Talk For Me: Club Avalon Book 3 Read online

  Talk For Me Copyright © 2021 Kay Elle Parker

  Published by Kay Elle Parker. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Published by Kay Elle Parker on June 8th 2021

  Editor: Kay Elle Parker

  Cover Design © Designrans

  Formatting by Affordable Formatting

  This book is intended for a mature audience only.

  Please be aware that there may be trigger warnings applicable throughout this book, and some readers may be affected by the content.

  Dedication

  A huge thank you to Measha Stone for giving me permission to reference her book, Kept By Him, in Connie’s story. Kept By Him is available in book and audio format if anyone is curious about Connie’s favorite read.

  Big hugs and kisses to my amazing beta team who continue to keep me writing even when the urge fades, and to my Nanette and Nora, who never complain when I’m firing questions at them at all hours of the day and night.

  Much love and gratitude to the special ladies who have helped me go through this book to find the little mistakes.

  Talk For Me

  Chapter One

  Constance Monroe hesitated before pushing the key in her hand into the lock.

  She was reaching the point where coming home wasn't coming home at all. Stepping through the door after a long day at work was akin to stepping through a vortex into hell, and what had once been her sanctuary was now more like a torture chamber.

  Connie was slowly dying inside with every day that passed.

  Squeezing her eyes closed for a moment, Connie rested her forehead against hard wood and braced herself for the heavy curtain of emotional pain to fall over her. The key notched into the lock, turning with a quiet snick. The door swung open into a shadowed hallway, and released the thundering blare of some kind of devil's rock music from the back of the house.

  Disturbed, Connie thought wearily, recognising Alicia's most recent choice of expressing her pain. For the past two days, her young charge had played the same song over and over again. The song itself—Inside The Fire—had deep roots in suicide, something which worried Connie so much, sleep evaded her.

  The last year had been nothing but a circus of stress. Pain, stress, grief, anxiety. It seemed every time the clock struck midnight, it found a new way to add just a fraction more pressure onto her already bowed shoulders. Only a month ago, one of her good friends whom she'd known for almost a decade, had managed to walk into his favorite BDSM club without the use of a cane. A cane he'd needed to help him recover from a bad fall during a vicious fight against two trained assassins sent to kidnap him and his sub.

  The sweetest little sub who, in order to save her Dom, had committed vehicular homicide.

  On top of that, Boadicea—Alicia's big sister, who had herself been through a nightmare of epic proportions—had discovered she was pregnant, with a devastatingly low chance of carrying the baby to term. Injuries incurred from a near-death beating from her parents a year ago were the suspected cause, and only God and drugs were keeping the pregnancy alive. Eighteen weeks to date.

  Twenty-two weeks to go.

  Connie stepped into the hallway, her work heels clicking demurely on the hardwood floor, and closed the door behind her. Let the strap of her purse slide off her shoulder, down the arm of her leather jacket, into her hand. Tired and forlorn, she kicked her shoes off where she stood and just left them, rather than tidying them to one side as she'd have done six months ago.

  Several nights of no sleep, padding along the hallway every hour to check Alicia hadn't cut her wrists, was stretching Connie to her limits. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed, the last time her lips had curved into a smile. As a psychologist, Connie knew the signs of fatigue, of depression. She just didn't have the energy left to help herself, not when everyone else around her needed something.

  She moved quietly down the hallway, passing the kitchen on her right, the dining room on her left, and paused as it split left and right. To the left was her bedroom, with her office next door. Ahead of her was the bathroom, and down the corridor to the right, Alicia's bedroom—what had once been Connie's guestroom. The music grew louder from that direction, damn near rattling the walls.

  Connie knew she should go check on the girl, but Atticus had messaged her ten minutes before she arrived home to say he was leaving. He'd been on babysitting duty all afternoon so Connie could sit through her first-of-the-month staff meeting without wondering if she'd be coming home to a dead body.

  Her phone trilled in her purse.

  With a heavy sigh, Connie dragged herself toward her room to get changed. Thanks to the meeting, she was home almost ninety minutes later than usual, which meant her downtime before heading out to Avalon was severely limited tonight. Honestly, she was tempted to blow off her Friday night at the club, cancel the neighbor who came to keep Alicia company, and just…sleep.

  It wasn't like there was anyone waiting for her at Avalon. Not anymore. Her two subs were long gone now—Kevin had made the choice to move to New York last summer after she released him from their arrangement, intent on starting a modelling career. And David, sweet David, had simply…left. Packed up his locker, handed his membership card back to Braun, and just…left.

  Neither sub had asked her to explain why she was having to let them go, and that had hurt. Both her boys had been, and still were, incredibly special to her. But when she'd taken Alicia on, taken the broken girl under her wing, Connie did so with the understanding she couldn't have it all. She couldn't keep her boys happy and nurture Alicia through the trauma of everything she'd suffered through in her life.

  Fuck, she'd failed at that too.

  It was times like this that Connie wished she could slip back into her submissive mode. Relinquish the Mistress, set aside the Domme, and go back to being the submissive she'd been. No more pressure, no more responsibility or control. No one to coddle and love.

  The trouble was everyone at Avalon knew her as Mistress Connie. She was the Domme. No one there had any idea she was a Switch, and she didn't—couldn't—face the loss of the club's respect if she submitted to another Dominant. But she couldn't stand the thought of having to find a partner for the night, expending more energy dominating him, then giving aftercare.

  She just didn't have it in her. Not tonight.

  Her head throbbed in time with the goddamn rock music as she closed her bedroom door and muffled it slightly. As her phone chimed again, she barely stopped herself from flinging her purse, the phone, and herself across the room into the wall. All she wanted was some peace and fucking quiet.

  She took her phone out of the purse, throwing it on the king-sized bed without looking at the screen. When her purse slipped from her hands onto the floor, she kicked it toward the wardrobe angrily. Inexplicably, she felt as though she could burst into tears as emotions bubb
led up inside her, the pressure expanding. With her lips trying to twist, she sat on the edge of the bed, her hands unsteady as she worked the tie free from her limp braid and shook her hair loose.

  When the phone rang, she wanted to crush it into dust.

  The screen flashed when she looked over at it, the handsome face of the young blonde Dom some wiseass at Avalon had dubbed the Viking Master beaming up at her. Great, just who she wanted to talk to. Not. But knowing Liam, he wouldn't take an unanswered call as a suggestion to leave her alone. The boy was sweet, but he was fucking tenacious when he got his teeth into something.

  She picked the phone up, slid the green button aside, and said wearily, “What, Liam?”

  “Heads up, Con. Intervention at Avalon tonight, nine p.m.” Liam said without preamble.

  “Intervention? For whom?”

  He snorted with laughter. “Who do you think? Anarchy decided to spray paint Just Married on the tailgate of Jasper's new Dodge Ram, and tied about a dozen cans to the tow bar. Jasper's threatening to take her into one of the fancy private rooms Braun's had built between barns two and three, but apparently they're all booked up.”

  Connie flopped back onto the bed, squeezing the bridge of her nose tightly. “And why exactly is this a cause for an intervention? Archie's attending her therapy sessions, she's recovering well from what happened in March, and she's happy with Jasper. If anything, it sounds like she's giving him a hint, Liam.”

  “Oh, he took the hint. That's why we're intervening. He wants to propose.”

  Happiness tried so, so hard to rise above the quagmire of shit she floundered in. She could feel the barest kiss of it against her skin before it sank beneath her own misery. “I'm surprised he's waited this long. She's made for him, and he for her. I really don't think any of us need to stick our noses into his business.”

  “Well, sticking them in is what we're all good at,” he retorted cheerfully. “You need to be here by eight, Connie.”

  “Eight? I thought you said nine?”

  “The intervention is at nine. We're all meeting at eight so that we can run through our battle plans. When it comes to lovesick Jasper, we need to be prepared. Whoops, gotta run. Delivery van has just pulled up with our weekly supply of condoms, lube, and replacement toys,” he all but cackled in delight. “I ordered some fancy new ones for a change. Thought I'd spice things up. See you soon.”

  Before she could tell him she was staying home tonight, he put the phone down. Asshole. Connie sighed and checked the time on her now blank screen, cursing as she realized she only had thirty minutes to get ready before making the drive out to Avalon…if she wanted to be on time. She should go really, if only to stop the idiot men from saying or doing something that messed up a relationship that had been almost a year in the making.

  Christ, she was thirty-four. How did she get so tired and jaded, and just…sick of life?

  She didn't know, and worse, couldn't see a way out of it.

  *

  Showered and dressed, with her hair twisted up into a delicate tawny knot, Connie hammered on Alicia's door with a fist and hoped the two Advil she'd thrown back with a glass of juice would keep the migraine at bay. Music continued to pound the walls; Connie could only be thankful for the distance between houses on her block.

  “Come on, Alicia, open up!” she called, trying not to shout. She gave her another minute, then said, “Fuck it,” and opened the door herself. Her heart sank further to see the thin girl in the wheelchair, sitting by the window. The room was dark, the blinds open, and Alicia stared out into the night with a look on her face that said she wished she could just fly away.

  Connie knew exactly how she felt.

  “Lisha,” she murmured, feeling the sharp sting of her failure. She'd agreed to take in the girl because she couldn't bear to think of her stuck in a hospital or a facility, alone. The girl had killed her parents, for reasons no one could assign blame, and yet no matter what Connie did—all the tricks of her trade, all her years of experience—couldn't get Alicia to open up about that night or the decades of abuse before it.

  Connie walked inside, wincing against the music threatening to blast her eardrums out. She switched it off, hitting the power button on the sound system and taking a moment to bask in the blessed silence that followed.

  Alicia's head turned slowly, and in the light from the hall, Connie saw hollow blue eyes focus on her. “Connie.”

  “Hey, sweetheart. Did you have a nice afternoon with Atticus?” Connie walked over and dropped into a crouch in front of her, rubbing her hand on a painfully thin thigh. “He said he brought pizza. You didn't let him eat it all, did you?”

  Slim lips twitched in a pale example of a smile. “He made me eat two pieces.”

  “That's good. He likes spending time with you.”

  Those beautiful blue eyes, so like Bodie's, drifted away again, back to the window. “He's nice.”

  “One of the best men I know. I'm going out now, sweetheart. Penny should be here any minute; she'll help you get a shower and organize dinner, okay? You both have my number, you can call me anytime if you need me to come home.” Trying to get Alicia to engage, Connie added, “I can take you over to see Bodie tomorrow if you like? The weather forecast looks good, and the doctor's given the okay for visitors. It would cheer her up; I know she misses you.”

  Alicia's shoulders slumped. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “We can discuss it in the morning. There's no rush.” The doorbell rang. “That's Penny. There's some cash in the usual place if you decide you want takeout. For God's sake, don't let her hack into the porn channels again, okay? Her mother read me the riot act last time.”

  This time, she got an actual, if exceptionally brief, smile. “We're both adults, Connie. I'm twenty-four now and Penny—”

  “Penny is only a year younger, I know. But when she goes home and starts asking her mother questions like, how can a woman fit two penises in her vagina, her mother begins to wonder what on earth goes on here when I'm not around.” God forbid the woman ever discover where Connie went on a night—her excuse so far had been taking night classes in the city. “Just keep the porn to one-on-one. Please?”

  “I'll keep her on the straight and fairly narrow,” Alicia promised. Her frail hand moved to sit on top of Connie's, cold fingers giving it a faint squeeze. “Thank you, Connie.”

  The doorbell rang again, a little impatiently this time. Connie leaned forward and brushed her lips over a raised cheekbone. “Don't thank me, Lisha. You don't need to thank me. I love you.” She rose and flicked on the lamp that rested on the bedside table beside the window. “I don't like you sitting in the dark, sweetheart.”

  “Yes, Mom. Go, stop fussing. Have a good night.”

  Connie let her fingers skim over Alicia's black fall of hair as she walked away. Before she left the room, she said, “And no keg parties while I'm gone!”

  She heard the squeak of Alicia's wheelchair as it rolled across the room, and a second later, the music started up again. As Connie hurried down the hallway to the front door, she was relieved that the girl had eaten. Saying that, with Atticus in charge, Alicia likely had no choice in the matter. The man was a Daddy Dom through and through—tending stubborn little subs was his mission in life.

  To her distress, she didn't reach the door in time to yank it open before the next shockingly loud peal of the bell split her aching brain in two. Moaning under her breath, Connie pulled it open and lifted an eyebrow at the bouncy young woman hopping around on the doorstep.

  Penny was a beautiful young lady. Several inches shorter than barefoot Connie, almost a foot shorter when Connie wore these particular heels. The girl looked like someone had mated a pixie with a bunny; she had all the allure of a fairytale creature, with the boundless energy of the rabbit. A long tail of brown hair looped over her shoulder and down the front of her padded jacket.

  Behind wire-rimmed glasses, big brown eyes danced excitedly, brightening when they saw Connie. “Hi
, Doctor Monroe!”

  “Hey, Penny, thanks for coming over.” She stepped aside to let her pass, lifting an eyebrow as Penny skipped inside with her armful of books and began stripping out of her jacket. “Planning on hitting the books tonight?”

  “Absolutely! My professor has set a killer history test on Monday, so I've got some serious studying to do. But I promised Lisha we'd spend an hour on her reading and writing lessons before I get down to the boring stuff.” The jacket went flying, as did the boots. “Oh man, is she still on her Disturbed kick? Don't worry, I'll snap her out of it. Enjoy your class!”

  Reading and writing lessons? What the hell? Connie watched Penny skip off again down the hall and tried to wrap her head around the fact Alicia didn't know how to read or write—the basics, for God's sake. How had she not known that? Abraham and Diane, Bodie and Alicia's parents, hadn't bothered to take care of their children, but Bodie had attended school with Liam. Surely, Alicia had some form of education?

  With her head pounding like a kettledrum, Connie made a mental note to ask Liam about it. Bodie was in too fragile a state to be put under any kind of strain right now, and Connie knew her sister was a huge concern for the pregnant sub.

  Shrugging into her jacket, Connie slipped her phone into the pocket and pulled out her keys. She was going to be late for the unnecessary intervention, but she couldn't summon enough of a good damn to care. The music switched off as she closed the door behind her, much to her relief. The longer Alicia went without those goddamn lyrics spinning inside her head, the better.

  The drive seemed to take forever. Between the pain, concentrating on where she was going, and trying to sort out the mess in her head, she was surprised she made it to Avalon without running off the goddamn road. As she pulled into the parking lot almost fifteen minutes late, she frowned at the empty spots. The only vehicles besides hers were Braun's, Atticus's, and Liam's.

  No Loki, no Jasper.

  She slammed out of her car, regretting it as soon as the door banged shut. Pain seized her forehead, worked over her scalp, down into her neck and shoulders. She should have stayed at home, had a long soak in a hot bath, and gone to bed. That's what she should have done, instead of standing in the parking lot wondering if Liam had been pulling her goddamn leg.