Impact (Suncoast Society #32)(4)

But, unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do about it right that moment.

Digging his keys out, Cris got in. Not the fanciest car, but it ran well. Courtesy of Landry. Sharing the man’s bed and being his slave was no hardship. Landry loved him, accepted him, cared for him.

Cris wouldn’t trade that for anything.





Once Cris returned home, he immediately stripped and donned his leather cuffs and collar. Landry preferred him naked when they were home alone.

Or, sometimes, even when they weren’t alone. There were some friends who were in the lifestyle who’d been over and witnessed Cris in his usual manner of attire, or lack thereof.

Landry would be home in an hour and expect the house to be clean and dinner underway. Cris was almost completely caught up on his chores, so that wasn’t an issue.

By the time Landry walked in the door, Cris waited in the foyer, kneeling and head bowed, his normal position.

“There he is,” Landry said, as he always did. “My beautiful boy.” He set his things down and walked over to Cris, where he stroked his hair. “Missed you.”

Cris already felt the twinges of subspace setting in. “Missed you, too, Master.”

“Dinner smells wonderful, but first—how did lunch go?”

Cris should have expected the question. “Not well, Master.” He recapped what happened as Landry stood there, gently running his fingers through Cris’ hair the entire time.

When Cris finished, Landry patted him on the top of his head, the indication for Cris to stand.

Landry’s deep green gaze stared into his. Then he cupped Cris’ face in his hands and kissed him, slowly, sweetly. “I love you, my sweet boy,” Landry said. “Always and forever.”

Deeper subspace beckoned, teasing, calling Cris to it. “I love you, too, Master.”

Landry pulled Cris in for a long, strong hug. “Are your chores and classwork done for the day?”

“Yes, Master. Once I clean the kitchen after dinner.”

“Good. I’ll give my sweet boy a nice, hard paddling after dinner, followed by a good, long f*cking. How does that sound?”

Cris sighed. “That sounds wonderful, Master.”





The woman sitting across the table from him held little resemblance to the girl Cris remembered. Now nineteen, she already bore a careworn expression that spoke to the hard life she was living. Cris was the only one in their family with whom she still had any contact.

Which was ironic, because she was pretty much the only one in their family with whom he had any contact.

“You can come with me, you know,” he said. “I start next week. Live with me, get a job, rebuild your life.”

Of course, he left out the part that he would be rebuilding his life, too. He hadn’t told her why he and Landry split up. He’d been lucky the headhunter who’d repeatedly approached him over the past two years had a job opening for him in Florida.

Perfect.

All the way on the opposite end of the country from Landry.

Her hair hung in stringy curtains along her face as she silently shook her head.

He reached across the table and gently took her hands in his. “Fi, come with me. Please? Let’s get out of here together. You and me.”

“I can’t, Cris,” she whispered.

He was no idiot. No matter how much concealer she used, he could still make out the faint and healing bruise high on her left cheekbone.

“If money’s a problem, I’ll pay.”

She shook her head. “He’ll never let me go,” she said.

“Uh, kind of the point, kiddo. There’s a serious problem when he beats the crap out of you and controls you. He won’t be able to find you. And I can protect you.”

He wished he could admit what he was going through, the reason he was walking away from Landry.

That Landry was willing to throw away six years of their lives together over wanting to date others proved to Cris he didn’t really know the man at all.

And he wished like hell he hadn’t given Landry his heart, or his submission.

Fi slowly shook her head again.

He saw the resignation on her face and knew that, unless she decided she was tired of being used as a human punching bag, she wouldn’t leave until she hit bottom.

“I won’t change my cell number,” he told her. “Promise me you’ll memorize it and call me if you change your mind. I will come get you, even from Florida.”

She slowly nodded.

She’d maybe said twenty words, if that, during lunch. He’d hated having to break the news to her that he was leaving.

He hated even more that she wouldn’t move with him.

There was a new start waiting for both of them in Florida.

This current jackass was just the latest in a string of them, even at her young age. Apparently she wore an invisible “victim” sign on her forehead. Attracting every two-footed predator who could get his mitts on her.

And with her parents having basically told her she was on her own, she now felt locked in an inescapable cycle.

Looked like the two Guerrero brothers were a lot alike. Gonzalo and Marcos both tossed children aside like disposable diapers.

I’ll never treat any child of mine like that. Ever.

A deep sadness settled over him when he hugged her good-bye and watched her walk down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. He’d offered to drive her, hoping he could convince her, use the additional time alone with her to talk her into running away with him, but she wouldn’t.