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She grabbed the door handle. Too late. He was already there, wrenching her car door open with such force she winced. Her little car creaked in protest. One day it was just going to fall apart. She didn’t want to think about that day. Taking public transportation at night wasn’t her idea of fun. She forced herself to look up at Sloan, who loomed over her. Her mouth went dry, a tremble making its way through her body. But that shiver wasn’t about fear. Nope, it was lust.

Terrible as it might sound, there was something about Sloan when he was angry that stirred her blood. He’d never hurt her. Would never get out of hand with her. She knew he had a tight hold on himself.

But there were times she couldn’t resist nudging him a bit, just to see where it got her. Which was usually over his lap, so it never worked out that well for her. However, tonight she decided it might be best to keep her mischievous side in check.

“Hey,” she said quietly, staring up at him. He held out his hand, and she took it, letting him pull her out of the car. His strength never ceased to amaze her. She peered up at him, trying to make out his features. The parking lot in the back of Club Decadence was well lit. Even though the owner, Roarke, no longer lived here, he took care of his own. There were cameras installed throughout the parking lot and at the entrance and passageways of the club. And there was always at least one bouncer at the door, available to escort unaccompanied subs to and from their cars. Which was probably how Sloan had known she was there; someone had tattled.

But the light wasn’t quite good enough for her to read his expression. He was just too damn tall. Might be a good thing. She didn’t need to see him clearly to know his jaw would be clenched tightly, his eyes narrowed, and he probably had a tick going wild next to his right eye. That tick always served as a warning sign: danger, take cover.

“Hey?” he asked in a low voice that sent a wave of goosebumps across her skin. What was wrong with her? This was not the time to get turned on. But the submissive part of her liked giving him control— when it came to play and sex. She liked that Sloan was in charge.

That she had no idea what he might do. The anticipation built. She didn’t want this twenty-four seven. Having someone tell her what to wear or what to do all day, every day wasn’t for her. Luckily, that wasn’t what Sloan wanted either. But at the club, she could let go, and Sloan would take over. And for a while she didn’t have to worry, didn’t have to stress or think.

“Hey, Sir?”

“Hey, Sir.”

They stood there for a moment. She resisted the urge to shuffle her feet. It would only serve to make her look guilty. Well, guiltier.

“Are you just going to repeat what I say all night?” she asked.

His hold on her hand tightened. Not to the point of pain. He’d never hurt her in anger. But she probably shouldn’t be poking the bear right now.

She cleared her throat. “Um, sorry I’m late, Sir.”

“Better,” he bit out, his grip easing.

She blew out a deep breath. Then he let go and took a step back. She felt sad at the loss of his touch.

Don’t be silly. He’s right there.

There was no reason for her to feel alone.

She wondered what he was doing as he walked around her car, studying it. Finally, it clicked.

“I wasn’t in an accident, Sloan. I’m fine. I promise.” The guilt grew. “I’m sorry I’m late. I thought I’d get here on time and I didn’t have my phone on me.”

“What would you be doing that you didn’t have your phone on you?”

“I was working.”

“At Foley’s?” he questioned, sounding incredulous. “It’s Friday. Doesn’t he stop working at four?”

She nodded. “Yes, he does. This was something else. A job that I thought would take a few hours, but it went longer.”

She hoped the shadows hid any hint of guilt on her face.

Tell him. The urge was so great, she could barely breathe.

But the explanations that would follow stilled her tongue. She wasn’t ready to tell him how completely fucked up her life was. They’d only been together a short time, and she didn’t feel secure enough in their relationship. They were Dom and sub. They went out together: movies, meals, and she slept over at his place. He didn’t come to hers, but that was because she was ashamed of where she lived. He’d been inside once, but he didn’t know that the shower faucet leaked, that mold kept trying to grow in the bedroom closet and that the base of her bed was made from empty beer crates. That would just be too humiliating.

He’d never suggested they take things further, and neither had she. Too scared she’d be rejected. Too worried he’d learn the full truth.

“What sort of job? Are you going to quit Foley’s?”

“No, I like it there. This is just a one-time job.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me about this?”


Tags: Laylah Roberts Doms of Decadence Erotic