Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (103 page)

~Chapter Ninety~

Cortez Abernathy belongs in the Cirque du Soleil of sex. The only thought that floods my head as I watch him make a fool of himself, is who is his choreographer… on the heels of that thought is, I hate that selfish, delusional Motherfucker.

The club part of Restraint is nothing to write home about- loud and obnoxious… and filled with even louder, obnoxious people. Tonight is the Grand Opening of Restraint- Master Ez’s brainchild.
It’s a hybrid of a dance club and a BDSM dungeon. Leave it to a lunatic to imagine that.

I pretty much sprinted through the club
to get away from the crowd of freaks after Roarke and Aaron gave me directions to the Dungeon. Yeah, I’m tattooed, pierced, and clad in leather. But these fucks have that scary glint in their eyes. They are drunk, and drunks are unpredictable. Unpredictable scares me more than a loaded weapon being held by a drunk.

I pounded the fuck out of a metal door that screamed
behind me is the real shit
. I didn’t know the password for the keypad, so I just pounded until someone let me in. The clubbers couldn’t hear me over the din of the music- atrocious music, I might add. I love bass as much as the next person, but this was just utter bullshit. It felt like my heart was beating in my feet.

The door swung open, revealing Ez- an Ez that wanted me to believe he was being piloted by Master Ez. He can lie to himself all he wants, but never to me. It was Ez all the way. He is just pretending to himself to be Master Ez- whatever. I don’t have the time, patience, inclination, or a PHD in psychology to figure out what’s going on in that fucked up head of his. Ez is a Rubix Cube of Fucked in the Head.

Ez was also wearing a hood- an executioner’s hood, I shit you not.

“Guillotine or gallows?” I said with a straight face, but I was pissing my pants laughing on the inside.

“What?” Ez said, one hundred percent Ez- his façade named Master Ez dissolved with his confusion.

“Dungeon?” my finger pointed behind him. I rolled my eyes because sometimes he doesn’t have a sense of humor.

“Yeah,” Ez said, eyeing me. “What are you doing here? Game Master wasn’t enough for you to handle, you have to be a BDSM Master, too?”

“
Even an executioner needs a hobby,” I said, eyeing that damned hood- bugging my eyes out… and still nothing. “What the fuck, Ez? The hood,” I furiously gestured to his head. “What. The. Fuck?”

“Oh,” his voice dropped, and I knew he was blushing behind the burlap sack. “Anonymity. I take this off when it’s just us. There are people in there that I don’t know. I’m too high profile.”

“Let me in, please,” I begged, dancing on my feet like I have to go pee-pee. “I hate this music. It’s making my ears bleed.”

“Six… six…six… nine,” Ez rattled off, opening the door for me to walk through.

“Nice,” I purred, “mark of the beast and Cort’s favorite sexual position. I’ll never forget that.”

And that is when the show started- as if on cue, Cort started fucking, not one or two or three or four, but FIVE different women at once.
I could lie out loud. But my name isn’t Ezra Zeitler. I don’t have the ability to lie to myself. Cortez Abernathy impressed me beyond my wildest imaginings.

As teenagers, Cort wasn’t very good at sex with a girl. Ezra had no complaints on Cort’s moves. But a spade is a spade is a spade is a spade. A gay is gay is gay
is gay- Cortez Abernathy is gay, no matter how many women he can fuck at once. An impressive five won’t change something that is ingrained in his DNA. Sexual preference is a preference. Gay or straight isn’t a preference, it is who you are, and nothing will ever change it.

Ez m
ay be able to screw a girl. I would know. But he’d rather be one of the many holes Cortez is filling at the moment… and that is exactly why Cort is proving his sexual prowess- his manliness. Cort is rubbing it in Ez’s face. One day that asshole will regret this behavior, and I hope Ez shows him the door.

Perfectly choreographed by the Kama Sutra, t
wo girls are sandwiched, making out with each other, while a third is stroking between their thighs. Girl four is sucking Cort’s nipples, while girl five is bent on all fours over girls one through four, and she’s taking it up the ass. I know that pinched expression anywhere- where your eyes sting and you try to breathe around the invasion. Guys might like to stick it to females, but we are lacking a prostate- that kind of takes the fun out of it unless your other parts are well tended to. Even while flaunting his masculinity, Cort is proving which body part he prefers to sink into... and that is rather telling.

“You know he’s gay, right? He’s just throwing a tantrum,” I say to Ez.

“A tantrum that has lasted a decade,” Ez deadpans. He tilts his head to the side when Cort flips chick five over and chooses another. I can almost feel Cort’s attention on us instead of his prey.

“He’
ll tire himself out eventually, I’m sure,” I say to comfort him.

“He’s twenty-eight, not ninety. I don’t have it in me to wait until he tires,” Ez exhaustedly says.

“We could fuck,” I say to be a bitch- a bitch to Cort. I’d take one for the team just to piss off that selfish prick. You can never truly hate someone if you didn’t love them first. I loved Cort as a best friend. I’m not angry with him because of me- I’m pissed because he is intentionally hurting the father of my son. That is unforgivable.

“You do not want to fuck me,” Ez says with a laugh. “You never have.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I readily admit. “But I bet Cort would drop all those hussies if you kissed me. I bet he’d even yank off his executioner’s hood. If you use tongue and groped my ass, I bet he’d beg you to fuck him.”

“I love that you’re just as diabolical as I am. You know he’s watching us, right?” Ez’s teeth flash white in the mouth hole of his hood. His gunmetal eyes glow more blue than gray. 

“Oh, no doubt,” I murmur. “I’m sorry, Ez, but your partner is such a Fucktwit,” I use a word Ez created a long time ago as the ultimate insult.

“Ah,” I yip out when I’m lifted a foot off the ground to make up for our height difference. My arms go around Ez’s shoulders and my legs
wrap around his hips. My body remembers this body, and she’d willingly ride it if she wasn’t already sated by the four hour fuck session Wil provided in anticipation of me coming to Restraint.

A wicked smile filled with equal parts evil and mischievousness flashes a second before Ez’s lips smash into mine- teeth hitting teeth.
My mouth opens on a moan, really putting on a big show for all of those watching. Usually I fuse my mouth to my partner’s mouth before I add tongue, but I want to make sure Cort has something to watch. I lick Ez’s lips and flick the tips of our tongue in the space between us. His taste causes my body to tighten and bloom.

“I changed my mind, I’ll fuck you if you want,” I eagerly murmur into Ez’s mouth. “Wil gave the green-light to anyone I’ve already been with.”

“That’s a short list,” Ez breathlessly says. “That’s either Cort or me.” I don’t bother explaining that I’d also been with Caleb once and fooled around with Grant and Dexter, because that’s none of his business.

“He’s pissed,” Ez purrs, “I can feel its suffocating nature,” Ez sounds like Zane- the emotional Geiger counter. “You have no idea how much Cortez hates you.”

“Gee, thanks, Ez, that’s such a turn on,” I growl. “But the feeling is mutual, I can assure you.”

“Cort is a jealous prick,” Ez hisses into my mouth. “He’s wrote me hate mail describing how he envisioned the night we made Zane. It’s delusional,” Ez says with a smirk. “He’s a damn fine writer, though,” Ez’s v
oice is filled with pride. “Tilt back and let me suck on your neck. That’s guaranteed to piss him off.”

I do as I was told, leaning back with only Ez’s hands on my ass supporting me. I close my eyes and I actually forget that I am in public and being watched by whoever is in this dungeon. I
whimper when I realize I never even got to look around because Cort blinded me to everything but his show.

“Ez,” loudly purrs out my throat as a strong mouth sucks my neck. I try not to enjoy it, but that’s an impossibility
with my toes curling in my boots. “Oh, God, that feels fabulous,” I moan. “Did you learn that suction from sucking that asshole’s cock?”

Ez snickers against my flesh. “No,” he bashfully says, “Cort is selfish that way, too. He’s a giver, not a taker… in all things.” Resentment bleeds from Ez’s voice.

“Get. The. Hell. Off. Of. MY. Partner. You. Faithless. Whore,” Cort slowly snarls each word because he is so furious that he wants to kill something- me.

I roll my eyes and hold back the laugh that is building. Cort is hoodless, just as
I knew he would be. The burlap is twisted in his fist. Cort’s gray eyes are angrier than a storm cloud.

“I’m pretty sure it’s Ez’s lips fused to my neck, not the other way around. But I guess the nasty smell of five pussies has made your mind malfunction,” I taunt.

“You are such a fucking cunt,” Cort hisses, at a loss for a better comeback.

I go in for the kill, my patience running thin. “Mmm… Ez thinks my cunt is tasty. He liked it so much that he had seconds. He liked it so much that I gave him something you never could- a son.”

IwishIcouldripoffyourfreakishlylargeheadandshoveitupyourfreakishlysmallcunt
Cortez shrieks at the top of his lungs while he shreds his executioner’s hood. I’m pretty sure he thinks the burlap is my flesh. He stomps and screams- the veins in his gorgeous forehead bulging.

“All you have to do is say three little words and Ez will never let you go. I bet he’
d never take another,” I say to calm Cort before he has an aneurism.

“Bullshit,” Cort hisses, and then he screams, “I AM NOT GAY, GODDAMMIT!”

“If you say so,” I flippantly say, resting in Ez’s eerily still arms.

“He’s stalking that other bitch now. Thanks to you,” he growls in my face. “You just had to tell him, didn’t you? I fucking hate your face!”

Cort works his throat. I see the movement for what it is, but I’m trapped in Ez’s embrace. I try to duck, but I’m not fast enough. Cort spits on my cheek- an immense amount of scorching hot saliva slides down my cheek and neck like slime. I want to run around screaming
no, no, no… gross, oh, that’s so fucking gross!
My second reaction is to beat Cortez to death with my bare hands and force him to suck his spit off my flesh… and swallow it.

I lunge for the fuckhead, but Ez tightens an arm around my waist while his plants a left hook to Cortez’s jaw. Cort flies back a dozen feet before he falls to his ass. Ez sets me on my stunned feet. But I’m not as stunned at Cort. His gray eyes are popping out of his head.

“Apologize,” Ez hisses at the fallen man. “NOW!”

“I’m sorry, Master Ez,” Cort whines, not looking anything like the Cortez I grew up with. He grovels as he crawls over to Ez on his hands and knees.

“Not to me,” Ez growls. “Apologize to Faith.”

“Syn,” I whisper out the corner of my mouth, eyes flicking around. I don’t want these people to know who the hell I am either. If I’d thought about the executioner’s hood, I’d have worn one. Too late now, ain’t it.

“I’m sorry, Syn,” Cort snidely says, sounding not sorry at all.

“Good enough for me,” I say, letting it go. Ez looks like he’s about to kill the love of his life.

“Our dungeon, now!” Ez demands, sounding like an owner yelling at its pet to get into the punishment crate. I wait for him to add,
bad dog
!

Cort scrambles off with Ez in tow.

“Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore,” I mumble to myself. “Those were not the best friends you had in high school.”

“Yeah, I don’t recognize them anymore, either,” a deep voice says, fingers extending a hanky. “They will kill one another before one of them relents. But they will both be getting off tonight.”

“Thanks,” I murmur as I wipe my face. “How ya doing, Wicked with the Whip?”

“Better now, little black and purple
,” he says with a smirk. “You’ve improved with age. I’m glad to see that you’re no longer jailbait.” Dexter looks me over in appreciation. He doesn’t salaciously eye-fuck me. He looks at me like he’s sizing me up, determining if I’m ready to handle his whip.

“Where is it,” I impatiently ask, eyeing him over, too. He’s a sadistic sex god, but I could give a shit less about the gigantic bulge in his leather pants or his sweat-slickened flesh that is so toned it would make Caleb praise him. I could give a shit less, but I’ll still look and enjoy. But what I really want
, his body can’t provide.

“Looking for this, Syn?” Dexter pulls his black leather bullwhip from the back pocket of his leather
s.

“Yesssss,” I hiss in awe, eyes glued on the prize.

Dexter lets me look at the whip for a nanosecond before it disappears into his back pocket again. I glare at those skin-tight, black leather pants, wishing they would disintegrate and the whip would fall to the floor. As a consolation prize, that beast of a cock would be visible. Win-win.

Dexter is the type of man that you want to look at, but you’re too scared to touch. He
’s like a caged tiger, and you’re his next meal. Silky ringlets frame his face and black as midnight lashes fringe his amber eyes- not brown, not gold, not bronze- Amber. His skin is a bronze color that only genetics can achieve. His cousin Marcus is the same delicious shade that every white girl tries to obtain when the sun shines. Dexter and Marcus, and Cortez, too, are the opposite of my family tree. Their exotic versus my dyed and inked over Wasp- I’m jealous.