Ricochet (37 page)

Grable keep that footage of you kneeling naked in

that room before I showed up and took out their

cameras? Not fucking likely."

"You're not going to hurt him, are you?" Matt

said anxiously.

"Aw, and you were worried you wouldn't

find me dangerous." Rick grinned at him. "No, I

won't hurt him, Matt. Well, not too much." Rick

patted Matt's cheek. "Go home. I can take care of

this."

Matt turned to go and then paused and turned

back. "About tomorrow night… it's going to be

okay, isn't it?"

Rick grinned. "Oh, it's going to be more than

okay - it's going to be fantastic! Trust me."

Matt sighed. "I really must be an idiot

because for some reason I do."

Rick waited until he'd seen Matt drive away

before turning and going back inside.

He took the stairs two at a time, ignored the

receptionist in the waiting room who tried to

intercept him, and crashed through the door to

Martyn Grable's office. Grable looked up with a

bright, false smile plastered on his face.

"Ah, Mr… O'Shea, I believe?" He stood up,

holding out his hand. "I had no idea we had such

illustrious guests this evening until my staff

informed me that something highly unorthodox was

taking place in our Luxury Suite."

"Yeah, right. Cut the bullshit, Grable. You

knew who Matt was the minute he walked through

your door." Rick swung Grable's computer monitor

around to find a still shot of Matt kneeling on the

floor, naked. "Were you getting off on this, you

filthy little shit?"

"No, I was merely reviewing the evening's

events, like it says in our terms and conditions. We

have to keep an eye on everything that happens on

our premises!" Grable protested.

"You know what I think, Grable? I think

you're a pervert who uses this place like his own

personal porn parlor, when he isn't making money

out of the poor saps who come here."

"Now really! That is completely uncalled for.

I run a clean, discreet establishment!"

"Yeah, and I'm the Queen of fucking Sheba. I

know people like you Grable. Hell, I grew up with

someone just like you. This might be a higher class

of scam but it's a scam all the same. See, I made a

few calls and found out about you losing your

license back in New York."

Grable paled. "That was just an unfortunate

misunderstanding."

"No, it wasn't. You set up some poor bastard

in New York, and you set Matt up tonight! You

knew who he was when you interviewed him, and

you whored him out to that shithead I met earlier.

How much did you make off him, Grable?"

Grable's expression changed, and he gave a

twisted little smile. "Oh please, all these

histrionics are ridiculous. Matthew Lake came

here looking for sex, and all I tried to do was

oblige him. So what if I phoned some of my

wealthier clients and offered them a chance to taste

the charms of a famous TV star? Come now, we're

both doms, aren't we?" He gave Rick a

conspiratorial wink. "Who wouldn't want to put

that sweet boy on his knees and fuck him hard?"

Rick felt a wave of fury so strong that he

could barely see straight. He grabbed the lapels of

Grable's jacket and pulled him across the desk,

making Grable's eyes bulge in surprise.

"There’s something you should understand

about me, Grable," Rick said in a low, threatening

voice. Suddenly he was eighteen years old again,

going straight from juvenile detention into prison,

knowing that if he didn't act like the top dog from

the outset then some dom would get their kicks by

forcing him into subbing for them. He'd arrived at

prison already hardened and battle scarred,

projecting an aura so tough that nobody had

messed with him. This time it was even more

important because this time he had a sub to protect,

not just himself.

"I'm not like the character I play on TV," he

said quietly. "Alex is kind of a goofball. He's a

charmer who gets into scrapes and plays

everything for laughs. Don't make the mistake of

thinking that's who I am. I can play that role. I can

put on a front and fool the whole damn world, but

inside I'm a hell of a lot darker. So, you don't want

to mess with me. Got it?"

Grable nodded quickly, and Rick gave a little

grunt. "For your sake, I hope you do because I did

some things when I was younger that I'd do again

in a heartbeat to protect that kid you were going to

screw over tonight."

"I was just doing my job!" Grable blustered.

"Mr. Lake said that he liked humiliation scenarios.

I was just trying to facilitate that by adding a little

humiliating spice to his experience. That's what I

do here; I'm a facilitator."

It was all Rick could do not to sink his fist

into the man's face. He tightened his grip on

Grable's jacket and gave him a hard yank.

"Don't pretend you were doing any of this for

Matt, you scumbag. You sold him, without his

knowledge or consent." He loosened his grasp a

fraction, lulling Grable into a false sense of

security. "Do you know what I hate more than

anything else in the world?" Rick asked, and

Grable shook his head mutely. "What I hate - what

I really can't stand - is doms who hurt subs." Rick

yanked on Grable's jacket again, pulling him

forward so that he was almost lying prone across

his own desk. "You're the lowest of the fucking

low, and I should damn well know," Rick said

bitterly. "I despise you, Grable."

"Please… let me go… I can't breathe…"

Grable panted, his face slowly turning red from the

stranglehold Rick had on his clothing.

"Good. Now, if so much as one picture of

Matt in this place ever gets out then trust me, I will

hunt you down, and I will make you regret that you

were ever born. Do you understand?" Grable gave

a barely perceptible nod, and Rick shook him hard.

"I asked you a question. Do. You. Understand?"

"Yes. I understand," Grable choked out.

"That's better. Now, just to be sure, I'm going

to watch you delete the footage you have of Matt.

All of it."

He released his hold, and Grable fell back

onto his chair with a thud, breathing heavily. "Of

course. Look… here." He brought up a file and

deleted it, and the image of Matt kneeling naked in

the play suite disappeared from his screen.

"And off the server," Rick growled.

"Yes, yes… I'm doing that," Grable said

hurriedly, and Rick rocked back on his heels,

satisfied that he'd scared the guy enough to ensure

that Matt's visit here remained a secret. It was

possible that Grable had another copy somewhere,

but Rick doubted it.

"If any footage or any details about tonight get

out, or if anyone so much as finds out we were

here, then I will make your life hell," he promised.

"You'll never be free of me again, and you'll spend

the rest of your life on the run. Got that?"

Grable gave a frightened little nod. "Yes. Got

it."

"Good. Now, one final thing; you're going to

pack up this entire outfit and get out of town

because if you don't, I'll go to the police and tell

them you're running a kink house without a license.

Understand?"

"You can't do that!" Grable protested. "I've

got a good business going here; I don't want to

leave."

"You weren't listening to me," Rick said in a

low, dangerous voice. "It's over, Grable. You've

been found out, and I'm not letting you screw over

any other subs the way you were going to screw

over Matt. Now pack up and leave, or I'll make

you."

Grable stared at him, and Rick stared right

back, deadly serious.

"You don't want to argue with me about this,

Grable," Rick told him, taking a threatening step

towards him.

"Fine! Okay! I'll leave," Grable said

hurriedly. "Although I don't know what business it

is of yours what I do," he muttered mulishly.

Rick grinned and patted Grable's cheek. "Me?

Oh, I'm just adding a little humiliating spice to

your life. View me as a facilitator," he said with a

wink, and then he turned on his heel and left.

When he got home, he went straight upstairs

to his playroom. He'd wanted a state-of-the-art

playroom when he first moved here, just over a

year ago, because it was a symbol to him of his

new status. There was still a homeless teenage boy

inside him who needed visible proof that he'd

actually made it, and he wasn't a nobody anymore.

However, he'd found that once he had it, he

never actually used it because he didn't need a

fully equipped playroom for his one-night stands.

A toy chest under the bed was all that was

necessary.

He never felt like he really belonged in this

house anyway. He kept expecting to wake up and

find he was still living on the streets or locked up

in a prison cell. This enormous, state-of-the-art

playroom couldn't possibly belong to bad little

Rick O'Shea, the surly kid who got into fights and

who all the prison warders hated.

Rick went over to the playroom cupboards

and opened them wide to see what was in them.

Everything was pristine, still in its packaging; he'd

forgotten that he owned most of this stuff.

Something long dormant stirred inside him as

he went through the playroom cupboards. The

evening's drama had forced him to access a part of

himself that he'd suppressed a long time ago. He'd

protected a sub in need and gone into battle for him

tonight and now he could feel a fierce emotion

flaring in the pit of his belly as a result.

He paused, wondering what it was. He felt

powerful, commanding and strong. He wanted to

play out an age-old tune on a willing sub's body,

take him into his world, and demand his sweet

submission.

He was completely immersed in his top-

space as he pulled Matt's list of kinks out of his

pocket and began looking through it, so that he

could plot a scenario that would do everything

Matt needed it to do.

He was a dom in his playroom, preparing for

a play session with a sub, and for the first time

since he was a young child, he felt like he was

home.

Matt spent a nervous day doing his yoga

practice repeatedly to try and calm himself down.

When that didn't work, he went for a run. When

that failed to alleviate the butterflies in his stomach

he took to obsessively tidying his house, counting

every saucepan in his cupboards, every knife, fork

and spoon in his kitchen drawers, and plenty of

other things besides.

He kept reliving moments from the night

before, coming out in a cold sweat as he

remembered how stupid he'd been, and fretting

about what might have happened if Rick hadn't

showed up when he did.

When he wasn't torturing himself about

Fantasia, he was berating himself for ever agreeing

to go through with this new ordeal with Rick this

evening. What on earth had he been thinking? Had

he really agreed to do a full play session with Rick

O'Shea of all people, complete with actual sex?

Was he insane?

He pulled out his cell phone several times,

intent on calling Rick and politely telling him he

wouldn't be coming over later, but something

always stopped him; either the thought of the sex

scene on Monday, or the memory of Rick putting

his hand prints on him during that spank buddy

session in his trailer, or the way Rick had rescued

him from Fantasia.

His OCD became more and more compulsive

as the hours ticked by, and by the time he was due

to get ready he was either tidying or counting every

single thing in sight.

He took a shower (one hundred and thirty

seven words on the shampoo bottle), opened up his

closet (four pairs of jeans, twelve tee shirts, seven

sweaters, three blue plaid shirts, seven plain shirts

in assorted colors, three pairs of chinos, six