Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (116 page)

Grant’s asking for pics because he usually gets them. Wil likes to twist me into contorted positions and snap pictures before I can stop him, he then shares the wealth. I would feel upset, upset like I think Katya should feel when Ez passes her off to another. But this has been a game
between us for a few years. It’s teasing and mischievous, and totally Grant-esque. But it releases Wil’s playful side that he usually hides. Let the boys be naughty boys.

Wil’s gaze heats my skin as I drink in the sight of his body. I try to forget the wounded animal that was in my care a few hours ago. The brothers really are built exactly the same: one healthy and strong and well taken care of and mostly happy, and one sickly and deprived and neglected and very depressed. I can’t fix either of them, but I can help one, and love and cherish the other.

My mouth hungrily feasts on the oval tribal tattoo that spreads across Wil’s upper thigh. There is something utterly masculine and feral about a tattooed man. It almost makes them seem dirty- dirty hot. It makes my blood boil in my veins and floods my thighs from arousal.

Tongue twirling the coarse hairs, I outline the tattoo as Wil groans beneath me. One thing about my man, he loves my tongue all over him… and I’ve licked every inch of his body.

I’m too impatient for foreplay. I’m not a fan. I like the raw and intense connection of joining our body parts- whether it is oral or straight sex. I don’t care if it’s slow and smooth or hard and rough, just so we are connected. I don’t do teasing.

Wil’s cockhead disappears into my wet mouth, and he jackknifes off the mattress when I rim his head with my tongue ring. The guttural moan has my thighs deliciously rubbing together. I love the feel of Wil abrading the roof of my mouth, but not as much as I love him shoved balls deep into my pussy. I clamp my thighs shut, telling my slut of a body to wait its turn. We’re just ramping up Wil’s pleasure because we don’t know what we’re doing at his
backdoor. Best if he’s ready to pop when we try.

I lick, nibble, and suck my way down his shaft, and get lost at his sack for a few moments. Women always forget about the dangling bits, but they love attention. Wil especially loves it when I roll his balls around
the inside of my warm mouth.

“Pixy,” Wil half-shouts in a strangled voice,
“I swear to God, if you keep that up, I’m going to shoot!”

Giggling, I taunt him with a bite to his taint. My teeth sink in but don’t break skin. Wil’s spine bows. His neck arches as he makes an animalistic sound that has me creaming in my panties. I use his momentary distraction to snap the glove on- I have more than a decade of practice of pulling on a latex glove. I tease him with my tongue ring, rimming around the bud of his ass.

“If you do that,” Wil warns me not to tongue-fuck him- something that is guaranteed to make him pop. He loves my tongue ring flicking at his backdoor. “I’ll cum before we get to the main event,” he gulps out in between moans.

I moisten him with my tongue, keeping him on the edge. All the while, I squeeze a bit of lube from the tube onto my gloved fingertips. This lubricant is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I’m used to the liquidy stuff that is almost as thin as water. This stuff is goopy thick and sticky.

My mouth finds his inner thigh and sucks, as two lube-coated fingertips press into his opening. Wil stills, going completely quiet except for his labored breath. When I pass a ring of muscle, my fingers pop inside, easily sliding deeper. Wil’s body relaxes at once, a groan spilling from his lips.

“Just call me Nurse Ratched,” I tease. “If Mr. Wilson
doesn't want to take his medication orally, I'm sure we can arrange that he can have it some other way. But I don't think that he would like it,” I quote a line from
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
.

“Heh,
you’d
like that wouldn’t you,” Wil quotes his line back to me, trying his damnedest not to laugh. “Here, give it to me.”

“Oh, I’m giving it to you, alright…” I adlib
, causing us to laugh hysterically. We may not be sexy, but we can be playful.

Knowing the mechanics of it, but lacking the finesse of practice, I kiss on his thigh to distract him from my bumbling attempts at finding his A-spot. It’s almost like I hear the Jeopardy theme song playing as a countdown
.
♫
Will Faith find her husband’s prostate before they get bored and the moment is ruined
…
♪

I gasp when my fingertip slides over a bump and Wil jackknifes off the mattress, pressing harder into my finger
tips. “I guess we’ve reached our final destination,” I say in a serious tone, causing Wil to laugh.

I gently work him with my fingers, intermittently kissing on any flesh within my mouth’
s reach. I marvel at how soft and smooth he feels- how incredibly hot he is deep inside- almost feverish. His heartbeat thumps against my fingers as I massage him from the inside out.

I avoid the sexy bits. I want to see if the rumors are true, can you really cum just from getting that spot rubbed. My eyes are glued on Wil’s responses. His muscular body
is sheened with sweat. The candle light casts a delicate glow over his pale skin, highlighting the aroused buds of his nipples. I whimper in hunger, wanting to taste him, to trail my tongue down the deep grooves in his belly. I crave the feel of his hardness sliding along my tongue, his head hitting the back of my throat. I cry out when I see precum beading at the tip of his dick, preparing for its release.

Panting breathlessly, muscles clenching and releasing, moans pouring from his throat, Wil’s cock floods his stomach in a torrent of hot cum. Wide-eyed, I stare in wonder. The rumors are fact. I just made Wil cum using just a fingertip. Wil’s wild roar has my thighs clenching against the need to find my own release.

Stunned, I freeze when Wil jumps up, my hand sliding out of his body. “Your turn,” he growls gravelly deep from his throat. He rips the glove off my hand, and like someone without OCD, he tosses it to the floor.

“I don’t think so,” my voice cracks as I try to scramble away on our bed.

Wil grabs the back of my bra and yanks me to the edge of the bed. On my elbows and knees, Wil uses his big palm to press my face into the mattress. “Be a good girl and don’t move,” he warns in his serial killer tone. An anticipatory shiver starts at the roots of my hair and doesn’t stop until it reaches my toenails. I breathlessly wait, impatient to know what comes next- hopefully me.

Fingertips trail down my spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I quiver. My arms giving out, my upper body falls to the mattress, leaving my ass in the air like a cat in heat.

“You’re panties are saturated,” Wil huskily purrs. He runs a fingertip down my slit, pressing the lace between my folds. The unmistakable sound and the undeniable flash of light, has me hissing. Wil is photographing my panty-clad pussy.

“You can see the beads of moisture on the fabric. Grant will love this,” he says, voice dipping to a moan. A sharp bite to my ass cheek has me squealing. “You have no idea how hot it is for me, knowing I have something Grant wants
, knowing you’ve always been mine even when you were with other people. I always knew you’d come back to me.”

I freeze, this isn’t fantasy. Wil’s voice is filled with lust and longing. Every other time he said these things to me, there was a teasing note- that note is gone, and in its absence is truth.

“No matter how much he tempts you, you never give in. It was never a test, but it made me feel like the most important man in your world. I love that you are so faithful,” Wil says, voice thick with emotion.

“Wil,” I shout, fingers twisting in the bedding. Warm lips press kisses along the seat of my panties. Teeth lightly pinch the fabric and pull it away. Gentle hands lift, first one knee and then the other, drawing my panties from my body.

“Mmm… you’re so aroused… and wet.
I
did that to you,” he elatedly says. “Look at that engorged clit peeking out at me. Mmm…” he murmurs, nuzzling my thigh. “I think we need a picture of that, too… Pixy, I don’t want Grant to fuck you. But I do want him to go down on you while I fuck you. I want you to cum in his mouth. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

I whimper in answer, body turning into a livewire. My flesh is so sensitive that I can feel the caress of Wil’s words.

“I think I will take a picture of your pussy after I cum deep inside of it. I want Grant to know whose pussy this is. I want him to see my cum oozing out of your cunt,” Wil chants, and I hiss in reply. “If he’s good, I’ll let him lick it out of you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck,” I groan. “I didn’t think anyone could do this to me… I’m gonna cum if you keep talking like that,” I say as I wiggle around on the bed, my nipple rings deliciously rubbing on the bedding.

“Hmm…” Wil breathes on my pussy- hot breath scorching my flesh. “Oh, Grant has told me how he made you cum twice just from the sound of his voice. It kind of made silencing him worth it. But you must know by now, that there is nothing we can’t do for the other. We don’t need anyone else… that would just be for our mutual entertainment. Would you like that, Pixy? Would you like Grant to lick you after I’ve left my seed behind? He’s a sick sonofabitch. I bet it would get him off.”

“Have you been playing with him?” sounds strangled from my throat. My pussy starts pulsing from the thought, even though I know they haven’t been.

“You know we haven’t,” Wil says in amusement, peppering kisses along my spine. My back shudders, trying to meet his lips. “I just have something he really, really wants a taste of. I’m like his dealer, and your pussy is his drug. He’s been waiting for a taste for fifteen years,” Wil says with pride, “and my ever faithful Pixy has made him suffer in starvation.”

“Holy shit, you’re being serious,” I croak out. “You really want this.”

“I’m very patient, too,” Wil calmly says, but his movements belie his voice. I sharply hiss as his cock pierces me. He wasn’t fucking around. He was telling me what he
wanted
,
needed
- sharing me with Grant and knowing I will always return, proves that he is my
man
. Wil’s past, emasculated at his grandfathers’ hands, and his present, the inability to create life, have made Wil feel less of a man. Knowing I say no to everyone but him, turns him on faster than usual. Less than five minutes after release, he is hard and ready and roughly riding my body.

“You want the truth,” I hiss out between clenched teeth, fingers
curled in the bedding. I grunt with every hard thrust- Wil has never fucked me- not really. We have tantric sex or make love. A few times he was rougher, but he’s never ridden me so hard that my teeth clack together and I struggle to keep in position. I always figured he didn’t like ridden rough, so he wouldn’t give it to me. Someone told him I like it hard, and he’s giving it to me.

My palms reach out to rest on the headboard, to keep from knocking myself unconscious. “I love you so goddamned much that I’d do anything you ask of me,” I admit the scariest truth ever- I give Wil the power to ruin me… destroy me… the power to complete me.

“That’s what I’m counting on,” he says with a sharp slap to my ass.

We have a snack… and we repeat from the beginning. Two snacks later and I pass the fuck out.

~Chapter One-Hundred-Two~

“He needs put down,” Olivia matter-of-factly says. “Ezra is on another rampage.”

“Eh, doubtful- he had to have learned from the last time.” I shudder in fear. “He’s a tricky bastard. He skirted so close to the rules that even if I wanted to put him down, I couldn’t.”

“We can retire him- your son could take over,” Olivia offers as a possible solution. “I know he’s only fourteen, but he’s ready… and you know it.”

“Yeah, like Ez will ever willingly retire. I can’t put him down, even if he breaks the rules. How do you expect Zane to do it?”

Olivia is a stone-cold bitch, but not that cold. She refuses to name an heir for several reasons. She doesn’t want her children involved in the game- it’s too late for Wil, but he’s safer as Gwen’s enforcer. Her second reason is purely selfish- we can’t risk her dying without an heir or the line dies out- game over. Olivia Fontaine is one safe bitch. It’s the same tactic Grant uses to survive.

“Well, somebody is fucking with me, and it has to be Ezra. No one else would dare. I’m losing my club. That’s why I’m here. I’m broke. Naturally, I came looking for Boyd first.”

“Naturally,” I say with a smirk. My brother eats, drink, breathes, and lives money. Someday he will die by it. “Did you hurt him?”

“No,” she grudgingly mutters. “Devlin wouldn’t let me because of Gretchen and Torian. Whatever,” she growls, rolling her eyes, looking exactly like her teenaged daughter. “He said he didn’t do it, and that someone is trying to financially ruin him, too. I made him prove it.”

“Naturally,” I repeat. “The Simpson and Meyers haven’t had a play against them in years,” I muse, mind spinning scenarios. “Do you really think he’d do it?” I squint as I lean towards my mother-in-law, resting my elbows on the coffee table.

“Yes,” Bianca says, walking into the living room with a streamer trailing her. “The Greens are unaffected, too. In fact, we have more money than we should. I’d say Dad was robbing everyone, but I’m the one who does that part of the books. You should look over your family’s accounts and see if you have increased your income. I’m intere
sted to see if the missing monies amount to the monies we’ve ‘accidentally’ acquired.”