“The apartment is perfect,” I tell Rick. He doesn’t want me to move out, but it’s time I find my own space. He’s been putting me up along with Cayleigh, our sister, in his guest apartment, which is above Seven Sins.

Carrick owns one of the most elite BDSM clubs in Chicago, along with his friend, Mason. Both men have made a name for themselves, and I’m proud of Rick. I’m older by a year. Not much, but sometimes, I feel so out of touch with everything.

“You’re welcome to pay me the rent you’re about to give some other asshole, you know.” He chuckles, lifting the tumbler to his lips. The amber liquid shimmers in the yellow light. I watch it for a moment, lost in my own thoughts.

“Yeah, but I’d still be living in my baby brother’s building,” I bite back, but he knows I’m joking. He shakes his head, sighing at my stubbornness. It runs in the family. Perhaps it’s an Irish thing.

Even though our roots are firmly in Ireland, we grew up in London. Going back there isn’t an option for me, so I’ve decided to stay in Chicago with my brother and sister. After our little visit to Seamus Moran—the man who killed Cayleigh’s fiancé and Rick’s fiancée—there’s a hit on my head.

Not that I give a fuck. I’ll take the assholes down myself, but our father made it clear we’re to stay here until he can sort the fuckers out. Of course, I don’t mind because I’ll be here, in Rick's club where women are abundant and the alcohol flows freely.

“Fine. But, Cal, just watch yourself in the club. I really don’t need shit going down.” His warning doesn’t faze me. I know why he’s so wary. I’ve been known to cause a ruckus at times. But there’s a reason I’m dying to go downstairs, and Carrick knows it too.

“You know I’ll be on my best behavior, brother.” My response earns me a shrewd stare. He’s turned into a businessman. In the time I knew my brother, while we worked together, he was one of the only people in our father’s organization who didn’t enjoy his job.

Working for the Irish mob will do that to a man. You’ll end up hating the person you become if you don’t embrace it. Carrick never did. Me, on the other hand, I loved it.

“Yeah, I would hope so.”

“Come on, Rick. Cut me some slack.” I chuckle, landing my gaze on Carrick sitting in his large, black, leather office chair. Fit for a king. Peyton, his submissive is on his lap, twirling his tie with her delicate fingers.

“Fine, you’re welcome to play, but don’t fucking break hearts. And stay away from Madison Parker,” he grumbles. His hands stroke her slim thighs as he watches me with that perceptive glare.

Being older, I’ve always given him shit, but if there’s one thing I can say about Carrick, he’s got a good head on his shoulders. The business he started from scratch is booming, and he has a woman who loves him with her every breath. A pretty little blonde who’s got curves I wouldn’t mind taking for a test drive. Of course, she is my brother’s, and I don’t do shit like that. Not anymore.

“I don’t break anything, unless they ask, Rick,” I tell him. I rise from my seat and head to the door. “Oh, and one more thing,” I say as I stop at the door. “Congratulations on taking my advice, little brother,” I praise him, flicking my gaze over to Peyton.

They were on the outs not so long ago, and I told him to man-up and fight for her. I was in awe at how much she loved him, but when I saw my brother without her, I knew it wouldn’t work. He needed her as much as she wanted him. It made sense.

I’ve never been in love. I don’t think it’s an emotion worthy of my time. I just don’t want it. My kind of work doesn’t allow for it. So, I’ve become accustomed to playing with pretty toys until I have to move on. I told Rick I’d stay in Chicago for a little while longer, but my feet are itchy. I need to make a move.  

I leave them in the office and make my way down to the main area of the club. It’s not what most people would think. It actually looks like an upmarket restaurant. If you walked in, you’d never guess what delicious delights went on behind closed doors.

The playrooms are off to the right. The bar sits smack-dab against the right wall as you enter the club. And the stage where performances take place is positioned in the center of a circle of booths. You can see it from the bar, but when it’s not lit up like it is now, you wouldn’t know it's anything out of the ordinary.

If there aren’t any shows, most people would think of this as one of those upscale dinner venues, but once the lights are dimmed, there’s a sensual undertone that emits itself, and we’re met with the decadence of Seven Sins.

Although, most people who frequent it are members, high-flyers — influential people who will pay a pretty penny to keep their names out of the paper for the things they enjoy doing behind closed doors. I mean . . . who wants a congressman to be into kink?

Being within the walls of this place makes me want to take a slave and mark her. I want to play, but what my brother doesn’t realize is that as much as he wants to confine me to a certain mold, I won’t remain in that box for very long.

I’m far from what most of the men here are. No, I don’t have a specific kink. Unless you count the obsession I have with a certain brunette. If only I could see her pretty porcelain flesh against my sleek, silver blade, I’d die a happy man.

Morality isn’t my strong suit.

I do things because I can.

When a woman relinquishes everything to me, my restraint disappears. The beast that resides within me awakens, and its hunger knows no bounds. Nothing is sacred.

I’ve had my fair share of experiences, but I’m different than Rick. He’s a Dominant who can love with gentle touches and kind words. I’m far more sadistic than he is. I need a woman’s full and ultimate submission. Her body is mine to toy with, to abuse as I wish, but I don’t just take, I give a lot too. She’ll experience pleasure she never knew existed. All by my hand.

Settling at the bar, I ensure I’m facing the booth where my newest pet is sitting with her friend, Amber. Two other girls have arrived who don’t look at all familiar.

I turn to find Dylan wiping down the bar top. He glances up at me. “Can I get you a Jameson?”

“Yeah, can you make sure it’s a three-finger shot? I think I’m here for the night.”

He nods, moving along the bar to get my drink. My brother didn’t keep Irish whiskey in the bar when I arrived, but over the months of me spending my time here, he’s assured there’s always a bottle behind the bar for me. While Dylan is away, I turn my attention back to Madison. Her dress has ridden up her lithe legs. The sparkly orange material shimmers under the lights of the club.

“She’s a beaut,” Dylan says, setting the tumbler on a coaster in front of me. “Too bad her boyfriend is such a prick.”

I snap my gaze to his. “Boyfriend?” My brows furrow in confusion as shock settles at the realization I know nothing about her personal life. Let alone her professional one. All I know is she’s Senator Parker’s daughter.

“Yeah, he’s her dad’s right-hand man,” Dylan intones with a hint of sarcasm on the "right-hand", which makes me wonder what he knows that I don’t. “A twenty-four-year-old prep-school boy,” he continues with frustration evident in his voice. Jealousy. I should laugh, but I feel it too.

“So why is she in here if she has a boyfriend?” I question, lifting the drink to my lips.

“Dunno. She’s here every Friday with her friend. I think he’s away or works late. She never stays after midnight, though. Perhaps she’s like Cinderella.” He chuckles, leaving me to mull over the information he’s just offered.

The whiskey burns its way down my throat in a fiery blaze. I don’t turn away from her, intoxicated just by the sight of her curves in that barely there scrap of silk she thinks is a dress. Which makes me wonder what her panties look like. Madison’s gaze darts to mine as if she can feel the heat of my penetrating stare.

Those pretty, cinnamon-colored eyes that linger a moment too long tell me she wants this. Me. And I’ve never been able to say no to a woman who begs. She may not use words, but she definitely tells me with the soft, sweet smile that lifts her full, rosy lips she’s ready for the predator inside me to devour her beautiful, silken skin.

Turning to Dylan, I lift my empty tumbler.

“Tell me something,” I start. “Does she ever go into the back rooms?”

“Nah, never seen her back there,” he tells me, then shakes his head. “Actually, there was once I saw her watching a scene. Oliver Michaelson had taken a pretty sub into the viewing room. There was a lot of talk about how he’d used her. I saw bits here and there. It was hot. But Madison’s never been with a man back there.”

“Thanks.” I rise, tapping the bar.

“Not having another one?” he questions, raising the empty glass.

Shaking my head, I respond with my new apartment in mind. “No, I have some place to be.” I make my way toward the exit, purposely passing her table. Once out on the street, I zip up the leather jacket I’m wearing. It’s chilly out tonight, but as spring nears, I know it will warm up soon.

“Hey,” a soft melodic voice calls to me. When I spin on my heel, I find her standing there in her pretty little dress. “Leaving so soon?” She sidles up to me, her hips swaying as if she’s ready for what I want to give her. But she’s so far from ready. Her body is the perfect curve of an hourglass. Narrow waist with wide hips. Her tits are more than a handful, and I know they’d look perfect with my dick between them.

“Yeah, places to be, people to see,” I offer, picking up the helmet from my bike. I hate driving, so riding is my choice. The Ducati Panigale V4 is my prized possession since I moved here. Bright orange, like Madison’s dress, it's one of the most beautiful bikes I’ve ever owned. The power is incredible, the speed is out of this world, and all I can think of is having her sitting behind me, holding on as I race down the highway.

“A girlfriend?” she questions, lifting one dark, sculpted eyebrow in question. Her skin has a soft glow from the outside lights, making her seem almost ethereal. I say almost, because there’s nothing angelic about the way she’s currently looking at me.

“No. I don’t do girlfriends.”

She smiles at my response, and I wonder why. If she has a boyfriend, shouldn’t she be with him right now? Instead of standing in a parking lot talking to a man who can and will break her?

“I’d like a ride sometime.” She gestures with her chin at the bike behind me.

I glance back, mainly to hide my smirk. Dragging my gaze back to her, I watch as she nears me in her black fuck-me heels, closing the distance between us even more. We’re merely inches apart. Her body shivers, trailing over her frame, and I wonder if it’s from the chill in the weather, or if I’m affecting her as much as she is me.

“Oh?” Lifting my brow, I wonder if daddy knows she’s dressed like a little harlot asking for a fuck. And I wonder if she takes it like one too. I’d love to find out. My cock is thick and throbbing in my jeans. It’s ready to be let out, to drive into her and tear her in two.

“Yeah,” she quips, folding her arms across her perky chest, which only serves to push her tits up. My tongue darts out, licking my lips as my eyes drink her in slowly.

She’s nothing like the fine wine I pegged her for.

No, this girl is a smoky, spicy bourbon.

“I don’t play with little girls,” I growl, leaning in closer to inhale her scent. Sweet, innocent, and so damn dangerous. One taste and I know I’ll be hooked. My body is tense. Holding onto restraint while so close to her is difficult.  

She raises her head, meeting my intense gaze. “I’m not a little girl,” she bites back, causing me to chuckle.

I take a step toward her, causing her to shuffle back. I don’t stop until she’s pressed against some rich asshole’s Ferrari. I run my nose over her cheek, reveling in the perfume that reminds me of sweet citrus. “You’re very little, sweet thing.” I allow my words to feather over her flesh, earning me a tremble. “And a man like me could break you.”

I wait for her to run back inside, but she doesn’t. Instead, she stays in place, still, unmoving, until I lift my hand and trace it along her bare arm. Smooth, silky skin dots with goosebumps at my touch.

Jesus, this woman is far too beautiful for me to violate. There are so many filthy, sinful things I’d love to do to her.

“I don’t break easily,” she informs me, an infliction of need in her voice. It’s a gentle tug at my cock, as if she’s trying to jerk me off with her words.

“Be careful what you wish for, Madison Parker, because you might just get it.” I reach for her ass, my big, calloused hand gripping the globe of flesh, squeezing hard until I get the whimper I’ve been aching to hear. And it’s perfection.

“Why don’t you give me your number?” she asks.

I step back, my hand lowering to her hip, holding her in place in case she decides to run away. “Why don’t you give me your phone, sweetheart?” I coax.

She doesn’t think twice about handing me her mobile. I punch my number in, send a quick message to myself, then lock the screen once more. I haven’t saved it because I plan to toy with my food before I eat it.

“Keep it on you tonight when you go to bed. And ensure that pussy of a boyfriend isn’t around.” I turn and saunter to my bike.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she calls to me.

I don’t respond. Pulling on my helmet, I swing my leg over the bike and start the engine. A loud, snarling roar. The vibration between my legs, the power of the machine, and the pretty brunette who has my number have my cock ready to explode.