door and the hot tub, but don’t walk too far to the left naked unless you want to make my neighbors happy. There’s a button to lift the lid — it’s all automatic and clearly marked. Take a few bottled waters up with you. I’ll be up before too long.”

  * * * *

  Nickie walked out onto the little balcony off his bedroom and breathed in the energy. The ancient hardwoods all around made it feel like a hot tub in a treehouse, a little isolated paradise. And yet, she didn’t want to strip and get in. She loved soaking in a hot tub. Why was she rebelling against orders she didn’t mind following? Bud had more than proved he’s capable of not just Topping her, but truly Dominating her.

  She walked back in the house and took in his bedroom. His bed looked like a mix between a treehouse and a fancy four-poster bed. The canopy was made so one would feel as if they were looking up into the branches of a tree from below, and the posts holding it up looked like the trunks of a huge walnut tree, complete with the pattern on the bark. The rest of his house had been decorated with company in mind, but this was Bud’s den.

  She was going to have to give one of her werewolves a bed like this.

  There was no armoire, no dresser, no chest. All his things were probably in a huge walk-in closet somewhere. The room was dominated by the bed. A bench at the base of it was probably where he sat to lace his riding boots, and a laptop on the coffee table of a small seating area told her he likely worked from home in here sometimes. Or, maybe it was where he watched porn. The thoughts of him jacking off to kinky porn made her grin, and reminded her she was supposed to be getting naked.

  Nickie’s clit thrummed to life as she removed her clothes and folded them on the bench. It was just the right height to kneel on and bend over the footboard for a spanking.

  Walking outside without clothes felt naughty, but she trusted his word that it was okay. Some hot tubs weren’t configured for short people, but she happily found a seat a little higher than the others, so she could lean her head back and relax without her face being halfway in the water.

  “Do I dare ask what you rounded up?” she asked when he stepped out on the little balcony a while later, totally nude. She sat up enough she could look him over from head to toe. She’d seen him naked before, but this was different. He was soft, they weren’t touching, and he was standing in the sunshine.

  Overwhelmed by his sheer beauty, she could only stare. Bud was the most magnificent man she’d ever seen. Sculpted, sharp lean muscles wrapped over each other. Add to that the predatory way he walked and the intense look in his eyes, and it took her breath away. Nickie considered what it’d be like to try to Top such a man, but the idea didn’t appeal to her. She wanted Bud over her, dominating her and hurting her in the most marvelous ways.

  He wouldn’t be Bud if he let her tell him what to do. Once you’ve tamed the wolf he becomes a pet. A dog. She liked him just the way he was, even if he sometimes annoyed her with his bossiness.

  At a loss for what to say or where to look, she asked, “I didn’t see my bag when I came up. Is it still downstairs?”

  “It’s locked in one of my gun cabinets, along with the clothes and shoes you just removed.” He settled the towels on a chair, sat on the edge of the hot tub, swung both legs around, and slid into the water to sit on one of the little seats across from her. “You’ll be my naked little brat until it’s time for you to go back to your condo. I’ll get your toothbrush and whatever else you need out of it, but you won’t get the whole thing until shortly before time for you to leave, day after tomorrow.”