by Shannon West
Chapter Four
Memphis
I paced the length of the Dom’s lounge—back and forth, back and forth…waiting for Mason to show up. I knew he’d come, and he’d have Kingston with him. What the hell was I going to say to him? The last fucking thing I needed was for Kingston to witness me getting raked over the coals by my uncle, even if I deserved it.
What happened out there?
First…I panicked. I never panic. Panicking was not my thing.
Second…Kingston panicked. He probably always did, so that shouldn’t be a big deal. Except it was a big fucking deal. The look on his face. The terror in his eyes. He’d gone from peaceful to shamed in record time…because of me. Because I’d held him in my arms and crossed lines he hadn’t given me permission to cross. I had cuffed him without his permission! And we’d both felt a connection that neither of us wanted to feel. Dammit, we were supposed to be just teammates. Rivals for the same position.
What was it about Kingston that made me lose my control? Yeah, I’d picked up on his submissive nature quickly but instead of following the training and rules of the BDSM lifestyle, I’d gone off the tracks, flying completely on my instincts…my desire to force his submission instead of coaxing him to give it willingly. Then running. Why did I run? What the shit was that about?
I heard the door open, close, and then the lock slide into place, but I didn’t turn to look. Shit. Uncle Mason was the ever-professional Dom and he wouldn’t appreciate how I’d left Kingston in limbo, even if he wasn’t really my sub and we weren’t involved with a scene when it happened. After taking a deep breath, I braced for impact and prepared to defend myself against his verbal assault…in front of Kingston. The thing was, I could take anything Mason dished out, but I didn’t want it to be in front of Kingston. He might not be my sub yet, but I knew in my heart that it was the path we were both headed down. I wanted him, and he needed me.
“What in the hell was that, Memphis?” Mason asked quietly. “Not only was it unprofessional, it may have very well ended any opportunity you might have to play with any other sub that just witnessed your bullshit…especially Kingston.”
Ouch.
Funny, I would have thought Kingston would have voiced an argument over being referred to as my future sub.
I turned to glare and was surprised to see that Mason was alone, causing panic to flood my system, overloading it with images of Kingston doing something to harm himself because of something I’d done. “You left him alone? What the hell, Mason?” I started to storm past him, but he blocked my path.
“No, you left him alone, Memphis. That’s all on you, so you can tuck your spoiled-ass glare away. You’ve never disappointed me one time in your life…until tonight. What was with the whole cuff somebody who isn’t willing, strip them half naked to dirty dance with them on the floor, and then shove them away hard enough that they fell routine? And then walking off? Explain that to me, Memphis, because I’m having a real hard time not punching you in the face right now. Please, son, help me understand.”
“Back off, Uncle Mason; this is something you don’t understand, but I don’t have time to explain it right now. Kingston can’t be alone. He has…issues. You can bitch at me later.” The urge to knock my uncle out of the way so I could get to Kingston faster was overwhelming. I didn’t understand my feelings but also didn’t have time to try and analyze the craziness going on inside my head either. The possibility that Kingston could be doing something stupid while I did nothing scared the shit out of me.
“No, I am going to bitch at you now. Don’t worry about Kingston. Unlike you, I left him in good hands. He’s being tended to. Now, tell me what the fuck is going on between the two of you.”
It was strange. A red haze suddenly consumed my body at his words, burning me with an anger so intense that it might consume me once Mason’s words truly registered inside my head. He left my boy with another Dom who would care for him. I felt my fists clench and unclench. I already knew the answer—didn’t have to fucking ask the question, but I did anyway. “Who?” I bit out. “Who did you leave him with?” Normally, I might try to control the rage threatening to overtake me but not this time. No, I welcomed the rage that was brewing.
“Master Ben…not that it matters to you, Memphis. And what do you mean by calling him your boy? Kingston isn’t yours, remember? You made it clear you didn’t want him when you shoved him away from you on the dance floor. Don’t blame someone else for taking advantage of your mistakes.” A smile crossed his face, but it was more wicked than friendly. “That’s how we learn, you know…from our mistakes.”
“Fuck you and ‘Master’ Ben! If he lays one hand on Kingston, I’ll rip his throat out!” I knew my words didn’t match my actions but I didn’t care—not in the least.
“Calm yourself! You’re embarrassing me right now, Memphis Sawyer. Good God, you’re acting just like your father—always thinking you have to get your way in every situation, regardless of whether you’re right or wrong. Master Ben is a good Dom and will tend to Kingston’s needs…whatever that entails. Unlike you, he’ll take the time to read a sub’s desires, and, with Kingston, his demons. Let Ben handle Kingston and let me handle you.”
“I don’t need handling,” I snapped. “I need to make sure my-my…teammate is okay. Ben doesn’t know what he’s capable of. He won’t know to keep him from hurting…”
I almost crossed the line. I trusted Mason with my life but wouldn’t violate Kingston’s privacy—not over something so…secret.
I took a deep breath and tried again. “You need to step back, Uncle Mason. Kingston and I weren’t involved with a scene on the dance floor. It wasn’t like I walked away from a sub while we were playing. It was nothing more than dancing.” Another lie.
Mason dropped his head for several seconds before looking back at me. “Hell, Memphis. If you’d been in the middle of a scene and walked away from your sub, I would have simply kicked your ass and reminded you of your training. The problem with this entire situation is that, like you said, neither of you were involved with anything that had to do with a Dom/sub relationship. What happened on that dance floor tonight was real.”
Shit.
Double shit.
I coughed. Looked down. Looked back up and lied, “No, it didn’t. It wasn’t a big deal. Things got overheated, that’s all.”
Mason laughed—literally laughed in my face. “Riiiight. Things got overheated on the dance floor between two guys who claim to dislike each other. Happens all the time. No worries. Just carry on with your head stuck up your ass and continue to believe your own bullshit. Nothing bad can come from that.”
I rolled my eyes at his sarcasm but allowed the words to sink into my skull. Paused for a few seconds to see if I panicked at the thought of possibly being really into Kingston—and realized it didn’t bother me at all. Kingston, on the other hand, would crawl under a rock and hide out until he died before admitting to something that whoever had judged him so critically in his past might deem improper or politically incorrect. The boy’s desire to please others had obviously been used against him and not in the way I was considering—as in him being my sub. And my lover.
“Are we finished? I need to go check on him.” The urge to be near him was suddenly so overwhelming that my nerves began tingling in frustration. My hands itched to touch him, to search every inch of his body to make certain he hadn’t done anything more to damage himself.
“I don’t know, Memphis,” Mason answered. “Is your head still in your ass?”
“You asshole,” I growled but without much conviction. As usual, he was right.
He closed the distance between us and placed his hands on my shoulders. “Memphis, I watched over your training and have witnessed you interact with your subs on more occasions than I can count. I’ve never seen you have a connection with any of your subs like you did with Kingston on the dance floor. If you allow it to happen, this could be so much more than just a Dom/sub relationsh
ip.”
“He hates me,” I grumbled like a spoiled brat.
Mason smiled. “We all know there’s a very thin line between love and hate, son. Some of the best relationships start out in the hate zone. It won’t be easy. It might not work. But it sure as hell looked like it would be worth the effort. I’ve never seen you react like that to anybody else before. Your boy is submissive, but he has a fire simmering just below the surface. Someone’s treated him poorly, and he’s been forced to retreat…to hide his true feelings. My guess is he’s been doing it so long that he isn’t even aware of his own value any longer. His only focus is on how other people value him, and that simply won’t work. Think you can handle that, or will you run again? Kingston doesn’t need a coward, he needs a Dom.”
I was a lot of things, but a coward wasn’t one of them. Or then again, hell, maybe I was. Mason was right; my actions earlier could definitely be conceived as cowardly. Was I man enough for Kingston? Could I give him what he needed? Fuck…did I even know what he needed?
“Even more than that, though, Memphis, he needs a friend. And a lover. He needs someone to show him his value as a person. I might have known that when you fell, it wouldn’t be for someone easy to love or give love in return. You had to go and pick one of the difficult ones. So what do you say? Are you enough?”
I stared at him as thoughts and images of Kingston Bentley flashed through my mind. Was I? Fuck, yeah, I was. “More than enough, Uncle. I’m more than enough.”
“Prove it, then.”
****
Kingston
I lay in my bed, unmoving and pretending to be asleep but my mind whirled with images of what had transpired a couple of hours ago at the club and after Ben brought me home. As if those images, thoughts, and worries weren’t enough, Memphis had been sitting in the corner of my bedroom for what had to be at least the past hour. He’d shown up shortly after Ben brought me home. Before Memphis had gotten there, Ben had helped me get ready for bed, whispering things that made my body heat with embarrassment and lust. After I’d climbed in, Ben had taken up residence in the same chair that now contained Memphis’ oversized body. I had actually been about to drift off when I’d heard the front door to the suite open and then slam shut. Silently, I’d prepared for another verbal or physical attack from Memphis, but it hadn’t come. Ben had quietly walked out of the room and after a few minutes, spent with me contemplating jumping from the balcony in order to escape, Memphis had entered my bedroom. Instead of arguing with me or asking why I’d practically molested him on the dance floor he’d simply stalked over to the chair in the corner of my room—the one facing my bed—eased his tall frame onto it and stared in my direction. Like any other adult would in my current situation, I’d pretended to be fast asleep, hoping he’d either leave or go ahead and confront me, asking me why I reacted the way I had.
The answer, of course, to that was I didn’t have a fucking clue, which was why I was pretending to be asleep. I was pretty certain Memphis didn’t have a clue either. Right before he pulled his disappearing act, I’d seen the look of shock on his face. I’d laid my head on his shoulder, for Christ’s sake. I’d kissed him. Lying in the darkness and trying to keep my breathing even enough to fool Memphis, I allowed my mind to travel back to those few times when I’d taken someone to my bed. To say it felt…odd would probably be an understatement. I’d taken them home with me because it was what was expected of me and they’d wanted to join me. Looking back, I guess I’d thought of it more as a duty than a way to find my own pleasure. I was good enough in bed, always ensuring that my partners orgasmed at least once before we parted ways. Sadly, I was good in bed because I’d studied the internet on how to pleasure a partner.
My pain was the only thing I truly felt like belonged to me. Did I know it was wrong and unhealthy to go to the clubs and pretend to be a sub so I could get someone to hurt me? Did I know it was wrong to cut? Sure, I did. Did I care? Not in the least. Was it getting harder and harder to hide? Damn straight, it was.
Tonight, at the club, Ben had whispered of experiences and avenues open to someone like me. As his hand had tightened around my throat, hitting pressure points while still allowing me to safely breathe, he’d softly spoken words of wicked promises—things that Memphis could give me if I’d only allow it. If I stopped pretending. With one hand covering my eyes and the other wrapped around my throat, Ben allowed seductive thoughts and visions to swirl through my mind. He was a Dom the same as Memphis, but he never mentioned it was anything he could give me—only speaking of the escape to pain coming from Memphis’s hand.
When Memphis humiliated me by cuffing my wrists behind my back and forcing me onto the dance floor, I’d been furious—mad enough to make me want to strangle him until his eyes popped out of his head. The feeling of fury, though, had swiftly passed and morphed into something else. It turned into something I’d never experienced with another person…only with the blade. With his actions, he’d taken my control away and forced me to submit to him. Shockingly enough, it had felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted from my shoulders. There was no way for me to fuck up my image because he’d taken the responsibility away from me.
It had felt gloriously divine…until I’d fucked it up.
Why had I done it? Why lay my head on his shoulder, silently but blatantly demanding more than either of us were interested in giving? Memphis wasn’t interested in me…who would be?
Then Ben had stepped in, making all those promises about how Memphis could take care of me if I’d only let him. There would be no need for me to worry about anything. I needed to hand control over to someone else, someone who knew how to give me the pain I needed without going too far. I have no idea how he knew anything about my cutting or how I used it to override the roar in my ears when things became too much or when I failed. His seductive voice spoke about it like it was nothing major—no big deal. A simple desire I needed help with. There was no criticism or judgement. When he’d whispered that he thought I might be a pain slut, he’d made it sound like a good thing. All the while he whispered to me and held my neck to the point of me almost being unable to breathe, I was busy picturing Memphis doing those things to me…not Ben. Not anybody else.
Trapped in the darkness, his hand over my eyes and envisioning Memphis giving me a different kind of pain, caused me to lose track of time. It seemed like hours passed, but it was mere minutes. My panic attack and shame vanished in only a few fucking minutes.
No, I didn’t know much about BDSM, but I did know that I hated Memphis—didn’t I? Yet a part of me still wanted what Ben promised Memphis could deliver. I didn’t want to need him. I’d learned not to need anyone because nobody could be trusted. Every damn thing in my world was fake. People used me, and I used them back. That’s how it’d always been, so why did I think things could change now?
“How long are you going to pretend to be asleep, Kingston?” Memphis’s husky voice interrupted my thoughts, and my eyes flew open before I could stop them to find him looming over me. Even in the darkness, I could see he was still dressed in full Dom mode. He looked sexier than a person had the right to look. There was an arrogant confidence about him that I could never possess.
It was intoxicating.
Finding my tongue, I answered with a smartass comment to hide how I really felt. “I don’t know. How long are you going to be a creeper and watch me pretend-sleep?”
My fucking eyes couldn’t get past the way the black leather pants hugged his muscled thighs and cradled his package. He was huge—I’d seen him in the locker room. Hell, of course he was; Memphis had it all. I hated him. I wanted him.
I was damned afraid that I wanted him as much as I hated him. No, Ben had said I needed him, and I’d never felt so goddamn confused about anything before in my life.
****
Memphis
I sat there for a long time in the darkness just watching Kingston sleep. Or I should say, pretend to sleep. But just seeing him lying there and
knowing he was safe soothed some of the stress and anxiety I’d been feeling since our last encounter. For the first time since then, I was able to relax by just listening to him breathe. I knew then that I was in big trouble.
On the way home that evening, I thought about Ben inside our new suite, or maybe inside Kingston’s bedroom and my blood began to boil. Rationally, I knew he had simply taken Kingston home—had taken care of him and done the job that I should have done if I hadn’t been so freaked out about the feelings I suddenly seemed to have developed for Kingston. A part of me wondered if I hadn’t had those feelings since I’d seen him that night on the St. Andrew’s cross. So fierce, so strong and suffering so beautifully. I wasn’t entirely rational when it came to my teammate, and I wondered if that was when it all started.
When I had pulled in the parking lot and saw Ben’s big, red SUV parked in my fucking parking spot, I thought a blood vessel just might explode inside my brain. I pulled into a nearby visitors’ spot. Still fuming so bad I must have had steam coming out my ears, I stomped over to the elevator and jabbed the button impatiently over and over to go upstairs. When I got off the elevator, I stormed down to our front door, used my key and then slammed that door behind me too, hard enough it rattled the frame. I was furious and spoiling for a fight, but almost immediately, Kingston’s bedroom door opened and Ben walked out, looking all calm and collected. Fuck him.
I started over toward him, but he held up his hand right away to stop me. “Slow down, Memphis. Nothing happened except I took your boy home, put him to bed and watched over him until I heard you come in just now.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “That’s not to say I didn’t want something to happen or that it won’t if you don’t pull your head out of your ass pretty soon.”
“Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do with Kingston?” I said, low and dangerous. I was ready to tear his damn head off.