Read Bound and Determined Online
Authors: Jane Davitt,Alexa Snow
wrong with you. Open your eyes. Look at me.” He waited for Sterling to obey
him and then continued, his voice tight with annoyance, directed at a man he'd
never met, not the one kneeling beside him. “Do you remember the first time I
took you to the club?” Sterling nodded, a frown creasing his forehead. “I went
back a few nights later alone and spent the whole night fielding questions
about you. If I had to sum up all the conversations, I'd need two words: lucky
man. They weren't talking about you; Doms, subs…didn't matter. They meant
me.
I
was the lucky one because they could see how special you were and how
happy you were making me even back then. Hell, Michael's never even met
you, and when I'd finished telling him about you, the first thing he said was
that I didn't know how lucky I was.” Owen took a deep breath. “You're gay and
your father's unhappy. That happens so often it's almost a given. You've found
out you get off on being submissive; more unusual, but you've been to the club,
and you know you're not unique. You've been virtually disowned, and you're
upset; well, who
wouldn't
be? I'm not seeing any way in which you're fucked
up.”
He put both hands on Sterling's face and held it in place so that Sterling
couldn't look away. “You are mine, Sterling. Mine. Nothing I do to you or with
you or for you is too much trouble or a burden.”
It was easy to see that Sterling both wanted to believe him and couldn't
see his way clear to. “I just—could you take me out of this?
This
, I mean, this—
reality. I need you to hurt me. I need to feel that, instead of this. God, I'm not
even making any sense…”
Owen sighed and slid his hands down to Sterling's shoulders. “Of course
you are,” he said patiently. “You're asking for what every sub wants and what
every Dom wants to give. Hurting you, though… I don't need to do that to get
you to that place. Sub space. You've heard that term? Yes. Of course you
have.”
“Please…” Sterling clung to Owen's leg, shifting so he could rub his cheek
against Owen's inner thigh now, close to his cock. “Please, Owen? I'll do
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anything you want me to, I promise. Just tell me what you want me to do.
Should I strip? I know you like it when I'm naked.”
“Sterling. Focus,” Owen said sharply, and Sterling pulled back and looked
up at him with wide eyes.
“Yes, Owen.”
“I'm not doing this—any of this—to punish you for what you are, what you
want,” Owen said as clearly as possible. Sterling seemed to be lost, adrift.
Which he was, of course; Owen and what he offered was new, but Sterling's
family had been there all his life, and now they'd cut him loose. Owen couldn't
imagine how lonely that would feel. He hesitated and then said quietly, “I'm not
your father.”
The look Sterling had been giving him, open and pleading, hardened, and
Sterling pulled away and stood up. “I can't believe you'd say that to me.”
“I need to be sure you know,” Owen said. “I need to know you understand
what this is and what it isn't.”
“I've
never
thought of you as any kind of father figure,” Sterling said, his
voice cold. “I never wanted you to be. If that's what you think—” With a rough
shake of his head, Sterling took a step backward, away from him. “You don't
know me at all, do you?”
Owen stood up, wondering how this had gone so wrong. “Of course I do.
Sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself.”
“Well, you're wrong.” Sterling stepped back again; he sounded more angry
than Owen could ever remember. “God, I can't believe I thought this could
actually go somewhere. I think I need some time off. And no, I'm not waiting for
your permission.” He paused, then said, slowly and deliberately, “Junior.”
The shock of hearing Sterling's safe word used to signal far more than the
end of a scene held Owen silent for too long, and Sterling turned away and
went upstairs.
Owen could hear him packing his things, then coming back downstairs
and putting on his sneakers. He wanted to go after Sterling, to wrap him in a
hug and murmur reassurances, but that wasn't what Sterling wanted right
then, and what Sterling wanted, Owen couldn't give him. Not now, not like this.
He'd give Sterling some time to cool off; then they could talk.
Staying where he was, Owen listened as Sterling left.
It was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.
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Chapter Fifteen
Sterling didn't remember until he was driving down Owen's street that the
dorms were still closed and he had nowhere to go. What was with him and
running away? Were all the things his father had said about him true? Was he
a coward, someone with no morals? Owen obviously didn't think much of him.
He was better off on his own until he could figure out what to do.
He checked into the first hotel he found along Route Ten and decided the
best way to spend the day would be alternately watching bad TV and sleeping.
He wasn't even slightly hungry, which was good because getting food other
than the candy bars and potato chips that were available in the vending
machines in the hallway would require leaving the hotel and Sterling was
seriously considering never doing that again. Who needed a degree? He could
just live in this hotel room until the clothes rotted off his body, cheering on
Jerry Springer's guests and growing the world's longest beard.
Maybe he'd get in the Guinness Book of World Records.
Sterling slept through the afternoon, watched straight porn that was both
terrible and boring throughout the evening, and fell asleep again for the night
just after two a.m. He woke in the morning to the sound of someone knocking
on his door—it took him what felt like a really long time to identify the sound,
and then to stumble out of bed and say to the door, “Who is it?”
“It's your father,” the familiar and dreaded voice said. “Open the door.”
“No,” Sterling told him.
“Open the door or you'll regret it,” William said. “You know I don't make
idle threats.”
Sterling knew his father could just cut him off financially—if he hadn't
already decided to do so—and he'd be screwed. Unable to continue his
education, without enough work experience to get a full-time job that would
come close to supporting him…
He opened the door, hating himself for it.
“What do you want?” he asked sullenly. Owen would have spanked him
but good for displaying that kind of attitude, and the thought made him ache.
William didn't push past him; he simply walked forward and expected
Sterling to back down and make room, which he did. His father seemed to fill
the room, tower above him, though there wasn't that much difference in their
heights. William was carrying a bulging plastic bag embossed with the name of
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an expensive delicatessen. Sterling frowned at it and then looked back at his
father.
“It didn't take long for your friends to kick you out, did it?” William gave
the room a curled-lip stare. “You could have found somewhere better than this
considering I'm the one picking up the tab, but your standards never were very
high.”
For one frantic, heart-stopping moment, Sterling thought that William
knew about Owen, all about him. He wanted to throw up, the panic filling him
like poison, needing to be expelled from his body before it ate away at him.
Maybe his dad had hired someone to follow him, an investigator, someone to
poke and pry and take photographs—
“I expected a charge to show up right away,” William continued, and
Sterling wanted to sob with relief. The credit card. The fucking credit card. His
father had pulled strings, leaned on someone—hell, the card was in his name,
so maybe he hadn't needed to do more than make a phone call to find out
where his errant son was holed up. “But I suppose you know people who
tolerate your disgusting behavior because they're no better than you.” He toed
a worn spot in the carpet, his face a mask of revulsion like he was standing in
a pool of vomit. “You can stay here until the semester begins. It might teach
you a lesson.”
“I thought you weren't talking to me,” Sterling said, then felt his heart
freeze in his chest again as he realized he'd just given away his mother.
Quickly, he added, “I mean, since you didn't—”
William sneered and said, “Don't be stupid. You think I didn't know your
mother would call you? She's always had a ridiculous soft spot for you, even
after I started to suspect that you were a deviant. But now that we know for
certain, I'm sure she'll come around to my way of thinking.”
Sterling knew better than to point out that his mother had known, for
certain, for a long time.
“Take this.” William thrust the bag he was holding at Sterling, and
Sterling took it because he didn't know what was in it and he didn't want to
drop it only to find out it was something he actually wanted. “You aren't to
contact your mother or sister again until you've decided to leave this revolting
lifestyle behind you. When you're ready to live like a decent, respectable man,
call me and we'll talk. Until then, we don't want to hear from you.”
Sterling was looking down into the bag. In it were the Christmas presents
he'd so carefully selected and wrapped, the ones he'd left behind on his bed for
his mom and Justine. “
You
don't want to hear from me,” he corrected, feeling
blank instead of mad.
“I'm the head of the family,” William said, as if that said it all. “That still
means something to me. It's my responsibility to keep our name clean. I don't
want gossip and people talking; you'll still get my financial support until you
graduate. No one can say that I haven't done my duty by you.”
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“I don't want your money—”
“But you'll take it, won't you?” William said. “Take it and keep away from
us. If you care about your mother and sister, you'll be…discreet, but I suppose
that's asking too much of you. Your type like to flaunt what you do, what you
are. You don't care about who you hurt. Selfish, depraved—” William was so
close to him that with each word Sterling felt a gust of breath on his face,
making him want to gag. His father's cologne was tainting every breath he took,
the heavy, expensive smell conjuring up memories of home. “You've always
disappointed me.”
“I know,” Sterling said quietly. Why bother to fight it now? “I've known it
for years. You never tried to hide it, did you? But Mom and Justine—they loved
me anyway. Why not let them have their gifts?”
William gave him a look of such disgust that it made Sterling cold inside.
“Because they deserve better.”
For what felt like an hour, Sterling just stood there looking at his father.
He wasn't looking at him as a whole person, just at different, tiny parts of
him—the silver hairs above his ears, the top button of his shirt. Finally, as if
from far away, he heard himself say, “Whatever.” Like it was that easy to
dismiss what he'd just been told, to push it aside because it was unimportant,
meaningless.
He wished that were true.
His father turned and walked away without another word, out in the
hallway, gone. Sterling kept standing there. He was waiting for something, he
thought, although he didn't know what.
Eventually he shut the door and sat down on the bed, picking up his cell
phone. His first instinct was to call Owen, but that wouldn't work. Owen didn't
really want him—Owen just wanted a toy, an uncomplicated, interesting toy
that would eventually get boring and be discarded. Not a fucked up, broken toy
that didn't work right. Which was what Sterling was.
He called Alex instead, knowing that his friend was at work but not really
caring.
“Sterling! Good to hear from you. How's it going with your folks?” There
were people talking in the background, their voices loud, and Alex laughed.
“Sorry, it's a madhouse here. People are still in a party mood—or maybe they
haven't sobered up yet. Will you be back in time for the New Year's party at the
club? It's supposed to be really something.”
“I'm actually sort of back now,” Sterling said. “I had a fight with my dad—
long story, and believe me when I say I don't want to get into it. And then I had
a fight with Owen, and no, I don't want to talk about that either. How are you?”
“Better than you are, it sounds like.” Alex sounded concerned, and after a