Bound and Determined (7 page)

He didn't doubt that he could train Sterling and enjoy doing it, but God, it

would be
such
a bad idea. Sterling was floundering in the dark, but would he

like what he saw if Owen lit a candle? Owen didn't want to see Sterling

panicked, distressed, his brash arrogance scoured away. The boy had been a

pest in class, granted; he was being way too demanding now, playing the part

of a spoiled brat to perfection.
I want. Give it to me now
—behavior Owen would

never have tolerated in a sub.

It didn't matter. He wanted Sterling tamed, not traumatized.

“You're not ready for me,” he said, and tried to put a cool finality into his

words.

“Maybe not,” Sterling said. “But I don't want anyone else.” And he sank to

his knees right there in the stacks, looking up at Owen with hopeful eyes. He

didn't put his hands behind his back, and he didn't lower his head, but neither

of those things mattered. He was so beautiful that the thought of turning him

away seemed impossible. “Please, Owen. Teach me.”

“Oh my
God
—” Owen thrust his fingers through his hair, arousal and

annoyance combining to make him louder than was wise. This was the most

reckless, stupid… “Get up. Now.”

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25

“Not until you say you will.” Sterling didn't pout or whine; he just looked

up at Owen with a resolve that didn't waver.

Owen took a quick, sharp breath and tried to calm his racing heart.

“I just gave you an order,” he said. “Disobeying it is a poor start to our

relationship.”

Sterling hesitated, seeming unsure of what the right thing to do was, then,

finally, obeyed. On his feet again, the boy kept looking at him in that same

way—steady, patient. Ready to learn, which just tempted Owen all the more.

“Better,” Owen said. Somehow, around Sterling, he found himself making

snap decisions without hesitation, the way it had been with Michael all those

years ago. The way it was supposed to be. “You want me to mentor you until

you're sure of yourself? Then we do this my way. We do all of it my way, in fact.

If that isn't something you can commit to, I walk away now, and we never

discuss this again. Ever.”

Sterling blinked uncertainly, like he'd expected either a yes or no answer

and didn't know what to do with something in between. “I don't know what that

means,” he said. “Do I have to wait until January? Because I can't. I feel like—

I've been waiting my whole life for this, to find out this thing about myself

that's as important as breathing, only I didn't know what it was. And now that

I
know
, I can't just hold my breath for four more months. I can't. I
can't
.” His

hands were balled into fists.

Owen could understand that, but he refused to let Sterling have what he

wanted so easily, just for the asking. He wanted Sterling begging, and for all

the hunger in his eyes, Sterling hadn't come close to that. He would.

“There's more to discuss than we can do here,” he said, “but until you

agree to one condition, there's nothing
to
discuss—and it's not up for

negotiation.”

“Yes,” Sterling said recklessly, not waiting to hear what it was. “As long as

it doesn't mean waiting, yes. Whatever it is. Yes.”

“
No
.” Owen said vehemently enough to make Sterling flinch. “Never do

that. Never agree to something blind—oh, God, can you think with something

other than your dick long enough for me to get it through to you that this is

only safe, sane, and fucking consensual if you use your goddamned brain to do

more than stop your ears from touching?”

A distant part of his brain was telling him that he was breaking about a

dozen student/teacher rules, but he ignored it. There was more at stake here

than a code of conduct that he was fulfilling in spirit anyway by trying to

protect Sterling from himself.

“Okay. Right, right. Sorry. I know this—I do. It won't happen again.”

Sterling muttered the words, flushed and seemingly miserable, but he lifted his

gaze with what looked like a fair amount of effort and met Owen's eyes. “Right.

Tell me what it is.”

26

Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

Owen exhaled, partially mollified by Sterling's reaction, which was

certainly not the one a rebuke like that would have gotten had they been in

class. Even the mildest criticism—and not many of Owen's qualified for that

description; “scathing” was more accurate—had been greeted by a sullen pout

or a riposte that bordered on insolent more than once.

“You said you didn't want to wait.” He could hear the elevator doors as

they opened, and the voices of some students talking and coming toward them.

Damn. “I won't make you wait to feel…” He hesitated, searching for the right

words. “Owned” came to mind, and he rejected it as being too much, too soon.

“That you belong,” he temporized, “but you've demonstrated impatience and

bad manners—yes, you have—and they're not failings I'm lenient about. One

lesson you have to learn is that actions have consequences, and another is that

waiting is part of what you say you want, not something to be avoided. I want it

understood that I won't have sex with you before your birthday, no matter what

I decide to do with you.”

Sterling looked doubtful, but nodded. Owen thought cynically that the boy

probably didn't think that he meant it. He'd learn. “Okay. If that's your

condition, fine, and I'll try to be more patient. But—can we, I don't know, talk

more?” He turned his head in the direction of the students coming toward them

and lowered his voice. “Off campus. I know it's probably not a good idea to be

seen with me. What's that, fraternizing?” Sterling's lips quirked into a good-

natured smile that went all the way to his eyes, crinkling them up and

transforming his already handsome face into a shockingly beautiful one.

Oh God, Owen was in so much trouble.

“I could take you out to dinner,” Sterling offered.

Owen shook his head. He couldn't think of many restaurants in town

where there was zero chance of someone they knew seeing them, and it wasn't

the ideal setting for the type of discussion they needed to have. Two good

reasons to turn down Sterling's invitation, but the one that counted was that

he didn't want to be Sterling's guest. Sterling was still, unconsciously perhaps,

fighting for control of the situation as a way of dealing with it, and Owen didn't

want to—couldn't—give it to him.

“We have to talk,” he said, “but I'd prefer to do it somewhere less public

than that. Come to my house tonight at eight. I'm sure you can find it.” Giving

orders, setting the scene…how many times had he done this? It still sent a

sizzle of arousal down his spine, and he could feel Sterling respond to that

without knowing what he was doing—subtle signs that Owen noted

automatically, like the way Sterling was leaning in closer to catch every word.

“Eat something before you arrive, but no alcohol, not even a beer.” He smiled.

“And no, you don't have permission to do anything about the hard-on you'll get

when you're showering, but I'm sure you knew that already.”

“I
have
been doing a lot of reading,” Sterling reminded him with just a hint

of that cocky attitude Owen was familiar with. There was a tension in Sterling

now, a new one that hadn't been there before—Owen felt confident it was

Bound and Determined

27

because Sterling thought he'd won, that he was getting what he wanted and

that meant he was coming out on top. “And yes, I'll find your house. Eight

o'clock. Do I get punished if I'm late?”

“That depends,” Owen said mildly, more than equal to dealing with

Sterling in this mood. “Would you consider being told to go away until you'd

learned to tell the time a punishment, or no more than you deserved for failing

to follow a simple instruction?” He moved past Sterling to retrieve his keys from

the shelf. “Eight o'clock, Sterling.”

“Yes, sir,” Sterling said promptly. “I won't be late. Should I bring

anything?”

“Just yourself,” Owen said, amused despite himself by Sterling's eagerness

and wondering how long it would last once he'd spelled out certain conditions.

He wasn't sure, but he suspected it was going to be an interesting evening.

28

Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

Chapter Three

Sterling took the bus to Owen Sawyer's house. Doing so felt wrong

somehow, increasingly aware as he was of his own nervousness. For a while

he'd been convinced that Sawyer didn't want anything to do with him, and as

much as he'd wanted to change the man's mind, he hadn't thought he'd be

able to. He still wasn't sure what the deciding factor had been in the sudden

change of heart, which bothered him; he would have preferred to know why,

mostly so that he could use the knowledge to his advantage in the future.

The bus stopped two blocks from Sawyer's house, the address of which

Google had helpfully provided. Sterling walked up one street and then down

another, noting that the houses were older, but well kept up. No peeling paint

or unmowed lawns. Did Sawyer cut his own grass or pay someone to do it?

Sawyer's house was big and kind of old like the rest of them, with a wide

porch and some tangled bushes lining the path that led up to the front door.

Some of them were roses, Sterling thought, but he didn't know what the other

ones were. He hoped Sawyer wouldn't expect him to know. And of course
that

thought set off a cascade of others, thoughts that made him even more anxious

about how this was going to go.

Luckily Sterling knew how to pretend he was confident and self-assured,

even when he was feeling anything but. It was a skill he'd perfected in years of

living with his father—one of the few things he'd learned from his father that he

actually ought to be grateful for, now that he thought about it.

He walked up the path slowly, aware that he was a few minutes early and

assuming that knocking on the door before eight would be as frowned upon as

being late. His cock, which had been at a state of half-mast all day, ached a

little bit as he went up the stairs and checked his watch—7:59. Surely that

wasn't
too
too early? He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and rang the bell.

Sawyer didn't keep him waiting for long, but the gap between when he

rang the bell and when the door opened still seemed endless. The door was

dark wood, with three stained-glass panels set high up, letting in some light

without compromising privacy. Sterling had time to notice that the rose motif

had carried over to the glass and time to count the panels on the door (six)

before he was staring not at wood, but Sawyer, a phone to his ear and an

exasperated look on his face.

He beckoned Sterling inside with a flick of his fingers and, when Sterling

stepped over the threshold, gave him a nod of greeting. “I have to go, sorry,” he

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29

told the person on the other end of the phone. “Don't worry; I'll take care of it…

Yes, I know where you keep your lesson plans… No, don't mention it; you'd do

the same for me… Yes, I know you already did… See you soon.”

Sterling didn't want to ask questions, but he didn't need to. Sawyer turned

the phone off and tossed it onto a table against the wall, then gave him a rueful

smile. “Sorry about that. Part of academic life is the endless swapping of favors,

and that was one I owed just getting called in.” The smile faded, replaced by

pursed lips as Sawyer looked him over. Sterling tried not to fidget and did some

staring of his own. Plain green shirt and faded jeans with a thin leather

belt…casual, but like the man himself, a perfect fit. Sawyer always seemed so

damn sure of himself, wherever he was. He wasn't good-looking enough to turn

heads, his neatly trimmed hair an unremarkable dark brown and his eyes, now

that Sterling was close enough to really notice them, a clear light gray. It didn't

matter; he'd still get a second look in any crowd without even trying.

“Shoes,” Sawyer said unexpectedly and gestured at a built-in closet to

Sterling's left. “Take them off, and your jacket, please.”

Trying to reconcile the apology for being on the phone when he'd arrived

with the verging-on-curt order, Sterling obeyed. Maybe that was how you could

tell if someone was a good Dom—they ordered you to do something, and you

just
did
it. Sterling took off his shoes and lined them up neatly with the other