THORIN
Ifucking told him so. Bree might have walked into Club Sin like a dominatrix, but Mal definitely jumped to the wrong conclusion. I feel her eyes following my hands as I rig up Leo. It’s a speedy chest harness with cuffs, nothing crazy, but Bree’s gaze is hooded, her lips parted. Her breathing is rapid. Shallow. Excited.
“That’s amazing,” she murmurs, her focus still fixed on the rope. “Can—?” she pauses and clears her throat.
“You wanna try?” I ask. “I can show you a couple safe, simple ties, but you should really take a course if you want to be a rigger. There are nerves and pressure points to watch out for, basic knot tying, safety…” I watch her out of the corner of my eye, and start untying Leo. He’s a willing demonstrator, but being tied up isn’t his bag.
Bree is being cagey. I can feel it. Maybe she just needs a push to speak up. Leo and Mal study her face too, and when Bree’s nose wrinkles subtly, I can’t help smirking at Mal. Motherfucking told you so! He shrugs, admitting defeat but not looking too disappointed about being wrong.
“I don’t know about rigger classes, I…” she trails off, chewing her lip and then soothing it with her tongue. “You know what?” She raises her voice suddenly, the airy quality replaced with something far more fierce. “I’ve done my research. I know how to negotiate. I understand safe words and rope safety. I’ve watched every single video on Shibari that I could track down. Fuck, I even took an online course. I joined Club Sin for exactly one reason.” She points at Leo, the coil of rope loose on his chest as I finish freeing him. “I want that.”
“You want me?” Leo chuckles and lets his eyes drift over her body, making a scene out of appreciating her curves. “Baby, you can have me any day of the week, and twice on Sunday.” Mal rolls his eyes, but Bree tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, suppressing a grin.
“You want someone to tie you up. Take control?” It’s one of the first things Mal has really said to her, and she reacts like she’s seeing him for the first time, surprise and fascination lighting up her eyes. “You want the friction of the rope against your skin, something to fight against while you get fucked?”
“Yes.” Bree says the word on a hard exhale. It looks like it’s costing her to say that out loud, but she lifts her chin and straightens her spine, reclaiming that badass attitude we saw in the bar. My dick has been at half-mast just watching her, but that—fuck me. I like my women strong. Submission means nothing to me if they don’t have a backbone to begin with.
“The three of us come as a set. We like sharing our pets, but that’s probably a bit much for you. We can find you an easier dom to start with.” Leo’s eyes flash in my direction, pissed that I’d even offer that. But I’m on to her now. Nothing makes a bratty rope bunny braver than being told they can’t handle something. I can see it in the way Bree levels that gorgeous gaze at me. Challenge accepted…
“You’re already underestimating me,” she says archly. “I think I can manage three little boys.”
I chuckle and rub my thumb over my lower lip. “Three little boys. Ouch.” I give her a wounded expression and glance at Mal and Leo. At six foot two, I’m the shortest of the three of us. Mal is built like a fucking tank in a suit. Leo hasn’t skipped a gym day in the five years I’ve known him, and he’s hung like a fucking horse. It’s safe to say none of our egos are bruised, and there’s no hiding how much they liked her answer.
“Alright, let's sort out details.” I rub my hands together, slowly. I love negotiations. I know it’s something most people just want to get through, but something about having a sub say what they want out loud makes me harder than fucking granite; doubly hard when they do it with mouthy bravado like little Bree.
Mal pulls a notebook out of my bag. Keeping track of things is his specialty, to the point that I’m kind of surprised he hasn’t tried to make a spreadsheet for this yet. Actually, I don’t know for certain that he hasn’t. It would be very on brand for my stepbrother.
“Are you okay with someone walking in here and watching? It happens sometimes.” Bree’s eyes flare, and she nods without hesitating. Interesting…
“We’re a package deal, and we don’t switch. Our bunnies don’t get a turn at tying us up, you okay with that?”
“God, yes.”
“Are you going to be a gentle bunny and obey right away?” I want to laugh when her eye twitches. “I’ll take that as a no. Do you enjoy being physically overpowered? Forced to submit when you’re naughty?”
“Yes, and yes.” Again, no hesitation.
“Any allergies or medical conditions we should be aware of, physical or mental?”
“Does being Type A count?” Bree asks with a grin.
“No.” Mal’s voice catches her attention, and she turns that grin on him.
“Then no.”
“Fun part,” I say, giving her ponytail a little yank, just enough to get her attention. “Stop me when I get to something you’re uncomfortable with performing or having performed on you. Masturbation — fellatio — cunnilingus — rimming — fingering — vaginal penetration — anal penetration with fingers, tongues, or toys,” I leave a long pause between each act, but she doesn’t even flinch. “Anal sex — sex toys, including vibrators, dildos, butt plugs, anal beads. Choking?“ Still not so much as a hint of discomfort.
“You really haven’t played with kink at all? And you’re okay with all of this?” Leo’s eyebrows are sky high.
Bree nods, her cheeks turning pink. “I haven’t done anything kinky with other people… but on my own, I’ve experimented a bit.” She says it with a little shrug, clearly unaware that the three of us are running through infinite, and very creative mental images of her polishing her pearl.
“And…? What do you like?” Mal asks, a brow rising along with the corner of his mouth.
Bree bites her lip, her answer whooshing out of her. “Butt plugs, vibrators, obviously, dildos, nipple play, and… double penetration.” Her voice squeaks when she makes that last admission, but my dick doesn’t care. It swells against the front of my pants, aching and dripping. Fuck, she’s sexy.
“Dirty girl,” Leo says, his face lit up like it’s Christmas morning. I probably have the same expression on my face. Either this woman is too good to be true, or we hit the fucking lottery tonight.
I go on with a grin. “Acceptable bondage: hands tied behind or in front — wrists to ankles — spreader bars —“