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  TRUST & OBEY

  TS MCKINNEY

  Trust & Obey

  Copyright © 2017, TS McKinney

  Published by Painted Hearts Publishing

  About the Book You Have Purchased

  All rights reserved. Without reserving the rights under copyright, reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. Such action is in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.

  Unauthorized reproduction of distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Trust & Obey

  Copyright © 2017 TS McKinney

  ISBN 10: 1-946379-48-4

  ISBN 13: 978-1-94637948-1

  Authors: TS McKinney

  Publication Date: September 2017

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2017 by Painted Hearts Publishing

  Cover design by E Keith

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  “Babe, if you look this damn sexy fixing drinks when we open, you’re going to be able to retire on just tips after the first year,” Landry whispered into his new bartender’s ear. The guy was so not his type, not at all. He was gorgeous, but almost as submissive as Landry was. Still, desperate times called for desperate measures and the fuck knew he was feeling the desperation creeping in on him from every single direction. He needed to fuck. Fucking was good. Hell, he was good at fucking. It was his go-to method of fixing everything wrong in his life. It had worked for years, so why wouldn’t it work now?

  “Thanks, Landry,” Sage mumbled in his soft voice. A bright blush stained his cheeks. “I’m glad you approve.”

  “I do more than approve, baby,” Landry answered as he allowed his tongue to swipe at Sage’s ear lobe. He felt Sage’s body tighten up for the briefest of seconds before he melted submissively against him. “Wanna take this discussion to my office? We might even talk about a raise for you,” he murmured as his hand drifted down past Sage’s flat stomach to tease the growing package nestled in his black skinny jeans.

  A throat cleared from somewhere behind him before Jagger’s disapproving voice interrupted his ‘fuck the bartender’ plans.

  “Can we talk in your office, Landry?” Jagger asked. His quiet voice spoke volumes.

  Oh hell, he really hadn’t thought this one through, had he? He and Sage were probably both bottoms. Wouldn’t that have been cute if they’d gone back to his office and both of them had dropped down onto all fours? He barked out a laugh as he stepped away from Sage’s glorious ass and turned to face his business manager.

  The frown on Jagger’s face wasn’t a shock. Before moving to Key West to be with his partner, Colton, Jagger Jameson’s world had been incredibly different than the sinfully fun state of living on their beloved island. To say Jagger’s childhood was tough would be the understatement of the year. He struggled with the most adorable bout of shyness and he also fought a daily battle to keep his internal darkness at bay. The fact that the kid was ballsy enough to confront him was a pleasant shock. Jagger’s confidence had grown in leaps and bounds over the past few weeks. Normally Landry would’ve enjoyed seeing his new friend step out of his comfort zone, but since he was on the receiving end of that pretty frown, he quickly assessed that his enjoyment level was going to be at a depressingly low rate. Shit, what had he done now?

  Jagger ran the books like a prison warden ran death row. If Landry even thought about spending something that wasn’t preapproved, approved, and then second guessed approved after that, Jagger read him the riot act. One thing was for sure—as long as Jagger was running the money end of things at his club, there would always be money. If that boy’s ass was as tight as he kept the pocketbook strings, Colton would be a happy man until the day he died!

  Who was he fooling? Colton, as long as he had Jagger in his arms, would always be a happy man. Landry wasn’t sure he’d ever really witnessed true love until he’d gotten the chance to watch Colton try to woo the shy Jagger out of his shell and into Colton’s heart. It’d been breathtakingly beautiful to witness. It’d actually been so captivating that even for the briefest of moments he’d thought he might be able to find such a thing so utterly magnificent…before the reality of what he was came crashing down onto him, snatching the dream away before it had time to take root in his mind.

  Thank the fuck.

  How devastating would it be to think you could have something like that for yourself before finding out, too late, that you weren’t an eligible candidate for that slippery substance known as love, sweet love? He’d lost eligibility for that shit many, many years ago and from what he knew, once it was lost, there was no getting it back.

  “My office, eh?” Landry asked. His eyes drifted back to Sage and he offered a wink to his young bartender. “A threesome? I seriously doubt Colton would approve of this behavior from his Wildcat, Jagger. Are you sure?”

  Sage blushed again. It was just so damned cute. Had he ever been that cute? That innocent?

  Jagger glared furiously. Not so cute.

  “Get your ass in your office. Now,” Jagger hissed. He spun on his heel and stalked off in the direction of both their offices. Obediently, Landry followed. He knew Jagger was only saving his ass from doing something incredibly stupid. He would have to make a point to apologize to Sage as soon as Jagger got finished raking him over the coals. What the hell had he been thinking? Shit, what he’d been doing was sexual harassment.

  Once they were both sequestered in Landry’s small but cozy office, Jagger slammed the door shut and positioned his body against it in a way that left little doubt in Landry’s mind that he wasn’t crossing the threshold of that door until Jagger damned well gave his approval. Jagger in aggressive mode was hot. He made a mental note to make sure Colton knew to drag this side out of his lover on a pretty regular basis. He was absolutely yummy.

  “Let me guess,” Landry purred. “I spent too much on the paddles? I knew you would be upset but seriously, Jagger, when it’s your ass being paddled, I think you’ll better understand the necessity of spending a few extra pennies to invest in the proper paddle.” He patted his own pert ass just to rile Jagger up even more.

  Uh oh. That didn’t work. Jagger looked…sad.

  Shit.

  Fuck.

  He could have any conversation except for this one. Not this one.

  “What were you doing out there, Landry?” Jagger asked softly. His body, all lean muscles and sexy sweetness, was still poised in a ‘kick Landry’s ass if he tries to escape’ position against the door but his face…no, his eyes held the saddest expression. It was that look that held Landry’s feet glued solidly to the floor.

  He tried for humor. “I was trying to nail my new bartender.”

  He failed at humor.

  “Is that what that was?” Jagger asked. “Because it looked like something else. Something familiar.”

  “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” he answered. His eyes drifted to the window and quickly calculated that he wouldn’t be able to fit through it fast enough. Jagger would have him yanked right back through before he
could get his ass past the glass.

  “It’s been building for a few weeks now,” Jagger began. “I didn’t recognize it at first, but I finally understand what’s going on.”

  Landry snorted. “Really? What did it look like to you, Jag? What have I been building up to? A good fuck? Yeah, I can’t deny that. The guy’s hot. Surely you don’t blame me for trying to tap that?” The words sounded foreign to him as they tumbled out of his mouth. It’d been so long…

  “What did it look like to me?” Jagger asked softly. “To me, it looked like somebody locking themselves inside their dorm room…pulling the curtains together really tight, where you couldn’t even see a streak of sunlight through the cracks…going into your tiny bathroom…locking that door…”

  “Shut up, Jag. You need to mind your own business,” Landry interrupted harshly.

  “After locking the door, this person…this damaged person would take the razor out of the hidden place in the cabinet. He’d play with it in his hands for a few minutes, relishing how the cold metal felt against his skin. It would feel so damned good. It would be icy…but would feel so warm against his flesh. So intoxicating.” Jagger took a step away from the door and then collapsed onto the small sofa only a few steps away from where he’d been standing. Yeah, he collapsed like leaning against the door frame was way above his capabilities at the moment.

  “I don’t want to hear this.”

  Jagger snorted out a laugh. “Well, I don’t want to say it, so I guess that makes us even, yeah?” His head leaned back against the soft cushions. His eyes, a beautiful blue, were swimming with emotions—some ugly, some sad, some terrified…

  Shit, Jagger was right. Landry had been doing it again. Using sex to escape his demons. He was going back to that dark place that used to be his getaway when he needed to hide from something. Jagger cut. Landry fucked. He used sex to exorcise his own personal demons.

  Two different outlets, but both painfully damaging. Shit. How long had it been since he’d felt the need to use that particular escape? What was happening to him and why the fuck was it happening now? He’d held it together so nicely for so long. Hell…it’d been such a neat, nice little existence he’d created for himself on the island, surrounded by friends and a bright future in front of him, so what the hell was happening? Why couldn’t he be satisfied with this perfectly perfect life?

  Strength was there inside Jagger, too, though. Solid strength. Landry wanted to race across the room and try to soak it up—or steal it and take it as his own because somehow, his own strength had vanished into the night.

  “Then that person would take his clothes off and slide down until he was on the cold floor, his body blocking the door.” Jagger laughed harshly. “You know? The last attempt to keep the real world locked out, a way to keep the demons at bay. Nobody would know if they didn’t see it happen, so he had to take every precaution to try and keep his ugly secret safe. With that last line of defense, he would slide the blade across his thigh, digging deep enough to leave a trail of crimson but desperately trying not to go so deep as to leave a permanent scar that he might have to explain later.”

  A look of euphoria swept across Jagger’s face and Landry felt the contents of his stomach pitch. Fuck. He was dragging Jagger down with him. The kid had fought so hard, grown so much, and he was fucking it up with his darkness. Colton had told him that Jagger, as a teenager and young man, had often cut himself to escape his demons. From what Landry understood, it had been months upon months since Jagger had used that particular method of coping. It sickened him to think he was doing something to bring it back into Jagger’s life.

  “For just a few minutes,” Jagger said, “everything would be forgotten. A sharp pain, all too brief, would replace the dull pain of life, the pain that lingered and lingered.”

  “Don’t…”

  Jagger’s eyes focused, once again clear and proud, on Landry. “That’s what I saw out there just now, Landry.” He shrugged weakly. “Sure, it was different…but the same. Don’t go there again, Landry. Let me help you. Let the guys help you,” Jagger pleaded.

  “I don’t cut,” Landry argued lamely. “What I do isn’t so bad…” He felt his heart firmly lodged in his throat at the moment, though. Because Jagger was right.

  He felt the panic attack coming on and knew there was nothing he could do about it other than listen to his poor mind screaming ‘fire in the hole’. Yeah, his mind had a warped sense of humor like that. He supposed it was yet another protective layer he’d formed around his heart and soul over the years. Part of him tried to laugh at everything. Part of him wanted to allow the delicious pain from BDSM to smother the dark feelings that threatened to consume him if he ever let his guard down. Part of him just wanted to build a blanky fort and hide out in it until everything vanished.

  He couldn’t breathe. The ache in his chest intensified to the point to where he had to drop to his knees. He saw Jagger’s face, saw the features twist into a look of fear and panic…and horror. As he fought to breathe, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for Jagger. The poor kid, battling his own demons on a daily basis, wouldn’t begin to know how to handle something as ugly as this. The kid that hated to touch or be touched would be racing for the door at any second but Landry also knew Jagger would get help for him.

  The room was starting to spin and everything was beginning to get a bit blurry but he saw Jagger’s feet start to move. He smiled weakly as he realized his friend would race to bring help to him, but he felt sad because he knew by Jagger raising this alarm, he would now be under the scrutiny of all his friends. They would look at him with worry…and pity.

  Breathe. Stop thinking about what might happen and focus on breathing.

  Instead of racing to the door, Jagger’s feet moved in his direction. Oh, shit. Not only was he losing it, he was going to bring Colton’s lover down with him. If he survived, Colton would kill him! He tried to motion for Jagger to go for help, but as soon as he moved his hand away from his chest, the tightness inside the area would constrict even more, like a giant snake was wrapping its body around him, squeezing tighter with each loop.

  “Landry!” Jagger’s firm and controlled voice dug into his skull and forced his eyes to find the location of the intruder. “Look at me, Landry. Just me.”

  Jagger was in front of him, on his hands and knees, and shocker to everyone alive, gripping Landry’s head and forcing him to look at him. The warmth of those hands wrapped around him touched Landry just enough to help him settle…but not enough to help him breathe. He knew he wasn’t dying, at least he thought he wasn’t, but hell, this had to be exactly what a heart attack felt like. And with that thought, he knew every heart attack victim in the world would be putting him on their ‘hatelist’. Okay, it wasn’t a heart attack. It was more like a wimp attack, he thought with disgust.

  “Landry!” The voice barked again and there was a tighter squeeze to the grip on him. “Let’s count, okay, Landry. Count your breaths with me.” Blue eyes searched his face as Jagger started, “One. Deep breath for me, Landry.”

  Landry felt the air struggle to get through his lungs…but it made it. Yes! Sweet, sweet air!

  “Two. Give me another deep breath and look at me. Just me. Focus on my lips and listen to my words. Do what I say, Landry.”

  Hell, when did the shy boy get to be so damned pushy? Second breath was easier than the first.

  “Three.”

  Third breath was easier than the second. He was getting there. Second by second, breath by breath, Jagger helped him through the panic attack, holding his face and guiding him like a beacon in the night with the compassion and understanding in his blue eyes.

  After almost twenty minutes, Jagger was able to move him to the couch and leave him for only the briefest of seconds to grab a hand towel and douse it in cold water. Within seconds he was back again and bathing Landry’s sweat covered face, neck, and the part of his chest visible around the neck of his t shirt. It’d been years since Landry
had felt this helpless. It’d been a lifetime since he’d felt as safe as he did at the moment. Jagger was a kindred soul—he knew the pain, had tasted it for what it was and had chosen to stay and help Landry through the initial blast.

  “Sorry,” he finally mumbled when he’d gained the strength to speak again without wasting too much of the precious air he needed to keep his lungs working and his heart pumping. “It’s been awhile since I had one of those.” He turned in Jagger’s direction and chuckled softly. The sweet kid was now safely tucked on the opposite end of the sofa, as far away from Landry as he could get without abandoning him. He was covered in about as much sweat as Landry so if he’d ever had any doubts whatsoever of how hard the last thirty minutes had been on Jagger, they were eviscerated.

  “It’s been brewing for several days now. I’m pretty sure I knew it was coming.” Jagger looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m just glad I was here.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” He frowned. “You say you’ve seen this coming for days now? How? How did you know when I didn’t even know?”

  Jagger snorted out a laugh. “Oh, you knew it was coming too, but you were trying to pretend like nothing was wrong. You were so busy trying to fool everybody else that I guess you must’ve even fooled yourself.”

  Landry knew Jagger was right. He’d known something was wrong, terribly wrong, but he’d tried to squash the warning signals down. He couldn’t believe that after all this time he was going to fall off the straight and narrow and wasn’t this just a fucking fine time to do it? Right when he was about to open his club. Perfect. Fucking perfect.

  “Who all knows I’m about to fall off the sane wagon? I bet Rory and Colton are going nuts.” Rory and Colton were Landry’s best friends. They’d helped remove him for a seriously dangerous situation on the streets of New York. From that day forward, they’d both appointed themselves his protectors.