Bound and Determined (14 page)

your safe word? You can have two if you like; one to tell me that you need a

short break, or to ask me something, one to stop the scene immediately.”

As it happened, Sterling had thought a lot about safe words, in part

because he'd been doing little else but thinking. “Um—'infield' for a break. And,

uh, 'Junior' to stop.” He met Owen's eyes with a hint of defiance, daring Owen

to tell him either word was unacceptable. If he did, it wouldn't be the end of the

world, of course, but somehow being able to choose felt important, gave him a

slight sense of control. Holding out his hands, wrists crossed, he asked, “In

front or behind?”

“Not yet,” Owen said, gesturing to him to put his hands back by his side.

“It's important to be aware of what I want from you, and in time a good sub can

predict his Dom's needs and be ready to fulfill them instantly, but there's a

difference between that and rushing me or a scene.” It could have felt like a

reprimand, but compared to some of the stingers Owen had sent his way in

class, it was pretty mild, and Owen didn't sound annoyed.

Sterling nodded and Owen continued, “I want to ask you about the

significance of those words. They don't have to have any, of course; the point is

that they're unusual, words that you would never say in an emotional moment

by accident, but I get the feeling that's not the case here. I can see why you'd

choose a baseball reference, but 'Junior'? Is that part of your name? Another

part you dislike because it ties you to your father?”

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Well, he'd hoped he wouldn't have to explain, but at least Owen wasn't

saying no right off the bat. Sterling winced a little bit at that word choice before

answering. “My dad used to call me that—even though technically he's the

Junior, and maybe that's why it got to me so much—when he was pointing out

the ways I was like him. When he was, uh, trying to convince me I was my

father's son and there was no point in fighting it or trying to be different.

Because it was inevitable, you know? It was—I hated it. I hate
him
.”

He stopped, shocked. He'd never said that last part out loud, too well-

bred, probably, to consider giving that thought breath. Because he'd certainly

thought it hundreds of times, and even gone so far as to scratch it into the

wood of his desk at home—only to realize his mistake and have to scratch it

back out again. Sometimes, in his senior year of high school, when he'd been

dreaming about the day he'd get to leave, he'd run his fingertips over the

imperfect spot on the desk the way a devout Catholic might finger a string of

rosary beads; it had given him comfort.

“Some things are inevitable,” Owen said, “but I've never considered a child

as an echo of one parent; how can it be when it takes two people to create it,

and after that, its life experiences are so different?” He shook his head,

dismissing some thought, maybe, that he clearly wasn't about to share. “They'll

both work very well. Thank you, Sterling.”

Sterling felt himself relax at the simple praise—the thought that he could

do,
be
what someone expected of him with so little effort, that he wasn't

disappointing Owen (
yet
, a voice inside him added very unhelpfully) was a fairly

incredibly one. “You're welcome,” he said, because it was the proper response,

and waited.

“So,” Owen said, and held up the scarf just long enough for Sterling to say

something, but there was nothing that he wanted to say, apart from
Hurry up,

please
, and that probably wouldn't go over well.

“Keep your hands by your sides,” Owen said, his voice subtly different,

calm and assured. “As I said, this isn't going to restrain you in any real sense,

at first, but I want to see…” He looped the end of the scarf around Sterling's

right wrist, tying it with a simple slip knot, and then took the length of silk

behind Sterling's back and tied the other end to Sterling's left wrist with a more

secure knot. There wasn't much play if Sterling kept his hands where they

were, but plenty if he brought his hands together behind his back.

Owen stepped back and studied him, a warmth in his eyes, more of the

approval that Sterling craved. “Oh, yes,” Owen said softly. “Very nice.”

When he thought about it, Sterling found it surprising that he was as

comfortable in this position as he was. He barely knew Owen, but he was

standing here in Owen's bedroom, stark naked, aroused, with his wrists

bound.

And somehow it felt right.

More than that, it felt like he'd been
waiting
for this.

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57

He wanted to beg for more but reminded himself that if he was patient,

Owen would give him more. Owen knew what he needed.

“I can make them tighter,” Owen said. “So that the only person who can

take them off you is me. Tie you so that you can pull and tug and feel held, feel

safe, and I will, but I want to touch you first.”

Sterling's mouth was dry with longing, but he just nodded, and Owen

stepped closer and kissed him, not on the mouth, but his neck, low down

where it met his shoulder. The kiss was light, but it left Sterling's skin burning

as if it'd been branded. Owen ran the back of his hand over Sterling's chest,

the blunt points of his knuckles tracing a random path, leaving swirls of

sensation. Knuckles became fingernails, scratching hard sometimes, enough to

leave pale lines, rising and then fading, and then the smooth pads of fingers.

Sterling swayed in place, his eyes wanting to squeeze shut so that he could lose

himself in this but staying open because he didn't want to miss a thing.

After a while, Owen put two fingers against Sterling's lips. “Suck them,” he

said. “Get them wet.”

Sterling parted his lips so that Owen could slide his fingers inside. Owen

wasn't the biggest guy, but his hands were kind of large, and Sterling was

eager to taste his skin, to mouth the fingers that had been teasing him.

First he licked around each finger, exploring the knuckles with his lips. He

was tempted to bite at them, just a little, not enough to hurt or anything, but

he was pretty sure that wasn't what Owen had in mind. What
did
Owen have in

mind? Would he paint traces of Sterling's own saliva across his bare skin?

It didn't matter; he didn't care. He was so happy to finally have Owen

touching him, making him hard through something more than just his sheer

presence (impressive though it was) that it wasn't important to him what Owen

would do next. Instead, Sterling focused on doing the best job he could,

sucking on Owen's fingers, taking them deep into the back of his throat while

stubbornly suppressing his gag reflex, hoping the demonstration of his abilities

might tempt Owen into putting his cock in Sterling's mouth instead of just his

fingers.

Owen withdrew his fingers slowly, teasingly, and then Sterling felt cool

wetness and a small, sharp jolt of pain as Owen pinched his nipple to an

aching peak, his spit-slick fingers moving to Sterling's other nipple and rousing

it to a matching, aching burn.

After a single glance down at what he'd done, Owen's gaze returned to

Sterling's face, and Sterling hoped that he didn't look shocked. The pain had

been nothing, not really, but it was weightless snowflakes gathering to make a

snowball; each sting of pain, each rub of the silk against the thin, fragile skin

on the inside of his wrists, each touch from Owen, with Sterling unsure if it

would hurt or soothe, was making him realize one thing—Owen was in control

of this, all of it.

He was breathing shallowly now, his heart pounding. He hadn't been

touched below the hollow of his hip, with Owen pressing his thumb there and

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Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

drawing a circle that had tightened every muscle in Sterling's stomach. His

dick was jerking with every breath, leaking, flushed darkly, showing every way

it could that it was ready to come, but Owen wasn't looking at it.

Owen moved to stand behind Sterling, and as he walked past him, he let

his hand trail behind him, his palm dragging across Sterling's stomach, the

edge of his little finger grazing the tip of Sterling's dick.

A soft sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan escaped Sterling—he

hadn't meant it to, but it did. He was so turned on that even Owen's hand

touching his stomach was intense; having Owen touch his cock, no matter how

lightly, was
beyond
intense, it was…maddening. He tried, really tried, not to

shift his body chasing another touch, but he didn't think he actually

succeeded.

“Be still,” Owen said, voice quiet but stern at the same time, and Sterling

froze, determined to do better.

Owen's hand slid along Sterling's skin again, fingertips circling his navel,

giving him goose bumps. Owen's skin temperature was slightly lower than his,

and Sterling held perfectly still as cool fingers slid down along his hip, carefully

avoiding his cock, and then brushed the soft hair on his upper thigh.

He could stay still, but he couldn't keep from whimpering, the second

sound to escape him in as many minutes.

“I
could
tell you to be quiet too, but I like hearing you,” Owen said. “You're

as eloquent as I remember you being in class, even when you're not actually

saying anything.”

The last four words were punctuated by gentle tugs as his earlobe as

Owen, standing behind him now, set his teeth into the soft flesh and bit down.

Sterling could close his eyes now, and he did, tracking the glide of a single

fingertip down his side. “Do you remember what I told you to do?” Owen asked.

“Y-yes,” Sterling said, his body screaming for release, for something more

than darting kisses, fleeting touches. “Stay still.”

“And you're doing it very well,” Owen said.

It was a little scary, the rush of relief and pride that swept through

Sterling when he heard that. It made his shoulders relax, dropping down half

an inch or so into a more comfortable position, and it made his knees weak. He

wasn't totally sure what it meant, but he liked it even though it worried him.

Was this normal, or was he screwed up in ways he hadn't even realized yet?

Owen smoothed both hands up Sterling's chest, still standing behind him,

and found his nipples with the edges of both thumbnails. Sterling didn't

usually think of his nipples as being all that sensitive, but with Owen touching

him he might have to revise that theory, because they felt so tight they almost

ached with it, and each teasing touch forced more blood into his cock, which

had gone beyond ache and into imminent-orgasm territory.

Not allowed to come, he reminded himself. Not allowed.

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59

“I won't often give you a choice,” Owen said. “It's not a kindness, though it

might seem like it. Today, though, you get one. You can come, or you can get

spanked. If you choose my hand on your ass over yours on your cock, there's a

possibility that you might come anyway. If you do, I'll be very understanding,

completely sympathetic—even pleased that you enjoyed it that much…and

you'll still be punished for being greedy.”

Owen's hands circled Sterling's wrists, gripping tighter than the silk, and

then he undid the looser of the knots and let the length of material fall free,

whispering across Sterling's ass and thigh before it hung from his bound wrist,

the end pooling on the floor. “Choose, please, Sterling.”

God, he wanted to come so badly. It felt like he'd been hard for weeks

without release. But the thought of Owen's hand on his ass, hitting him

repeatedly, his hips jerking with every strike, skin burning…

How the hell was he supposed to choose?

That must be what Owen meant by it not being a kindness, but when he

thought about it for a few more seconds, he realized that Owen's hand touching

him, spanking him, was better than coming when it would be his own fist

jerking himself off.

“Spanking,” he whispered, but it came out so quietly that he wasn't sure

Owen had been able to hear it. He lifted his face and repeated it, flushing.

“Spank me. Please.”

He heard Owen exhale as if he'd been waiting, holding his breath, for

Sterling's answer, and he wondered if it had been a test and not a choice.

Sterling was still getting used to the idea that being submissive turned him on

after years of fighting
not
to give in to anyone, so he couldn't be too surprised