Control (The Protocol, #1)

by Lasairiona Lewis

All I’m hearing is no, all I’m feeling is the band around my chest pressing harder, crushing my lungs and...

He checks his watch. “Actually, it’s still early. There are a few rooms downstairs that are open right now. I could tie you up and make you tell me.” Chuckling, I give him a wink. “Stop threatening me with a good time.”

He rolls his eyes. But my dick stirs in my pants at the memory of a time when he did exactly that. As a dominant, I rarely trust partnering with another dom in a scene who has not at least had some experience in the role of being submissive.

Even if only in the form of allowing someone to top them from the bottom. Many experienced dominants have that in their pocket as a soft rule for partnerships. I wouldn’t trust a flogger who had not been flogged themselves. And while it doesn’t work for eve...

Like a couple other doms in the Minneapolis area, I trained under Slade. The idea that a dom needs to train under another dom before they are a dom is one that’s kind of become outdated, but in so far as Protocol is concerned, Slade tends to mentor damn near everyone who comes into the club. He never set himself up that way, it just kind of happened. He’...

He even set up classes, and offers Protocol to host munches, sponsors and attends conferences, to learn and encourages patrons to attend. He’s also an advocate of paying skilled people to teach more complex things like rope and dangerous play. It’s why we have a class schedule in the club, so people can learn kink in a safe e...

“A one night stand from twelve years ago turned up at my door and dropped a child on me that I never knew I had.” His face pales. “The rumors are true?” Nodding, I suck in a deep breath. “I have a son. His name is Matthew, or Matty, and he’s autistic. So we’re going through a steep learning curve.” “And what the hell are you doing here? Go be with your kid.”

“I didn’t leave him by himself.” I wave him off. “But it’s a lot, all at once. And you know this place keeps me sane.” He nods, slowly taking a long pull of his beer. “You’re the only person who loves this place more than I do. But I’m serious, man. If you need time away, your job will be here when you get back. You know you never need to worry about that.” “I don’t need time away. I need to stay level, and keep my bucket filled, so I can be the best version of myself when I step out of this place and head home to my son.”

He’s always called Mom, Mom. Since we were little. Even though he has his own family, his own parents. It’s never been weird. In fact, it’s kind of nice feeling like I’m not an only child sometimes. Even if he grinds my gears on the regular.

After Fifty Shades of Grey, and the rise of books and movies involving kink in pop culture, there has been a stark increase in the number of kink-curious people out there. At least that’s what Slade says. I think people have always been kink-curious, it’s just that now they’re allowed to be publically so. Fifty Shades gave people the balls to stand up and say, hey, I like that too.

She’s adorable. And if I wasn’t stuck behind this bar, I’d consider taking her down to the dungeon and giving her vanilla self a quick, hot as fuck intro to kink. But I can’t. Also, I’m not sure I want to. The more I stare at her pretty face framed by bone-straight red hair, the more I wonder how Addison is doing.

She showed up at my house earlier wearing an oversized cable knit sweater that fell almost all the way to her knees. Her hair was in a messy pile on top of her head, her face was stripped of all makeup, and she had an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. Pretty sure she’s never looked more beautiful. She had oversized glasses balanced on her head, too. And I’ve spent the night thinking about her curled up in my loveseat, feet tucked up under her, reading a book, sipping on some hot tea, and being generally adorable.

There’s few things I love more than helping a strong, empowered, and consenting woman find their kinks. I enjoy being the one to help them explore their sexuality. Like a moth to a flame.

Did I even want to kiss her? My still-flaccid dick insists I didn’t. I cannot be yearning after the woman I just hired to take care of my son.

Paige has been coming to the club for a long time. I’m pretty sure in a previous lifetime, she was Slade’s girl, but I’ll be damned if he’ll tell me what the hell he did to make her so fucking mad at him all the time.

There’s nothing between us. We’re employer, employee. We had one delicious night together. Okay, fine. And the next morning. And sure, I’d have loved to repeat it if things hadn’t shaken out the way they did. But they did. They shook out, and now we’re nothing but... friends? Colleagues? People who fucked and got cock-blocked by an eleven year old?

I’m a free agent. A grown-ass man. I can do whatever, to whomever I want. So why is heat crawling up my neck making my shirt tight against my skin? Why is my stomach heavy? And why have I been thinking that the stranger at the bar has entirely the wrong shade of red hair, and the wrong shaped lips all night?

Ugh. I don’t remember the last time I had a crush. But I’m pretty sure I have one on Addison... I don’t even know her last name. She’s just Addison. And right now she’s in my home, putting my kid to bed, and making herself comfy with the pint of ic...

I don’t know what to do. I want to help, but I don’t want to make Thor any madder at me. Of course he’s mad at me, he left his child in my care, and he’s fucking bleeding. Coming here, moving in like this, even just for six weeks was a mistake. A giant fucking mistake.

Thor’s lawyer friend, Slade—the same guy who owns the Protocol club—was able to get me out of my rental agreement without it costing me a penny. Okay, no more than my first and last month’s rent that I already paid. I have no idea how he did it, but I don’t need to find a roommate off the internet who sends me pictures of his purple, veiny cock. I don’t need to sell organs on the black market to afford the monthly rent. And I don’t need to leave the country and change my name because I stupidly signed a contract without confirming the person I was moving in with was still moving in with me.

I should have sold a kidney, or started an Only Fans, sold lemonade on the street at a stop sign... Something. Anything that wasn’t move in with a near stranger and his brand spanking new eleven year old neurodivergent child.

What the hell was I thinking? Better question, what can I do? I pick the skin around my thumbnail as I pace, struggling to find an answer that I want to entertain. Sarah will know what to do. But I’d rather shave off my eyebrows and draw them back on with a hot pink sharpie than call my sister.

The phone rings three times before she answers. “What did you do?” I wish people would stop asking me that. I wish they’d stop assuming the worst in me, and for once just say, “Hey, Adi, how are you?”

My sisters are both doctors, they both married doctors, and I’m sure all their kids will grow up to be doctors.

As well as being a Grade-A bitch sometimes, Sarah is also an elitist. I’d make excuses for her, or say she doesn’t mean to be. But the truth is, she probably does. She’s just a shitty person. And once again I wonder why the hell I even called her.

As a woman in my thirties, I sometimes wonder why I still keep in touch with them at all. But it’s not completely terrible all the time. Holidays are my favorite. And at the end of t...

People make mistakes all the time. People make mistakes all the fucking time.

“It’s very tempting to leave you like this. You’re so beautiful with tear streaked cheeks. But it’s giving me inappropriate thoughts right now.”

“Your sister’s a dick.” Did he just say that? “I know I don’t know her or anything. But I heard enough of that conversation to know that your sister is a dick. You shouldn’t let her in your space, Adi. She doesn’t deserve to be part of your world.”

“Thor—” He covers my lips with his finger. “Are you about to make excuses for her? Or apologize for her? Or say something that belittles yourself and emphasizes her point?” I was absolutely going to do all of those things. “I don’t want to hear it. Accidents happen. Mom says kids are the most unpredictable and fearless creatures in the whole world. There’s no telling what they’re going to get into next.”

Matthew doesn’t need stitches. Thor isn’t firing me. And he reinforced my thoughts that my sister is a toxic influence in my life, and I need to deal with that... at some point. It’s not a now thing, however, because right now I’m face to face with Thor in the kitchen, fighting the urge to throw myself into his arms.

He’s too close. This is such a bad idea. He needs to not touch me. He needs to step back, create space so I can breathe again, and reinforce the boss and employee boundaries, because right now? In this moment? My smarting feelings about the whole goddamn evening and my butt-hurt brain after being yelled at by my sister could most definitely do with a good spanking, and we both know that’s a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.

This is a terrible plan. Addison is caged against the kitchen counter. Her eyes are still red-rimmed and puffy from crying, cheeks blotchy, curls falling loosely around her face, and all I want to do is kiss her. Actually, that’s not all I want to do. I want her on her knees, my rock-hard dick between her pretty pink lips, thrusting against the back of her throat and making that mascara run down her face for better reasons than her sister is a raging bitch. Why does she put up with that bullshit?

lips. I want to make her feel good. I want to kiss her until she’s not sad anymore, until she feels like the strong, adept woman she is.

Her breathing picks up as I lean into her, aching, desperate to take care of her. That asshole of a sister got in her head. She’s doubting herself, her capabilities... I haven’t known her for long, and I don’t know her all that well, but I know she is capable of doing anything she puts her mind to. Hell, from the looks of the uncertainty written all over her face, she’s questioning everything, ever.

I want to kiss her until my strong, empowered, fearless seductre...

Was I pissed that Matty hurt himself on her watch? Sure I was. But I called Mom from the floor of the closet, and she talked me down from a really high ledge. She told me that kids hurt themselves, all the goddamn time. She said she spent most of my freakin...

In all my years on earth, Mom has never been wrong. Okay, fine, she’s been wrong plenty of times but she’s the best parent I know. And hearing her talk about all the shit I got up to when I was eleven years old made me feel much better about the fact that Matty hit his head on the corner of the cabinet.

Plus, if I had a dollar for every time I cracked my head on that damn cupboard... I’d be rich as fuck.

Our trajectories were predetermined. From the moment I met Addison, we were on a crash course. And now our orbits have collided, we just have to ride it out and see where it goes.

She’s special. And she has no idea just how special she is. It doesn’t help that her asshole family puts her down and talks to her like she’s a child. Is her other sister like that?

The more I stare into her puffy green eyes the more my blood boils until something snaps. Wrapping her hair around my fist, I give into the primal urge inside my chest to kiss her. Yanking her head back, I capture her pouty bottom lip between mine, and suck it between my teeth.

It’s hot, it’s consuming, and it’s unstoppable. Rational thought has left the building, taking with it all notions that this is a bad idea, that this might complicate things with my childcare provider. In this moment, all I want is for this woman to feel good, and I’ll set myself on fire to make it happen if that’s what it takes.

Spinning her to face the kitchen window, I kick her ankles apart. “Hold the counter.” “Th-Thor... your neighbors.” “What about them?” “Their kitchen faces this one. Wh-what if someone sees?”

“Do I care that my neighbors might see me fucking a stunning woman?” I shake my head, adding another bite to the line of her shoulder as I shuck her yoga pants down over her hips. “I hope they do. I hope they see me fucking you and are jealous as fuck. I hope Harold—the husband—sees me balls deep inside you, can’t contain himself, and goes and dicks his wife Julie.”

“In fact, I hope he sees me fucking you mindless and then goes and gets her so she can watch us too.”

“You’ve got to stay quiet kitten, okay?”

As soon as she bursts apart on my dick, I know I’m on borrowed time. Her muscles have me clenched in a vise so tight I’d be surprised her pussy doesn’t keep it when I try to pull out.

Pulling out, I spray her perfect ass with jets of warm, creamy cum, murmuring to her about how perfect and beautiful her ass looks with my release splattered all over it. After a heavy moment of silence, Addison’s head snaps up the same moment mine does. There’s movement in the upstairs window of Harold and Julie’s house, the blinds fall back into place as a figure disappears. Someone in the neighbor’s house got quite the show. I hope Harold and Julie are about to have the best sex of their fucking lives.

It’s been two weeks since Thor fucked me in the kitchen. Two weeks of subtle touches, lingering gazes, and bubbling sexual frustration.