SE Jakes Bound By Honor (2 page)

Jesse’s words echoed in Tanner’s ear.
It would be the only kind of man who could handle you.

Tanner hadn’t been able to handle a relationship—or being touched, real y, since what happened to Jesse last year.

And so he nodded and he said, “You’re right about that. This was a mistake.”

The failure hanging on him heavily, he pushed out the door, went through the club and headed for the parking lot.

Jesse.

Damon had mourned over that man, cried over him, beat his fists against the wal , up until three months earlier.

Things had eased, but he stil wore the cloak of grief that sometimes threatened to choke him.

Now was one of those times. He’d waited until the gorgeous man left his office before he fel apart and tried his best

not to hyperventilate.

Use the skull-and-crossbones collar with the broken latch.

The boy who’d just left his office would have no way of knowing that—wouldn’t have known that Damon kept that col ar

in his loft, had fixed the latch right after Jesse died because it was one of the only things he could do.

Damon wouldn’t be able to use the damned col ar on this boy—Jesse knew that col aring meant something—that it

didn’t happen on a first night together.

You don’t even know the boy’s name.

He shuddered involuntarily that he’d thought of him as
the boy
. Because that’s what he’d cal ed Jesse—and only

Jesse.

Jesse had been the first to ever thaw what Damon had considered a heart of ice. First, and the
only
.

But something tugged at his gut.

He could’ve been lying. This could be part of an elaborate scam.

The only thing was, the man had definitely been military. A Ranger, like Jesse, or so he said. Damon didn’t doubt it,

had a nose for those things, having been i n special forces himself what seemed like a lifetime ago. And the timing was

exactly right. Jesse ha d di ed a year ago, nearly t o t he hour, although he’ d li ed t o t he b o y about no t having that

information.

Fuck.

He cal ed through the open office door, “LC, grab that guy who just left.”

“I’m not your bitch,” LC drawled, and no, LC was no one’s bitch…not since Styx left. “And he’s already in the lot.”

“Dammit.”

LC held his gaze for a second and then cal ed to one of the bodyguards. “Renn—grab the guy in the brown leather

jacket who just left. And bring a few guys—he won’t come wil ingly.”

LC didn’t say anything more, didn’t have to, and just headed to the front of the club to supervise. And Damon waited

in his office, trying not to pace. Trying not to picture what the boy would look like, bound and spread for him.

Trying to pretend he wasn’t hard at the thought of it.

He shifted but could do nothing to hide the erection in the pants he wore, and when LC barged back into the office, it

was the first thing he noticed.

Thankful y, he didn’t comment on it, just said, “They’ve got him and he’s not happy.”

“Makes two of us.”

“Did he real y know Jesse?”

Damon nodded. “He says that Jesse sent him here—wanted him to have a session with me.”

LC’s eyes widened, but wisely his mouth remained closed. He wa s part owner o f Crave, working mainly behind the

scenes. He was also Damon’s best friend—the only person Damon confided everything
Bound by Honor
in. The only

one he trusted enough to let him run the business in those months after Jesse died, when Damon couldn’t get out of bed

most days. LC had final y gotten him up and functioning.

Just then, the boy was dragged back in by three men—he was pissed for sure, but not fighting as hard as he could.

Damon knew that, and whether it was grief or curiosity or both, he couldn’t tel yet.

“Let him go,” Damon commanded, and the men dropped him and left the room with LC, the office door shutting

behind them as the boy stumbled forward until Damon caught him, held him hard by the biceps and stared at him again.

He was handsome as hel —al -American-looking, a blond haired, blue-eyed devil, even with his lips twisted into an

angry grimace.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The boy jerked out of his grasp and yes, he was strong.

Damon had suspected as much. Earlier, when Damon had him by the shirt, backed against the wal , he hadn’t

flinched. It was the calm of a man who knew how to fight—who knew how to kil .

“What’s your name?”

A jut of a chin, a glint of wild eyes and he ground out, “Tanner.”

“Why did you come here?”

“Because I made a promise to Jesse when he was dying. I don’t break promises like that.”

“And you’re wil ing to fol ow through on what he wanted.”

Tanner pressed his lips together—he wanted t o sa y no , that much Damon knew. F o r some reason, this handsome,

strong, brave man wanted nothing to do with being Dommed, and it didn’t appear to be for the usual reasons.

No, he wasn’t uncomfortable, either in this club or with Damon and his leathers. But something was most definitely

wrong with him.

“I’l do what Jesse wanted, yes.”

“But you don’t think you’re man enough.”

He waited for Tanner to snap an answer back, but none came. Instead, he shrugged.

“Wel then, there’s no time like the present. But no col ar.” He motioned for Tanner to fol ow him, out the door of the

office, down a smal hal way and into a room marked Room Four.

Once inside, Damon pressed a few buttons to bring the lights up and to remove the shading from the plate-glass

divider that separated the room from the rest of the club.

As soon as he did so, the bar began to cheer. Damon activated the two-way speakers as wel , so the sounds went

from muffled to completely clear.

Tanner’s eyes widened. “We’re doing this here—where everyone can see?”

“Yes. That’s what Jesse would’ve wanted.”

Tanner couldn’t have known that was the furthest thing from the truth—that Jesse understood the value of privacy at

the start of a D/s relationship.

That Jesse would hate him for this.

Wel , Damon hated Jesse for dying and leaving him. For refusing to quit the military and let Damon take care of him

for the rest of his life.

For recognizing that Damon had been slowly dying inside during the last year o f their relationship a nd continuing to

satisfy his own needs instead.

Tanner swal owed hard and then he nodded.

Yes, let’s see if this man is for real.

Tanner pul ed his focus off the crowd and back to what was about to happen in this room—and why.

Focus had gotten him through a lot during his missions—it would have to do so again now.

Damon came up behind him, pul ed Tanner’s back to his chest in a quick move he hadn’t expected.

He started, readied for a fight but realized there was no need for one, not when Damon whispered in his ear,

“I hope your ass is ready for this.”

And even though his cock got harder thanks to Damon’s touch on his chest, Tanner was pretty sure he’d never be

ready for any of this—not the bindings or the crowds in this context. Not for that spanking bench with the restraints in the

middle of the floor.

He’d been trying to push the panic from his mind from before he walked into Crave earlier—told himself to focus on

the mission and forget the fear.

It had worked wel , until now.

He knew the D/s relationship wasn’t al about fucking, but in this case, it looked like that was exactly what would

happen.

He’d pushed that possibility from his mind, hoped for whips-and-chains shit—pain and control—but he’d never

bottomed.

The fact that he’d made a promise to start here, like this…

Damon might not fuck you.

He held on to that thought like a lifeline.

He’d been through far worse than what was to come tonight, hated that it could possibly break him.

He never should’ve come here.

Damon’s hand was moving along his chest, pinching his nipples through his T-shirt and Tanner drew in a sharp

breath.

Took comfort in the fact that Damon was definitely hard too.

He heard “strip him” and “take him” and “fuck him” cal ed out from the crowd, and his face flushed at the thought even

as his body ached for it.

He didn’t understand where the strange need was coming from, pushing up past the fear, but for the moment, he was

grateful.

“Is that what you want?” Damon asked, and Tanner’s throat was so dry he could barely swal ow, let alone speak.

He had no idea what he wanted anyway.

“I asked a question,” Damon said patiently, but Tanner knew that patience would be short-lived.

The thought of Damon’s body covering his, holding him down, riding him, was too much to bear.

This contact, even, was too much, considering he’d been home from his last tour for less than two days.

He was nowhere close to being ready.

But he’d waited too long to say no and Damon was done asking questions. He pushed Tanner off and commanded,

“Strip, boy.”

The words were harsh a nd somehow seductive a t the same time. Tanner ha d n o problem being naked i n front of

anyone…but doing this in front of a bar…Jesus fucking Christ.

He unbuttoned his shirt and yanked his jeans down. He rarely wore underwear when he wasn’t working, and tonight

had been no exception.

H e heard the yel s o f approval, because yeah, h e wa s hung like a motherfucker. H e even sa w the appreciation in

Damon’s eyes before they hardened again.

“Eyes down. Don’t you dare look at me, boy.”

Tanner did as he asked, cast his eyes down to Damon’s black-leather-booted feet and felt his body flush.

“Walk to me. Eyes down.”

Tanner fol owed the sound o f his voice, let Damon’s hands guide hi m farther a nd then down o n hi s knees near the

spanking bench. Damon knelt behind him, straddled Tanner’s calves s o that they were ass t o cock again. F o r a few

moments, Damon’s breath lingered on his cheek as the man’s hand roamed his chest.

Pinched a nipple. Moved down to hold his cock, a thumb swirling the precome over the broad hood, and Tanner

hissed and nearly shot his load right then and there.

Involuntarily, he pressed his ass back into Damon—the ma n wa s rock hard a nd Tanner heard a soft groan escape

Damon when he ground his ass harder. He liked that he had some effect on the man who was threatening to undo him

and so he did it again, until Damon rocked against him, the leather of his pants strangely erotic against Tanner’s bare

ass. The slow grind built faster, Damon tugged his cock harder and the crowd seemed to love every minute of the show.

It was al a show and stil a moan drummed up in the back of his throat and escaped before he could stop it.

From Damon, there was only a soft chuckle that wasn’t a s friendly a s i t should’ve been. A strong hand o n hi s back

pushed him forward, breaking their contact and guiding Tanner into place before four locks bore down—one on each

wrist and ankle, holding him effectively in place.

“It doesn’t matter if you struggle, boy,” Damon told him. “This is bolted into the floor.”

Tanner heard his own breathing harshen.

His legs were spread, and the apparatus he was chained to rotated in order to give his audience an angle of every

single part of him. His ass was in the air, his dick jutting upward as his chest rested on the bench, and he began to sweat,

a thin sheen that covered his body.

He pressed his forehead to the leather and tried to breathe. Felt Damon finger the cold lube against his asshole and

he drew in a sharp breath, because there had been no warning. He wil ed himself to relax, waited for a finger to slide in,

to open him.

But that didn’t happen. No, Damon used a dildo—it wasn’t large but it was knobbed—and worked it inside of him

slowly as Tanner tried not to cry out. It hurt the way he’d known it would—he’d heard it was part of the draw for the bottom

—the pinch o f pain before the pleasure hit. But Tanner didn’t like being this out o f control, this vulnerable, a nd h e

wouldn’t handle it wel .

“You’re tight, baby. You don’t bottom much, do you?” Damon asked, but the question was rhetorical and Tanner noted

that he went a little more slowly, used more lube. Tanner forced himself not to struggle against it—the sensation of being

fil ed strangely erotic, but it fucking hurt.

Damon hadn’t given him any kind of way to stop him, and although Tanner supposed he could make Damon cease al

this somehow, he’d come this far. He would just fucking breathe and try to forget what was happening.

The hoots and hol ers of the crowd made him keep his eyes closed.

For Jesse—that’s why you’re doing this.

But Jesse had been a good friend—a good teammate. Why he’d want to put Tanner through this was beyond him at

the moment.

“He’s good at what he does, Tanner. So damned good. It hurts—and it’s comforting at the same time.

I can’t explain it,”
Jesse told him.

So far, Tanner only got the
hurt
part. His ass burned, stretched uncomfortably, because he’d never had anything

bigger than a finger in his ass…never thought he’d be bottoming to anyone, especial y not like this.

And then the vibrations began, deep inside his ass, and he did groan, unable to help it. His hips moved and he rutted

like an animal as the crowd cheered.

He opened his eyes, saw Damon’s booted feet i n front o f his face. The ma n wa s sitting, holding the remote loosely