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Before my Owner is off to work, he’d captioned it.
If that was a weekday breakfast, I wasn’t sure I could handle a weekend feast.
And the work he must’ve gone through to create that presentation. It wasn’t something he’d saved from Google. He was in the picture, wearing pajamas and a sleepy, dimpled smile. Nor was it an old setup. I’d been so taken aback that I’d had to zoom in on the paper to see the date. Perhaps his sister had taken the photo…?
Either way, I was ready to devour him. Come hell or high water, I wanted to throw caution to the wind and be his Master. I wanted to be in charge of him, I wanted to control him, I wanted to take care of him.
I hadn’t had the opportunity to sink into that depth of dominance in at least three years. Domestic servitude wasn’t something you engaged in at parties or other events. Not me anyway. It took place at home—or in my case, my cabin. My exes had only made it so far.
When I thought about it, I wasn’t certain I’d ever brought a partner to my house. Shit, I didn’t think I had. Not always because of me, though. I recalled three guys who thought I lived too far away. City boys were gonna be city boys. But since we’d created the community in Mclean, it’d been easy to stick to my home away from home.
I scratched my jaw and wondered…
“Hey, here’s a question I’d normally reserve for my mother because she gives me the answer I want,” I said, to Sloan’s amusement. “Why haven’t I been able to hold on to any partners? Why do they split right before shit gets serious?”
“Oh God,” he muttered. “Are we really going there? Does the man with a million friends and fuck buddies finally wanna know why he can’t find love?”
Whoa. “What the fuck? What’s that supposed to mean?”
He laughed under his breath and turned a little in his seat to face me better. “Shall we start with your ridiculous rules? I distinctly remember you telling me once that a future partner doesn’t have to be kinky—because if you have the right chemistry, chances are he’ll be naturally submissive to your natural dominance. And I get it. You have a point there. But what if you could be that flexible all the time?” Was he looking for an answer? “So a boyfriend can be thirty-six but definitely not thirty-four. He has to love children, even though you don’t have any of your own.”
I winced and clenched my jaw. That one hurt.
“If he’s not involved in kink, he still has to accept that you co-started an entire community,” Sloan went on. “So obviously, he has to be non-monogamous because you wouldn’t give up that lifestyle. Then we have your commitment issues. You think you’re open to meeting people, but the fact is, you’re not. If someone wants to get closer to you, they have to board the Greer train and get to know you on your terms. With one exception.”
I didn’t wanna play this game anymore. I knew I’d told Archie I wasn’t flexible, but it irritated me to hear it from somebody else. This was why I preferred to talk to my mother. In her world, nothing was my fault. Goddammit.
Actually, that wasn’t entirely true. Since Ma had met Sloan and the kids, she took his side if I started bitching.
“Are you waiting for dramatic effect?” I asked impatiently. “What’s the exception?”
He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat again, to face forward. “Me, Shep.”
What? He was the exception to…what?
“I’m the only one who doesn’t have to play by your rules,” he finished.
Oh.
Fuck.
Maybe his bullshit held a little bit of truth.
But only a little. “I have countless friends I meet up with on equal ground. Just because you’ve met Ivy once and she calls me Sir doesn’t mean she’s there on my command. I go out for a couple beers with Kingsley every few weeks. You wouldn’t see me giving him conditions.”
He nodded slowly. “But I wasn’t talking about friends, Greer.”
Oh. Right.
Did that mean Sloan wasn’t my friend? Rather, he was more than that?
I didn’t need his answer. It hit me right away. He was family.
I think.
Fuck, now my head was a mess again.
“This is why I call Ma about these things,” I grumbled.
“Yeah, how’s that working out for you?”
“About as well as your financial situation,” I snapped.
That shut him up.
I was an asshole. But what he’d said earlier still stung. I didn’t need any reminders of not having kids I could call mine. Fucking fuck. I blew out a breath and rubbed at a twinge in my chest.
“Sometimes you can be a dick, Greer.”
“Right back at you, buddy.”
“What the hell did I do?” he asked incredulously.
