His Lady (Boston Doms Book 5) Read online

  Issue number three, which was thornier. Because ultimately, he didn’t only need sex. No-strings sex and spankings were like cotton candy to a starving man. They were tasty, and they temporarily took the edge off, but they completely lacked substance. Blake wasn’t a boy, and hadn’t been for a long time. He was a man, and he knew exactly what he wanted and needed—a woman who would submit to him, a woman he could nurture and protect. He didn’t need a new wife, he didn’t need a life-long commitment, but he needed permanence. That was what his mind and soul craved. And it was that lack that was sending his mind off the rails right now.

  It was the only explanation he could fathom for why he was fantasizing about the least-submissive, least-appropriate, most-annoying woman in the Greater Boston area, Elena Slater.

  There was a time, shortly after they first met, when he’d found her charming. Cute, even. Her confidence, her bright humor, and her unquenchable curiosity had been a welcome distraction during Josie’s illness, and Elena’s experience as a nurse had given her the rare ability to express sympathy without pity, even during the hardest days.

  But over the past few months, he’d ceased to look at her as a potential submissive who needed mentoring, and the confidence and curiosity he’d once found adorable had become infuriating.

  “It’s just a simple question,” she’d complain defiantly, after asking her thousandth question about Shibari, or spanking implements, or consensual non-consent. With each progressive question, his explanations became briefer, less comprehensive, until he’d finally glared at her in frustration and reminded her of something she’d once told him—that she was a twenty-something woman with an Internet connection. If she wanted information, for the love of fuck, she could look it up. That way, when her big brother, Alexander “Slay” Slater, Blake’s right-hand man at The Club and trusted friend, got pissed off that his baby sister was becoming a walking, talking kink encyclopedia, he could blame the folks at Google and not invite Blake’s ass to the mat to settle his beef UFC-style.

  He ran a hand over the hard ridges of his abs, feeling the muscles he’d honed through years of intense, dedicated workouts, and took a cautious sip of the scalding hot coffee.

  Not that he couldn’t hold his own against Slay, of course. Slay was taller and younger, but didn’t have a fraction of Blake’s experience. The issue was that you could hardly fight a man when you felt like he had a point, and Blake didn’t want Elena discussing that shit with him any more than Slay did. She was nearly thirty years younger than he was, for God’s sake. His friend’s baby sister.

  Or maybe you want to discuss it too much?

  His mind helpfully called up an image of Elena as she’d been in his dream, her hair a black halo around her gorgeous face, her dark eyes on him as she took his cock. He definitely hadn’t been thinking of her age when she…

  Blake took another deep gulp of the coffee, grateful for the way it scorched his mouth and pulled his thoughts back to the present. His hand tightened around the mug until he worried that it might crack.

  She’s too young. She’s Slay’s sister. She’s not the type of submissive you need.

  His cock twitched in his pants, calling him a liar, and he growled as he dumped the remainder of the coffee down the drain.

  He needed to find himself a new sub. But first, he needed to get reacquainted with his fucking hand in the shower.

  Thirty minutes later, Blake was clean and in a clearer frame of mind. He shoved his feet into his sneakers, and grabbed his phone from the charger, ready to head out to his favorite Crossfit box and all-out attack the workout of the day. Despite the momentary relief he’d felt in the shower, frustrated arousal still thrummed within him, and he was going to burn it off in the easiest outlet available to him—the gym.

  But one quick glance at his phone screen had him stopping in his tracks, sinking down onto the worn leather couch in his living room as he cradled the device in his hands.

  Such a simple thing—a new email reminding him to renew the domain name for the SubHaven website—and just like that, a pang of grief and remorse caught him square in the chest.

  SubHaven, the blog Josie had started years and years ago, had been more than his late wife’s hobby, it had been Josie’s passion, creative outlet, and social connection. He’d stayed out of it, beyond knowing the basics and occasionally reading posts when she asked him to, since his involvement seemed to make her self-conscious, but she’d always made sure he knew her passwords, just in case. And in the fifteen months since Josie had died… and the months of illness before that… had he thought about using them? No. Not even once. Not even to write a quick post to let the regulars know what had happened. Not even to wish them all farewell.

  Shit.

  He stuck the phone in his pocket, made his way to the back bedroom that Josie had used as an office, and fired up her computer. The machine began to purr almost immediately, the monitor blinking to life in a flood of white light, and Blake smiled even as he shook his head. His own damn computer at The Club started up with a noise like a fucking lawnmower, as cranky and slow as his grandma when her arthritis had flared, but Josie had had a way with technology. Taught herself everything she needed to know and then some—enough to help Slay and Matteo when they needed help with their off-books security gigs, and enough to build her own system from the ground up. He wished he’d taken the time to learn more about it from her before…

  He sucked in a breath and shut the thought down.

  The system booted with her blog front and center, opened to the last thing she’d posted. Without thought, he sat his ass in Josie’s rolling chair and scooted it closer to the screen, reading the words she’d written.

  It was an open reply to a letter, something Josie did fairly often when she got a communication from a dom or sub and thought the answer would benefit the entire community. He knew that she worked hard to craft those posts, thinking about them for days and sometimes weeks, wordsmithing and fine-tuning until her message was clear. She knew that her words impacted her readers, and she felt an overwhelming responsibility to get things “right.”

  In this case, the letter was from a newbie submissive with the screen name LanieLove. He found his lips curving up in a reluctant smile as he read her letter.

  Hi, LadyHaven - I’m a twenty-six-year-old woman who’s a professional and part-time student. I’ve been fascinated by D/s for the longest time, and every word I read on your blog convinces me more and more that this is something I’d like to try… but I haven’t the foggiest idea how to turn the fantasy into reality! How does your average girl find herself a dominant? Billionaire control-freaks and obsessive vampires are pretty thin on the ground around here. Do I coat myself in liquid latex and march into a club? Play Russian roulette in the online chat rooms and hope I don’t wind up with a serial killer? And even if I do find a guy who wants that kind of a relationship, how do you submit to a person you barely know? How do you know when it’s safe to give another person control?

  Josie’s reply had been straightforward and informative, recommending some groups that might have local chapters while stressing the standard safe, sane, consensual motto, but the last paragraph caught his attention…

  If there is one other piece of advice that I could give you, LanieLove, one that I wish I’d had when I was at your stage of the journey, it’s to remember that the dominants you’ve met on the pages of your latest romance or on the big screen—the millionaire, mind-reading, super-hero doms that make us drool and sigh—do not exist. No pre-packaged “perfect” dominant lies waiting for you to find him. And LanieLove, you shouldn’t want there to be! A true D/s relationship is a bond that grows and deepens over time as you develop trust and understanding until you get to the place where you need to be. And it doesn’t matter how much experience each partner has had in the lifestyle, because D/s has as many incarnations as there are dominants and submissives, and every partnership will find the balance that works for them. And Lanie, when you and yo
ur partner find the one that works for you, it’s more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen or read about. Beware of anyone who expects you to change yourself to fit their ideals without taking your needs and goals into account. D/s is not one-size-fits-all. Educate yourself (I’m always happy to answer your questions!). Communicate with your partner or potential partner. Keep an open mind, but be safe.

  He sucked in a deep breath and ran his hand over his jaw, feeling a weight he hadn’t known he was carrying break free. She’d been happy in their marriage, his Josie had. It was right there in the words she’d written.

  He’d known it on a certain level, of course, because he’d worked to make it so. Submission had seemed to come as easy as breathing to Josie, and their relationship had been calm and comfortable. He’d never had reason to question it.

  But recently, watching as the men around him found their soulmates—each couple enduring their own trials by fire and working their way through them, he’d started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he and Josie had been missing something. Had he lost his focus? Taken his eye off the ball? Could he have amped things up a bit further, taken things a bit higher, knocked them out of their comfort zone and into something even deeper, even better?

  Reading her reply reassured him that, whatever questions he might have on that score, Josie hadn’t had any.

  He absentmindedly scrolled down the page and saw a private reply from LanieLove, and another from Josie, who suggested switching their conversation to email instead. Curious, he opened Josie’s email program.

  Jesus. There were over two thousand unread messages in her inbox, some of them from as recently as this week, asking for her help or advice.

  Another deep breath had him closing the program and beginning to type his first—and last—post on SubHaven. A post he titled simply, “An Update.”

  With a sigh, he hit Publish a few minutes later, and rolled himself back from the desk. Sometime—like next week or next month or next year—maybe he’d come back and wade through that email backlog, but he wasn’t in a hurry. They wanted Josie’s advice, after all, not his. For now, he had a date with an assault bike at the gym.

  But just as he reached over to touch the power button on the monitor, the system dinged an alert and a chat screen opened—someone trying to chat with Josie.

  He tamped down a flare of annoyance—hadn’t he just explained that SubHaven would be shutting down?—and went to close the screen, when he saw that the sender was LanieLove. Curiosity had him reading her message.

  LanieLove: I’m not sure if anyone will get this. I just wanted to say that I’m so sorry to hear this news. LadyHaven was a treasure and she’s been missed.

  His hands hovered over the keys, debating how to reply, or whether he should even bother, but something compelled him to type.

  LadyHaven: Thank you. That’s kind of you to say. I know my wife gained as much from the blog as her readers did. She considered you friends.

  The sight of his reply under his wife’s username startled him, but before he could debate switching, he received a reply.

  LanieLove: I felt the same. I didn’t know her for very long—we only messaged back and forth for a few months—but I felt like she was my partner in crime.

  The notion of sweet, sensible Josie being anyone’s partner in crime made his eyebrow lift, though there was no one there to see it.

  LadyHaven: Crime? Really?

  LanieLove: Er. Not crime, exactly.

  LadyHaven: Relieved to hear it.

  LanieLove: Ha! More like matchmaking. She was helping me find a dominant.

  LadyHaven: Ah, yes. One who wasn’t a billionaire or a vampire?

  A long pause followed, so long that he wondered whether she was going to reply, but then she did.

  LanieLove: You read that?

  LadyHaven: Of course. LadyHaven posted your letter, along with her reply. Surely she got your permission first?

  LanieLove: Oh. Yes, she did. It’s just… I guess I didn’t expect that any DOMINANTS would read it.

  He laughed out loud.

  LadyHaven: You didn’t know that at least a third of the readers of the blog are dominants?

  LanieLove: Crap. I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. Maybe I should have been a little less sassy, huh? Guess this solves the mystery of why I haven’t found a dom, even after a year of looking?

  LadyHaven: Well, as a dominant, I can tell you that having a sense of humor is a point in your favor. Your letter made me smile, and I didn’t think that was possible this morning.

  LanieLove: Bad day?

  LadyHaven: Considering the sun hasn’t fully risen in this time zone, it’s too early to tell, but it was shaping up that way.

  LanieLove: I can imagine. I have a friend who lost his wife recently and… well, it’s changed him. I guess it’s to be expected, but…

  LadyHaven: But you’re worried about him?

  LanieLove: Kinda, yeah. He doesn’t talk anymore, never jokes around. He’s the strongest guy I’ve ever met, but he’s gotta be hurting. I wish he’d let someone in.

  Blake stared at the flashing cursor on the screen for a long moment, then finally typed words he’d only recently discovered to be true.

  LadyHaven: Give him some time. Sometimes it’s easier to just retreat from the world. He’ll know when it’s time for him to start living again. You can’t rush it.

  LanieLove: That’s good advice. How about you? Have you started living again?

  Blake sucked in a breath. Had he? Honesty compelled him to reply.

  LadyHaven: I’m getting there, Lanie.

  LanieLove: I am so glad. I know LadyHaven would want that for you.

  Before he could formulate a response, let alone type one, another message followed.

  LanieLove: Listen, I know we don’t know each other at all, but… If you’re having a bad day, please reach out. I can’t help my friend, but I’d like to know that I could be there for SOMEONE, you know? And sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger, I think. Or if it’s weird to talk to me, talk to your friends. Humans are herd animals, after all.

  LadyHaven: Herd animals?

  LanieLove: Seriously! I read it in a psychology magazine at my dentist’s office.

  LadyHaven: Well, then it must be true.

  LanieLove: LOL. It just means we’re not meant to go it alone!

  He read her message and felt his lips curve, then without allowing himself to think too deeply about it, he typed.

  LadyHaven: I’ll keep in touch.

  LanieLove: You will?

  LadyHaven: Yes. Because LadyHaven would want me to make sure you found yourself a dominant who’ll treat you right.

  LanieLove: Aw. That’s sweet. I haven’t found anyone I think she’d approve of yet. LadyH had VERY high standards for a dominant.

  Blake snickered.

  LadyHaven: Well, thank you. That’s quite a compliment.

  LanieLove: Pardon?

  LanieLove: Oh, my gosh! I hadn’t meant YOU!! I meant for ME.

  LanieLove: I mean, not that she didn’t have high standards for herself, too.

  LanieLove: Obviously!

  Her messages flashed on the screen in quick succession and her embarrassment had him chuckling.

  LadyHaven: I know what you meant.

  LanieLove: Okay, good!

  LanieLove: Hey, I’ve gotta go in a minute, but I’ll send you my phone number in case you want to message me when I’m not logged in to chat.

  Blake’s eyes widened, even as her phone number appeared on his screen. He felt his shoulders tense with shock and displeasure.

  LadyHaven: Please tell me you did not just do that.

  LanieLove: Do what?

  LadyHaven: Share your phone number with a TOTAL STRANGER online!

  LanieLove: Oh. You’re not a stranger, though. You’re MisterHaven.

  Blake felt his teeth grinding together and didn’t stop to consider why he felt so unreasonably concerned with the welfare o
f a person he’d only exchanged a few words with.

  LadyHaven: You seem like an intelligent woman, Lanie, so think about this... How the hell do you know who I am? I could be an ax murderer. I could be planning to scam you out of money, trace your phone to find your location, anything!

  LanieLove: That’s crazy. You’re not the CIA, and it’s just my phone number!

  LadyHaven: And what happens when I reverse-search your phone number, LanieLove? What if I spend $20 and run an identity check? Then what?

  Frankly, Blake wasn’t exactly sure what information a search like that would net for him—this was much more in Josie’s wheelhouse than his own. But he was confident there was a wealth of information out there for someone more knowledgeable and less honest than him, and this girl, whoever she was, needed to be careful.

  LanieLove: Oh.

  Blake snorted. Oh? That was her response?

  LadyHaven: Be smart, Lanie.

  Her reply was a long time coming, and when it did, it was two simple words.

  LanieLove: Okay. Sorry.

  Blake waited for more, noting that the green light next to her name was still lit, showing that she was still online, but nothing else came.

  He regretted that their easy back-and-forth had ended that way—it had been a long time since he’d smiled as much as he had in this one random conversation, and he’d honestly planned to check in with her and mentor her if he could—but it was worth the sacrifice if she learned her lesson and stayed safe. He reached out to flip off the monitor again.

  Once again, her message chimed through just before he hit the button.

  LanieLove: I’ve gotta say, if you’re an ax murderer, you’re a pretty shitty one. LOL. Next time, don’t give away the whole plan, MisterH! Gotta get back to work, but text me if you want to.

  And then the green light next to her name went out.

  He sat for a moment staring at the screen and shaking his head. Part of him wanted to end this here and now, but another part of him recognized that this—a sweet, uncomplicated, mentoring relationship—might be exactly what he needed. If nothing else, it would distract him from the woman who’d been haunting his dreams.