Vice: Sins of Seven

by René, Dani

  Oliver chuckles, and I know he can envision her doing just that. My sister is somewhat playful at times. And she certainly did love me no matter what.

  “Yes, Peyton is a beautiful woman, right down to the heart and soul,” Oliver muses. I know he cares for her. He’s the one who got her and Carrick back together.

  “I’d like to know something,” I tell him, leaning my elbows on the table to pin him with a curious stare. When he gestures for me to continue, I do. “All these years, you’ve always been the one who gives everyone advice, helps others with their relationships, or their journeys in this lifestyle. Why is that? I mean, what about you? Don’t you one day want a forever love as well?”

  Chapter 15

  Oliver

  He’s right.

  I’ve always offered advice to everyone. I want to see people happy, but I never allowed myself to believe I could have that. Once, I did try to love someone. I focused on him. I let my mind drift back to the boy I thought I loved, but that wasn’t the emotion I had envelop me.

  “No,” I respond finally. “I do find satisfaction in seeing my friends happy, seeing them live a life that’s filled with love, but I’m not someone who can ever allow that emotion to take over me again.”

  “Again?” His brow quirks in response, and I know I’m talking myself into a corner. Chance is breaking through the walls I’ve built. I’ve perfected my cold, hard exterior for years, and one man seems to be cracking it.

  “I was young and stupid. Not everyone who’s around you has your best interests at heart,” I tell him, cutting into the steak. I bring my fork to my mouth and meet his eyes as I pull the meat from the metal prongs. Chance’s eyes are on me, attempting to read me, read my mind. He wants to know me, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to let someone in. Perhaps I am as broken as my father was.

  “We were all young and stupid once.” He smiles. “That’s the beauty of life. We grow up, we learn, and we move on.” His words are wise, sounding like something I would say. I can’t help but smile at the young man. He’s enamored me. “You’ve always given advice. I think it’s time you take it as well.”

  “Oh?” I quirk a brow at him in question. “And you’re the one who’d like to offer it to me?” I sip my water, waiting for his response.

  “Maybe.” I watch as he chews. His expression is pensive, and I wonder what’s running around in his mind. I can imagine all sorts of questions he wants to ask but doesn’t. Not yet anyway. Something tells me soon I will have to make a choice.

  “Tell me something, Chance. Has anyone ever judged you unfairly? Or made you feel less human because of your choices?” This time it’s me who takes a bite of my dinner as I regard him. His face looks like it’s been chiseled by a sculptor. Sharp features, with deep-set green eyes. Full pinkish lips, with a perfect cupid’s brow.

  “Not to that drastic point, no.” He sets the cutlery down and watches me for a moment. “I’ve had people sneer at me, and challenge my way of thinking or way of life, but not to the point where I feel less than human.” He shakes his head, melancholy painting his features. “I think it’s sad that anyone should live through that.”

  “And those who do tend to close themselves off to affection,” I inform him, finishing his thought process. His gaze pins me for a long while as silence hangs in the air.

  “Tell me, Oliver.”

  “People don’t stick around long enough to hear my story, Chance. I’ve learned over the years to—”

  “For God’s sake,” he bites out in frustration, causing me to smirk. When he’s angry, frustrated, there’s a fire raging in those gemstone eyes. A lock of hair falls over his forehead, making him look younger than he really is.

  “That’s the fire I love to see in my submissives,” I tell him, dabbing the corners of my mouth with the napkin. “Now finish your drink, and we’ll play a little game to get to know each other.” Rising from my seat, I leave him at the table and make my way out toward the hallway. I know he’ll follow, and when I hear footsteps behind me, I smile. Once I reach the door to my playroom, I twist the handle and shove it open. Flicking the lights on, I take note of how tidy it is — always hold onto control.

  When Chance joins me, I allow him to take in the space. This is where he’ll be tonight, enjoying whatever I decide to dole out. He moves around the area slowly, taking in every detail from the toys to the dark blue, silk sheets. The room is decked out in black, blue, and silver. There are toys along each of the walls, everything from whips to canes and butt plugs, which are displayed in glass cases.

  “This is something else,” he says, turning to face me. “It’s almost regal, but only in blue, not purple.”

  Tipping my head to the side, I lean against the wall, crossing my arms in front of my chest, and regard him. “You consider purple to coincide with royalty?”

  He smiles. “Yes, I guess I do.” Chance settles on the edge of the bed. Placing his hands on the mattress, he leans back and asks, “So, what are we doing in here?”

  “I figured we’d have a scene. I want to see if you’re ready to embark on your journey. I want to delve into your mind and find out what desires and fantasies are hidden in that handsome head of yours.”

  “That’s not the only head that’s handsome.” He winks cockily.

  “You’re a smartass. Perhaps I should see how cocky you are once you’ve gotten a few lashes from one of my floggers, or perhaps you’d like to experience the bite of a cane.”

  His expression is thoughtful once more. “Perhaps you should teach me how to behave,” he taunts with a wicked grin lighting his face.

  “I can certainly do that,” I tell him. Pushing off the wall, and I undo the cuffs of my shirt, which is still hanging loosely. “Take your shoes off, then your socks. Your slacks, followed by your shirt, then I want you on the bed.”

  He nods. “Yes, Sir.” Immediately falling into the submissive role, he’s perfectly obedient as he undresses in the order I’ve commanded him. It doesn’t take long for him to be left in his briefs. They’re tight, hugging his thighs and hips. The material does nothing to hide what I know is a delicious eight-inch cock.

  Chance crawls up onto the bed. His body is slim, but he’s toned in all the right places with a slightly defined stomach with a V-line that points to his groin. His arms are muscled, his forearms have a light dusting of golden-blond hair, just like the hair on his head.

  He's pretty. Beautiful. And I wonder just how many men and women have gazed upon him, lost in his perfection. Just like I am now. He sits back on his heels, waiting for my next order. I’m already hardening just taking him in as he is in presentation pose.

  “Lie back. I want to taunt you a little.”

  He smiles, positioning himself on his back. I make my way over to the cabinet and pull out the cuffs along with a blindfold. When I reach him once more, I proceed in binding him to the four metal posts of the bed.

  “You’re going to experience everything without sight. I’ll tell you everything you’d like to know about me, but the trick is for you to ask the correct questions. What are your safe words?”

  He smiles at my instruction. “Red to stop. Yellow when I’m nearing my limit,” Chance rasps, and I know he’s already hard. Before I bind his feet, I pull the briefs down his toned legs. His cock lies hard, pointing toward his belly button.

  “Good boy.”

  I move to blindfold him next. Once he’s ready, I take a step back and watch him for a moment. Perfect. Grabbing the matches, I strike one, lighting the bright red candle sitting on the nightstand. The flame flickers, and I’m reminded of how intense wax play is.

  Tonight, Chance is going to learn just how broken I am. In an attempt to let someone into my heart, I’m going to allow him to see into my mind while blinded by material. When you want to love someone, when you’re ready to say those words, seeing the person’s soul is of utmost importance. And that’s what I’m going to attempt this evening.

  It’s my first tim
e, and I’m as nervous as I was the first time I felt a man’s lips touch mine. Even though those memories bring along with them the pain of what happened, I close my eyes and breathe deeply for a moment before picking up the candle.

  “Time to play.”

  Chapter 16

  Chance

  The scent of candle wax invades my nostrils when Oliver nears me. I may not be able to see him, but I can feel him. There’s a heat that emanates from the man, and I know deep down, he’s blindfolded me so he can admit his pain. He may play the controlling Dominant, but I know Oliver’s broken, and I realize the only way for him to be able to revisit his past is to do it without the attention on him.

  “First question, Chance,” Oliver says. His voice is low yet commanding. I’m about to respond when I feel heat trickling over my chest. It’s not a lot, but a slight tingle, and then it’s gone. The smell of wax, rose-scented, is in the air. My nipples harden. They’re sensitive when he continues his delicious torture by allowing the hot liquid to drip onto each hardened bud.

  “Tell me about your parents,” I request in a whisper. My attempt at sounding calm flies out the window when my voice comes out husky, drenched in need.

  “Interesting topic to begin with,” he muses. “My mother died when I was eleven. I pushed the memories away, to cope with the pain of her no longer being there.” The hot wax makes its way over my stomach, and it feels as if he’s drawing the dips and peaks of my abs with it. The fragrance is even stronger now, and my cock is pulsing when I realize he’s getting closer to my groin.

  “And your father?” I urge, wanting to know more, needing him to focus on the story and not torturing me.

  “He was an asshole. Still is, I guess. I haven’t seen him in years, but he caught me with a classmate. We had kissed in the backyard of my childhood home.” He traces his way down toward my thighs, just missing my cock by inches. “When he saw me, he lost his mind. How can the son of a high-profile lawyer be gay?” he utters with sadness lacing every word.

  I think I’ve hit the nail on the head when he tells me this. Certain that’s what broke him, I nod. “And that’s why you’re afraid to let people in?”

  “I spent my life being bullied by him. Being told I wasn’t good enough. I was a confused teenage boy who had a crush on his best friend. And then, said best friend left the school, and most of the friends he’d left behind found out what had happened. They learned who I was, or rather, what I was. They decided to bully me right through high school because I was different.”

  The sting is now on my other leg, my toes curling as pleasure mingles with pain shoots through me. My blood is boiling, both from the desire for Oliver and the need to avenge the assholes who hurt him.

  “So, you were bullied. Ninety percent of kids are bullied,” I tell him, hoping to offer him some form of confidence to allow me to look into his eyes, to see his pain and attempt to heal it.

  “That’s not a question.”

  “Fine. Tell me why you turned to sadism?” I shock myself with the question. I never thought of myself as a submissive, and I still can’t explain my need to kneel for him, but I want to pleasure him, to offer him all of me, because he makes me feel whole. It’s a strange emotion that seems to take hold when I’m around him. Is it love? I don’t know yet. Perhaps it’s too soon to tell, but I know I can love Oliver Michaelson.

  “Pleasure is derived from pain,” he informs me. “And pain comes from the acute pleasure of wanting something so much . . .”

  His words taper off, and then I feel it. The sharp edges of a pinwheel. It tracks patterns over my skin, causing my hips to buck, my mind to lose all focus, and my cock to jolt wildly. He doesn’t stop when I moan and grunt. The way it moves over my flesh causes my nerves to ignite with electricity that shoots through every inch of me.

  I’m about to ask another question when he places it on my shaft. I’ve never cried out in pained pleasure like I do now. My throat burns as he draws paths over the underside of my shaft, stopping short of the tip. The sensitive area near the head is tingling, and all I want is his mouth on me.

  “Please, Sir,” I beg. I fucking plead because I need it.

  “Please?” He quizzes me curiously. “Are you really that sensitive that you’re ready to come?” This causes him to chuckle. He enjoys the torture; it’s what gets him off. “How about we try one more?” He grips my cock so hard, and I lift my hips in an attempt to fuck his fist. “Oh no, you don’t.”

  His hand leaves me, causing me to whimper in agony. My balls are tight, ready to release, but he’s edging me. There’s nothing I can do. I’m at his mercy, and Oliver is pleased.

  Silence falls around me, and I can’t tell where he is. He’s certainly not near the bed. I can’t feel his presence. Turning my head left and right, I try to focus, but I can’t. I’m lost to the pleasure.

  My body is trembling. I want to see, to feel him, but I can’t move. It’s then I hear it — a swish of a leather. Seconds later, I feel it. The lick of the flogger on my chest, on my thighs. He goes to town on me. Low grunts fall from my lips, but all I can focus on is each minor tail of the flogger lapping at my flesh.

  “Are you done with your questioning?” he asks, clearly amused that I’m no longer worried about learning more about him, but rather my need for release. I can practically feel the welts rising on my legs, my stomach.

  “I-I-I w-want t-to know w-who hurt you,” I bite out. My attempt at sounding normal is pointless because my orgasm is teetering on the edge. It’s peering down into the depths, and I’m about to come when he halts the lashing.

  “What?”

  The flogger falls to the floor. My blindfold ripped away, and the bindings that were holding me are gone in an instant. Oliver’s body is visibly shaking, his cock — hard and thick — is prominent in his boxers.

  “What did you ask me?” His hand is in my hair, tugging the short strands, pulling me closer to him. Our mouths are inches apart. The heat of his short breaths fan over my face and all I want to do is get lost in him.

  “I asked you a question. Was that the right one?” I murmur.

  His mouth crashes to mine. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, finding mine, and we dance in a duel of Dominance. I want more and yet he offers it. We’re a mangled mess of limbs and mouths as his hands pull at my hair and the sting, bite of the strands being tugged cause me to wince.

  “Tell me, Oliver,” I finally utter when we break the kiss. My lips tingle, swollen from his violent movements.

  “You will never find out,” he vows. Shoving me backward, he kneels on the mattress. His hands land on my hips, flipping me onto my stomach. My cock is wedged between the mattress and me. Oliver rains down harsh swats on my ass, harder, and harder, and I wonder how his hand isn’t hurting. The burn sends tingles through every part of me. My toes curl as pleasure takes precedence over the pain.

  A moan falls from my lips, and that’s when I feel it, cool liquid on my burning flesh. He opens me up to his invasion. I’m about to protest, to ask for forgiveness when he harshly shoves himself into me. A cry is torn from my throat, but he’s no longer here. He’s not in this room.

  He moves fast, grunting behind me. I wonder if he’s trying to really hurt me, and I can’t help but call to him. “Oliver, please?” I turn my face, glancing at him over my shoulder. His steely gaze meets mine, and then he’s back. The emptiness in his stare is gone, and the affection is here, slamming into me like a gale force wind, knocking the breath from me.

  He pulls me up onto all fours, his one hand on my shaft, the other holding onto my hip. His body looms over me, and he continues fucking me while stroking me. My eyes roll back, and pain is replaced with pleasure, as I push back, fucking his cock into me.

  I need this. I fucking crave it.

  Oliver delivers violent thrusts as he jerks me off. His hand is moving so fast I can’t stop the impending release trickling over me. I want to come for him, to offer him my orgasm.

  “Give
it to me,” he growls. “I fucking own it. You want this, Chance? You want the monster?” he hisses in my ear as he plows deep into me. His cock pulses, thickens, and I know he’s close, just as close as I am.

  “Yes,” is all I manage before I grunt out my seed all over his hand, the sheet below me, and I lose all sense of time when I feel Oliver lose himself in me. His hips piston once, twice, and a third time before he fills me in a low growl.

  And I know for a fact I’ll never be rid of this man.

  He’s inside me, more than physically. He’s burrowing his way into the very depths of my soul, and I can never get him out. Now, all I need is to find out what happened in his past.

  Chapter 17

  Oliver

  The scent of freshly brewed coffee hangs in the air, and I know for a fact Chance has gotten up before me. The bed is empty, cold on his side, which makes me wonder how long he’s been up. There’s always a lingering fear that grips me when I have someone in my house. It’s my personal space, the only place I know I’m in control. But with him here, wandering around, I’ve lost all sense of control.

  Pushing off the bed, I head out toward the hallway and down toward the kitchen where I find him making breakfast. He’s dressed in his briefs and nothing else. His tanned, toned back muscles work as he stands at the stove, frying up scrambled eggs.

  “Are you going to stand there and stare at me, or join me?” He turns to regard me, his green gaze meeting mine in playful curiosity.

  “I didn’t think you knew how to cook.” I enter, settling myself on the stool, where Chance places a mug of steaming black coffee before me on the countertop.

  “There are many things you have yet to learn about me, Oliver,” he tells me but doesn’t allow me to see his face. I know he’s smiling; I can hear it in his voice. He sounds lighthearted, and I wonder if he’s still thinking about last night. I made a mistake. I fucked up, and I need to apologize, but I’ve never lowered myself ever to say sorry to anyone.