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NATALIA

I thought I would be ready for him. But I was so wrong.

I still felt the sting of the belt on my ass. It was different from the flogger. Hot and pulsing, a brand etched into my skin like a filthy little love note. My knees were raw from kneeling on the hardwood floor. My lips were kiss-swollen, my pussy aching and soaked. He had devoured me. Licked me so good I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t breathe without feeling him. I wasn’t a woman anymore.

I was his toy. Played with and discarded.

And that’s exactly what he did.

There was no aftercare, no kiss goodbye. Absolutely no warning. Just one last look, that dark smirk playing at the corner of his mouth like he knew he’d ruined me, and then he walked out.

Just like that. Gone.

Leaving me on the cold floor, thighs sticky, heart racing, cunt clenching around nothing but emptiness.

I should have been pissed. I should have yelled, screamed, done something. But all I could do was kneel there in the silence, pulse pounding between my legs, my mind spinning with one filthy thought after another.

What if he never comes back? What if he did this to other women? Just walked in, fucked them senseless, then vanished without a trace.

I wasn’t special. He made that clear.

No collar. No leash. No name.

Just his fingerprints left behind in places no one else had ever touched. Bruises on my hips, a sting on my ass cheeks, and a pulse that still beat for him. It was loud, like the sound of a drum I didn’t think I could ever silence.

But the way he touched me… the way he looked at me. The look in his eyes made me shiver. He wanted to break me open and crawl inside my soul…\ he wanted to own every breath I took and ruin every inch of innocence I had left.

He’d be back. He had to come back. Because monsters like that never let go of their favorite prey.

* * *

Three days passed.

I waited every night for him to show up. At first, I followed his demand. I continued working the floor like usual, latex corsets, stilettos, leash in hand, but I didn’t allow anyone to touch me. Not really. Not the way he had. Every time I felt a pair of eyes on me, my heart would skip, but it wasn’t him.

This place had become my sanctuary. My escape. Outside these walls, I was just another curvy girl in a world that didn’t see women like me. Well, not really. People looked past me, through me, like I wasn’t worth a second glance. No one asked who I was. No one cared to know.

But here? Here, I was someone that could be desired. I could be anything I wanted, a brat, a kitten, a mistress, a sinner. No judgment. No expectations. Just raw expression wrapped in leather and lust. I was safe behind the masks we all wore. Safe to play, to hide, to forget the real world that wanted to tear me apart limb by limb.

The club gave me that freedom. Until he came in and ruined everything.

I hadn’t even gotten his real name. I knew what I was getting into the second I saw that patch on his back. That skull. That crown. That aura of don’t-fuck-with-me energy pouring off him in waves. The second I saw him leaning against the wall like sin in a leather cut, I felt it in my bones. He wasn’t some stranger stumbling in off Bourbon Street because he wanted to play.

He was one of them. A Royal Bastard.

I ran because I’d heard the stories and I knew a man like him would kill anyone for getting near me. But I also ran because I'd heard the stories. The Bastards ran chaos through the city like it was their birthright, guns, blood, whispers of demons and devils riding in on midnight engines. Their red flags just waved in the air and I completely ignored them because I thought I could handle it. I’d lived with danger before.

But he wasn’t danger. He was destruction.

The kind that licks at your thighs with a smile, then burns your entire world to ash.

He didn’t fuck me. Not technically. But he’d still taken something from me. My innocence. My control. My carefully crafted idea of who I was. He ripped through it like it was nothing, devoured me with his mouth, claimed me with his hands, made me tremble on the edge of something I’d never felt before.

I’d never been with a man. Never let one past the walls I’d built, not fully.

Until him.

And that’s what pissed me off the most. Because I wasn’t just something to kneel and beg. I wasn’t supposed to be some virgin sacrifice tossed at the feet of a Royal Bastard. I was supposed to be so much more and yes, I was a kitten. Trained. Curious. Powerful in my own way. I knew what submission meant, I wasn't stupid. I knew I could give it on my terms.

But with him? There were no terms. Just heat and hunger and a voice that wrecked my reason with every word.

His voice. His hands. The way his eyes ate me alive like I wasn’t human, like I was made to be chased down and ruined by him alone.

I groaned . I hated him.

But I hated myself more.

Because deep down, I wanted to run so he'd catch me.

* * *

The fourth night, I didn’t complete my shift at Velvet Chains. The frustration had settled in first, and with it came the sadness.

I told Mercy I had a cold and had to leave. She didn’t push. Maybe she saw it in my eyes, that haunted look, the same one she’d seen on so many other women when they’d been used up and left behind.

Still, she lingered near my locker, arms crossed, platinum hair cascading over one shoulder, that sharp glint in her eyes softening just for me.

“You’re not sick,” she said, voice low and warm. “You’re heart-sick. Big difference.”

I gave a tired half-smile, leaning against the cold metal. “Guess I’m not as good at hiding it as I thought.”

“You’re not,” she said simply. “I told you not to fuck around with these men, Nat,” she said, her tone suddenly sharp, eyes locked on mine. “They’ll only tear your heart out and leave you bleeding with a smile on their face.”

She sighed and gave me a gentler look, brushing a piece of hair from my cheek. “But don’t take too long, okay? This place misses you more than you think. I miss you more than I’m willing to admit.”

I rolled my eyes. “Pretty sure you just miss someone to bitch about corsets with.”

She smirked. “That too. But also… this is your space. Your power. Don’t let some guy mess that up.”

My stomach twisted. She caught it.

Mercy stepped in close. “Is it because of the biker?”

I didn’t answer, not directly. Just let my gaze fall to the floor.

“Damn,” she whispered. “It is him.”

She reached out and squeezed my hand. “You’ll figure it out. Just don’t let him break you before you do.”

An hour later I was dragging my tired body up the three flights of stairs and into the tiny apartment that still smelled like old leather and motor oil.

I was bruised emotionally and physically while everything inside me felt torn.

And that’s when the door swung open hard, slamming into the wall. My heart jumped as my father stormed in, wild-eyed, running his fingers through his hair in desperation.

“Where the hell have you been?” he barked, tearing through kitchen drawers.

I stayed frozen in the kitchen, watching him. "I just got home. What are you doing?"

"Looking for something," he snapped. "I stopped by the bookstore today. They said you don’t work there anymore. Care to explain that?"

My stomach sank and I said the first thing that came to my mind. "I got fired."

He turned to me, expression twisting. "Fired? When were you going to tell me?"

I crossed my arms. "I didn’t think it mattered."

"Everything you do matters, Natalia," he growled. "You want to act grown, fine. But I’m still your father, whether you like it or not. We do need a cook down at the clubhouse. I’ll bring you down, you can start tomorrow."

I took a step back, heat rushing up my spine. "No."

His brow shot up. "No?"

"I don’t want to be there," I said, shaking my head. "I’m not some club chick. I don’t want to be around your… brothers ."

He stepped closer, voice lowering. "You think I don’t see through you? You’ve been lying. I don’t know what you’re into, but I’m not stupid. You need money, you come to me. You don’t need to sneak around."

“I’ll figure it out,” I snapped, heart racing.

I couldn’t go to the clubhouse. Not with him there.

I was a club brat. An MC baby. Members didn’t touch girls like me, not out of some code or morality, but out of respect for their brothers. But here I was being put on my knees by one.

And the worst part? I’d let him do it again.

My father didn’t back down easily. He stood there, arms crossed, eyes dark with suspicion as if he already knew I was lying through my teeth. “You’re not telling me everything,” he said, voice rough. “And I don’t like being kept in the dark.”

“I’ve got classes,” I lied quickly, my voice too steady to be believable. “Midterms. Projects. I can’t just drop everything to sling burgers at the clubhouse.”

His mouth tightened. “It’s not burgers. And it’s not just about the damn job. It’s about keeping an eye on you, Nat. You’re not a kid anymore, but you sure as hell act like one sometimes. You’re hiding something, and I can feel it.”

I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze to hold his. “I’m not hiding anything. I just… I need time to figure things out.”

He studied me a long moment, jaw tight. Then finally, he let out a breath and stepped back. “Fine. A few days. But after that, I expect you at the clubhouse. I may not be here all the time, but this is still my roof and I’m responsible for you. You do as I say before I see you in a ditch somewhere. Got it?”

I nodded, tension uncoiling just enough to breathe. “Yeah. Got it.”

He didn’t believe me. Not really. But he let it go. For now.

I knew I’d bought myself maybe a week at most. I wasn’t going to be able to dodge my father forever. Eventually, he’d want answers. Eventually, I’d have to face the fallout.

And if he found out the truth. that I’d given myself to a patched member in a way no MC daughter ever should, he wouldn’t just burn the city down. He’d light the match himself and smile as it turned to ash.

And Tick Tock? He wouldn’t get a warning. He’d be gutted before he could even reach for his Glock.