They might say they’d give him whatever he wanted, be the little bitches the Patches needed in the bedroom, and even one claimed she’d be his Painslut, but the fact was they truly didn’t know how to handle the type of sex, the type of experience he wanted to have with a woman. The may never understand unless they truly wanted it, too.
He knew Steel had needed a true submissive in his bed, and the man had found it in his old lady. But what Striker wanted was total domination, total submission from the woman. He wanted to control his sub, overpower them, and give her the pain that would lead to both of their ultimate pleasures.
And in all honesty, he didn’t know if he’d find that perfect sub, that one woman that would be able to surrender every aspect of herself to him, but in the meantime, going to Dominion at least gave him the control he needed—over women who understood how to let him take it.
A part of him had held back, a lot, with the club whores. He didn’t want to scare them, or hurt them, because they didn’t truly understand what he wanted to have with them, if only for that one night.
As he left club property and headed downtown to Zeke’s club, he felt the rush of adrenaline move through him, felt the need take hold of him. It was like a drug, an intoxication, and he was addicted. The club and Zeke might not see eye-to-eye, and Striker might not particularly like Zeke because he was a bastard, but the fact remained Zeke didn’t try to control what Striker did at the club. Striker went there, found a willing sub that knew how to handle the pain he wanted to administer. But despite finding women that loved the submission as much as he fucking loved the domination, Striker still felt like something was missing. Maybe he’d always feel this way.
Striker knew one thing. No way in hell was he going to be able to find a woman, an old lady that he could do this with. Not only would he always be mindful that he might hurt her, and therefore could never fully get into the scene, but what woman wanted to be strapped to a man like him? What woman wanted to have a man that wanted to whip her, cut her, make her bleed right as she came? Hell, even if he didn’t have those things working against him, Striker wasn’t a good man. He’d done bad things, violent things, and had taken lives. He’d reveled in killing, because in the end, it had been what kept his club, and the Patches within it, safe. But unless a woman could handle all those obstacles thrown her way, Striker knew he’d probably never have a meaningful relationship.
Do you want a fucking meaningful relationship?#p#分页标题#e#
Damn, he didn’t know what he wanted anymore, but he did know he didn’t want to be alone for the rest of his miserable fucking life.
After she’d eaten, Zeke had shown her to her room. She was still in awe over the fact a man that had killed two men right in front of her, wanted her in his massive, expensive home. Zeke might have told her that he wanted her here to keep her safe, but she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that being in his home, trapped in the elegance, security, and sheer dominance that surrounded her, frightened her as well. It was also scary given the fact Zeke knew her true intentions behind why she’d been brought to him begin with.
She had never planned to go as far as finding anything out about him to pass on to that bastard Gerald, because what she’d been focused on was escaping and finally being free, if only for a short time. But her plans had been derailed.
Alessandria wasn’t under the illusion she was anything but a prisoner in Zeke’s home. She would be lying if she didn’t admit that although he scared her, she also felt safe with him, far safer than she ever had in her life. It was a strange combination: fear and security, comfort and anxiety.
She still didn’t know what Zeke truly wanted from her, and why he was really doing this, but she’d realized that she was better off with him than she was with Gerald, and honestly, even by herself.
Looking around the room he’d placed her in, it was elegant, but bare in the decorations department. Alessandria went over to the window and pushed the drapes aside. The view was of the back of the property, and all she could see was the thick forest. She’d eaten what Zeke had prepared for her, the silence deafening between them. And then he’d shown her to this room, told her to take a long bath, and she’d done just that.
She thought about Zeke, about the power that came from him, the fact he was so tall, so muscular. He could easily crush someone with his bare hands, or at least that’s the perception she had of him. And the dark hair and eyes made him seem like he was the very devil himself, waiting to take her down to hell and rule over her.