SE Jakes Bound By Honor (3 page)

between his own legs. “It’s set to go off like this every twenty minutes. Let’s see how much of a man you real y are.”

Fuck.

Tanner did not want to like this—didn’t want to feel the sensations building inside, tightening his bal s, making him

groan, but a part of him was losing control and fast.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Tanner figured they would talk—he would tel Damon about Jesse’s last night.

Jesse’s last words. And then maybe, if they could get past that, Damon would do what Jesse had wanted.

He struggled to hold on, to not come, but it was impossible. The angle of the vibrating dildo was too perfect, slammed

his prostate over and over with no relief. His cock was rock fucking hard and if he closed his eyes, he might even be able

to pretend he was alone with Damon, that the tal , handsome man was the one taking him for a ride.

But a combination of wil fulness, pride and stubbornness refused to let him escape into his fantasy even as he shot a

hot throb of liquid al over the floor as the dildo continued to milk him dry.

The boy was beautiful. Rugged. Sensual. He hadn’t minded getting naked—for good reason, since his body and his

cock were the most perfect Damon had seen in a long time. He almost switched off the transparency lighting so he could

have this one al to himself, because it had been so long.

But he wouldn’t do that, no matter how badly Jesse might’ve wanted it.

You’re a bastard for doing this to me.
Those had been Jesse’s first words to him during their first session, back when

Damon was stil actively Domming and Jesse had been in desperate need to be taken in hand, no matter how hard he

fought it.

He shook the mental picture of Jesse out of his head—Jesse, splayed out and ready for him, begging him to stop

until it was
oh
and
yes
and
fuck me now
—and he forced himself to concentrate on the boy in front of him instead of the

one in his memory.

Tanner.
Say his name, dammit
.
Remember, this is not about pleasure.

He spoke those words harshly to himself even as he remembered how good it felt to have Tanner grinding back

against him, wil ing to take a submissive position even as he was convinced it was against his nature. And it would be so

easy for him to kneel behind this boy, replace the dildo with his own cock, bury himself to the hilt. Would hear Tanner’s

moans, egging him on…and it would al feel too good. And he didn’t want to feel good anymore—wanted to sel this place

and al its memories, take his money and travel. This way, he could fuck nameless, faceless people, drift until it felt right,

the way it once had a long time ago.

But for right now, he would fulfil Jesse’s request and none of them would be happy.

Except this was not what Jesse would’ve wanted—not by a damned long shot. This wasn’t what any sub should

expect from his first time with a Dom, especial y not a man fresh from some hel hole of a jungle with battle stil fresh in his

eyes.

Close the shades. Let him loose.

But he didn’t, simply sat on a chair, the remote just out of Tanner’s reach.

Tanner’s back was broad, muscled… Damon should’ve been running his hands over the sweat-soaked skin, coaxing

the orgasms out of him. Instead, he clasped his hands together and watched the boy struggle against his own wil .

At first, Tanner kept his head down, but after he’d had his first orgasm—and what a sight that was to watch him writhe,

helpless to stop his own primal urges from taking over—Damon ordered, “Head up, boy.

Let everyone see that beautiful face of yours.”

Tanner met Damon’s eyes defiantly and then looked out into the crowd, knowing he was not supposed to look his

Master in the eye without permission.

You are not his Master.

The boy—Tanner—was going t o come again, whether h e wanted t o o r no t a nd Damon sa t there a nd watched

him struggle against the bonds. The transparency of the room and the harsh intimacy imposed on him had final y dawned

as he looked out on the crowd, and his cheeks flushed as the howls directed at him grew louder.

“Damon’s final y got a new boy.”

“Damon’s fucking him without fucking him.”

“Look how much he loves it.”

Tanner didn’t love it—not completely. There was too much humiliation in this situation—too much confusion. And even

so, the boy would not go down easily. He came three times. The fourth was a dry shudder of an orgasm, since he’d been

milked beyond his capacity, and looked to be almost painful.

“Again,” Damon said, prayed that Tanner would final y resist with words, would tel him no, to stop…to end this.

“I can’t.” Tanner ground out the words. Over an hour had passed, and although Damon had insisted the boy drink

water, had held the bottle to Tanner’s lips as he drank greedily, the climaxes were taking their tol .

And although
I can’t
wasn’t a safe word, it was enough. Because he hadn’t given Tanner a chance to pick one. That

was against everything he’d ever learned, everything he’d ever practiced, and it was the only way to ensure this man

never came back to him.

He attempted not to hyperventilate, pushed the button for the privacy curtains and switched off the vibrator. Then he let

Tanner out of the bonds. The man pushed off his knees then nearly dropped but grabbed himself quickly. When Damon

attempted to help him, Tanner threw his hand off and picked up his clothes.

With the posture of a king, he opened the door and walked through the club bare-assed naked as Damon watched

from the room’s glass windows. And he did not look back.

Tanner had gotten to his car when a touch to his shoulder made him whirl around, arm up, ready for a fight. Didn’t

matter that he was buck fucking naked, his adrenaline and anger pumped to an almost unreasonable level, and any

excuse to punch someone—or something—would’ve sufficed.

It was the man from the door—LC—and he was stil not smiling. “You dropped this.”

LC held out Tanner’s wal et, which must’ve fal en out of his jeans when he was walking, wanting to get the hel out of

the club but refusing to run. Tanner took it and nodded as he started dressing, shoved it into his back pocket and then

zipped his jeans up. He didn’t bother with the shirt, threw it into the car and prepared to fol ow it, to get the hel out of this

parking lot and never come back.

“Damon’s a prick,” LC told him, his voice a drawl deep with anger. “That’s not how it’s done.”

Tanner didn’t answer him. Couldn’t. Just nodded and got into the car and drove away from the club because he didn’t

know how it was done—but he was pretty sure that wasn’t it.

You kept your promise. And fuck you, Jesse.

He pounded the steering wheel, not wanting to speak il of the dead, and stil the bile rose up inside of him at what had

happened tonight.

You liked it. Most of it.

Jesus, he didn’t know what end was up anymore. Just knew that his ass was sore, and he was half flying and half

ready to cry like a fucking baby. And he wanted to be in the privacy of his own home.

It took him twenty minutes at top speed. He pul ed into the garage, dropping his jeans as he walked toward the

bathroom.

He stopped only t o grab the half-empty bottle o f Jack Daniels, not bothering with a glass. Once i n the bathroom, he

started the shower, let the water steam the enclosed space before climbing in and shutting the glass door behind him.

And that’s when he let it go, the sobs ripping from deep in his throat.

At one point, he sank to the tile floor, kept the bottle out of the steady stream of water and took several deep gulps.

As the liquid burned his gut and soothed his soul, he wondered if it was ever going to stop hurting—if the nightmares

would lessen. If maybe he wasn’t cut out for this job the way he thought he was.

But he loved being a Ranger, had even been told he would be eligible for Delta Force training very soon.

But watching Jesse die…being unable to do more for his teammate than listen—and promise—wel , that knowledge

was slowly kil ing him. And even though he knew there was nothing he could’ve done differently, it stil didn’t bring the guy

back.

You ruined Damon’s life by letting Jesse die
. And that was the painful reality. How could that guy have reacted any

differently than the way he had?

Damon left the room a s i f i t were a crime scene—in truth, i t was—and went t o his office, trying t o shake the look

on Tanner’s face when he’d left from his brain.

Who was he kidding? It was burned on there—and he was practical y shaking. A side trip to the bathroom and he

lunged into a stal and threw up.

After a few minutes, he lowered his forehead to the cool tile, remembered doing this on the night he’d found out Jesse

had been kil ed as wel , not caring where the hel he was. None of these memories were good, and his stomach roiled

again at the thought of what he’d just done.

Final y, he dragged himself up and out. He needed to shut down the computer in the office and head the hel upstairs

to his loft and lock himself in and sleep al of this off.

But LC was waiting for him, arms crossed, looking more pissed than Damon had ever seen him.

“You’re a bastard,” LC told him without preamble.

“Fuck you,” Damon shot back as he rooted around in the closet for mouthwash. He drank straight from the bottle and

spit into the wastebasket to get the initial taste out—and then he grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste and began to

brush since it was apparent getting up to his loft would take longer than he thought. “Get the hel out of my office,” he

mumbled around the brush.

“It’s my office too, asshole,” LC said. “If Jesse sent that boy to you—that’s how Jesse came to you, dammit. Or don’t

you remember the broken, lonely boy you tried to humiliate and push away? Just because Jesse refused to go doesn’t

mean you’l get lucky with this one.”

He wanted to grab LC by the throat, shake him, but he refrained because LC was a hel of a fighter.

“There is no one like Jesse—there never wil be.”

“So you’re going to be a monk forever? Wear a hair shirt and do everything Jesse made you promise you wouldn’t

do, right? Because that’s truly honoring his memory.”

He hated when LC was right. Right now, he hated everyone and everything, including Jesse. He spit into the garbage

can again and rinsed his mouth out with bottled water. Then he sank into his chair and ran his hands through his hair as

LC

watched him in sympathy.

He hated that too. “LC,” he began tiredly.

“He’s connected t o the man you loved. How the hel could you have treated hi m like that? Ho w the he l ca n yo u treat

anyone who comes to you to learn about being a sub like that?”

He shook his head wearily, mainly because he didn’t know himself. His nerves were taut, emotions frayed, and he

would go over the edge and do something—or say something stupid to LC if the man didn’t go away now.

LC knew too—Damon had known him for a long time. Long enough that subtlety wasn’t something either man

bothered with, and so LC slammed a piece of paper on the desk in front of him with the slap of a palm. Damon didn’t

look at it until the LC left his office He remained brooding there at his desk for the next hour. Pul ed out and stared at the

picture of Jesse he kept in his desk drawer. Tried to figure out what the hel Jesse had been thinking.

And while he couldn’t ever real y know that, thanks to LC, he had the most important thing—

Tanner’s address.

He headed to his truck and drove around aimlessly for a while, radio blasting, wondering why the hel he would do this

when he’d successful y gotten the boy out of his life.

Because you owe Jesse
.
Or Jesse owed you.
Whichever way it was, Damon knew he’d get no rest until he made

Tanner an offer…and an apology. And so he pul ed in front of the address he’d programmed into the GPS, the soothing

female voice tel ing him he’d arrived at his destination.

It was the right place—a townhouse near the base, nicely groomed. No car in the driveway but Damon hoped it was in

the garage, wanted the boy—Tanner—to be home.

He stared at the house, his nerves stil jangled. They’d been that way after his first meeting with Jesse as wel .

Jesse.
It had been so complicated. And at first that had Damon jumping right in and helping. Fixing.

Losing himself in the process until he didn’t know who he was or what he wanted anymore.

Had he ever?

Jesse. Big brown eyes. Biting wit. And a need for submission as big as the state of Texas, where he’d been born.

Jesse had come to the club to survey the scene, check things out and, most of al , to find Damon, who, at his peak,

was one of the best and most coveted Doms around.

He’d initial y refused to play with the beautiful boy with the aching need in his eyes, knew how much work it could be to

train a new sub.

“I’l do whatever you say,” Jesse had told him earnestly, but the boy had the devil in his eyes.

Damon remembered frowning, saying, “They al tel me that.”

But he hadn’t refused.

It was supposed t o b e one night. One time with Jesse strapped t o the spanking bench, writhing under the weight of

Damon’s hand, the steady slaps bringing him into subspace far more quickly than Damon could ever have anticipated.

Under the weight of the memories, Damon felt sluggish, like he could easily drown. The man in the house could be his