Bound and Determined (18 page)

Sighing, Owen set down the fork and took Sterling's chin in his hand,

lifting Sterling's face until their eyes met. “You can, and you will, because I've

told you to. Are we clear?”

Bound and Determined

73

“Yes, Owen.”

That still didn't sound convincing. “Choose a time when you'll be safe from

interruptions. Lock the door. Take a long shower or a bath to relax. Jerk off—

yes, for this you're allowed to come—and just incorporate it into what you're

doing.” That sounded a little bald, but it wasn't easy to dress it up. Moved by

sympathy tinged with mild impatience, Owen added, “If you're having real

problems, we can discuss it Friday night. I usually order in some Chinese or

pizza; you're welcome to join me for supper around seven.”

He usually went to the club too, but he wasn't ready to take Sterling back

there yet.

Sterling did seem to relax some then, maybe at the reassurance that their

next meeting had a specific date and time rather than a nebulous 'soon' that

might mean it would never happen. Owen made a mental note of this; it was

always good to know what would result in emotional unbalance in a sub

whether one wanted to cause it or avoid it.

“And for as long as we continue this, I expect you to maintain your

grades,” Owen said, remembering that he'd meant to mention it earlier. “They

don't have to be perfect, but I'd like them to be as close as possible. Since

you've made such a point to tell me how intelligent you are, it shouldn't be a

problem.”

“It won't be,” Sterling said, then was quiet as Owen held the coffee cup to

his lips and let him finish the beverage.

Walking Sterling to the door to send him on his way wasn't easy. Part of

Owen wanted to take him back to bed and keep him there for the day, warm

between rumpled sheets, waiting for Owen's touch. Self-discipline learned over

the years kept him from saying the words that would have sent Sterling there.

They both needed to be on campus working.

God, he really hoped that their paths didn't cross over the next few days;

he was confident of his own ability to walk on by, giving nothing away, but

would Sterling have that much control of his expression?

At the door, he slipped a small bottle of lube into Sterling's pocket and

then kissed him, a slow, unhurried kiss that brought his erection to full

hardness. If it made him late, he was going to have to take time out to jerk off

in the shower. Sterling tasted of coffee and toothpaste, his lips moving against

Owen's with the eagerness that caught at Owen's heart just a little.

Friday seemed like a long time to wait for another kiss.

* * * * *

(which Sterling was pretty sure Owen wouldn't refer to as a relationship, but he

sure as hell did, if only in his head), and Sterling had perfected kneeling in the

position Owen favored, hands crossed behind his back, sometimes for as long

as three hours.

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The first thing Sterling did after Owen let him in was go to the closet,

where he took off his jacket, shirt, shoes, and socks. Then he went and knelt

beside Owen's favorite chair—Owen murmured his approval at his graceful,

now-practiced ability to get from standing to kneeling, which made Sterling

instantly hard, although that might have happened anyway just from getting

into position.

He'd learned, to his surprise, to like playing with his ass. Sure, it had

taken hours of careful penetration on his own, sometimes in the shower in the

middle of the day when everyone else was at class so no one on his dorm floor

would complain about him using up all the water. And sometimes late at night

when Brian had gone off to stay at his girlfriend's place, under the covers just

to be on the safe side, enough lube coating his fingers that it left huge wet

spots on his sheets.

The first time he'd tried it, he'd done as Owen advised—jerked off

beforehand so he'd be nice and relaxed, then given himself permission to just

touch his asshole, not trying to push inside at all. Somehow, knowing that he

didn't have to take it any farther had made him bold, and fifteen minutes later

he had his forefinger up to the first knuckle thrust inside, and it didn't hurt. In

fact, it felt fucking fantastic, and when he was fully hard again just from the

sensation of his own finger in his ass, he wondered, amazed, why he'd waited

so long to find this out.

It was stupid because he'd fucked plenty of guys and they'd all seemed to

enjoy it a hell of a lot, and he knew they hadn't been faking it.

Of course, having Owen's fingers in there seemed like a more complicated

proposition, and Sterling knew that tonight Owen intended to do it. They'd had

a long conversation about it the night before, with Sterling describing in

embarrassing detail what he'd managed so far on his own, and Owen had said

he was ready. And sometimes being told whether he was ready or not was such

a relief that Sterling would have accepted just about anything Owen wanted to

do.

“You're tense,” Owen said now, one hand settling on the back of Sterling's

neck.

“Yes, Owen.” Such a simple answer.

“I told you that you were ready for this,” Owen reminded him. “If you prove

me wrong, it won't be the end of the world, but I hope that you don't.” He

smiled, his thumb stroking shivers into Sterling, running up and down the

skin behind Sterling's ear. “I want to hear the sounds you make when I touch

you there for the first time. I want to see your face when you're begging me to

use two fingers, not one. And you will.”

Before Sterling could do more than swallow hard, filled with a mixture of

dread and anticipation, Owen patted his cheek and added casually, “I'm going

to take you upstairs and spank you, I think. You need to relax and remember

that you trust me, and that's as good a way to remind you as any.”

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75

Sterling wasn't inclined to argue with him on that count. Being spanked

left him filled with a warm euphoria, intensely aware of every part of his body.

That would wear off and leave him concentrating pretty much just on his

burning, throbbing ass, which wasn't always as much fun, but the discomfort

was worth it.

By the time Owen had finished with him, Sterling was gasping, his eyes

wet with tears from the final flurry of slaps, but he'd been begging Owen for

more until he'd lost the ability to be coherent and his dick was rigid, distracting

him from the heat radiating off his backside.

“You took that so well,” Owen said quietly, his hand resting lightly on the

skin he'd slapped scarlet. “You respond to me from the very first slap, do you

know that? I've never had anyone… It's like you're primed for it because you

want it so much. I could get you to this point emotionally with half a dozen

slaps, I think, but don't worry, I wouldn't ever stop there. You need the pain as

well, and I need to give it to you.”

Thinking that Owen was right—that he
did
need the pain, and that this

specific contact was just what he'd needed to remind him how much he trusted

Owen—Sterling nodded but didn't otherwise move. He wanted to let Owen

control all of this, to take away the worry of what he was supposed to do next

or whether it would really be the right thing. Owen would tell him what to do,

and he'd do it. It was so beautifully simple.

The
click
of a bottle top being popped open broke through the buzz in

Sterling's ears. He'd seen Owen drop the lube casually onto the bed before

sitting on it and gesturing Sterling over his lap, but he'd forgotten about it.

Almost forgotten what the point of the evening was.

“I know your safe words, and so do you,” Owen said, “but this isn't a

normal scene; use them by all means, but all that you have to do to get me to

stop is to say just that. Which wouldn't work when I was spanking you unless I

felt that you'd had enough, just so that we're clear.”

The easy flow of murmured words and the ability Owen had to command

Sterling's full attention when he spoke meant that the first touch of cool,

slippery fingers, tracing the cleft of Sterling's ass, was a shock.

Okay, he told himself silently. He could do this. He'd
been
doing it, and he

knew it felt good—amazingly good—to have a finger in his ass, pressing against

his swollen prostate. He'd done this lots of times, and if it felt good when he did

it, just imagine how it would feel when it was Owen. And damned if thinking

Owen's name didn't make his cock give an eager jolt, and then a second when

Owen's slick fingertip rubbed across the incredibly sensitive skin of his

asshole.

Sterling moaned softly as Owen did it again, giving himself permission to

be vocal because he knew it would tell Owen what he needed to know—that

Sterling was enjoying this, wasn't too tense. Of course, Owen could always tell

that anyway.

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Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

God, it felt fantastic, having Owen touch him there. It was so
intimate.

More lube, the liquid warmer than Sterling had expected, as if Owen had

been holding the bottle in his hand, lessening even that small distraction. It

trickled over his hole and down, coating the skin so that when the tip of Owen's

finger pushed inside him, it took the liquid with it, easing the way.

Owen wasn't hesitant or cautious—Sterling wanted to thank him for that,

but he couldn't make words form right then. The slow, gentle thrust of Owen's

finger felt assured, as if Owen had done this a hundred times before—which of

course, he had—and Sterling sighed out a long breath of relief.

“Tell me what you're feeling,” Owen said.

“Relieved,” Sterling said immediately—he'd learned there was no point in

fighting Owen on this; it was better just to talk when told to do so. Even when

it was awkward, which this definitely was, with Owen's finger sliding slowly in

and out of his ass. “Oh God, that's so—that feels good.”

“It's supposed to,” Owen said with just a suspicion of a chuckle in his

voice. Fine, Sterling was an idiot; he got it. The waves of sensation washing

through him, making him want to tighten possessively around Owen's finger

and at the same time somehow get it deeper, were intense enough to distract

him from thoughts of how much time he'd wasted, though.

“Are you ready for more?” Owen asked. “Two fingers aren't as comfortable

as a plug, but you should be able to take them.”

“Yes,” he said, so quickly that it was almost embarrassing. He was worried

that it would be too much, but he was also eager for the pleasure and to prove

to Owen that he
could
take it, that he could and would take anything that

Owen wanted to dish out. Owen didn't keep him waiting, and yes, he
could
take

two fingers—oh God, yes, he could. The shape Owen's fingers made inside him

was new, but he wanted to learn it by heart, and each slow, careful thrust was

creating a burn that was half physical and half emotional. He was panting now,

gulping for air, pushing back to meet each stroke, sweat prickling down his

back. He was dangerously close to coming, and Owen hadn't said that he

could—

“Stop,” Sterling gasped, and Owen proved his trustworthiness by freezing

instantly. “Just—wait. It's good, I just—it's too good. God.” An involuntary

shiver went through him, his ass clenching around Owen's knuckles, and a

reason for his fears about this act formed itself inside his head, sharp and

clear. This was the kind of man his father hadn't wanted him to be, bent over

for another man, being
fucked
the way his father thought only a woman should

be.

Sterling shuddered and moaned, his cock half limp now in response to the

sick twist in his gut.

“Don't move,” he whispered, knowing that Owen wouldn't. “Please. I just

need a minute.”Sterling wasn't counting seconds, but it seemed like a lot more

than sixty passed before he could focus on the truth—that he
wanted
to be

Bound and Determined

77

here, that he'd
chosen
this, chosen Owen to be the man doing this to him. In

that sense, he was in control. Owen was silent, unmoving, just as Sterling had

told him to be.

Owen might not see it that way, but Sterling didn't plan to share that

particular thought with the man, not now, anyway.

He concentrated on the incredible frisson of pleasure he was getting just