by Shannon West
So Memphis had more muscle than me, to match his height, whereas the last few weeks had been tough on me. I’d lost probably fifteen pounds, and I just wasn’t at my best. Not to even mention the recent punishment to my body. Memphis was a big guy. Big enough to command the pocket. Big enough to make all the throws. Big enough to take a hit. But athletic enough to avoid a rush. Damn, the son-of-a-bitch had it all—no wonder his asshole father gave him my position.
I still wasn’t ready to make nice though, so when he grabbed my wrist, I pulled back, hard. It surprised him and almost yanked him off his feet. And then he smiled. There was something about that smile that was so dangerous it made me freeze for a second, and made me wish I hadn’t done it. I opened my mouth to apologize, but I never got the chance.
He reestablished his grip on my wrist and squeezed again, only this time so hard it brought tears to my eyes. One of his thumbs had found its way to a pressure point on my wrist and when he dug that thumb down into it, the pain was so sharp and bright my vision got wavy and I felt real tears squeeze out of my eyes. Fuck, how had I forgotten he was a Dom?
“Ow! Stop it, damn you!” I cried out and a big hand clapped over my mouth and nose, making it hard to breathe. He leaned over me, pushing me back so I was halfway dangling over that eight-story drop, my feet completely off the balcony floor. His body was tightly wedged into mine, so intellectually, I knew I wasn’t going to fall, but that didn’t stop me from sliding my eyes to the side to look down at the huge drop, and it didn’t stop my ass from drawing up tight. This guy was crazy!
“Shut up,” he growled, pulling me close and putting his mouth next to my ear. “Are you going to stop fighting me? Or are you going to keep on smarting off at me? I tell you what…I’ll let you decide what’s in your best interests here. What’s it going to be, hotshot?”
“I’ll stop,” I said, or tried to mumble behind that big hand. He must have seen surrender in my eyes though, because he eased up a little and backed off an inch or two so I could slide down and get my feet under me again. He removed his big paw from my mouth, and I wanted to say something smart and sarcastic so bad I was shaking with it, but this asshole was obviously crazy. I decided to keep my mouth shut until I could get away from him and that long drop behind me.
“Nothing else to say, huh?” he taunted, smiling down at me with that irritating smirk. “Wise choice. Now come with me.”
He turned and took off back toward the bedroom, hauling me along behind him. His thumb was still digging into that pressure point and the pain was deep and unrelenting. I let out a little whimper that I quickly stifled and hoped like hell he hadn’t heard. I wouldn’t give him the damn satisfaction of knowing he was hurting me. He pulled me into the room and by this time, my wrist, hell, my whole damn arm was tingling and aching. He hurled me onto the bed and I landed face down in the mattress. “Stay there!” he yelled at me and gave my ass a hard slap. I rolled over fast and stared up at him with a murderous expression, only to have him laugh at me again.
“You want to do something about it? Well, come on, I’m standing right here… No? Then behave yourself while I pick out some clothes for you.”
That had me jumping back up to my feet, or I should say trying to, because as soon as my feet hit the floor, he was on me, shoving me back on the bed and throwing his big body down on top of me. He grabbed both my wrists this time—I was going to have bruises if this kept up—and pulled them over my head. He stared down into my eyes mockingly. “I told you to behave.”
I could feel my face burning. “If you think I’m going anywhere with y….” One hand clamped down on my mouth again while he held me effortlessly with the other one. How could he be so strong? He leaned into me until his eyes were only an inch or two above mine. I had to blink to bring him in focus, and I could feel his hot breath on my face.
“You have two choices, Kingston, so listen carefully. You can either settle down like a good boy and let me find some clothes for you to put on, or I’ll consider this to be a tantrum you’re throwing and treat you like the child you’re acting. To spell it out for you, I’ll pull down these pants, turn you over my knee and spank this little ass of yours until you beg me to stop. Now what’s it going to be?”
I was breathing hard and fuming, but after a couple of abortive lunges to get him off me, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere until he let me up. I also knew he was just crazy enough to try to do what he said. So even though I hated him more than I ever hated anyone before in my life, I nodded, just one sharp dip of my head, my eyes burning into his.
“Does that mean yes, you’re going to behave?”
I nodded again, my breath coming out my nose in explosive little exhales. He smirked at me again and put his lips up to my ear. “Good boy. But I need to hear you say it. Say, ‘I’ll behave myself, Memphis. I promise.’”
He slowly removed his hand and he must have seen the absolute hatred in my eyes, but instead of flinching from it, it made his smile even bigger. “Say it. Like a good boy.”
God, I hated him. I wanted to smash my fist into those perfect, white teeth of his. But his knee was poised right next to my balls and his thumb was still digging into my wrist like a white-hot pincer. So I said it through my teeth, gritting out the words and willing him to know how much I hated him.
“I’ll…behave myself. I promise.”
“Good. And for just a little added insurance…” he dug his phone out of his pocket, got off the bed and took a couple of quick pictures of me lying there, my face flushed and red and full of hate, spread out on those damn bloody sheets. He danced backward and held up a hand to stop me.
“Uh-uh. You promised. Now be still while I pick out your clothes. I don’t want you to embarrass me tonight, and you’ve proved your judgement is way off.”
I lay there fuming while he rummaged around in my clothes, finally pulling out a pair of dark jeans that I’d folded and put on the top of my closet to give to Goodwill because they were too damn small, even for me, and I liked tight jeans. He paired that with a white button-up, pulled a pair of black boots from the back of my closet, and threw the whole lot on top of me.
“Get up and change clothes. Meet me by the door in three minutes. If you’re late, I’ll come and dress you myself and you wouldn’t like that much, I guarantee it.”
He turned his back on me and left me sprawled out on the bed. What was it with him and that three minutes shit? I fell back against the sheets, hating my life. How in the hell had I gotten here? And even more important, now that I was here, what the fuck was I going to do about it?
Chapter Three
Memphis
Three minutes was kind of insane—it would take me at least ten to freshen up and change clothes, but I loved the idea of Kingston scrambling around to meet his deadline. The smaller bedroom Kingston left me when he moved in and took the bigger one was right beside the entry door to the suite, so I heard him come skidding into the hallway right on time, still panting for breath. Oh God, that was just so damn delicious. The idea of him minding me that way already had my dick as hard as a rock, and I’d stopped worrying about why along about the time I straddled him on his bed and looked into those gorgeous eyes of his. When he turned back over, I could see the outline of his erection through his sweats and it was even more impressive than mine. I don’t think he even realized it. When I made him say he’d behave, I’d be willing to bet that pretty cock of his was actually dripping a little pre-cum, and I wasn’t far behind.
I told myself my erection was because I’d slipped into full Dom mode and that usually led to me filling some sub so full of my cock he or she would walk funny for a week. This situation had no chance of leading to anything like that—I had no intention of getting any more involved with Kingston Bentley—but my dick didn’t know that. At least that’s what I told myself. So, when I heard Kingston arrive in the hallway, I came out, leaned against my doorjamb and looked him over, making sure he knew it was totally an inspection. He blushed
when he saw me looking and dropped his gaze to the floor. Which only made me want him on his knees, but I refrained from ordering him down there—I wondered if he would actually go—and looked him over instead.
The jeans were impressively tight—or they would have been if he hadn’t lost the extra weight. As it was, they were a little snug, but in all the right places. His cowboy boots were black and nicely shined up, so I figured they must be new or hardly ever worn. The shirt was tailored and sleek and he’d tucked it in the way I liked it, all nice and neat. He hadn’t had time to brush his hair so there was a riot of dark curls on his head. He probably thought he needed a haircut, but for me, it was just the right length to grab and hold onto when I needed to haul his head up to make him look at me.
“I-I’m ready,” he said, and I smiled.
“So I see. I’m not, so just stand there and wait for me. I’ll be out in a few minutes.” I turned my back on his gasp of outrage, enjoying every second of this. I took my time, because I had already figured out that he hated to be ignored. When I was done, I walked out to the hallway, knowing he’d still be there. Sure enough, he was slumped against a wall, his arms folded, looking supremely pissed off and out of sorts. When he saw me, he straightened up, tossed a few stray curls out of his eyes and gave me one of his sullen looks.
“It’s about time, damn it,” he grumbled, half under his breath. “You said to meet you in three minutes.”
I walked up to him, crowding him a little. “So I did. And you were right on time.” I took his wrist again and he flinched all out of proportion, even though I simply rubbed my thumb gently over it. “Good boy.”
A red stain traveled up his neck to his cheeks, but he didn’t quite have the nerve to jerk his wrist away, even though I knew he was dying to. “Let’s go then,” I said, and pulled him out the door and down to the elevator, still holding onto him, only because I knew he hated it.
I really didn’t know why I was being like this to him. It surely wasn’t going to endear me to him any, but every time I thought of how I’d found him that afternoon, my blood began to boil. And hey, he hated me anyway—might as well give him a real target for all that animosity.
I put him in my truck, making him get in on the driver’s side and slide over to the passenger seat. I waited till he buckled up and then I took off, heading toward the restaurant where I told my uncle I’d meet him. It was a little place that was always packed, called Dreamtime Barbeque. It was kind of a landmark for all the football fans who came to town and it was my uncle’s favorite place to eat when he came to visit. It wasn’t fancy at all, being really rustic and a little like a cowboy bar, but it had some of the best southern barbeque you’d ever want to eat.
I pulled my truck into the small parking lot, and glanced over at Kingston. He looked back at me with a stricken expression, probably afraid somebody we knew might be inside. I shook my head at him.
“We have a deal, remember? You do as I say, and I don’t tell anything I know about your extracurricular activities.”
He nodded, nervously chewing his bottom lip. “Stop that,” I ordered and was a little too happy for my own peace of mind when he obeyed me right away with a guilty look. Damn it, I was beginning to feel possessive over him. When the fuck had that happened? “You have no reason to worry,” I said, wanting that look to disappear from his face. “Get out of the truck. My uncle’s car is already here in the lot.”
I walked around to the other side and reached for him, but he backed up, pulling his hand away like a little kid. “No…please. I-I’ll just walk in beside you, okay? I don’t want to look like I’m in your custody or something.”
“Okay…so long as we both know you really are.” He gave me a look of such resentment I had to laugh out loud. “Come on then, let’s go inside.”
I walked ahead of him, but was very aware of him trailing along behind me, a little behind and to the side of me, much the same way my subs followed me in the clubs my uncle and I frequented. The thought didn’t make me nearly as uncomfortable as it should have.
I saw my Uncle Mason as soon as we came in the restaurant as he waved at me from across the room. I nodded to the little hostess and gave her a big smile. “We’re meeting someone, thanks. I see him right over there.”
She turned to follow my nod and gave me a smile. She turned and gave my uncle a little wave, flashing the smile again, and I knew he must have made another conquest. Men and women both threw themselves at my good-looking uncle and they always had. We walked across the room to greet my favorite person in the world. My Uncle Mason was effortlessly handsome and though he had to know it, he never acted as if he did. He had the Sawyer looks—tall, with black hair and brown eyes, but he was by far the best looking of all my father’s brothers. He was the youngest too, just twelve years older than me, so he had always seemed more like a big brother to me than an uncle. He was also the consummate Dom. Strong, and powerful, but practically every sub he’d ever played regularly with had fallen hard for him. He’d introduced me to the lifestyle and had seen to it that I was properly trained. I loved him more than just about anybody else in my life, including my dad.
He smiled, standing up to shake my hand and I saw him notice Kingston, standing beside me. His eyes widened a bit and he glanced quickly back and forth between us. “Good to see you, Memphis. I don’t know if I like having you so far away—it’s taking some adjustment.” My uncle lived in Chicago, which had only been a little over a hundred miles away from my old college, the University of Illinois. I’d gone up to see him on a regular basis, riding the train in on weekends during the off-season. Luckily, he traveled a lot for his job, so he made it a point to visit me as often as he could swing it. I had introduced him to my local club, Checkmate, and though it wasn’t as large or fancy as the ones in Chicago, he liked it, and I had made plans with him to go there after we ate. I wondered how Kingston would react to going back to the club. So far as I knew, he hadn’t been back since that night.
“Uncle Mason,” I said, after giving him a hug. “This is my teammate and new roommate, Kingston Bentley.”
“Hello, Kingston. Very nice to meet you.”
He gestured at the booth behind him. “Sit down and relax. I’m thinking about ordering the ribs, slaw and some of the banana pudding we had last time I visited. Then I’ll have to spend most of next week making up for it in the gym.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said, giving Kingston a little nudge to slide in first.
He glanced up at me instead and gestured vaguely toward the restrooms. “I need to uh…use the facilities first.”
“Later,” I said, giving him a look. I couldn’t take the chance of him slipping out a side door, hitching a ride in the parking lot and going back to finish what he’d started with that razor blade. I had zero trust in him.
He gave me an eat-shit look, but he slid into the booth, with me right behind him, and I noticed my uncle giving us an odd look. He didn’t say anything though, and as soon as the waitress arrived to take our order, my uncle started asking her about some of the dishes on the menu. I picked up mine and looked it over, though I already knew what I wanted.
“The pork plate,” I told the waitress when she turned to me. “With fries and slaw. And a diet Coke, please.”
“And for you sir,” she said, looking at Kingston.
“I’m not hungry.”
“He’ll have the pork plate too,” I said, interrupting the exchange. “And the same sides and drink.” I handed her my menu and sat back in my seat, well aware of Kingston fuming beside me. I knew he’d have plenty to say about me ordering for him, and I wasn’t disappointed.
“I said I wasn’t hungry. I’m not paying for that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. If you don’t have the money, I can…”
“I never said I didn’t have the money. Why are you so pushy? Damn it, Sawyer, let me up. I’m getting out of here.”
I slid out of the booth and he quickly followed me, but instead of
letting him walk away, I grabbed his arm and yanked him to my side. “Sorry, Uncle Mason. Kingston and I need to have a little talk. Be right back.”
Mason nodded, his eyes wide, and I knew I’d be facing questions later. “Okay, son. Do what you need to do. Don’t mind me.”
I grinned at him and started walking toward the men’s room, steering Kingston along in front of me. The fact that he went along without fighting me told me all I needed to know about him. It had become increasingly clear to me that afternoon that Kingston had a truly submissive nature, even though he fought it. The way he dropped or averted his gaze when I got up in his face. The way he bitched at me, but still mostly did whatever I told him to do. After all, the blackmail I was using on him was pretty thin at best. He could have told me to go to hell when I threatened him with exposure about his cutting and simply told everyone I was lying, trying to make him look bad. Considering the way my reputation had suffered since I was named quarterback, everyone would no doubt have believed Kingston over me.
Of course, if he was submissive, he was also a total brat, which was fine with me, because I kind of enjoyed those. Still, he’d done as I asked for the most part, with only minor bitching—at least since the initial fight. I was beginning to wonder if he didn’t want all my attention firmly on him and wasn’t above acting out to get it. I knew he wasn’t aware of any of this, of course, but I’d seen a lot of that kind of bratty behavior.