Bound and Determined (42 page)

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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179

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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Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

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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181

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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Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

“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