Her Sir

by Megan Slayer

  She didn’t say anything right away. “He cheated.”

  “Andi.” His heart went out to her. He squeezed her fingers. “Honey.”

  “He thought my going to you granted him the right to sleep with other women. Honestly, he’s not wrong. I cheated on him emotionally. We never had an agreement, but he claimed in the beginning that it was okay for me to visit the club, but he didn’t like it. I brought this on myself. I’m just as bad as he is…” She sat up straight and pulled her hand from his. “It doesn’t make this right, but I thought being with him meant deferring. I didn’t understand I was just shrinking behind him. I’m done. I’m tired of being a doormat.”

  “Good for you. I’m proud.” Now if she’d understand what she did with him wasn’t being a doormat, but rather taking control of what she needed in the bedroom, they’d get somewhere.

  “If you’re so proud, then you’ll understand why I can’t come back to you, either. I won’t have control,” she said. “I lied about how he treated me. He had no idea what I wanted or needed.”

  “I thought as much.” And seeing Trey again proved his point. The guy thought of no one’s pleasure but his own. Now she’d put him in the same category with Trey. Wrong. “The thing is, I’m not him.”

  “You control everything,” she blurted. Her cheeks reddened, and she bowed her head. “Sorry. But you do.”

  “Actually, you do. When we play, you’re the one in control. You say stop or slow, and I follow. I push you, but you tell me when you’re done. I’ll encourage you to stretch your boundaries, but only because I want to make you fly.” He pushed the cooling coffee to the side. “If you say no, then I respect your decision.”

  “You expect me to kneel.” She flattened her palms on the table. “Like that last time.”

  “I wanted to show off my beautiful woman. If you’d have said no before we left the private area, I would’ve stayed out of the main room.” He leveled his gaze at her. “I expect a partner. You were my best partner.” He hadn’t taught her very well if she thought she was second rate. When they played again—and they would be—he’d show her what he meant.

  “You have one. A partner. I saw the demonstration,” she said. “You replaced me.”

  “Slow down.” He hadn’t known she was at the club when he’d done the demonstration or he would’ve plucked her from the audience. “Which demo?”

  “There’s more than one?”

  “I don’t have a permanent sub, so I’m expected to do demonstrations for visitors, for the videos … for people who want to play the voyeur. That’s part of my job at the club.” Not his favorite part and he couldn’t wait to pass the torch to someone else, but he’d tell her that later. She managed to aggravate him like no other. He wanted to stretch her ass across his lap and spank the sass out of her. Then he wanted to kiss her until she collapsed. He wasn’t one to settle down, but she made him think twice. In her own way, she’d broken him.

  “I thought we had something.” She turned her cup around. “Now I understand I was just another client.”

  “I never said that. Never thought it,” he said. She’d been special from the start. He loved the way she felt in his arms, the way she moaned during a scene, the flicker in her eyes just before she came…

  “Then why replace me? Why not tell me how you felt?” she asked. “Or have you come to this realization now that we’re not at the club?”

  “First, I didn’t replace you. I don’t have any one sub I play with. The girls in the video are one and done. No sex, just demonstration and go. I haven’t found anyone who can fill your place. I’ve had a couple offers, but they aren’t you.” They shouldn’t be having this conversation in public, but she needed reassurance. “Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

  “What? Like a date?” She tipped her head to the side. “Are you sure? I just gave you hell.”

  “So? I want to go on a date with you.” Dinner, talking, then a scene. Yeah, he’d plan the whole thing out.

  Her lips parted, and she blushed. “Just dinner?”

  “I’d like more, but I’m giving you the reins on this one.” He needed to win her over first and get her to listen to him. “How about my place? Seven-ish? I’ll make dinner. All you have to do is show up.”

  “Si—are you sure?”

  “Call me by my name. Dean.” He reached for her. “Andi, I never wanted to hurt you—not outside of a scene. I see what Trey has done to your spirit, and it breaks my heart. You need someone to talk to. I’m available. Scream. Yell. Call me names. Get your anger with him out of your system so you can move on. If you happen to want to move on with me, then fantastic. I would love that, but I’m not going to push. You need to decide what you want to do, when you want to do it. Come over for dinner. Please?”

  “You’re asking me please?” Her brows rose. “Wow.”

  “Honey, the power exchange in the bedroom or playroom doesn’t have to bleed over to the rest of your life. You can be a submissive in one aspect, but your public persona can be dominant and controlled. What we do is more about you having a safe place to demand what you need.”

  “You make it sound simple.”

  “Can be.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. The rest of the bar was empty, save for the workers, but still. He wanted this to be private. “The power dynamic doesn’t mean you’re submitting to me every moment of the day. I prefer to submit to you when we’re not in the bedroom.” How’d she like that revelation?

  “You do?”

  “Uh-huh.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “May I text you my address?”

  “Sure.” She rested her hands on his. “I’m confused. Why would you be so tough in the bedroom, but almost a servant everywhere else?”

  “If you’d have met me in school or college, you never would’ve guessed I’d become a Dom. Trey’s right. I didn’t talk much and kept to myself. Why? Because my parents were both lawyers. They did all the talking. No, they had epic shouting matches because both wanted to control dinner. They were happiest when they argued. I kept my mouth shut so they’d leave me out of the arguing. I felt like I had no control. When I went to college, I didn’t choose a law degree because I didn’t enjoy shouting at people. I know there’s more to law than that, but I’d rather be an artist.” He sighed. He hadn’t told anyone about his past—not since he’d split from Lucy. Was that a sign? Andi was more than a sub? Yeah.

  “You’re an artist, too?” She brightened. “I didn’t know that.”

  “What’s your medium of choice?” The more he learned about her, the more he liked her.

  “Paint.” She squeezed his fingers. “I set up two gallery shows for the fall, and I’m sending some work to Cleveland for the contemporary art exhibit at the museum.”

  “Very good. I admire you for sticking to art.” And for finding her way in the art world when he’d given up. “I never made any money, despite supposedly having talent.” A tiny streak of jealousy hit him, then dissipated. He admired her drive.

  “It’s called surviving. If I’m going to eat, I have to create.” She grinned. “But I love to paint, so it’s good. What about you? Will you tell me at dinner about your work?”

  “I’ll do you one better and show you.” The connection wasn’t a fluke. They were very different people with similar tastes, and he couldn’t get enough of her.

  “I’d like that.” She finished her tea. “I have a bunch more questions, but I’ll ask when we’re alone.”

  “Very good.” He stood when she did. He left a tip on the table, then followed her out of the store. “I’ll text my address. See you at seven?”

  “It’s a date.” She unlocked her door and put the bags away, then kissed him on the cheek. He wanted the kiss to last longer. A shiver ran the length of his spine. He’d gone a long time without kissing her or getting too intimate and now wondered why he’d waited.

  “Bye.” He stood with his bags in hand as she darted away. Dean waited for her to leave the p
arking lot, then crossed over to his truck. Damn. She’d be hard to quit. He’d made a connection with her, and if nothing else, they could be friends. But she wanted to ask questions. God, he hoped he could fulfill her curiosity and give her what she needed.

  He sat on the bumper of his truck. Holy shit. He’d asked her out. Him. The guy who didn’t date anyone and wasn’t ready to commit because he’d seen the shambles of his parents’ relationship, had asked Andi over for dinner. He didn’t want a possible implosion in the delicate balance he’d created with her, but he liked her. He’d have to give himself the chance and see what could happen with Andi. Relationships, even ones that weren’t really off the ground, were tough.

  Chapter Four

  Andi drove home and couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. Yes, she’d had to deal with Trey, but Sir had been there. He’d told her his first name and invited her over. He was an artist, too. No wonder she’d sensed a connection to him.

  She parked in her drive, then carried her things inside. Her phone beeped, but she ignored it. Once she got a few things done, then she’d check the notifications. Right now, she had to get ready.

  Goodness. Thinking about the date was almost as exciting as when she’d bought her membership at the Underground. She wanted to be perfect for him. She showered, shaved, then put her hair in fabric strips to curl it. What did she want to wear tonight? Something fancy? A thought occurred to her—why was she putting so much effort into her looks? He might not want to play. This might just be getting together for food. She plucked a lacy bra from the drawer.

  Fuck it. She’d look hot anyway. The lingerie gave her confidence, and she wanted him to crave her. He said she had power. Why not use it? She put on the thong underwear, then eased the zippered corset around her middle. If a guy truly cared, then her imperfections shouldn’t matter—but she’d rather not show those imperfections off.

  He’d seen her naked, though. Damn.

  She adjusted the corset, then wriggled into a t-shirt dress. Sandals would probably work best, but she didn’t own any. Should she call Mary for suggestions? Or just wear a pair of black pumps? Might as well wear the black shoes. They made her legs look longer and her taller.

  Andi put another shirt over the dress long enough to apply her makeup. All she had to do was finish her hair. She didn’t want to run the hairdryer over her tresses yet, and instead opted to check her phone. Sir said he’d text her. She swiped through the notifications and dismissed most of them. Why did she have so many social media mentions? Jesus. She wasn’t important. She tapped one link. What was going on?

  Breakup of the Year – Trey Donaldson and Andrea McCarron call it quits.

  Oh, not so bad. So people knew they’d split. She didn’t mind. He was semi-famous, and he’d get attention for ending the relationship. The next line of the article chilled her.

  While Donaldson is lovelorn, McCarron seems to have no problem moving on. She’s been spotted in the arms of local trainer and club owner, Dean Meyer. Word on the street is the club isn’t for everyone—you won’t do any dancing there, but if you’re into S&M, then you’ve got the right place.

  Oh shit. She didn’t mind being linked with Dean, but the article made it sound like she’d done something wrong. Two texts popped up, and she hesitated to check them. At least she recognized Sir’s number. Had he seen the article? Was he mad? She tapped the icon to retrieve the message.

  Hi, it’s Dean. I’m at one-ten Champagne Avenue. Yes, the club. I live upstairs in one of the penthouses. Tell Aldus you’re there to see me and he’ll give you access. Can’t wait to see you.

  He didn’t sound angry, but there wasn’t a whole lot of emotion in texting. She hoped he hadn’t seen the article and wasn’t on social media. Maybe he didn’t care. She tapped the second text. Although she recognized the number, it didn’t dawn on her right away who the message was from.

  I saw you with Meyer. Was he your sire? Did he name drop and tell you I know him? I know all about him and his club. You dumped me for a porn star? Disgusting.

  She groaned and collapsed on the bed. Trey never could handle competition and he had to make scenes, but he’d taken the situation too far. She wasn’t his any longer, and besides, what did he mean by porn star? He needed to stick to dealing with his own life and leave hers alone. She typed a response.

  Sir, not sire. Get it right if you’re going to insult. Oh, and tell Jenn I said hi.

  Childish? Maybe, but she’d had enough. He’d embarrassed her at the store and acted ridiculous. He needed to move on and stop worrying about what others thought. If Jenn made him happy, then good. If not, then oh well. Maybe he should’ve thought about his actions before he decided he wanted to run for mayor. She doubted he’d be good in an elected office, but he had to learn from his mistakes and stop blaming others first. He’d screwed up—not her.

  She strode into the bathroom and used the hairdryer, then unknotted the fabric strips. She ran her fingers through the curls. Despite liking what she saw, she arranged her hair into a ponytail. The fullness of her hairstyle wasn’t working for her. She had one chance to make the right impression, and huge hair wouldn’t help. She donned a thin blazer, then headed to the living room. If she thought about the evening, she’d talk herself out of going. She picked up her phone, purse, keys and locked up.

  When she stepped off the porch, Andi noticed a woman coming up the sidewalk. “Hi.” Andi made her way down the stairs. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, hi. I’m Neely Lowe. I write for the Chronicle. I’d love to ask you a few questions.” She held up a small recorder. “Do you know Trey Donaldson?”

  Neely Lowe? The name sounded familiar, but Andi rarely read the names on the articles in the paper. She had nothing to hide, but the way the woman had approached her felt odd. “I do.”

  “And did you know he’s running for mayor?” Neely asked.

  “I didn’t know for certain, but I do now.” She held onto her purse strap. “Did you want an opinion? Or are you part of a poll?”

  “Were you in a relationship with Mr. Donaldson?” Neely made sure to aim the recorder at Andi.

  She wasn’t sure how to answer. No, she wasn’t in a relationship with Trey now, but she had been. Why was her relationship status any of Ms. Lowe’s business?

  “Ms. McCarron?” Neely stared at her. “You don’t have to answer.”

  “No comment.” She sidestepped the reporter, then opened her car door. “Well, no. I did date Mr. Donaldson, and we’re no longer together. That’s all I have to say. Thank you.” She put her things on the passenger seat, then settled on the driver’s side. Despite her better judgment, she rolled the window down.

  “Ms. McCarron?” Neely leaned over to meet Andi’s gaze.

  “Yes?” She didn’t have time for this.

  Neely turned the recorder off, then tucked the device into her back pocket. “Totally off the record, I feel I should tell you I’m not the only reporter who will be contacting you. Mr. Donaldson is running for office, and people want to know about him. They want to make the right call as to whether or not he’s fit to be mayor. I don’t blame you for wanting to keep your privacy up. The less you say, the less he can use against you.”

  She sighed. So that’s why he’d sent the text. He’d been testing the waters to see what she’d say.

  “If you’re not comfortable talking to the press, I might suggest you find a representative—a lawyer or someone you trust—to talk to the press. Your background has little to do with the race, but I can guarantee both sides will want to know what Mr. Donaldson has done and who he’s done it with so they can control the damage.”

  “I take it you have dirt?” The woman was a reporter—she had to be fifteen steps ahead of Andi and probably knew everything.

  “I have what his representatives gave me.” Neely rested her arms on the window ledge. “His camp brought the paper information and want us to bury it. They don’t like what you’ve done with your new boyfriend. It makes M
r. Donaldson look like he’s dated a woman who isn’t up to the standards of what the public thinks the wife of the mayor should be.”

  “I’m not trying to be the wife of the mayor.” She gripped the steering wheel. “Never did.”

  “I didn’t think so.” Neely narrowed her eyes, then sighed. “I’m going to level with you. I went to school with Trey and Dean. I was a freshman when they were seniors. Trey couldn’t get enough attention, and Dean kept quiet all the time. Trey reminded me of a bullhorn. He had to have everyone looking at him. Dean just did his own thing. If I were picking, I’d go with Dean.” She rapped her knuckles on the window frame. “Trey wants to win this election more than anything. He can taste the victory. Be prepared to cover your ass or have your life spread out because he wants to build himself up. Really, he has no reason to drag you through the mud, but he’s an asshole and anything is possible.”

  “Thanks for the tips. I appreciate the help.” She smiled. What had she gotten herself into?

  “You don’t have to believe me. I’m a reporter and I like a hot scoop—I won’t lie, but I see this race getting really vicious. I can see the chaos coming. If I were you, I’d hate to be steamrolled in the process.” Neely stood. “I need to go. Thanks for the quotes. I’m writing the article today, so look tomorrow for it. Thank you for your time and enjoy your evening.”

  “You, too.” She waited for Neely to climb behind the wheel of her car, then drive off before she left the gravel patch.

  Meeting Neely unnerved her. She didn’t like anyone delving into her life because of Trey. What bullshit. Why couldn’t anyone see her as an artist or ask about her upcoming shows? Why did they have to want to know about her connection to Trey?

  She sighed, then backed onto the road. She still hadn’t wrapped her mind around Sir living in the penthouses above the club. Who knew there were even penthouses up there? Would he still want her to come over now that the story about her and Trey’s split had broken and Sir had been named as a partial reason for the relationship disintegration? At the first traffic light, she put her phone on speaker and dialed Sir’s number.