Tell that to my parents.
Me: Let me make it up to you.
Lily: You really don’t have to.
Me: Yes, I do. My parents would flip if I didn’t.
Lily: Don’t you ever just...
Lily: Nevermind. How about Sunday?
I stare at her text, wanting to know what she was going to say. I don’t dare push. Even though she’s going to be my future wife, I don’t really know Lily that well. Every time we get together, it’s pleasant enough. Surface. Safe. Most of the time, our parents are around, and they drive the conversation.
I wish Lily was someone I could talk to. Ask what’s really on her mind. Tell her the truth about me. But she isn’t. And no matter how much I want her to be, she isn’t what I want. Despite what my father thinks, I’m not sure a future with her is even what I need.
Me: Sunday it is.
Chapter 7
Monday comes around way too fast, and I begin to wonder if I should start hating them like everyone else.
Dinner with Lily was, as expected, pleasant. Even though we barely spoke to one another, our parents had no problem telling us what our future will look like. Sometimes, I think it’s our parents in this relationship, instead of me and her. If you can call what we have a relationship.
One of the few times we did speak, she asked what happened to my face. My father answered for me, told her I got hit by a piece of equipment at the gym at work.
Despite the copious amounts of ice I’d put on it, and triple antibiotic ointment, there’s still a bruise and scab from the healing cut across my lower lip.
I won’t be able to hide this from Mr. Hart. Hopefully, he has me run errands all day so I don’t have to lie to him about what my father did. Face him after what we did together.
The first text from him comes in ten minutes before eight, and they don’t stop. I lose myself in the rhythm of the day, grateful I’m getting my wish. After dropping off dry cleaning, delivering important papers, coordinating meetings with clients, and even getting a gift for one of the people in the office, I start to believe I might actually skate through the day without having to face him.
Sir: Meet me at my home office. Bring lunch from my favorite deli.
I stare at my phone, willing him to text me back. Tell me he’s changed his mind. Give me the day off instead.
It’s too much to hope for.
After stopping to get food, I pull up to Mr. Hart’s estate, because the word home isn’t large enough to encompass the massive size of the property. Geo’s car is in the driveway, which surprises me. I haven’t really seen him since graduation.
He’s been busy working on some tech project with a couple of people he met at school. He told me about it, but I glazed over when he went into computer geek speak. It’s a language I never really learned. He’s fluent, has to be considering Computer Science was his major.
The clothes I’d borrowed from Geo are on my back seat. I grab them so I can return them, then let myself into the house using the key Mr. Hart gave me. I’m halfway to the kitchen when Geo’s voice stops me.
“Aiden, what’s up? Haven’t seen you in a while. How’s the job with my dad going?”
I hold up the bag with Mr. Hart’s lunch and grin. “It’s going.”
“Dude?” He freezes, eyes locked on my face, on my busted lip and the bruise underneath. “What the hell happened to your face? Did you get into a fight?”
A fight. Yeah, it’s as good an excuse as any, and it’s almost true. I’d gotten my ass kicked by my dad, didn’t defend myself. If that can be considered a fight, then, “Yep.”
Geo rolls his eyes, stalks over to me, tries to touch my cut. I flinch and take a step back. “You are like the epitome of straight white boy. Let me guess. You got this at a bar because you hit on some dude’s girlfriend.”
Not even close.
I nod.
“Who are you to talk?” I eye his black leather pants, chain wallet, dyed black hair, and ripped, sleeveless The Cure t-shirt. “You’re the epitome of emo, white boy goth. Punk Rock called. They want the 1980s back.”
Geo sticks out his tongue, the fake gem on top of his piercing catching the light. “Guess we’re a bunch of dickhead cliches, huh?”
I crack a grin, because he has no idea. When I do, Geo pulls me into a hug, squeezes my ass. He smells like pot, patchouli, and regret.
The hug and ass-grab isn’t unexpected. He’s always liked touching me. I always used to let him because it was harmless. But now, with things the way they are with his father, it feels awkward. Wrong.
“I’ve missed you, man. Missed hanging out. Getting drunk.” Geo steps closer, the front of his body rubbing against mine, his hands pulling my hips forward.
The implication is clear. He wants me. He’s wanted me for the year we’ve been friends.
It never bothered me before because I’d always been curious but too closeted to ever cross that line. Plus, I’m not attracted to Geo. Not interested. I let him kiss me once because I was drunk. I wanted to know what it would feel like to have a man’s mouth on mine.
Now I know. I’ve experienced so much more than that with someone I actually do want. Do find attractive. Someone I’d do anything for.
I pull away from Geo, from his misplaced desire, and head toward the kitchen to get a plate for Mr. Hart’s lunch. I know he’s expecting it, and I don’t want to keep him waiting, or he’ll keep me waiting.
“Okay, okay. I get it. You’re straight. I’ll stop pushing.” The tone in Geo’s voice tells me he’ll never stop pushing.
Geo juts his chin at the bundle of clothes I set down on the counter next to the deli bag. “I see my clothes worked out.”
“Yeah, man. Thanks.”
Geo saunters into the kitchen after me, as if he didn’t just hit on me, and I turned him down. That’s fine. Better than fine. If he wants to pretend nothing happened, I’m happy to play along.
“So, what did my dad have you do last Friday that you needed a change of clothes?”
I shrug, trying to play off the flash of heat that burns under the surface of my skin when I remember just what his father had me doing. “About ten miles. If his last assistant was out of shape, I can see why she quit.”
Geo and I share a laugh as he picks at his dad’s sandwich. I swat his hand away. “He likes to keep people on their toes, push their boundaries,” he says, pouting at my denial of the piece of meat dangling off the side of the sandwich. “You know?”
Geo stares at me with dark eyes; eyes that are so much like my boss’s. His father. “Yeah, I do know,” I mutter, mouth dry. “So, how’s your project going?” I ask, steering the subject away from his dad and all the boundaries of mine he’s pushed lately.
Kicking back against the counter, Geo grins in the way he always does before suggesting me and our buddies go and get into some trouble. “I’m not really supposed to talk about it. It’s questionable, legally speaking. Let’s just say that, you know how conspiracy people put tape over their laptop cameras because they think Big Brother is watching?”
“Yeah.” I transfer Griffin’s sandwich to a plate, then do the same with mine.
“It isn’t Big Brother who’s watching.” This time, the piece of meat he steals is from my sandwich. I let him.
My frown tugs at the cut on my lip, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me it’s there. “So, you’re like, spying on people?”
“I call it surveillance.”
He winks and crosses his skinny arms over his tattered t-shirt in a pose that just begs me to judge him. It won’t work. I’ve never judged Geo. He’s always been who he is. I’ve always been okay with that.
“I’m trying to get my dad’s company to put venture capital into it, then hopefully get a government contract.”
“Cool,” I say, acting like him breaking the law is no big deal. “You’ll have to tell me more about it when you’re allowed.”
“Mr. Montgomery.”
Griffin’s voice freez
es me in place, my hands already reaching to grab our plates.
My body’s reaction to him is immediate, and I don’t only mean the desire that punches me in the gut every time he enters a room.
Placing my hands behind my back, I stand with my feet hip width apart and lower my head, exactly the way he trained me. Only, this time, I angle my chin so that he can’t see my lip.
“Yes, sir.”
“You were supposed to be in my office ten minutes ago.”
I flinch, because I know he’ll make me pay for that.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
Mr. Hart’s gaze flicks from me to Geo. “You’re on the clock, Mr. Montgomery. Fraternize with my son on your own time.”
“Yes, sir.”
Without another word, Mr. Hart stalks down the stairs leading to his private office.
I grab our plates, knowing that whatever he has in store for me isn’t going to be fun. Geo’s hand wraps around my bicep, holding me in place.
I whip my head around, to tell him to let go, that I’m working. The look on his face makes me shut my mouth.
“Is my father training you?” Geo practically hisses the word, the venom in his voice unmistakable.
Acid replaces my blood, burning my veins. But I remind myself to keep cool. He doesn’t know anything. It’s none of his fucking business.
“Of course he’s training me. I’m his employee.”
Geo lets go of my arm but doesn’t step back. “That’s not what I mean, Aiden, and you know it.”
I give him my best confused look. “No. I don’t know what you mean. Sorry, but I have to go. Your father isn’t a man you want to keep waiting.”
Geo’s features relax into a blank mask. He runs his fingers through his long, black hair, his black fingernails blending in. “You’re right. He isn’t. Sorry I got on your case. Catch you later?”
“Yeah. Later.”
I hurry down the stairs as fast as I can balancing two plates loaded with deli goodness. The door is open when I get there. I push it open the rest of the way with my toe, and close it the same way.
Before I turn around, Mr. Hart’s voice lashes at me like a whip. Maybe a whip would hurt less.
“What the fuck were you doing up there with my son?”
Suddenly, the plates feel heavy in my hands. I don’t dare set them down. “Talking. Returning his clothes I borrowed.”
There’s that damn flush again when I think about why I borrowed them, followed by shame, guilt, and anger at everything that happened after.
“So, he didn’t put his hands on you?” His voice sounds closer this time. Right behind me, closer. “Like this?”
Mr. Hart grabs my ass the same way Geo had, and shit. Is his whole house wired with cameras, or something?
“H-He always grabs me like that. Ever since he met me,” I explain. “He thinks it’s funny. I’ve always shrugged it off because I’m straight. Well, I, uh...he thinks I am.”
His grip on my ass hardens to the point of pain. I suck in a breath, relish in the feel of the punishment. Knowing it’s him giving it to me.
“No, Mr. Montgomery. You let him touch you because you lack the balls to stand up for yourself.”
Grabbing the back of my neck, Griffin uses his grip to spin me to face him. I balance the sandwiches on their plates, barely. The muscles in my arms scream for relief.
I make eye contact only for a second before lowering my head. Yes, in submission, but mostly so he doesn’t see my lip. As if I can hide it from him.
He grabs my chin. I cry out in pain. One of the plates crashes to the floor. He doesn’t spare it a single glance, doesn’t yell at me for dropping it like I expect him to. In fact, when he speaks, it’s almost gentle. Soothing. Like he cares.
“Who put their hands on you, Aiden?” His breath heats the space between us. His fingers tenderly caress the bruised flesh.
My stomach twists into knots, my pulse swishing in my ears. This is it. The moment I have to lie to him. The moment I have to choose to protect my family over telling the truth to the man I care about. The man I respect. Who respects me.
“Before you answer, I want you to know you’re safe.” Griffin presses his hand against my chest. There’s no way he doesn’t feel how hard my heart pounds. “I want you to know you can tell me anything. That, no matter what you decide to tell me, truth or lie, I won’t punish you for it. Do you understand, Aiden?”
I understand. He’s giving me a choice. And even though he might not punish me if I lie, a part of me knows that whatever we have would be over if I did. I don’t want it to be over.
“My father and I had an argument. I lost,” I say, fighting for every single syllable. But as soon as the words are out, I feel...better. As if trapping the truth inside me made me a prisoner, and only now am I free.
Griffin blows out a breath, leans his forehead against mine. “What happened?”
It’s a simple question. Two words. Nothing that should be explosive enough to destroy the dam inside. But they are.
“I was supposed to have dinner with my fiancé and her family on Friday. But, since I was here late, with you, I forgot. My parents hate to look bad, hate when I don’t follow the plan they have for me. This”—I touch my lip—“was my punishment. My father’s way of letting me know he’s in charge.”
Griffin steps back, his eyes searching mine. I miss his warmth, my entire body craving the heat of his. I don’t move, though. Not unless he commands it of me.
“You’re engaged.” He says it as a statement, not a question, which is weird, but maybe that’s his way of keeping control. Of not showing surprise.
“Yes,” I admit, and it’s so fucking hard to look him in the eyes. But he deserves the truth from me. “Well, sort of.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “How can you be sort of engaged?”
I shuffle the plate into my free hand and try not to glance at the one on the floor I dropped. “It’s kind of an arranged thing between my parents and hers. They’ve been telling us we’re supposed to get married since high school. That, after college, we’d start our own family.” I purse my lips, those words tasting sour.
“So, it isn’t something you’ve chosen?” he asks.
“No, sir.”
“It isn’t something you want?”
“No, sir.”
“Stop,” he says. My entire body freezes. I don’t even breathe. “This isn’t a fucking game, Aiden. You’re being abused, and you’re in a relationship with someone else, two things you should’ve told me from the start.”
“I’m not...we’re not—”
“If we don’t have honesty, we have nothing, Mr. Montgomery.”
“I’m sorry, sir. It wasn’t my intention to deceive you. I’m not hiding anything on purpose. It just didn’t occur to me to say something until now.”
Griffin’s jaw muscle writhes like a downed livewire. “Don’t call me sir. Right now, you aren’t my sub. After this, I don’t know that you will be again. I don’t want to be rough with you. I don’t want to push—”
“No! Please, sir. Fuck. I mean, Mr. Hart. Every part of my life is fucked up. I have no power. No balls, as you said. I haven’t chosen any of it. Not my family. Not my school. Not even my future.”
I push the plate with his sandwich on it into his hand, then drop to one knee in front of him, head bowed.
“But this? I choose this. I want this. Belonging to you is the only place where I feel seen. Where I feel like I have power. Where I feel like someone gives a shit about me.”
“Aiden—”
“No!” I shout, cutting him off. I don’t give a fuck if it’s a mistake. If he makes me pay a thousand times, denies me a hundred orgasms. He needs to know how I feel.
“I want you to be rough with me. Hurt me. Punish me. I need you to. Need to know there’s another reason for violence other than harm. That a man in my life who holds all the control wants to make me feel good. Wants me to be happy. I need to know that I can feel we
ak with someone else. That feeling like I’m nothing means something.”
It’s so quiet when I’m done shouting that I’m convinced he can hear my heart thundering in my chest. That he can smell the fear leaching out of my pores. The fear that I’ve lost him. Lost the chance to figure out what it is I really want before it’s too late.
Griffin walks over to his desk, sets down the plate, then leans against it, head bowed. “Your father called me.”
Chapter 8
My stomach bottoms out, same way it does on a roller coaster when you wonder if this thing will come crashing to the ground.
“He’s a very interesting man.”
“Interesting isn’t the word I’d use,” I admit, amazed my voice even works.
“He told me about your fiancé. Told me how important family is. How you have obligations that come first, before any job. After I got off the phone with him, I’d decided to end things with you, transfer you to a different department and let you get on with your life.”
His words are like a searing, heavy slash across my chest. They cut me wide open, spilling everything out. I haven’t known Griffin Hart very long. Long enough to know I want more of him. More of the freedom to explore what he can give. More of how he makes me feel strong, even when I’m on my knees.
Before I can open my mouth to beg, he holds up his hand.
“But you want to know the fucking truth, Aiden?”
My head snaps up, my eyes meeting his. “Always the truth, sir.”
Pushing off his desk, Griffin stalks over to me, every step sending blood to my cock, making it hard just for him. When he reaches me, he bends down, grabs a fistful of my shirt, and hauls me to my feet.
His body crowds mine. I fight a moan at how good his heat and scent feel as they beat against me. A few steps, and my back hits the wall. Griffin’s knee goes between my legs. I spread for him.
Bringing his lips to mine in the slightest touch, he says, “I don’t want to let you go. I want to keep training you. Want to keep pushing you. Want to hear you beg and moan, watch you suffer when I deny you what belongs to me. I want to fuck your compliant, submissive mouth, and eventually, take your virgin ass. I want to mark you. Defile and ruin you for anyone else. Ever. You’re mine, Mr. Montgomery. I’m not in the habit of letting anyone take what’s mine.”
Trained By The Boss: M/M BDSM Straight To Gay First Time Romance Page 5
