Green Broke Woman (31 page)

He didn't say
“their sub”. He'd said “a sub”. As in, why was she submissive at all or why
wasn't she a slave? The question was too probing. The true answer to that was
likely more refining than she cared to be subject to.
Too
many needs.
Too much fear and confusion.
She
couldn't have everything or everyone she wanted.

Was settling for
halfway so bad? She could be happy with partial submission and three of her
five loves. So why did her greedy heart hurt so badly over his question?

Keith walked into
the living room before she could answer. He was dressed, but he had a spent
look of exhaustion and an uncharacteristic gruff manner that told her he
possibly had a hangover from the night before.

“You look so well
this morning it's staggering,” Hugh quipped.

Keith grunted at
him and stopped walking to rest his face against the wall, groaning. “Fuck
everything.”

“Not a good idea,”
Virgil teased, coming from the kitchen with a mug of coffee before a guilty,
lopsided grin turned up his lips. “Sorry. That was kind of dirty of me.”

“I liked it.”
Kayla offered him a weak smile as she stood, grateful to get away from the
older man who shook her up inside and discombobulated her with his probing
questions. She didn't want to be open about her dark needs and risk losing
three good men who loved her back. Nor did she want to face the fears she knew
a controlling Master like Hugh would make her do. It was probably good for her,
but she didn't care.

Hell, exercise was
good for her, but she'd made it a habit to do it as a treat several times a
month the way ice cream should have been, though the two had somehow gotten
themselves prioritized wrong. Oh well. Ice cream was sweet and comforting.

Exercise was
challenging and caused her pores to open, spilling her sweat and exertion out
until she was open and her weakness exposed. Only consistent training would
make her stronger, but it was difficult, dirty, and at times daunting. Did she
really want to go through the process of shoving the weight of her doubts and
fears aside, allowing herself to be torn apart inside during training? To trust
that through the oasis of recovering, somehow the pain would turn to scars that
loving hands would massage and break apart until she was whole again and
somehow stronger?

She must be the
Langleys
’ sub rather than entertain memories of being
Hugh's slave. And she darned sure didn't need to keep wistfully dreaming about
having all five men to herself. That could only end in heartache and with each
man thinking she was a tramp.

Kayla walked across
the room to where Keith stood looking like he hated everything this morning.

“How do you feel?”
she asked gently.

“Shitty. I wasn’t
in the barn long enough last night.” His eyes glazed, almost looking obsessed.
The look reminded her of a milder version of his facial expressions when he had
sex with her. “It's really bad this time. I'm
gonna
go ... somewhere.”

She panicked and
tugged his arm. “No!”

Hugh's voice
sounded clipped and reproachful. “Don't even think about it, son.”

Virgil smiled,
savoring his cup of Joe. “You're not his dad, Hugh.”

“Regardless, I
still raised him for over five years. He's like a son to me.”

His fatherly
concern touched her. Despite his tough old guy persona, she knew he loved his
nephews like his own flesh and blood. She held Keith's hand, using her eyes and
voice to plead with him. “You'll get past this, and if not there's counseling.”

Keith rolled his
eyes, sounding grumpy. “I don't need therapy. Physical pain isn’t working
anymore. I need something stronger.”

“No, Keith. Not
that.” Her eyes burned, and she grabbed both his hands. “Please don't go.”

“I just want to go
to the barn for a while.”

“So you can beat
yourself?”

His expression
turned sour. “I need relief, you understand?”

Virgil watched
them curiously, taking a drink of his coffee. “I didn't know you were a
masochist, Goldilocks?”

Keith glared at
him. “I'm not. Is it so wrong to want to suffer when you deserve to?” He looked
down at Kayla. “I need physical pain to take away the emotional anguish, or the
remorse will kill me.”

Kayla stood on her
tiptoes and put her arms around him, kissing him softly. She plundered his
mouth with caressing strokes as her tongue intimately humped his. When she
tried to pull back, she had to smile against his lips when he held her hips in
place, keeping her body against him. He released her when he was ready to ... like
Hugh would. The assertion intrigued her. Keith had shown greater levels of
dominance than Travis and even Jake had.

Keith brushed his
hand over her hair before sighing. “I'm sorry I snapped at you. I had no
right.”

The sincerity in
his steely blue eyes lifted the burden of worry from her shoulders. She grabbed
his wrist when he turned to leave.

“I'm going for a
walk.”

“Can I come with
you?”

His focus shifted
away from her. “I need to be alone right now.”

“Please don't hurt
yourself.”

He rolled his
eyes. “What am I supposed to do? Say I'm sorry at the grave Miranda doesn't
have? What good is an apology when she's probably...
”
His
octave faltered, and his head drooped before he composed himself. “I'm not
going to damage any organs if that's what you're worried about. I just need
severe pain and to see blood and then I'll be fine.”

“Don't beat
yourself!” She begged, tears dripping down her face. “Please. Hurt me instead.”

Keith's eyes
narrowed in warning. “I will not hurt you for a wrong I've done. I won't beat
myself anymore.”

“You plan on
burning yourself or cutting instead?” Virgil accused.

Keith threw him a
nasty glare.

Kayla clung to
Keith like a leech attaching itself to flesh. Her saturated eyes implored him.
“Please don't hurt yourself in any way. You can go to therapy sessions.”

He shrugged in
annoyance. “And do what—talk about my shitty feelings? I'm done with words. I
want action, and pain, and blood, and relief.”

“Then let me help
you. Whenever you feel frustrated or depressed, just train me as your slave. I
mean sub.” Her heart stammered like a frightened child in her chest. She felt
Hugh's knowing eyes burning into the back of her head like acid devouring her.

The sudden
dilation of Keith's pupils and piqued fascination intrigued her. Did she
imagine the interest that passed briefly over his countenance when she said the
word
slave
?

“You can just
focus on my training and showing me more about BDSM, and we could have sex.
Lots and lots of comforting sex,” she suggested, feeling her pulse stutter at
the lascivious curve of his lips. “We can do things. All kinds of things and
find something that will keep you from ever reverting back to your old ways
again.”

“Like my cane up
your ass,” Hugh said.

Virgil snickered,
nearly inhaling his coffee, and Kayla smirked. “Whatever works, but that wasn't
quite what I had in mind, Ma—Hugh.”

Keith became
serious and
cool
at her mistake. “You should show my
uncle the changes we added to the club before he leaves.”

His suggestion
stunned her. He wanted her to go to a sex club with her old Master? Was he out
of his mind? “What?”

“Show him around,”
Keith repeated.

There was
something looming in his eyes that she couldn't quite decipher. What was he up
to? “Okay.”

“How were you
taught to respond, Kayla?”

“Yes, Sir, but
we're not in the bedroom or doing a scene.”

Hugh broke the
heavy pause. “Now isn't that interesting? Virgil, finish your coffee and let's
go for a drive.”

“All right, hang
on.” Virgil wandered back into the kitchen, draining his mug as he walked.

Keith took Kayla
gently by the arm, warming her with his touch as he led her down the hall. He
let go of her and closed the door to his bedroom.

She shivered,
pulse drumming in a delighted rhythm inside of her. Would he take her to bed
with him? “What's going on?”

He leaned against
the closed door, crossing his arms over his chest. The impressive display of
his strength and the subtle way he blocked her means of escape made her tremble
and ache with submission.

He studied her
long and hard before heaving a sigh. “What are you, Kayla?”

She blinked in
confusion.
“A woman.”

“Are you a sub or
a slave?” His abrasive smoky blue eyes scraped at her mask until all pretenses
were peeled away.

“I'm whatever you
want me to be.”

A troubled blue
storm of temptation brewed in his eyes. “I assume my uncle taught you the
kneeling position?”

“Yes,
Sir.”

“Good. Assume it.”

Kayla eased to the
floor on her knees with her thighs spread and her palms facing upward. Her back
remained straight, her head high, and her focus lowered, fighting the
compulsion to search his face for clues. She waited for a further command.
Nothing happened. She peeked at his shoes, keeping her eyes down. The way she
felt him stare at her in the subservient position in complete silence with a
total lack of indication as to his thoughts was unnerving and insanely hot.

Finally he bridged
the gap between them with each steady footfall toward her. Her eyes climbed up
to meet his when he guided her chin upward with two of his work-roughened
fingers. “You called me
Master
once
before,
and out there you suggested I train you as my
slave.”

“It was a
mistake.” She felt small at the silent reproof in his expression.

“Funny how you've
never made that mistake with Travis or Jake.”

Crappers.
Keith knew. “You called me
slave
once before.”

The slight
backward movement of his head was subtle, but she could almost see the
invisible wall that emerged up around him at her rebuttal. He let go of her jaw
and gently pushed her head into his crotch. The aroma of turned-on male
thrilled everything female from within her. She timidly reached for his fly,
hoping he wouldn't notice.

“Maintain the
position,
sla
—
sub.” His tone shortened with self-frustration.

Disappointment
over his command and smug victory over his careless mistake made her giddy.
Despite his denial, he wanted her complete submission just as badly as she
wanted his total control over her.

“Yes, Master. Oh,
I mean, Sir,” she teased.

A tattered sound,
something akin to a muffled cry darted from her when he jerked her head away
from his groin and glared down at her.

“Let's get one
thing straight. I'm not your Master. I just top you in the bedroom, and that's
all. That's all this can ever be. You'll be my wife and my submissive, not my
slave or my possession. Not ever, damn it.”

Did he even
realize how much disappointment was streaked across his stubborn face?

“Yes,
Sir.
Why are you holding
back with me?”

He blinked, eyes
glittering with wistful longing as his sexy voice softened to a comforting
hush. “If you want a Master, then leave with Hugh. I can't be your Master,
Kayla, or your hero. If it weren't for my brothers, I'd warn you to run as far
away from me as you could.”

“Why?
Because you're human?
Nobody’s perfect, Keith ... Sir. We
all make mistakes. I've made a ton of them, and you still want me.”

“That's different.
Your mistakes aren't half as bad as mine.”

She rolled her
eyes. “You're too hard on yourself, and why did you tell me out there to go to
the BDSM club with my old Master? Isn't that ... you know, kind of stupid?”

His eyes narrowed
in annoyance. “Are you calling your Dom stupid, sub?”

She smashed her
lips together, rolling them in toward her mouth to rein in her flyaway tongue.
Shaking her head, she mumbled, “
Nnmm
.”

“It sounds like
you are.”

She shook her head
rapidly, nervous and excited that he might discipline her for insulting him.

Yes, please.

“I have my reasons
for letting you go to the club with him. I'm not stupid, just realistic. I know
you still have feelings for him and for Virgil. I'm not blind, sub.”

Her head dropped
at the accusation. This was bound to end in her losing all five men that she
loved.

Keith's tone
sharpened. “I didn't tell you to move from that position, Kayla.”

She straightened
up, keeping her gaze downcast.