From Sir, With Love

by Rachell Nichole

  But she hadn’t let him in like this for months and months. It made sharing with Leo feel like another betrayal. Maybe it was simply because she was more whole now than she had been then, more able to figure out what she needed. Perhaps she was just more mature. Or maybe it was because Leo and Benson were two very different men. Two very different Doms. She’d loved Benson. But it had taken her a really long time to get there. Which was good. She’d been twenty, and not in any place emotionally to love him when she first moved into this house. If she’d been younger, her mother’s protests over the ridiculous notion that Evangeline was moving in with a man in his forties would have been not only preposterous but illegal. Her mother would have made sure it never happened. But for the first time in her entire life, Evangeline had done what she wanted, not what her mother had wanted her to do.

  What she was doing with Leo was different. It wasn’t love she felt for him. But it wasn’t hate either. How could she put this in a way that wasn’t going to make her sound insane?

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t talking to you,” she said when the silence between them weighed on her too long.

  “I figured.” He smiled, but it was a bit sad. “You were talking to the demons in your head.”

  Her breath caught. Yes. How did he do that? Sometimes it was like he was inside her fucking mind. “How...?”

  “I know a little bit of what that’s like.” He quirked his lips. “You know, the whole anger thing.”

  “Right.”

  So, he understood that she had demons because he had some of his own. Was that why she was letting him in so far? Was he like a mirror for the same kind of broken she felt? That probably meant continuing any kind of D/s playtime or anything else with him was a bad idea. What if instead of helping them both keep leashes on their demons, it would make them both lose control?

  “I’m struggling,” she finally admitted.

  He nodded. “Me too.” His admission was said without shame. He said it like a fact. It just was. “Which is why I was a little too harsh the other day. I... lost control. Not much, but it was enough. And it will never happen again. I promise.”

  The intensity level of Friday was like nothing she’d ever experienced. If that was him losing a little control... she shivered. She couldn’t help but wonder what he would be like if he unleashed his demons entirely. No. Don’t go there. She didn’t need to feel out of control. That way led badness.

  “I haven’t exactly been the easiest person to live with.” She pursed her lips. In fact, she’d been purposely needling him since last week. It had been like a game. Pushing all his buttons to see how far she could go without him retaliating. After weeks of making sure to fight against the inclination, it had been a nice change of pace.

  She was, in fact, turning out to be quite the brat he accused her of being. She’d never provoked Benson like that. He was un-provokable. She’d tried. And he’d always just kind of smiled, shook his head ruefully, and steered her back on track. No matter what she did, she’d never been able to get a rise out of him. After a few months, she’d given up trying, and they’d settled into a comfortable rhythm.

  He chuckled at that. “You don’t say.”

  She shrugged. “I guess I should apologize for purposely pushing your buttons.”

  “It’s okay, you’re just a little bratty, that’s all.” There was no accusation in his voice. Again, he stated it as if it were just a fact.

  She groaned and leaned deeper into the cushion of the couch. Her feet were propped on the cushion between them, her knees bent. She had the sudden desire to hide behind her legs. She didn’t want to be a brat.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being a brat.” He reached out and rubbed the top of her foot. “It’s completely a normal kink. A lot of people are brats. A bratty submissive is just as valid as a submissive who isn’t a brat.” His voice was becoming annoyed, and she didn’t understand. There was also the distinct tinge of disapproval in his tone, and it made her insides wilt. A slippery feeling slid through her belly.

  “Hey.” His hand lifted her chin. “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?” she pouted.

  “Look all ashamed. There isn’t a damned thing to be ashamed about. You want what you want. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Then why do you suddenly sound so angry?”

  “Oh, sweetheart. It’s not you I’m angry at.” He sighed. “Aside from the fact that I am literally always angry, I’m not really angry.”

  “Are you... disappointed in me?” Why the hell did that thought make tears burn the back of her throat? What was going on with her?

  “No.” He cupped her face. “I’m pissed at Benson.”

  The seething rage in his voice sent a shiver through her. He said he was always angry. That thought should probably terrify her. “Why?”

  “Because he obviously never took the time to talk to you about this kind of stuff, and that’s really unacceptable.”

  “I... wasn’t like this with him. Not really.”

  A strange look crossed his face, chasing back the anger. Then he smiled. “I see. So you only want to test my patience, huh minx?”

  She’d really hated it when he first called her that. It was so different from the way Benson said Angel. But now, even just a few weeks later, even with the exasperation in his voice, minx sounded sweet coming from him. “Guess so. You lucky duck.”

  He shook his head, but he was grinning. “So, let’s just establish some facts here, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “You’re a brat. Period. And. That. Is. Okay. Understood?” He emphasized every word, staring into her eyes as he said it. And some knot inside her loosened.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, I’ve known you were struggling, and I’ve been trying to help, but... well, frankly, I wasn’t exactly sure you’d let me.” His head quirked to the side. He was still touching her, keeping her grounded. Forcing her to focus on the gravity of the conversation they were having.

  “I wasn’t going to,” she admitted. “In fact, I had planned on telling you to go back to New York and then never see you again, but... well, since it’s your house too, I kind of didn’t have a leg to stand on there. You’ve already done quite a lot. Just being here. Much as I don’t want to admit it, not being in this huge old house by myself has been good for me. And I hate to ask, but...” she couldn’t finish. Requesting help of any kind was hard enough. What she was actually asking for was fucking impossible to say.

  “Would you like to give up control, of some things, to me, for a little while?” His voice was firm, but quiet. He was genuinely asking. Not telling her what she should do. Offering his help.

  She should take it. She knew she should, but the words got caught in her throat. She bit her lip. She could do this. She had to do this.

  “Yes.” Her whisper felt like a failure. In that moment, she hated herself for just how weak she was.

  “Come here,” Leo told her, opening his arms. Evangeline unbent from her position and moved across the couch so he could pull her to sit on his lap. He held her against him. “Let’s open negotiations.”

  She laughed so hard, her whole body shook against him, wriggling her ass right over his cock. He fought hard not to react. But his body’s reaction to her was instantaneous. He forced a slow breath. Easy, damn it. He was not going to fuck this up. She was finally fucking opening up to him. Finally voicing what she wanted instead of just jumping with two feet onto every hot button he had.

  “That’s got to be the oddest pick-up line I’ve ever heard!”

  He chuckled. “It wasn’t a pick-up line. We are still not talking about a relationship here.” He had to make that clear. She was still Benson’s woman. That didn’t change just because his idiot brother was dead. How the hell could Ben have let her feel ashamed of her own kink? Had they seriously never talked about it? He shoved those thoughts aside. Evangeline needed him here. Now. Not lost in his own rising tide of rage.

>   He could stay here, firm, grounded. For her.

  “Right. Because that isn’t what either of us wants. It’s not... I’m not...”

  “I hear you. We’re coming to an arrangement. That’s all. I’m not planning to go back to New York anytime soon.” Maybe he should have been. This was never supposed to be long-term. He’d come out here to honor Benson’s heartfelt pleas, but he hadn’t been looking to give up his entire life in New York. They would have to put a time-clock on this. But not today. “So, for the time being, we’re here, living together. And we can find a way to help you out while we do that.”

  “And what do you want? What will you get out of this? It can’t be just about my needs.”

  That’s exactly what it needed to be. He couldn’t have what he wanted. Period. That would never happen for him. He’d reconciled himself to that fate long ago. He’d made peace with it. Knowing he couldn’t have the kind of relationship he saw others having. Just because this little minx was sitting here, wriggling on his lap, making him want things he couldn’t have, didn’t mean that he was going to forget that. He could never let his guard down. It was too dangerous. “I’ll be getting to control you.”

  She stiffened in his arms. In apprehension? Fear? She took a shuddering breath and her body relaxed against his. Not fear, then. Interesting, said the voice in his head. Shut up, he retorted.

  He cleared his throat. “Insofar as you want me to, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “If that means telling you how many times a day to eat, what to eat, how much of it, forbidding you from exercising outside of our sessions, controlling your orgasms, what you’re wearing, when to get up, when to go to bed, what to do with your days or nights... whatever it is you want, we’ll decide it together.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Yes to what?”

  “To all of those things.”

  He was too shocked to answer. The laundry list was supposed to be things for her to choose from. All of the above hadn’t been on the list. She shifted on his lap so she could look up at him. Her face was so hopeful.

  “To... all of those things?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I... think it’s what I need. At least for now. I shouldn’t. Not after all this time. I shouldn’t need you to have that much control. I hate that I’m back there. That I’m so scared every minute of every day that I’m going to relapse. I can see it. I can tell. I’ve lost weight. I’m not eating outside of the times you’re sitting right there with me, watching me eat.” Her confession was like a punch to the gut.

  Damn it. He’d known that. Deep down, he’d known it. But it wasn’t right for him to just take control. It wasn’t okay for him to wrestle it away from her. She’d had to give it to him. And now she was. He just hoped like hell it wasn’t too late. Do not yell. Do not yell at her.

  “Will you punish me?” The sound of tears in her voice broke his heart.

  “No, sweetheart. In fact, I think you’ve probably done enough of that to yourself. Haven’t you?”

  Biting her lip, she nodded. He could see the tears swimming in her eyes.

  “That ends. Right now. Do you hear me?” He tapped gently on her forehead. “You tell that fucking voice in there to shut the hell up, or else.”

  She gave him a watery smile. “Or else?”

  He sighed. “Do you want me to punish you?”

  “Not right now, no. But... sometimes. If I forget, or I’m naughty. I think I may need you to.”

  Which meant he would have to keep hold of the tightest leash he’d ever had on himself. Taking this much control over every aspect of her life, punishing her when her bratty nature got out of control, or when she disobeyed him... it was going to be the hardest thing he’d ever done to hold back and make sure he didn’t hurt her.

  “Okay.”

  She ducked her head and snuggled more firmly against him. Finally, she let the tears fall.

  He held her like that for a while, just letting the tears soak into his shirt, letting him absorb the weight of what they were embarking upon here.

  “I’m proud of you, baby,” he finally said when she had cried herself out. “It took a lot of courage to admit you needed help. It isn’t weak to seek help when you need it. I promise. I shudder to think what I would have been like if I hadn’t turned to Benson when I needed his guidance. I was drowning, and he saved me. I’m going to try to return the favor. I’m here. I’m right fucking here. And I’m going to help you through this. Do you hear me? You’re not to hide from me any longer. You tell me what you need. Even if it scares the shit out of you.” And he would give it to her. Even if it scared the shit out of him.

  Chapter Nine

  Evangeline woke in a fog. Her eyes burned, her throat ached, her body was sore. She felt like she’d been beat up. What the hell happened to her last night?

  She finally blinked her eyes open, and her bedroom came into focus. She rubbed at her eyes, trying to dispel the cobwebs. Snippets came back to her. She’d made an agreement with Leo. She had told him about the anorexia. She had cried on him. She didn’t cry in front of people. Almost ever. In all the years she’d been with Benson, he’d probably seen her cry twice, maybe three times. Grief did weird things to people.

  And Leo had agreed. She sighed and tried to let her body relax back into the mattress. She was pretty sure she’d had a deep, dreamless sleep, but she was exhausted. Should she try to go back to sleep? What time was it? It was Saturday, right?

  She shook her head and reached for her phone. It was blinking with unread messages, but she ignored them for the moment. It was already ten o’clock. Good thing it was actually Saturday, or she’d be late for work.

  With a sigh, and really not wanting to deal with anything, she opened her text messages. She needed some time to process and a hot shower to ease her aches before she tried to face the world. Except, the first thing she saw when she opened her messages was a text from Leo: Come down for breakfast when you get up. She rolled her eyes.

  As if I’d escape through my bedroom window instead? She wanted to text it back to him, but she couldn’t keep a small smile from forming on her face at his willingness to issue her an order first thing. She refrained from responding with her immediate knee-jerk reaction.

  She wanted this. She needed it. And even though she knew she was asking far more from Leo than he should want to give her, for now she was just going to be damned thankful for his support. They hadn’t negotiated what she should call him. Did he like Sir? Did she want to use that? She had called Benson Sir. Not always. Sometimes he was Master Benson. Could she call Leo Master? She shook her head. No, that was a step too far. He wasn’t her Master. Not in the way Benson had been. Not in the way she still needed, yearned for. Maybe this wasn’t going to work out, after all. She was struggling enough with the idea that she couldn’t do this alone, that even after all these years, she still needed the crutch of her submission to beat back her disease. Evangeline hated herself a little bit for that. And even though Leo had agreed, she had a feeling there was a limit as to what she could expect from him. He wasn’t his brother. What if she needed more than this? What if Leo wasn’t enough?

  Stop it! She sighed and punched the pillow next to her, intent on releasing some of the pent-up frustration now roiling through her. Why the fuck couldn’t she just get out of her own head? Get out of her own way. This wasn’t a permanent solution. She knew that. But for right now, it was what she needed, and she’d be eternally grateful for Leo’s help. She would focus on that for now. On healing. On working through her grief and pushing back against the damned voice in her head that kept telling her she was fat and worthless. It had been quiet for so many years, she’d almost forgotten what it sounded like.

  She didn’t respond at all to Leo’s text, deciding that she wasn’t quite ready to let him know she was awake. She needed a few minutes to herself to finish processing the overwhelming emotions still swirling through her. And she was not going down to bre
akfast without a shower. She didn’t have much pride after last night, but she had some, damn it. As she shuffled, zombie-like, into the bathroom, Leo’s assurances from last night replayed in her head. He’d told her he was proud of her. And damn if she hadn’t felt a flutter of pride herself at his words.

  She paused at the mirror and took in her puffy eyes, her scraggly hair, her strained face. She looked as awesome as she felt. Like she’d been put through the wringer. Swell.

  “Get it together, woman,” she told her reflection. She wasn’t going downstairs looking like this. No doubt she’d looked at least this bad, if not worse, last night while she cried herself into a ball of exhaustion on Leo’s lap. It had been equal parts freeing and daunting to let it out like that. But now she had to move forward. To figure out what happened next.

  Except, she didn’t have to figure out what came next, she realized with a sigh.

  She was going to get showered and dressed and then go down to breakfast. Because that’s what Leo had told her to do. The thought brought a sense of calm to her movements as she turned on the shower and got undressed. She could do that. As long as she focused only on getting ready and going down for breakfast, it was like the weight of an elephant was no longer sitting on her chest. If she thought past that... well, she couldn’t quite breathe. Her lungs burned.

  So, as she rinsed away the sleep, and dulled the aches, she focused on going downstairs to breakfast with Leo. Her... Sir?

  When she was dressed, she took a moment to ensure that she at least looked better than she had before she showered. She did, in fact, and she took an extra couple of minutes to blow dry her hair a bit. Not to try to pretty herself up, but mostly, because... well, if she were honest, she was stalling. Stop being so stubborn. She didn’t know how, honestly. But she would try.

  As soon as she turned the hair dryer off, there was a knock on her bedroom door, and she jumped. She took a deep breath and called, “Come in.”

  She retracted the cord on the hair dryer and put it on its hook under the sink as Leo came into the bedroom. “I expected you a while ago for breakfast,” he said. His voice wasn’t quite himself, so when she turned, she stopped herself from telling him to stuff it.