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She sighed and leaned against the wall. “Give it up, girl. You asked him out and he shut you down. You were just the hired whip. Let it go.”
Great. Now she was talking to herself.
She massaged her brow with her fingertips, exhaustion settling in like a wet coat. She needed to get home and get to bed.
And she definitely needed to forget about the doctor with the ridiculously hot body and the haunted eyes.
Wrong tree. No barking allowed.
THREE
Theo sat in his car in the parking lot of The Ranch, watching the storm clouds on the horizon grow closer and closer. He needed to get moving or he’d be dealing with iced-over roads on the way back to Dallas. But somehow, he couldn’t make himself put the car in gear.
He’d come to The Ranch hoping for swift and pain-laced oblivion. He hadn’t been here in months, and the whole ride over he’d been planning to sign up for a session with one of the other dommes. The last time he’d scened with Margaret, it’d been the anniversary of his wife’s death. He’d wanted to go out and get hammered that night, but he’d gone to The Ranch instead.
He’d been visiting Margaret pretty often back then. And though she always kept things focused on the reason they were there, he’d slowly gotten comfortable with her. Sessions with dommes used to be interchangeable. Selfish on his part. It didn’t really matter who was on the other side of the whip as long as he got the physical release of the pain. But Margaret had changed that. She could be mean as hell, but she also had fun in the role and seemed to enjoy it. And her sense of humor was wickedly dry—something he couldn’t help but be drawn to.
Once when she’d caught him trying to top from the bottom—something he’d gotten away with with other dommes—she put the heel of her boot against his crotch, the material of his boxers the only protection, and had made him recite the periodic table of elements because if you’re so determined to act like a know-it-all, show me what you’ve got. He’d gotten all the way to Krypton before she’d relented. She’d leaned down, put her lips a breath away from his, her green eyes meeting his with a steady gaze. For that one moment, he’d thought she was going to break both their rules and kiss him. Right then, he would’ve let her, had wanted her with a ferocity he hadn’t felt in so long, maybe ever. But instead she’d smiled, tapped his lips with the tip of her finger, and said, Nothing makes me hotter than smart boys. But you missed Arsenic, gorgeous.
He’d managed to smirk. “I left it out on purpose. Didn’t want to give you any ideas, mistress.”
A laugh had bubbled out of her at that—so genuine and unexpected that he’d found himself falling into that warm, welcoming sound, had wanted to come up with ways to make her do it again and again. She’d even let out this adorable little snort. That was the first time he’d gotten a glimpse of the real woman behind the role, and he’d yearned to find out more. He’d known then that he was in dangerous territory.
He’d found himself liking that he’d impressed her with his knowledge, that he could make her laugh so openly, that she thought he was attractive. It had started to feel like they were lovers playing this dangerous game together, like money wasn’t being exchanged, like this was more than a business arrangement. But in doing that, he’d let his guard down.
Because that last night, he hadn’t been able to hide from her. She’d sensed his struggles and had wanted to know what was going on with him. He’d been tied down, his back on fire from the cane she’d taken to him. All the ugly stuff had been obliterated from his mind in those blissful moments, leaving just sensation and the present moment. But her knowing eyes had drilled into him, seeking the truth, making him want to confess every damn thing he’d ever locked up. Tell me why you’re so sad today. He’d never had to use his safe word, but he had that night. And he’d decided then to never put himself in that position again.
But tonight, when he’d walked through the doors, all he could think about was her. Mistress M. Margaret. She scared the hell out of him with her astuteness, her quick mind and spot-on instincts, but that’s also what made the thought of seeking out any other domme unappealing. All of the others felt like playacting now in comparison. And seeing her tonight had confirmed it.
He’d gotten another glimpse of the real Margaret tonight. With her wavy hair down and the weariness of a long day hanging about her, she’d looked beautiful and undone and it’d made him want her. Not for a session but in his bed. He’d wanted to say yes to pie just to have her keep talking. And that alone was enough to send him bailing on the whole thing.
He’d originally picked Margaret because she was so opposite his type. A bold girl with dark hair, a Texas twang, and a stud in her nose. So unlike any woman he’d ever sought out. His wife had been blond, east coast, and refined. A brilliant lawyer. In the bedroom, he and Lori had been equal partners, vanilla.
Margaret didn’t have one thing about her that reminded him of his wife. So it hadn’t felt as much of a betrayal if he found a girl he’d never be interested in outside of The Ranch. He hadn’t gone there for sex or to find another women, he’d gone for a service, to feed a need he’d always suspected he was wired for.
But now … his blood was pumping with a need for something way more basic. Conversation. Companionship. Pie.
He g
roaned and turned the key in the ignition. He needed to get the fuck out of here.
He knew he could go inside and get whatever he wanted. If he wanted to get laid, he’d have a lot of choices. He hadn’t been a monk since his wife had died. But since he’d started coming to The Ranch three years ago, he’d stopped the occasional one-night stands and had become celibate. Vanilla sex wasn’t worth the trouble. He didn’t want to date the women or have them get attached or explain to them that he wasn’t much of a partner. That he worked too much, that he could be bossy as shit, and that in the bedroom, he’d rather be humiliated than treated like a stud.
His wife had discovered how difficult it was to be married to him the hard way. The night of the accident they’d been in a screaming argument. She’d wanted to start trying for a baby, and he’d told her she was nuts. They’d just begun to get on their feet after med school and law school, and in his opinion, the last thing they’d needed was a baby. Looking back, he could remember how fucking terrified he was at the thought of being a father. But he’d been an asshole about it, and they never got to finish the argument. They’d been yelling in the car, and he hadn’t been paying close enough attention to the road. When a drunk driver hazed over the line into their lane, Theo hadn’t had enough time to get out of the way. Maybe if he’d agreed to a baby that night, he’d be tucked into his home tonight with his wife and child.
He blew out a breath, wishing the painful memories would blow away, too, and pulled onto the road as the sleet began to fall. The tap tap tap of the icy rain was almost a comfort as the black night closed around him. He could be back in the city in an hour. Maybe by then he’d be tired enough to sleep this bout of holiday ghosts off. Tomorrow things would get back to normal. He’d tuck the things he couldn’t change away, take an extra shift at the hospital, and move forward like he always did.
He flipped on his windshield wipers as the sleet picked up and hit the button for the seat warmers. Just the open road and the quiet. Maybe that’d be enough. And by the time he turned onto the main interstate, it was starting to work, his mind settling and going over the patient cases he had to follow up on. But a few miles down the road, the inky night was split by the flashing of hazard lights. On instinct, he slowed. A small car had slid off the road and looked to be wedged against the highway sign announcing how far to Dallas. Someone was huddled in a jacket and knit hat in the rain, crouching next to the car. A woman by the looks of it.
“Shit.” Theo eased the car to the side of the road and pulled his phone out of the cup holder. The other car had spun and hit on the passenger side. Bad news for the car, but if there was no passenger, then good news for the driver. Theo buttoned his coat and carefully made his way over to the car, the pavement beginning to ice beneath him. “Hey, are you all right? Is there anyone else inside?”
The figure turned, all shadows still. “I’m okay. And no one else. But my phone is somewhere inside, so I haven’t been able to call anyone.”
A breath of relief gusted out, resulting in a frosty cloud. But then the accent registered. He trudged closer. “Margaret?”
The woman straightened and turned. “Dr. Montgomery?”
The clouds rumbled above and pelted them with sharp pellets of ice. “Please don’t call me that.”
