To Sir by Rachell Nichole Read Free Book Online

help me navigate the murky and shark-infested waters of bringing fiction to life with the truth and sensitivity of someone intimate with this kind of lifestyle. Instead, you…you…” Her rant ran out of steam. He what? Forced her into submission? Pulled her unwillingly down the stairs and strapped her to that bench without her consent? Nope. She could pretend all she wanted that he was the bad guy in this scenario, but she’d gone to him willingly, had followed him into Hell, and practically begged him to tie her up, sad as she was to admit it.
    “I what, exactly?” he said, voicing her thoughts aloud.
    “I don’t know. But whatever it was, that wasn’t what I came to you for.”
    “You clearly have a problem with the way I live my life, everything this club and my people stand for. So why are you writing this book?”
    “Because I have to.”
    “Because of some contract? Well, then you should be calling a lawyer, not me.”
    “It’s not because of a contract. It’s… Ugh, I can’t explain it. You wouldn’t understand. It’s another writer thing.”
    “So explain it to me.”
    Oh, this man! Infuriating, insufferable jerk. She couldn’t expect a nonwriter to understand. Especially since she didn’t exactly understand the compulsion herself. She tried to come up with some kind of lie or a reason that wouldn’t make her sound crazy.
    “I’m waiting, Ms. Clark.”
    Crap. She’d taken too long to answer. “It’s…” She paused, knowing the only answer here was the truth but hating that she was going to show him that far into her psyche. “Did you ever see Inception ?”
    “What?”
    “You know, that Leonardo DiCaprio movie about dreams within dreams and planting ideas in someone’s head?”
    “Yeah, not that it has anything to do with what I just asked you,” he said, irritation clear in his voice.
    “Would you let me finish?” she said sharply. When he didn’t reply, she continued, “It’s like in that movie, where he implants the idea and the person can’t get it out of their head. No matter what she does, how much she ignores it or tries to distract herself with other ideas, it takes root, and it grows and grows into this gnarled-up, deeply rooted, fully bloomed idea, like some six-hundred-year-old tree, until it becomes an obsession. That’s what Sarah and Hawke are for me. They’re my tree.”
    God, she sounded like a complete nut job.
    “Oh,” he said. “I think I know a little something about compulsion. About people who deny their true nature, who’ve been taught that being gay or transgendered, a Dom or a sub, is wrong and then discovers that they’re gay or a sub, et cetera, feel the same way.”
    She took a deep breath. She’d expected him to laugh and hang up, leaving her nothing but dead air on the other end of the line. Instead, he got it. Like, really got it. She waited a beat to let that sink in.
    “Great. So now you see the problem. I can’t let go of this tree, this idea to write Sarah and Hawke’s story, any more than you could have ignored your sexual proclivities.”
    “What’s in it for me, other than helping you out?” His voice was back to cool, businesslike. He was bargaining with her. That was a start, at least. She’d played her share of poker as a kid.
    “A chance to make sure I get it right. Help me write it from your perspective if mine is so wrong. Teach me.”

Chapter Four
    How could a man say no to that? He waited a few seconds, lest he seem too damned eager, and Dusty sauntered out of his office, clearly confident Chase wasn’t going to blow her off. When he’d first heard her voice, Chase’s initial reaction was anger. She’d all but led him on and then slammed on the brakes, and his balls, with stiletto heels. But as soon as he’d let that anger burn down to a simmer, she’d somehow weaseled her way into his good graces again. Telling him to shut it and meekly asking for his help all in the same conversation had a strange effect on