Saving Greyson [Men of McKenna Downs 5] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever)

by Zoey Marcel

Diego’s countenance shadowed with warning. “You mean Saul? Is that where you were going?”

  Greyson eased up and let go of his friend. Interrogation could go both ways, and there were some places he just couldn’t go again. “It’s none of your business where I was.”

  “I will not share you with another man, Greyson, and you will give me your e-mail password.”

  “God, are you still stuck on that?” Greyson walked away a few steps to distance himself from the other man.

  “Who is this Saul to you?”

  “He’s no one. Just drop it.”

  “I will not.” Diego came a little closer but left plenty of space between them.

  Greyson took off the watch and gave it back to him. “I’m not your fucking slave.”

  Diego’s dark eyes softened with pain before anger hardened his features as he set the watch down. “It won’t change anything. You’ll still be bound to me because in your heart there has never been another man for you but me. You know in the deepest parts of you that we’re meant to be together and that I am your Master.”

  A soft, vulnerable sensation swept over Greyson. He became torn between hiding from that deep, knowing gaze that burrowed into his soul and jumping the bones of his perfect match.

  “Don’t make me fire you.”

  Diego scoffed and shook his head in disgust. “We are too old for this tiresome game, amigo. Either you commit to me in the way that we both want, or we go our separate ways.”

  The calmly spoken threat sent a surge of panic and a tremendous sense of loss through Greyson. “I’m your boss.”

  “Bullshit.” Diego ate away the protective space Greyson had tried to put between them. “I’m family and you know it. I’m your everything when you have needs and your hired hand when you turn coward and run from me. Isn’t that convenient for you?”

  “What did you just call me?”

  “If you truly feel nothing for me, which we both know is a lie, I will leave McKenna Downs and free you from my hold. You’ll never see or hear from me again. Is that what you want, Greyson?”

  The emptiness swallowed him whole and an unexpected pain from somewhere deep within crippled him all over. “You know it’s not.”

  “Then quit hiding from me. You always submit to me and make love to me. Why not marry me and let me own you as my submissive?”

  Warm yearning and cold terror warred for dominion inside him.

  “Jesus,” he breathed.

  “I know you’re in love with me. That man at the hospital said you were, and I knew even before that. Your eyes can’t hide it no matter how badly you try to.”

  “I do feel something for you, but things are complicated. Try to understand.”

  “No, lover, I do not understand. I do not understand why you receive texts from Saul telling you to meet him so he can hurt and fuck you.”

  Greyson died inside before a strong dose of wrath brought him back to life. Saul was threatening him in those texts, but naturally Diego would assume by the choice of words that there was something physical between them. If he knew the violent history between them, Diego would understand the truth, but how in God’s name could he ever tell the man he loved what had happened to him?

  “Nor do I understand why you have countless e-mails from him, or why you won’t give me your password so I can read them if there is nothing going on between the two of you.”

  He blew out an uneven breath, feeling cornered. “It’s not what you think. I need you to trust me.”

  “Then strip.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Take off your clothes and kneel on the floor.”

  “Are you trying to prove something between us?”

  “There is nothing to prove. Your eyes tell me you love me, and your cock is getting hard for me even though we’re fighting. If you delay further, your punishment will be that much worse.”

  “What the hell am I being punished for?”

  “For sneaking out when I told you I wanted you home safe. You hold back with me, yet claim to want my trust. Now I’m giving you a chance to prove how badly you need my trust.”

  Figures, he’d gone to kill Saul, but the curse wouldn’t let him leave town to do it. Worse still, he’d forgotten his cell phone and Diego had seen Saul’s texts and misinterpreted them.

  Greyson shucked his wet shirt off. “You want to talk about trust, what the hell were you doing looking at my cell phone?”

  “You’ve been secretive and you left it here. Your cell phone is my property as you are. It is my right to keep you safe.”

  Greyson’s jaw clenched, but his dick hardened and strained against his soaked jeans. “I could fire you in an instant. Whatever gave you the impression that I was submissive to you?”

  Diego smirked, but the anger made the normally light expression a steely version. “You mean aside from the fact that you let me control your pain and pleasure, or that you sometimes wear a training collar I gave you during a scene, or the way you called me Master when I told you to in the shower?”

  “We were just playing around.” Greyson toed his boots off, lowering his eyes.

  “Or perhaps I mistook the way you’re stripping for me as I commanded and the way you sometimes avert your eyes for me out of respect.”

  Damn him. He stopped undressing, wearing only his jeans and underwear.

  “Maybe I just can’t stand the sight of you.”

  Diego gave him a faux smile he didn’t trust. “Greyson, you’re already in a shitload of trouble. Do you really want to add to that by pissing me off further?”

  Well, he had a point.

  Diego sat down on the couch and watched him, arms folded. “You are really pushing it tonight with your defiance.”

  “And what are you gonna do about it? You keep harassing me and I’ll end it.” Greyson flinched when Diego flew to his feet and walked swiftly toward him. He’d never seen his best friend so pissed before.

  Diego jerked his chin up and glowered at him. “You do not make idle threats to leave me or use my feelings against me. Love is not a weapon, and if you use it as such you will not enjoy the discipline I choose for you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I am sorry, because it is I who will end our relationship if you do not do as you’re told. And unlike you I’m not bluffing.”

  A cold weight dropped in the pit of his stomach. God, it was a horrible feeling, a fear worse than death.

  Diego’s voice mellowed with tenderness, though undertones of displeasure still lingered. “Without trust, commitment, and respect, our love will destroy us. If you want me to trust you, then do as you’re told and prove to me that you’re as committed to me as I am to you. I will have your commitment in some form or I will take my leave.”

  Greyson’s eyes fell as he fumbled with his fly. He tried to move his head, but Diego cupped his chin harder.

  “Look into my eyes while you undress. I want you vulnerable and connected to me.”

  A hot spring of heat bubbled over him as he held the dominant man’s stare and divested himself of his clothing.

  “Stand there, hands behind your head.” Diego disappeared down the hall before returning with a towel.

  Greyson’s stirring cock had no shame as it gradually filled with blood while Diego wiped every inch of his body down with the towel. When he was done Diego started to fasten something metallic around his scrotum.

  “Eyes on me,” Diego rebuked him when he tried to look down.

  Greyson obeyed, feeling the familiar security he always did when Diego did a scene with him. He was slipping. Every time they did anything heavy or his best friend got especially alpha with him Greyson had to fight to keep from seeing the man as his Master. God, he wanted it, but it didn’t matter. Saul would kill Diego if he found out about the power exchange dynamic between them.

  Not that there was one of course. It was all in Diego’s head. Foolish, misguided man. He was just a ranch hand, replaceable and subordinate. Greyson
was really in charge, in complete control of—oh, sweet mother of god, it was a ball stretcher. He could tell by the feel of the metal secured around his scrotal flesh and pulling the tissue taut. The tingling sensation felt good, whereas the stretching was a pleasure just shy of discomfort.

  Sir—no, Diego grabbed something off the table. Oh god, it was a black dog leash. The quiet but distinct sound of a clamp opening and then snapping shut around a metal ring filled his ears. Greyson tried to steady his heavy breathing so his Dominant—his motherfucking ranch hand—wouldn’t think he was aroused by this. Of course he wasn’t. That hard cock of his was full of lies…and blood that boiled with lust for the smoking man in front of him.

  Diego didn’t say a word, merely used his authoritative eyes and a demanding jerk of the leash to get his point across. The sudden motion tugged on the ball stretcher, sending a zing of stretchy discomfort and tingly pleasure through his testes. Greyson let Sir—the other man—think he was in control by being nice and cooperating.

  He followed Diego into the kitchen, led—if one really wanted to call it that—by the leash.

  “Go into the cupboard and fetch the rice for me,” Diego quietly ordered.

  Was it by coincidence that the word fetch had been used while he had a leash guiding his nuts around?

  Greyson got the box of rice from the cupboard. As humiliating and unbelievably hot as this testicle humbling scene was, it was the inevitable interrogation he feared was coming that left him on edge.

  “Gracias.” Diego took the box from him and led him by the balls back into the living room.

  No one else was here fortunately, but what if someone came home and saw Diego owning him? That made him hot…with anger no doubt. Well, damn. Clearly fury wasn’t a viable candidate when his dick leaped at the notion of being caught in this degrading act.

  As he expected, Diego poured some rice into two piles on the hardwood floor.

  Shit.

  “Hands behind your back.”

  He did so and felt the warm hug of leather form a vise around his wrists as Diego cuffed his hands behind his back. The leash was removed from the ring.

  Hehehe.

  In theory he could run the hell out of there and show Diego that no man owned him.

  Ah hell, who was he kidding? A man with his wrists bound together behind him and running through town naked and wearing a ball stretcher was bound to scare somebody. Regardless, he knew that even if he’d been clothed and not fettered, he would remain here because he wanted to, because Diego had ordered him to.

  His chest moved with emotion and a jolt of lust shot through his dick when he saw Diego reach behind a couch pillow and pull out the polished stainless steel or whatever-kind-of-silvery-metal-it-was collar.

  Diego eyed him seriously. “Do you want me to free you from the prison of your own making, or do you want to remain a slave to fear?”

  It was ironic that having his balls locked up and his hands immobile while another man was about to put a locking collar on him was depicted as freedom, and his formerly clothed and unbound independence was portrayed as captivity. Somehow the words rang true even though they were a paradox.

  “You.”

  Diego locked the collar on him. The minute Greyson felt the cold steel touch his skin and heard the lock click into place, he knew what he was and what Diego was. He had to look away—to hide, to show respect.

  His Dominant’s hand settled on Greyson’s bare shoulder, warming his flesh and sending a tiny shiver of awareness right through him.

  What about Melanie? Would seeing him submit to a man warp her view of him as her Dom?

  Greyson swallowed when he felt the other man apply pressure to his shoulder. This wasn’t a sexual moment. If he went down for his Dom this time there would be no question of what the man was to him.

  Saul’s threats echoed in his mind. Melanie’s face haunted the dominant half of his nature while Diego’s dominance called to him like a male siren hell-bent on seducing him to his own demise. Saul might find out about this and come after them. Melanie could lose respect for him as her Dom if she saw him submitting to Diego.

  When Greyson met the other man’s patient but insistent stare, he put his trust in that quiet strength and got down on his knees for his Master. The dominant man’s hand pushed him back gently on his heels and then had him rest on his knees again. The rice dug into his flesh uncomfortably, but he wasn’t afraid of pain.

  Master’s unwavering stare unhinged him more as the man sat on the couch and watched him relentlessly. “I want your password.”

  Greyson couldn’t look at him and just kept his eyes down. “I know you do.”

  “I have all night.”

  “Well, you’ll be waiting that long.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. Everyone has a pain threshold, lover. I just might hit yours tonight.”

  A spike of dread and undeniable curiosity loosened the tongue that probably should have just shut the hell up. “Do your worst.”

  “Do not tempt me, amigo. How can I resist if you push me to master you completely?”

  A shiver of excitement shot up his spine. Having his boundaries pushed would be amazing if his password wasn’t the end goal Master had in mind.

  Now there was his problem. He needed to stop thinking of Diego as Master. Sure the man was his Dominant, but if Greyson thought of him as Master right now he would say too much.

  Diego stared at him for what felt like forever. The rice imprinting on Greyson’s flesh started to cut him. Whether or not blood was drawn, he couldn’t say, but it began to hurt. He wouldn’t show it. As far as Diego knew, Greyson enjoyed the rice as much as a vegetable or cooked chicken would…if they had thinking brains that is.

  “Is it starting to hurt, esclavo?”

  The word strengthened his resolve to rebel, but not before nearly destroying it completely with a submissive wave of tenderness. “It feels good, like a nice massage for my kneecaps.”

  “My little smart-ass.” Diego rose and got something from the table.

  Ah crap.

  “Since you enjoy pain so much, why don’t I reward you with some more, you know, since you’re being such a good boy and telling me your password?”

  Diego slipped a weight onto the ring on the side of the metal clamped around his ball-sac. And his left nut officially hated both Diego and himself. His right testicle swore unheard obscenities when Mast—Diego attached another weight to the ball stretcher. The bitchy weights pulled painfully on his balls and pushed his knees down even harder into the sadistic dried rice. The uncooked bastards were having a field day eating at his skin with their grainy bite.

  “Is that a wince of pain, Greyson?”

  “Don’t concern yourself.”

  “Do you suddenly have the urge to tell me something?”

  “Yeah, fuck you.”

  Diego made a tsking noise. “Bad esclavo, why do you force me to add more weight?”

  Greyson cringed when Diego dangled another tiny but heavy weight in front of him. “Saul doesn’t mean anything to me. It’s not what you think.”

  “I want your password.”

  “You want my password? Here it is. K, I, S, S, M, Y—”

  “That is not your password.” Diego gave him a stern, warning look and added another weight to the left side of the metal cinched around his sac.

  Greyson couldn’t mask the facial distortion of misery quick enough, but he did his best to calm himself. The pain was excruciating.

  “Are you really going to do this—let me continue to think you’re being unfaithful to me?”

  “For Christ’s sake, just put the other weight on me so they’re even.”

  Diego gave him a cruel little smile. “That disturbs you immensely that something is unbalanced, doesn’t it?”

  “The thought of having two different sized balls doesn’t thrill me either.”

  “Your balls are fine and they are mine.”

  Somehow he burned with carn
al heat despite the brutal pain and extreme humiliation. “If you don’t think I’m cheating, then what do you care if I have secrets from you?”

  “You do not have the right to keep secrets from me. We talked about this. You swore to tell me everything and submit to me, and I promised to take care of all your needs and give you a sense of stability and security.”

  Greyson melted at the memory, trying to harden himself.

  “I was thinking I would drill holes in your room and render those log walls as Swiss cheese. I might even hang a collage of posters on your wall. Would you like that, Greyson—to be greeted every morning by Alice Cooper’s face and fall asleep to pictures of Taylor Swift and Richard Simmons?”

  Greyson’s head flew up. “What the fuck?”

  Diego smiled like he figured he had him or something. He left the room and then returned from the garage with the drill.

  Oh shit, he’s serious.

  “Your password, Greyson, so I can protect and trust you again.”

  He wanted his Dominant—fucking insubordinate ranch hand—to trust him, but no way in hell did he need a man to save his ass. He would save himself, damn it. Not that he needed saving. Saul would die by his hand.

  “You drill holes in my room and you’re fired.”

  Diego paused. “Then it appears I no longer take orders from you.”

  Damn it!

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I know just the place for Justin Bieber on your wall.”

  “Hey! Let’s not be rash. We can talk about this, and why the hell do you have a Justin Bieber poster?”

  Diego smiled. “I don’t, but I would be more than happy to order you one.”

  Greyson’s eyes narrowed. “Do I look like a young girl to you?”

  Posters could be taken down, but a million fucking holes drilled into the log walls would be permanent and downright infuriating. The pain in his stretched ball-sac and the uncooked rice digging into his skin were too much.

  “Do not sit on your ass,” Diego warned.

  Greyson raised his butt again and made a face at the assault of suffering on his lower body. “I can’t tell you.”

  The sound of the drill whirring when his Dom turned it on made him complacent, but he was still torn.