Sir's Redemption (Doms of Decadence Book 8) Read online

  Sir's Redemption

  Laylah Roberts

  Contents

  Let’s keep in touch!

  Books by Laylah Roberts

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Laylah Roberts

  Sir’s Redemption.

  © 2018, Laylah Roberts

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  laylahroberts.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  Cover Design by: EDH Graphics

  Editor: Eve Arroyo

  Created with Vellum

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  Books by Laylah Roberts

  Doms of Decadence

  Just for You, Sir

  Forever Yours, Sir

  For the Love of Sir

  Sinfully Yours, Sir

  Make me, Sir

  A Taste of Sir

  To Save Sir

  Sir’s Redemption

  Men of Orion

  Worlds Apart

  Cavan Gang

  Rectify

  Redemption

  Redemption Valley

  Audra’s Awakening

  Old-Fashioned Series

  An Old-Fashioned Man

  Two Old-Fashioned Men

  Her Old-Fashioned Husband

  Her Old-Fashioned Boss

  His Old-Fashioned Love

  Haven, Texas Series

  Lila’s Loves

  Laken’s Surrender

  Saving Savannah

  Molly’s Man (coming soon)

  WildeSide

  Wilde

  Sinclair

  Luke

  The Hunters

  A Mate to Cherish

  1

  She was going to lie to her Dom.

  Kinley shifted around on the cracked seat of her tiny Honda and looked up at the imposing building that housed Club Decadence, Austin’s most elite BDSM club. Her butt cheeks clenched, as though they’d already suffered through the discomfort of Sloan’s displeasure.

  He won’t find out.

  Yeah right.

  There was no way he could miss that she’d taken a second job.

  And to say he’d be unhappy about it would be an understatement.

  She bit at her lip nervously. She wasn’t good at keeping secrets, her face tended to broadcast her every thought far and wide. How could she avoid lying and still manage not to tell Sloan she was financially up the creek without a paddle, or a boat? In fact, she was drowning. This second job was a godsend. It paid well, had amazing benefits, and the evening hours meant she could keep her other job as a receptionist for Foley’s Plumbing. It was a win-win, really.

  Except for Sloan. Her lip started to sting where she’d pulled at it, and she forced herself to take a calming breath. What was the worst that could happen? So she’d taken a second job, it was no big deal.

  Except that’s the sort of thing you’re probably supposed to tell your Dom.

  But it wasn’t like they lived together. They didn’t share finances. They played together. They had sex. Sometimes she slept over at his place.

  “Not like we’re planning on getting married or anything,” she muttered.

  Kinley was a bit of an old-fashioned girl. Sleeping with Sloan, letting him dominate her—it was a big deal.

  All she’d ever wanted was a family. A husband. Kids. Her sister often told her she’d been born fifty years too late. After graduating high school, Char had gone off to college on a scholarship and hadn’t looked back.

  Kinley had barely scraped through high school. Char was now a successful lawyer, with three kids and a husband who was a plastic surgeon.

  Kinley drove around in the car her parents had bought her when she left home at eighteen and had barely managed to pay the rent this month.

  All thanks to Eddie. Her bastard ex-boyfriend. He’d emptied all their business and personal bank accounts and taken off to Ibiza with the wife of their lawyer, leaving Kinley with a huge financial mess. Turns out he’d been doing some creative accounting for years while siphoning funds into an offshore bank account.

  Hmm, Char had actually liked the jerk. Kinley wondered what she’d think of Sloan.

  She smiled at the thought of her cool and composed sister meeting Sloan.

  They’d hate each other. Sloan couldn’t stand any sort of pretense, and Char was all about living up to an image. Char’s snobby friends would be shocked to learn she used to get up early to muck out the stables before school. Char hated her upbringing. Kinley had enjoyed every minute.

  No, Sloan and Char wouldn’t get on. Sloan called a spade a spade, as her daddy used to say. Daddy would have loved Sloan. She felt that familiar stab of sadness. After daddy died of a heart attack a few years back, her mom sold the ranch and moved into town.

  Kinley rubbed her pounding forehead. What she needed was to go home and get a good night’s sleep. Worrying over money didn’t make it magically appear. If it did she’d be a millionaire by now.

  Using the rearview mirror and the light from her phone, she checked her makeup. She didn’t usually wear makeup, she’d never really learned how to use it properly, but she’d needed it lately. Her already pale skin only served to highlight the dark smudges under her eyes. She grimaced. Not a great job, but then what could you expect with cheap cosmetics? The bags under her eyes were more Walmart than Chanel.

  “Just get out of the car and get in there.” Sitting there wasn’t going to solve any of her problems.

  If the orientation for her new job hadn’t run late, she would have been here on time. Instead her supervisor, who liked to talk, had explained everything in extreme detail. And very slowly. Or maybe that was just the way it seemed to Kinley, who’d watched the clock with a growing sense of dread.

  I should have told him.

  She’d been hiding the dire straits of her finances from Sloan for months. Sloan had a bit of a thing about money. Or, at least, he didn’t seem to think much of people that had any. She snorted. That would never be her problem. But she also didn’t want him to think she was with him for his money. Sloan liked to moan about people with more money than sense, but she knew he did well with his contracting business.

  She’d been used before. Duped over money. She’d never do the same to someone else, so, she’d kept her financial situation to herself. And now she didn’t know how to tell him.

  This job wouldn’t ease her money problems immediately, but, over time, if she worked hard, grabbed all the overtime she could . . . damn, she felt tired just thinking about it.

  Her phone buzzed, and Sloan’s name appeared on her screen. Her finger hovered, ready to answer, but she hesitated too long, and the call went to voicemail. Sh
e checked the time on her phone. Crap, it was after ten. She was over an hour late.

  That was the eighth missed call from him. Shit. She hadn’t been able to check her phone until she’d gotten back to her car and after seeing all the missed calls, she’d taken the cowards way and texted him that she was on her way.

  She pulled her coat around her. She’d already changed in the car before driving over here.

  Time to be brave, Kinley. Face the dragon.

  Guilt swirled around in her stomach. She knew what would happen if she told him about this job. He’d insist on knowing why she needed it, which would start a conversation she didn’t want to get in to. He’d be angry at first. That she’d kept this from him. That she’d tried to deal with it on her own. Anger she could deal with; Sloan had a fairly short fuse. He was quick to explode, but his temper usually blew over quickly. However, she knew he’d also be hurt she hadn’t trusted him or confided in him.

  Hurting Sloan was something she never wanted to do. Keeping secrets in any relationship was a terrible idea, but in a relationship such as theirs, it was a disaster waiting to happen. Not only would it likely result in her not sitting comfortably for a week, communication and honesty between a Dom and his sub were crucial. Without it, things just couldn’t work properly.

  She tried to avoid punishment as much as she could. She was normally so good. Well, okay that wasn’t exactly true. She could be a bit of a brat. The sense of humor she’d inherited from her daddy had gotten her into trouble on more than one occasion. But that was innocent stuff. Fun. She considered it her duty to keep Sloan on his toes, she didn’t want him becoming too complacent, after all. Or bored. Like Eddie had. She clenched her hands into fists, pressing her fingernails into her skin. Sloan was nothing like that rat bastard. If anything, Sloan was almost painfully honest. She knew how Sloan would react if she told him about this mess.

  He’d try to fix it. Sloan was a fixer. And he could be a bit of a bulldozer. All right, a giant bulldozer. Subtle was not in his vocabulary. If he saw something that needed doing, he did it. And if his woman was in trouble, he’d want to take care of it.

  Kinley didn’t want anyone to take care of her problems. She didn’t want them solved. She just wanted . . . she didn’t know what she wanted. She wanted to handle it herself and yet she didn’t, the thought of handing over all her worries was really, really tempting right now.

  “You’re just tired,” she told herself. God help her next week when she had to work a full week at her regular job then four nights cleaning at March Industries.

  She laid her head back against the headrest, the weariness settling into her bones. She was getting too old for this crap. She was thirty-four. She should have had her shit together years ago. She should be married with two kids, a postage-stamp yard, and a dog. She didn’t have big dreams. She didn’t need to make huge amounts of money, have a dazzling career, or be someone other than a wife and mother.

  But society didn’t think that was ambitious enough. Society dictated she should want more. Be more. Kinley sighed. Well, society didn’t have the bills Eddie left her with when he buggered off to Ibiza with that leggy, blonde bitch. And didn’t that sound like the beginning of a bad soap opera. Maybe she should write a book.

  It was pretty much the only interesting thing about her. Oh, that and her membership at Club Decadence, which Sloan paid for. That still didn’t sit right with her. Kinley liked to pay her own way. It’s what her daddy had always taught her. He would’ve been horrified by all the debt she’d accrued—that Eddie had accrued and left for her to deal with. Just like always. She’d spent the whole two years they were together picking up after him and solving his problems.

  Now they were her problems, not Sloan’s. She needed to figure it out on her own. She’d been naive and stupid, leaving it up to Eddie to handle all their finances, signing whatever he’d put in front of her.

  “Never going to be that stupid again,” she muttered to herself.

  The back door to the club opened, and, even though the light shining through from behind him put his features in shadow, she immediately knew it was him.

  At six foot six with shoulders so wide they’d rival any pro wrestler, it would be hard to not recognize Sloan. He wore his hair slightly too long, always too busy and impatient to get it cut on a regular basis. His face was chiseled and hard; he couldn’t be described as handsome. But there was something about him that made people stop and stare. And when he spoke they forgot he wasn’t handsome, he held their attention with that deep, rumbly voice and those golden-brown eyes.

  He could be temperamental, snarly, interfering, and bossy. But he was also the kindest, most generous man she’d ever met. When it was the two of them, alone, he let down his guard. Sloan was the product of a military father and three older brothers. Their mother had died when he was young. In his household, any arguments were solved with fists, and any hint of an emotion was met with scorn. But she knew he felt things more deeply than he let on.

  Kinley let out a sigh as he approached. Time to face the music.

  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.