A Taste of Sir (Doms of Decadence Book 6)
Page 12
“Oh, Jesus, baby.” He pulled her onto his lap, holding her close. But she didn’t seem to notice, she was just staring off into the distance, reliving the memory.
“He kept screaming at me, over and over, why hadn’t I told them he was gone? Why hadn’t I done something? I didn’t understand what he wanted me to do. I told them that Brax had promised me candy. My mother just wailed. I tried to talk to her, but she just stood there. Finally, the policeman who’d come to tell them that Brax had died put me in his car and drove me over to my uncle’s place. I stayed with them all through the funeral and for weeks afterwards. When my parents came for me, I didn’t want to go. I cried. I wanted to stay with my uncle and aunt and cousins. I overheard my uncle asking my dad if I could stay with them. But for some reason, he said no.”
“You were his daughter.”
“But they didn’t want me. They never did. That became obvious after Brax died. Our house was like a funeral home. All my parents spoke about was Brax. How wrong it was he was gone. What wonderful things he would have done had he lived. My mother erected the remembrance wall. A wall of photos of Brax. It’s still there in the same place of honor all these years later.”
She smiled bitterly. “Although last time I went home, my father had taken down some of the photos with my mother in them so as not to upset his new wife. My parents' relationship slowly disintegrated. My dad started drinking, and they fought all the time. She finally left.”
“She didn’t take you with her?” Her mother had just left her? With a man who’d started drinking? He remembered her telling him how she didn’t like to drink because she didn’t like being out of control and he wondered at her life with her father.
“No.” The answer was clipped, and filled with a wealth of pain. He couldn’t believe her parents had forgotten about the child they had left due to their grief over the one who’d died. He couldn’t imagine the pain of losing a child. It would be devastating and a terrible thing to go through. But if he were ever in similar situation, he hoped to God he wouldn’t lose sight of any other children. That he’d remember they were in pain and grieving too.
“And your father? How did he cope with your mother leaving?”
“He drank more. And when he drank he tended to get nasty. He never hit me, but his words hurt. He used to go on about how my brother would have been somebody, how wonderful he had been and how if only I had told them he’d snuck out they could have saved him.”
Jesus.
“My uncle interfered when he could, sometimes he even took me home with him. But then he died, and my aunt had five boys to feed and clothe.”
And she was forgotten about again. His poor darling.
“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”
She lay still and silent, and his heart broke. He could just see the little girl she’d been. So scared and alone. “Of course I know that. I’ve been to therapy. I was just a child. I can’t be held responsible for his death.”
She took a deep breath.
“But you still blame yourself?”
“I had years of listening to my father talk about his saintly son and how it was so unfair he was taken so early. But I was still there. And no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried to excel, he never noticed. I got excellent grades, I graduated high school early, went to college, had a good job, and he never even cared. How could he not care? Brax wasn’t perfect, he had plenty of faults, but he put him up on this pedestal and there was no room for me. I know I should have worked through all of this years ago, but it’s hard to let go of the anger.”
“I think you have a right to it. They should never have blamed you, not even when they were grieving. Brax shouldn’t have been sneaking out of the house, he certainly shouldn’t have been driving under the influence. But this is mainly on your parents. They should have known. They should have given him stronger boundaries. You said that it wasn’t the first time he’d snuck out. How did they not know he’d done it before? Did you ever think the reason they fell apart like they did was because they knew deep down it was their fault?”
“Yeah, I think that could be part of it.”
“It was not your fault, and it wasn’t fair of your parents to blame or neglect you the way they did. They should have held you closer, not pushed you away.”
“It’s no wonder people come to you with their problems to solve. You’re very good at listening.”
He hugged her tightly. “I’ll listen anytime you want to talk, sweetheart.”
“I think I’ve done enough talking tonight. I didn’t intend to start blurting out everything like that. Bet you wish you just walked me to the door, huh?”
“Not at all.” He tipped her chin up then kissed her gently on the lips. “I want to get to know you better and if it means I get to hold you, then all the better.”
“I like you Gray, but I still don’t think this is a good idea. You’re my boss, and all that BDSM stuff, I don’t think it’s for me.”
He ran his hand over her head. “Okay.”
She stiffened then pulled away to look up at him. “Okay?”
“Yes, okay. We won’t do any of that BDSM stuff until you’re ready. You need to trust me more before we go any further. So we’ll date. Everything will be purely vanilla. No sex, no BDSM.”
It would kill him. But he’d do it. She didn’t trust easily and he understood. But he wasn’t giving up on her.
“And if I decide it’s not for me, what then?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“I don’t know, seems like a recipe for disaster. We could both end up hurt.”
“We could,” he agreed. “Or we could both end up happy. It’s a risk. Question is, do you think I’m worth taking a risk for? If you don’t, then I’ll walk out the door, and we’ll forget this ever happened. We’ll go back to boss and employee.”
She’d be risking it all. Her job, her sanity, the life she’d started to build here. She could end up with nothing.
Or everything.
Gray seemed to see something in her that she didn’t. Something that made him want to take a chance on her. She didn’t think she was worth the risk.
But he did.
And you could have everything.
“All right. We’ll date.”
He grinned. “Good. And when you’re ready for more, you tell me.”
“You seem very sure of yourself.”
“I am. You won’t be able to resist me or your own needs. You’ll see. You want this as much as me.”
She was pretty certain he was right.
Chapter Eleven
She was going insane.
She pressed a finger on the doorbell and waited impatiently for Cady to answer the door.
More than a week had passed since her venture into The Twisted Thorn and Gray was driving her nuts. She was very close to knocking him to the ground then dragging him by the heels to her bedroom, tying him to the bed, and keeping him there for the next month.
Only she wanted to be the one tied to his bed. The idea of him binding her, of giving him complete control over her didn’t freak her out as much as she thought it should. She guessed his plan was working. This careful, careful, slowly, slowly crap he’d been playing at over the last week and a half was making her realize she didn’t just want part of him. She wanted it all. His softness, his sweetness, his dominance.
They’d been on several dates, and he’d been the perfect gentleman. He’d only shown his more dominant side a few times, when she did something he didn’t approve of. Like work through dinner and late into the night. That had ended in a long, drawn-out lecture. She was certain she’d rather have had the spanking.
But other than a few kisses—hot kisses—he hadn’t touched her sexually. And she was going mad with need. She wanted to touch him, taste him, run her hands all over his body. Never in her life had she been so eager to give a man a blow job. She’d never enjoyed giving oral sex before. She’d found it
She was doing just that as Cady opened the front door.
The other woman stared at her. “Come in. You want me to turn the air up for you?”
Lacey stepped inside and Cady shut the door. “No, I’m fine. Just a hot flash or something.”
“Um, you seem a little young for those.”
“Not that sort of hot flash.”
Cady led the way into her home and Lacey looked around with interest. It was a gorgeous house. Cady sat on a plush sofa. Lacey sat across from her.
“So what sort are of hot flash was that? Or let me guess. The sort you get from thinking about a certain hot, gorgeous Dom who also happens to be your boss? And we both know I’m not talking about Hunter.”
Lacey narrowed her gaze. “So, how’s the nausea? Still throwing up?”
She needed something to divert Cady’s attention. This was the first time she’d seen the other woman since that night at the club when Lacey had been left in Gray’s care.
Heat worked its way through her body again.
Cady shook her finger at her. “Oh no, don’t try to change the topic. I want details about the other night, so spill. I’ve heard from a few people that the two of you looked good together the other night. Apparently, Gray was very protective of you.”
“He needed someone to demonstrate with.”
Cady snorted. “Gray has subs lining up, just hoping he’ll choose them to scene with. He chose you. Apparently he wasn’t at the club last weekend. Gray has spent nearly every Saturday night at the club since it opened. So what was he doing, hmm?”
“Maybe he had a headache,” she muttered.
Cady grinned. “A headache, really?”
“For someone who’s been in her sickbed, you’re surprisingly well informed about my life.” And it was a toss-up between being pissed by the lack of privacy or shocked someone as boring as her had been the subject of gossip. She was pretty sure no one had gossiped about her before.
“I haven’t been lying around sick in bed,” Cady said with a scowl. “Although Hunter would be happy if I stayed there for the next nine months.”
Lacey smiled. “So, I was right? You’re pregnant?” All Hunter had told them was that she was sick and wouldn’t be in to work for a while. Well, he’d growled it at them.
Cady nodded, looking almost lost and very unlike her usual confident self.
“What’s wrong?” Lacey sat forward, anxiety tightening her stomach. Didn’t she want the baby?
“Nothing’s wrong exactly. It’s just . . . I’ve never even changed a diaper. What do I know about caring for a baby? They’re so fragile, and I’m just not the motherly type. I grew up in foster homes, I was a cop, I lived on the streets. I don’t know how to look after a kid. What if I screw up, and it has to bear the brunt of my mistakes?”
Lacey sat for a moment, thinking. “You know what I think?”
“That I’ll be a great mother, that once the baby arrives I’ll instinctively know what to do, blah, blah, blah. Don’t bother I’ve been reading those damn baby advice sites on how to be a good mother. None of that crap helps.”
“Actually, you’re putting words in my mouth. What I was going to say is that you’re tough. You’re resilient. And you care about people. You wouldn’t have become a policewoman if you didn’t care. I imagine growing up in foster homes was hard, but it’s probably a good way to figure out what to do or not to do when it comes to caring for kids. Listen, Cady, I can give you all the pep talks you want about how you’ll be a great mother but it won’t matter what I say it if you don’t believe it. But the fact that you’re worrying about what sort of mother you’ll be tells me you’ll be fine. It’s the people who don’t worry, who don’t care, they’re the ones you should be careful of. Have you spoken to Hunter about this?”
“He’s in denial.”
“What?”
“I think it’s shock or something. I showed him the positive test result, and he just stared at it and said ‘that’s nice’ then told me to get to bed and rest. He hasn’t spoken about it since.”
“At all?” Hunter wasn’t exactly shy about stating his opinions. Just the other day he’d spent nearly half an hour moaning about how much he hated yogurt. Yes, yogurt. She was certain if he had his way it would be banned across the US. It made no sense, and she’d simply nodded and smiled as if she’d agreed with him, while hiding the container of the creamy treat she’d bought from home behind her back. He’d argued that it was a cross between rotten milk and ice cream, which made no sense.
Yet he had no opinion about the fact that his fiancée was now pregnant? His fiancée who was currently freaking out.
“Nothing. And when I told him that enough was enough and I was going back to work tomorrow, he just nodded and said, ‘yes dear.’”
Lacey felt her jaw drop open. “He actually said those words?”
“Yep.”
“Okay, there’s definitely something going on with him. You need to talk to him.”
“Hunter doesn’t deal well with emotions. Well, you know unless it’s his hatred of yogurt, lawn mowers, and reporters.”
Reporters she kind of understood but lawn mowers? She thought all men loved lawn mowers. “Lawn mowers?”
“Don’t ask.” Cady gave her a look. “And I know I have to talk to him. It’s just that I’m not sure whether he even wants this child or not.”
“The two of you haven’t spoken about kids before?” Seemed like a conversation they should have had by now.
“Yeah, sort of. But it was always in the future, you know? Not now.”
Yes, she knew. Lacey had always thought she had plenty of time for a family. She’d put her career first and now at thirty-five, she didn’t hold out much hope for children.
“I get it. But you aren’t going to get anything solved if you’re both in denial. Talk to him. Hunter doesn’t seem the type of man to go silent on something for no reason. I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you’re imagining.”
Cady sighed. “Yeah, I guess. Still can’t believe he said ‘yes dear’ to me. Strangest thing I’ve ever heard coming from his lips, and I’ve heard his spiel over his hatred of lawn mowers so often I can recite it. Again, don’t ask.”
She wasn’t going to.
“By the way, if you want to keep this thing with Gray quiet, I get it. But you can’t keep anything a secret for long.”
She bit her lip worriedly. “It won’t get in the way of my job.”
Cady grinned. “If it doesn’t then you’re doing something wrong. I’m not worried about your job performance, you’re a professional. I like you, Lacey, but Gray is like family. Don’t hurt him.”
Lacey swallowed. Great, so if things didn’t work out she’d be out of a job and a friend. If they broke up she could hardly stay on at Black-Gray. Seeing him every day would be a special kind of torture.
God, listen to her. They’d barely started anything and already she was imagining them over.
“But for what it’s worth, I think you’re good for him. Women flock to Gray everywhere he goes, but none of them really care about him. You’re different. Plus, I like you and some of those other bitches really annoy the shit out of me.”
And she was back to her usual self.
***
Lacey stretched her arms up with a yawn. She’d been typing up notes and she could feel the ache of hunching over her desk in her neck and arms. But she’d gotten everything she wanted finished for the week, and now her weekend could begin.
Another weekend with Gray. She felt a small thrill at the thought. A month had passed since that night at The Twisted Thorn and Gray had been true to his word. They’d gone out on dates, they’d kissed, and there had been some touching. But nothing more. No sex, no orgasms, no play.
She was so aroused she was surprised she hadn’t worn out her vibrator.
Thinking about Gray binding her with the ropes got her hot quicker than anything else. The idea of submitting to him, of letting him take control was all she could think about. Fantasize about.
She just needed to take that final step. To fully trust him. If she never tried, she’d always wonder. Always think about what could have been.
She glanced at the time. He’d probably already left for home by now, but she’d check his office on her way out. After grabbing her stuff, she shut her door and made her way down to Gray’s office. She could hear his voice as she drew closer and paused outside, unsure whether to wait or give him some privacy.
“No, mother . . . yes . . . sure. Okay.” There was frustration in his voice as he spoke, and she tried to slip away down the passage, certain he wouldn’t want her listening in on his conversation.
“Okay . . . yes, mother. Goodbye.” There was a loud sigh of frustration and she hesitated. Should she leave and pretend she was never here? Or go in and offer him . . . what? A sympathetic ear? She didn’t really know what he was going through, the last time her had mother called her was just after she’d graduated high school. And most of the conversation had been dominated by her stories about Alison and Robert, her stepkids.
But he sounded like he could use someone to talk to, and she wanted to be there for him. So she took a deep breath and stepped forward, knocking quietly on his open door.
He raised his head, looking tired and a little defeated. “Lacey?” He glanced at his watch with a small frown. “What are you still doing here, it’s getting late.”
“I wanted to talk to you. Plus, I was finishing up some notes.”
“Oh, right.” He pinched the top of his nose. “Sorry, I’m not the best company at the moment.”
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