For Sir

by Rachell Nichole

  “Like Syneca?” Jack taunted.

  Jensen sighed. Well, yes, actually, but that was besides the point. “How’d you find out?” He wasn’t going to deny it. He and Syn weren’t doing a damned thing wrong.

  “I have my ways.”

  “Whatever. I don’t owe you any kind of explanation.” Some days, he could almost forget how obnoxious his brother was. Some days.

  “When’s the wedding?”

  “We’re not getting married, damn it.”

  “Aw, really? That’s a shame. Her parents might actually speak to her again if you were.”

  “I don’t give two shits what her parents do or don’t do. They’re assholes. I don’t want anything to do with them, and I’m fairly sure that Syneca doesn’t either. Even if they got over the whole her breaking the engagement and dating chicks thing.”

  “So, you’re telling me you didn’t go after her because of me?” Arrogant ass.

  “Of course not.” He hadn’t, right? He’d always wanted her. Ever since they were young. Her involvement with Jackson was secondary to that. Though, technically, his parents probably had considered the two of them betrothed before Jensen’s crush began.

  “So, you wouldn’t mind if I ring her, then?”

  “You’re married, Jackson.”

  “And?”

  “You’re such a dick. Stay the fuck away from her. I mean it.”

  “Or what, little brother?”

  “Or I’ll beat the ever-loving shit out of you. Period. This conversation is over. I’m hanging up now.” Jensen ended the call before his brother could say another word. His blood was boiling now. He set the phone down, when really, he wanted to throw the fucking thing across the room.

  He’d never be worried about Syneca getting involved with Jackson. But he’d be damned if he was going to bring her around his family when he knew that Jackson would try to seduce her away from him every chance he got. That was not going to happen. Leave it to his asshole of a brother to think that she was some sport between them. The fucker.

  “Damn it,” he muttered.

  “You too, huh?” He spun in the chair to see Syneca standing in the doorway. She held up the key he’d given her last week. “You didn’t answer when I knocked. I let myself in.”

  Syneca watched Jensen carefully. She’d heard a good portion of his conversation with Jackson. She was still reeling from the call she’d gotten from her parents.

  “Hey Syn,” he said. He opened his arms. “Come here.”

  She walked through the study and he pulled her onto his lap. She sighed, her body slowly relaxing into his. He kissed the top of her head and held her closely. The past few weeks had been astounding. The feelings they’d had for each other had grown, morphed into something deeper. Stronger. Even in such a short amount of time. It was insane just how comfortable she was sitting in his lap, how cared for and downright cherished she felt in his arms.

  “I’m sorry our families suck.” His voice was soft, but she could still hear the anger beneath it.

  “Me too.” She could feel the burn of tears in the back of her throat. Somehow, even after all these years, her parents could still affect her so much. Just one five-minute phone call and she felt like she was ten years old again, getting caught doing something naughty. “So, I’m not sure how to say this, but...”

  “But your parents want us to be together, and that makes you want to run away from me as fast as you can?”

  She stiffened, and he chuckled.

  His voice, when he spoke next, was dark. “I’m not going to let you go so easily a second time.”

  She shivered. That promise should make her cringe. Should have her jumping up from his lap, tossing him the key to his place, and never looking back. Instead, more comfort washed through her, settling the nerves that had been jangling since her mother called. Yes, the fact that this was what her parents wanted pissed her off. And it made her want to rebel and push Jensen away just on principle. But how could she throw away the chance that what they’d rekindled might actually be something serious? She owed it to herself to try, even if, for once, what she wanted and what her parents wanted for her were the same thing. Fuck them. She wasn’t going to let them influence her decision.

  “How’d you know?” she asked.

  “I just had a very similar conversation with my brother. During which he informed me that your parents might be pleased about this. Though how everyone in New York knows is beyond me.”

  “Mmhmm.” She played with the buttons on his shirt, running the pads of her fingers over and over them. Didn’t matter how it happened. “What else did he say?”

  “He not so subtly indicated that you were still somehow his.”

  “Pig.”

  “Pretty much what I said.”

  “That’d be why you threatened to beat him up?”

  “Among other things, yeah.”

  “So, you really don’t care if we never go home again?” She’d been living like that so long, the thought of not going home to see her parents was just kind of par for the course at this point. But Jensen... well, he’d never been close to his family, but not being close and deciding to cut them out of your life entirely were two very different things.

  She held her breath as she waited for him to answer. If he still wanted some kind of relationship with his parents and Jackson, she couldn’t blame him. She also wasn’t going to stand in the way. But if they were going to be together, how could she be around them when all his parents would see was the woman who left their other son, and all Jackson would see was another prize to be won? She didn’t want Jensen to think that she was only with him because of her feelings about their families. She wanted him for him. Not because of anyone else’s expectations.

  “Not if it will hurt you, Syn.”

  “I don’t want to be the reason you don’t see your family. That’s not fair.”

  He shrugged, his shoulder moving up and down beneath her left ear. “It wouldn’t just be for you. What the hell do I want to do with a bunch of morons who can’t see how good we are together? As long as you don’t think I’m the consolation prize?”

  “Definitely not.”

  He let out a breath. Had he been worried? Honestly worried all this time that she was with him out of some sort of obligation, or even rebellion?

  “I think I’ve loved you for a long time,” she said, because it was true. And because he probably needed to hear it.

  “Have you now?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” She lifted her head so she could see his face. His green eyes were dark. Warm.

  “You, too,” he said simply.

  She kissed him. It was sweet, deep. She poured all that she was feeling into that kiss, wanting to allay any fears he had about her choosing him out of misplaced loyalty or rebellion.

  She’d spent her whole life doing things because her parents told her to, or told her not to. Most of her adult life of forming the Madison Foundation and helping LGBTQ+ youth was a direct fuck you to her parents. Yes, it was good work, and yes, she needed to do it for herself, but so much of what got her started on that path was because she knew it would piss them off so much.

  But she was done with all that. She finally lifted her head, as the kiss threated to turn into something much more. She was going to live her life for her. Not because she was fighting against her upbringing.

  His lips were swollen from her attentions. His eyes half-lidded. But then he took a deep breath and seriousness chased away the heat on his face. “So, there’s one more thing we need to discuss. And I’m pretty sure you’re going to hate it.”

  Chapter Five

  Syneca stared at the check he’d handed her. He knew she would hate it, but he wasn’t going to back down.

  “No way. I can’t accept this. It is way too much. I mean, I appreciate it, I do. Jensen there’s no way I can accept this.”

  It was only a million dollars. “Look, all I’ve ever done is spend the family’s fortune on myself
– let me do something good with it for a change. It’s simple. I have it. You need it. That’s all it comes down to. You know what it’s like to have this kind of money at your disposal. It’s impossible to spend it all. I want to do this. I need to.” He stared at her, willing her to understand.

  “Is this one of those Dom taking care of his sub things?”

  “Yes!” He jumped at the chance to give her an excuse to accept the gift. Of course, giving her the money to continue the foundation for another twenty years was about taking care of her, in a lot of ways, but if he were honest, it was mostly about him. About knowing that finally, after all these years, all his half-finished degrees, and false starts and boredom, that he had a purpose.

  “Okay, so you want to do this to take care of me?” Her blue eyes were still wary. She’d never needed anyone to take care of her. But, if she would let him, he would spend the rest of his life doing just that.

  “Yes. I know you’ve spent all this time taking care of these kids, helping to create a support network for them, when they don’t have anywhere to go. The stuff you never had when you left New York and your parents basically pretended you no longer existed, and well, mostly I feel like shit about not trying harder to find you and help you through that all.” He didn’t care how pathetic it sounded. He wanted her to know him. All of him. Even his vain side that had been struggling to find something that he was passionate about for almost two decades.

  “So, it isn’t actually about me at all? It’s about you assuaging your guilt?”

  “Does that make me a terrible person?”

  “I mean, yeah, of course.”

  His breath caught. She was right. It did make him a terrible person.

  “Oh sweetie, your face.” She reached out and cupped his cheek, smiling. “It’s not terrible to want to take care of me, or to want to find a purpose for your life. I get it.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course. But I don’t want to be your charity case.” She lowered her hand. There was real hesitation in her voice. As if she couldn’t believe he wanted to do it, or as if she didn’t deserve it. As if he was slumming it or something, because she’d been disinherited.

  “You know you’re fucking amazing right?”

  She startled. Okay, well, he had kind of yelled that at her. Oops.

  But she smiled and her shoulders lowered. “You really mean that, huh?”

  “Of course I do. You could have lived comfortably with the money you still had access to. You could have done anything or nothing with your life and been fine either way. But you chose to take all of that money and use it to help people. You spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on others, leaving yourself with no choice but to work and find ways to keep the foundation going. If it helps you to think of my contribution as all about me, or as taking care of my sub, or because I want to help the kids, that’s fine by me. I don’t care what we call my donation. As long as you take it.”

  The distinct shine of tears lit her eyes. The urge to pull her into his arms again was strong, but he resisted. Barely. She needed to make this decision about their future on her own, without his interference. He owed that to her.

  “Okay,” she finally said. His heart leapt. “The foundation would be glad to take your money.”

  “That’s great. I’m happy to give you anything you need.”

  She grinned. “Anything?”

  “Of course, Syn.”

  She smiled at him, her bright blue eyes dancing with mischief. She folded the check and set it on the table beside him, then leaned over until he could see straight down her shirt from where he sat in the chair. Her hands clutched the armrests on either side of him. Her body was inches from his. Heat sparked. He wanted to give her anything. Everything.

  “Maybe tonight we can have mint chocolate chip.”

  *

  Want even more kinky fun? Check out the next installment of The K Club series with Chase Masters and Liz Clark in To Sir.

  He demands her submission. She demands her independence. Can he accept her limits?

  One-click To Sir now!

  *

  Plus, if you loved Syneca and Jensen’s story, and want even more, you can now get an exclusive extra story featuring them now, just for joining my Newsletter.

  Get your free copy of Blooming for Sir now.

  https://bit.ly/2kYJDVn

  *

  Keep reading for an Excerpt from To Sir, available now!

  To Sir Excerpt

  Domestic discipline needed.

  Elizabeth Clark deleted the e-mail without reading it. If she got another call from her publisher or agent for a domestic discipline or BDSM book, she was going to scream. Why was this genre suddenly the big new thing? First it was vampires, then werewolves, and now it was kink. She hadn’t jumped on the paranormal bandwagon when it had come rolling into town, and she wasn’t going to leap onto this one. Contemporary erotic romance—that was her genre. Her only genre. And she was going to keep it that way.

  Liz closed her e-mail and rolled her head from side to side, trying to find her center. If her agent, Sophia, didn’t stop forwarding these calls from the publishers, Liz might lose it. She’d stopped reading them months ago. Thinking about dominance and bondage left a bad taste in her mouth. What kind of self-respecting woman would allow herself to be subjugated like that by a man?

  She’d never understood doormat tendencies. She’d like to give those kinds of men a piece of her mind. How dare they? The idea of a man dictating to her made her want to punch something.

  Stop it. She took a deep breath, forcing the anger back down. It wasn’t her place to judge women who wanted that kind of lifestyle, or the men who controlled them. She had to stop letting things like this get her all worked up simply because she wanted to pick a fight.

  She knew she needed get back to work on her latest manuscript, but she couldn’t make herself open the document. It was past midnight anyway. Maybe she should call it a night and go to sleep. She ran her fingers through her still-damp hair. Taking a break an hour ago to shower should’ve set her in the right mind-set to work on this godforsaken book. But she couldn’t lock it down. She shivered in the cool breeze coming in the window from behind her. Yes, the allure of curling up in her warm bed was far too good to ignore.

  She closed her laptop and clicked off her wireless mouse. Standing, she caught a glimpse of the wild woman in the mirror. Hair tousled in damp tangles around her bare oval face, cascading down her back, tickling her tattoo. That was way more Elizabeth Leigh staring back at her than Liz Clark. Sometimes the line between her supersexy alter-ego pen name and herself got blurred, and she could see that happening tonight. Not bothering to turn on any lights, Liz padded out of her home office in her bunny slippers. She knew where every last thing was, including all the clutter strewn about.

  As she walked, she let the night sounds envelope her. She loved living in her house of solitude. No pets, no roommates, no neighbors. Only the light breeze, the chirping crickets, and gentle quiet to keep her company. The solitude helped keep the chaos always clamoring in her head at bay. But tonight she was restless and unable to concentrate on her book. Which meant she needed a recharge.

  Liz settled under the silky sheets and heavy comforter and closed her eyes. Focusing on slowing her breathing, she forced her mind into the quiet that preceded sleep. A moment later, her mind rewarded her by sinking into the black abyss.

  He slipped the veil over her eyes, shrouding her in darkness, and she shivered. She could feel the heat of him behind her, pressing into her body. Warming her in a way nothing else could. She wanted to lift her fingers to feel the soft fabric but knew she couldn’t. Knew her hands were bound behind her in a deceptively delicate-feeling strip of silk. Her heart pounded. She didn’t want this, couldn’t want this. Yet even as her mind protested, her breath caught, and desire flamed through her.

  She couldn’t see, couldn’t hear anything over the drumming in her ears, but she could feel.
The tight corset laced around her middle came up to the peaks of her breasts, chafing her nipples with every inhale and sending a delicious spiral of desire straight to her center.

  He tugged at the restraints around her wrists, forcing her shoulders down and back and thrusting her nipples in one hard jolt against the edge of the corset. Oh, God! He pushed a leg between hers, keeping a firm grip on her restraints and inching her heeled feet apart even more. Her bottom half lay bare to his hungry gaze, save for the red stilettos he’d bought for her.

  Spoiling her brought him pleasure, and who was she to deny him anything? She should. She knew she should, but she couldn’t resist him.

  She clenched her thigh muscles to keep herself upright when she was already so full of need she wanted to beg. But it was too early in the night for that. If she started begging now, it would be hours before he granted her release. Hours of the most unbelievable pleasure she’d ever experienced, surely, but she didn’t want to wait that long.

  He clipped the ribbon between her wrists to a solid object behind her. She couldn’t stop from pulling at them, wrenching her shoulders. The pain coursed through her like a jackknife, and she moaned. Why did she bother to resist? She knew in the end she would give in to him, but something within her refused to surrender her will to him completely until she was too lost to the erotic haze to care. She wasn’t quite there yet.

  His footsteps echoed around her as he came around to face her. His hot gaze burned along her skin as it roamed over her body. He tugged her breasts free of the fabric and groaned in appreciation. An answering rush of wetness soaked her core.

  Only he could do this to her—dress her up the way he wanted with such slow strokes that she burned for him even before the scene really started. He reached around her to cup both ass cheeks in his large hands, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out at that simple touch.

  “Good girl,” he said. The caress of his voice was like a thousand feathers trailing down her spine. He smacked her right butt cheek hard, and a small squeal escaped before she could stop it.