Deposition and a Dare

by Evelyn Adams

  Also by Evelyn Adams

  For the Billionaire's Pleasure - Eric & Julie

  Wrapped

  Around

  You

  Wrapped Around You

  For the Billionaire's Pleasure - Luke & Claire

  Wired

  Wanton

  Won

  Wanted

  Wired Wanton and Won

  Saints and Sinners

  Deposition and a Dare

  Southerland Security

  Falling Free

  Wicked Intent

  Closer This Time

  Slow Motion

  Breathe Me In (Coming Soon)

  Studio 1247

  Bound Collection

  The Southerlands

  Feels Like Home

  Loving Bailey

  Practical Arrangement

  Riding the Pause

  A Little Bit Closer

  Love at the Lost and Found

  Laws of Attraction

  Someone to Love

  Halfway to Happily Ever After

  Feels Like Family

  House On Fire

  Southerlands: The Complete Collection

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  EPILOGUE

  THE SOFT SWISH OF THE leather flogger cut through the air and I blew out a bored breath, ruffling the few wisps of hair that slipped from my braided ponytail. Arching my back for effect, I tugged gently at the padded leather cuffs, being careful not to pull free. The bite of the rough wood against my mostly bare ass helped wake me up as I counted down the minutes until the appointment was over.

  Peter, the hundred-and-sixty-pound accountant in pleather pants, winced as he worked me over with the flogger. I’m using worked over in the most generous way possible. In reality, I was unlikely to feel either pleasure or pain from poor Peter’s ministrations. The only real danger was being tickled to death while he tried to channel his inner Dom, visibly cringing every time the leather hit my flesh.

  “Is it okay, Lexi?” A bead of sweat caused by nerves, not exertion, clung to his upper lip.

  Here’s where it got tricky. The whole consent/non-consent issue. The men who hired me were looking for a practice submissive. Someone discreet who could help them work out their moves before they take them out to the real world. Sex was on a case-by-case basis. Not that that particular case had come up yet, but I was keeping my options open. Nudity was a given.

  Peter’s CEO girlfriend would probably rather he didn’t look at my naked tits, but honest to God, I had to figure out a way to keep the man motivated. The flogger didn’t do it for him, but my tits kept him in the game. I doubted his girlfriend, I think her name was Sarah, would ever know about me, but if I managed to teach Peter how to take charge in the bedroom, she’d be grateful for my help, nipples and all.

  “We talked about this, remember?” I gently admonished the timid man. The last thing I wanted to do was make him more uncertain. I’d be stuck on the cross forever. “You don’t ask; you tell. You watch your partner’s reaction to what you’re doing, and then you decide when she’s had enough. If you’re concerned, remind her to use her safe word. Do not ask her if what you’re doing is okay. You’re the one in charge.”

  He nodded, but I could tell by the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed that he still wasn’t comfortable with the idea.

  “Go ahead and try again. This time put your back into it.”

  I arched, pressing my tits toward him, and waited to feel something—anything—as the flogger came down again.

  It took him two or three tries, but he finally hit his stride, and by the time the session ended, he’d managed to shed some of his inhibitions. He was unlikely to rock Sarah’s world, but I was pretty sure he could manage a decent rumble. If he did, he might become a repeat client.

  “Remember the aftercare,” I said as a clearly pleased with himself Peter unfastened the cuff around my right wrist. “We won’t practice it, but with the woman you’re dominating, you’re going to need to hold her and reassure her. Make her feel safe and cherished when you’re done playing.”

  Peter wasn’t going to need help with the aftercare. The hard part for him would be not apologizing. He nodded, reaching for the cuff around my left wrist. Now that we’d finished, he seemed to be in as much of a hurry to leave as me. He left me to unfasten the cuffs around my ankles, and by the time I stepped away from the St. Andrew’s Cross, he was headed for the door. I expected as much. Once I was freed from my bonds, I was a naked woman and not someone he wanted to remember he’d paid to help him.

  “She’s going to be amazed,” I called after him as he slipped on his coat and yanked open the door. I shimmied into my bra in time to see another man slip through the doorway and past a horrified-looking Peter, who either assumed I knew the guy or was too chicken-shit to stick around.

  I didn’t know the guy. I’d put a fairly elaborate screening process in place to weed out the assholes just looking for someone to smack around, and honestly, it almost never came up. The building that housed my studio was secure, which didn’t explain why there was a hipster, rocking a man bun and carrying a beat-up messenger bag, standing in the doorway and paying particular attention to my G-string and mostly bare breasts.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked, drawing his gaze from my tits to my face.

  He held the folded legal-looking piece of paper out in front of him, his eyebrows arched in clear approval.

  “Alexandra Smithson,” he said as I reach for the paper. “You’ve been served.”

  I STILL HAD the folded paper clutched in my sweaty hand when the cab stopped in front of the bar. I was late and dashed for the front door, stumbling when my five-inch-high fuck-me heels caught on a crack in the pavement. I would have landed on my knees, but a strong, firm arm reached out and snagged me around the waist before I went down. He didn’t so much steady me as set me back on my feet. As soon as I was sure my heels would hold me, I looked up into the eyes of my rescuer. Whiskey-colored eyes with bronze flecks, the kind that went dark chocolate when the owner really wanted something. Forcing myself to breathe and to stop thinking stupid shit about wanting, I managed a smile.

  “Thanks,” I said to the man who’d saved my knees and my pride.

  The cut of his suit made it clear he didn’t buy his clothes off the rack, and his dark-brown hair curled over his collar in a way that would have looked feminine on a different man. On him, it added to the barely civilized pirate vibe. But it was his lips that kept pulling at my attention. Soft, warm, full lips, curved in a smile that said he knew more than anyone else around him and was enjoying the joke.

  “I assure you; the pleasure is mine,” he said, managing to make it sound like he’d done more than catch me.

  I nodded and pulled away, trying not to show my surprise when he held the door open and followed me into the dimly lit room. I felt him behind me, a warm presence at my back in the crush of people jockeying for space at the bar. Forcing my attention away from the man I was sure I was safer not knowing, I squinted as my eyes adjusted. I scanned the tables around the bar for my friends, and by the time I found the women who were closer to me than family, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous
had disappeared into the crowd.

  “Finally,” said Meredith. “Did you get tied up with a client?” The freckles over the bridge of her nose crinkled as she grinned at her own play on words. I knew she hated the tiny spots that dotted her pale Irish-cream complexion, but along with the red hair and emerald eyes, she was fresh-faced and stunning, more suited to windswept moors than grubby city streets. She was also a hopeless romantic, a tendency she’d thankfully been able to channel into her wedding cake bakery, I Dough.

  “Funny,” I said. “This is why I’m late.” I slapped the paper on the table. “I got served, and please spare me the puns this time.” I held up my hand, but I didn’t need to. Something in my tone must have betrayed the slight edge of hysteria I’d been feeling since the smug ogling man handed me the summons.

  Charlotte reached for the paper, scanning it quickly in the dim light of the bar. “Okay, it’s not Armageddon,” she said, glancing up from under her inky lashes.

  With her glossy blonde hair and doe eyes I can only mimic with an abundance of makeup, Charlotte could easily be mistaken for a sexy Alice in Wonderland. It was a misconception she’d put to good use for her clients. The opposing counsel almost always underestimated her until they got their shirts handed to them. It had earned her the nickname Tiger Shark with the other lawyers who had gone up against her. She was beautiful, deadly, and her attacks came when you least expected them. I was glad she was on my side.

  “It feels like the end of the world,” I said, but my chest relaxed a fraction of an inch. Exhaling, I collapsed into a vacant seat next to Elena.

  “I know,” said Charlotte. “Legal stuff always does, but don’t worry. I can refer you to someone who handles these kinds of cases all the time. He owes me.”

  Her eyes narrowed and just like that, the shark replaced the wide-eyed innocent. I could only imagine why he owed her, but I had no doubt Charlotte could make him pay up.

  “Can’t you do it? I’d feel so much better if you were handling it.”

  “Handling what?” asked Kindra, pressing her cheek to mine before sliding into the chair next to me. The spicy floral scent of her perfume managed to be exotic and familiar at the same time.

  “A film company filed a cease-and-desist against Alex and the Gentleman’s Submissive.”

  “Do they have a case?” asked Kindra before turning her warm brown eyes on me. Her sympathetic gaze was reassuring. She always seemed to know exactly how to do that, which was part of what made her such a damn fine psychiatrist, but right now I wanted Charlotte’s reassurance that I wasn’t going to lose everything I’d worked so hard to build.

  When I graduated with a masters in psychology and a PhD in genders studies and no prospects other than sales clerk at the soon-to-be out-of-business indie bookstore, I had to make a career for myself. I wanted to teach, or rather I wanted to write a book that would change the world—kind of a Men are from Mars; Women are from Venus for smart women and the enlightened men who loved them. Being a professor seemed like the best way to get there. Except there were only a couple of dozen jobs in my chosen field, and they were all currently occupied by other people. The obscure degree from the well-known university let me move in better social circles, but it didn’t offer anything else except astronomical student loans, which I now had to pay back.

  So, I took what I learned from contemporary women’s fiction, and I started the Gentleman’s Submissive. It seemed pretty obvious to me with the popularity of BDSM-lite books and movies that women were interested in the fantasy of being dominated by a strong male. Nothing new, I know, but given how much we’d heaped on our plates in the last three or four decades, the desire seemed stronger than ever. Equally obvious was the fact that very few men had any idea what a Dom did, let alone how to become one for his partner.

  That’s where I stepped in, wearing my G-string and stilettos. I have no illusions about training real Doms. I’m not sure they exist—not in the classic definition anyway. What I do is try to give men like Peter the confidence they need to give their partner some of what they want. No easy feat, let me tell you, especially with men as tentative (read clueless) as most of the men who come to me.

  “It’s too soon to tell, but even if they have a case, it doesn’t mean they’ll win.” She reached across the table for my hand. “Or even that the case will ever make it to court. In fact, it’s odd that they’d jump to filing a complaint so quickly. Usually there would be a lot more back-and-forth before it got to this point. Most of these kinds of suits are about settling, not going to trial.”

  My hand clenched involuntarily at the mention of court. I’d never dealt with more than an unpaid parking ticket. The idea of going to court scared the crap out of me.

  “It’s okay, baby. The guy I know is a lousy lay but a phenomenal intellectual property attorney. I’m sure he can make this go away, and if not, he’s more than up for a fight.”

  “Can’t you handle it?” I repeated, hating the slight whine in my voice but too worried to do much about it.

  “I specialize in cheating husbands, not copyright issues. Waters knows more about it than I do. Really, Alex, you’d be in better hands with him.”

  “I don’t care. I trust you.”

  “Can’t you do it?” asked Meredith, turning her green eyes on Charlotte. “You put the fear of God into millionaires and their attorneys on a regular basis. How hard could it be to get a movie producer to back down?”

  “She has a point,” said Elena.

  I plastered my best you know you wanna help me look on my face and hoped we’d managed to wear Charlotte down.

  “Fine,” she finally said, rolling her eyes. “I still think you’d be better off with Waters but I’ll at least start the process. But...” She held up her index finger when I started to squeal. “If I ever feel like I’m jeopardizing your chances, I’m getting out. No argument.”

  “Deal,” I said, jumping up to reach across the table to hug her. “Thank you so much.”

  “Don’t thank me until it’s over. I might fuck it up.” Charlotte gave her head a shake but I could tell by the way her lips curved that she wasn’t as concerned as her words sounded.

  “You won’t,” I said, knowing it was true. The women at the table loved me. Any one of them would do whatever it took to make things right, and I’d do the same for them.

  “I wish I had your confidence. I feel like I’m swimming upstream right now.” She took a sip of her wine and a wrinkle creased her forehead. I’d been so absorbed—understandably maybe, but still—in my own stuff, I hadn’t noticed Charlotte’s expression.

  “With work or something else?” asked Kindra, scooting her chair closer.

  “I have a client. He’s a friend, or he was,” said Charlotte, looking almost uncertain. “His wife says he cheated on her, and she’s filed for divorce. He asked me to represent him.”

  “You’re defending a cheater?” asked Meredith, her eyes wide enough to see white around the green.

  Her disbelief was understandable. Of all of us, Charlotte seemed to have the fewest rules but as far as I knew, she’d never represented someone who’d cheated. She’d made an impressive living taking the adulterers to the cleaners. It was a point of personal pride.

  “Do you think he did it?” asked Kindra.

  “I don’t know. I always liked him. He was a dog in college, but he was honest about it. You knew what you were getting,” she said, her lips curving at the memory. “Looking in from the outside, how can you really know what someone’s like?”

  That was true, I thought, nodding. I’d done a couple of sessions with a ball-busting corporate trader who took companies apart for fun. At first glance, he looked like an alpha on steroids, but not only did he have trouble being dominant sexually, by the end of our first session, I wondered if he’d be happier if we switched places. He seemed so uncomfortable even role-playing when I suggested it to him. It was the last time I saw him.

  “True, but what do you think?” ask
ed Kindra, sliding seamlessly into her professional persona.

  “He swears he didn’t do it.” Charlotte rolled her eyes at the disbelieving looks around the table. It wasn’t that any of us hated men, but none of us were the naïve girls we’d started out as. “I know. I know,” she said, holding her hands up in front of her. “I have a hard time believing it too, but he signed a prenup giving her half of everything if he cheats. I can’t see him risking the company he built from the ground up just to get his dick sucked.”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes and kept my gaze fixed to hers. I’ve known men who’d risked a lot more to get off.

  “Admittedly, it’s a long shot,” said Charlotte. “But it’s not fair for him to lose what he’s worked so hard for if he didn’t do it.”

  “You like him,” said Meredith, at the same time Kindra said, “You believe him.”

  “I’m not sure,” said Charlotte, looking miserable. “And what’s worse, I can’t trust that one thing isn’t feeding the other.”

  She wouldn’t be the first woman to make a stupid choice about a man for what seemed like a rational reason, I thought. I let my eyes drift over my friend’s shoulder, remembering a list of stupid choices I’ve made. My gaze landed on Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous, watching me from a group of men gathered near the bar.

  Perfect case in point.

  I looked away, feeling my face flush, wondering why simply meeting his eyes would make me blush. I was long past the age when a man’s attention made me self-conscious.

  “Can you get him out of the prenup?” I asked, dragging my attention back to the conversation in front of me.

  “I can try, but it looks ironclad, even for me,” said Charlotte, a fierce glint in her eyes. “I’d feel better if I had something on her or an alibi from him. Or even knew exactly what she had on him. I’ll figure something out.”

  She sounded determined, which was something. I had a feeling a determined Charlotte could move mountains.

  “Enough of legal stuff,” she said, her clear blue gaze meeting mine, wordlessly willing me to relax. “What’s going on with the rest of you?”