Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (71 page)

Two fingertips grasp and slightly tug the metal hoop piercing the hood of my clit. Gently but firmly, instantly and welcome, Gunner teases me to the brink of orgasm. Just before I crest over the edge into pleasurable abandon, he presses into me.

Kneeling face-to-
face, I fracture from the sensation of taking Gunner’s innocence- if you can ever call Caleb Green innocent. Warm like velvet and as smooth as silk, he enters me, fills me, and pleasurably stretches me to my limits. That perfect curve arches into me, hitting a spot inside me that is just this side of bliss. Slowly he thrusts. Each movement runs the thickness of his head and the curve of his shaft over that sensitive, aching spot until I am crying actual tears of ecstasy.

A whimper of thanks spills from my lips that
Gunner isn’t too large, too long- I don’t ever want to have painful sex again. The first few times with Cort, Ezra was with us. The pair together always turned me on, even if I couldn’t get off. The wetness helped me take all of him. But those times when we were alone, just Cort and I, his inexperience was painful. He didn’t know how to use the length he had. At more than a foot shorter and half his body weight, we were not compatible. The worse it hurt, the more he tried. The more he tried, the worse it hurt. It was a vicious cycle of pain and sex I didn’t know how to exit. Fearing hurt feelings and rejection, I kept it to myself. Thinking that maybe I was just too small or broken inside, I endured it. Gunner just taught me it wasn’t me and it wasn’t Cortez- we just weren’t compatible or attracted to the other.

I crawl up Gunner’s body, needing to move with him. I wrap
my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist, feet locking me into place. My lips meet his as I start to ride him. Fingers grip and tighten on my backside, pulling the lobes of my ass apart with every pump of his hips. I rear down as he thrusts up. The power in his thighs propels us, yanks sounds of agonizing pleasure from our chests.

I whimper and moan and cry and groan as he perfectly fills me, rubs me in all the right ways. My tingling with sensation
nipples rub against his muscular chest. My engorged clit grinds in the nest of his pubic hair. He’s plunging so deep and hard that his sack is thumping my ass cheeks. Exhaustedly, my lips rest on his as we eat each other’s groans.

Sex should always be like this:
raw and dirty, sweaty, sensual, pure torturous pleasure. If you aren’t sweating and grunting, you’re doing it wrong. You shouldn’t feel shame or remorse. Sex isn’t about emotions, because that is for making love. What we are doing now is nothing short of mating. It’s the same as our workout sessions. We’ve trained our bodies to be machines, to work efficiently. Sex should be no different- it is just another way to wordlessly communicate.

Our instincts are our driving force as we turn animal. Deep sounds wrap around us as we grind, ride, and fuck the other.
Sweat coats our flesh, tears spill from our eyes, and blood coats our nails where they dig in deep.

Pleasure overrides the shock of my body releasing itself when Gunner roars his release. Bonelessly I collapse, legs and arms barely holding on as a flood pours from between my legs. Something about the shape
of him or the angle of his thrusts did something inside me, made me gush. It feels so incredible that I don’t worry about the why of it; I just writhe and undulate in ecstasy. All my energy flows away on the waves of pleasure that Gunner drives into me. He rides me, rides out his own release… soft, awed chuckles spilling with his grunts.

~Chapter Fifty-Eight
~

The
dream drifts away, while the foggy feeling lingers. A firm thigh is beneath my cheek as nimble fingers play with the hoop and ball in my left eyebrow. It takes me a few moments to regain reality. I was asleep, bathed in warmth and comfort. I don’t know what awakened me, when I didn’t even feel him sit down on my bed. My body, even in sleep, sought him out for protection. I’m curled around his thigh, as if he is my personal security blanket- the last thread that holds me to a normal life.

“Are you angry?” I barely breathe the words. I’ve avoided him since I returned to the apartment. I feared his disappointment more so than the impending lecture. The lecture is always the same,
and my reply is always the same- repetitive madness.

I swallow,
preparing to ask it again, thinking Stanton didn’t hear me the first time. I know he is awake, because his fingers are less gentle, more toying, as they play with the piercings that glint in the light. He doesn’t speak, but the soothing sound of his breathing anchors me.

“No,” he sighs as if coming to life. His weight shifts, pulling me closer, a gentle hand caressing my back. “I’m not mad,” amusement slightly tinges his tone.

“You gonna lecture me now? Usually we do that on the roof. I thought my bed was a lecture-free zone.”

“No lecture,” he promises, a soft chuckle flows from his chest.

I freeze in shock, momentarily stunned silent. “Are you lonely?” spills out before I can filter myself.

“Extremely,” Stanton growls, “painfully.”

“I don’t understand you,” the words sound vaguely insulting, but my tone is pure confusion.

“I know- I hadn’t realized that until this evening. I thought you were being bullheaded. I tried to see it from your point of view, and when I failed, I realized you couldn’t see it from mine
, either. You and I are not alike.” Stanton happily laughs and it makes my lips split in a wide grin. Sensing the smile, he playfully tugs on my lip piercing. My room is dark, but my adornments glow in the night.

“I guess you know,” I meekly mumble.

“You think,” Stan snorts, causing his chest to move against the top of my head. “Caleb is positively glowing. It took me a nanosecond to realize why. But I knew before that. I received a call about Wil standing sentry outside of the training room door. They taunted me about the noises emanating from the room.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologize.

“No, you’re not,” chastising words are spoken from an amused tongue. “I was angry to put it mildly. But then you slinked in like you committed a crime and hid on me. I thought it gave me a right to be pissed. But then Caleb walked up to me and gave me a hug. We left you alone while he explained your way of thinking. You may think I’m an old man, but I can listen when I need to.”

“I’m amazed,” I sarcastically say, “Stanton listened to someone else for a change.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Stan warns, giving me a sharp, punishing pinch to the back. “I was judging everything on my experiences. Caleb and you were responsible, and it wasn’t done in the heat of the moment. You care for one another. You will be a part of our lives for the rest of our lives. It made sense that you were his first. It’s something that he can fondly look back on and feel no regrets. It was a positive start to my brother’s sex life. I worry, though, because of the way you hid on me- that maybe you regret it.”

“No, I don’t regret it,” I defend. “I just didn’t want to see the shame and disappointment shine from your eyes when you looked at me. I have no expectations of a relationship with Caleb. I know we’ll never do it again, and I’m okay with that. It wasn’t about a game or repayment. It was just about sex.”

“And that is why I’m not mad. It was purely physical between friends. That is so much better than the nightmare I lived through. I guess I never understood the turn of phrase
it was just sex
. As embarrassing as it is to ask, was your first time okay?” the coaxing, unsure lilt to his voice has me honestly answering. If he’d demanded, I’d have baulked.

“Yes and no,” I truthfully answer.
Stanton’s confused chuckle has me explaining. “If I look back to the why of it and the finale, I would say no. Why I was walking down the street, screaming and crying like a total girl was nothing less than torture. The look of mortification on Wil’s face when it was over killed something inside of me. The aftermath of confusion as I told Cortez and Boyd what happened was humiliating. If I remove all that, and just remember how it was- the connection I felt with Wil for those few stolen moments, then it was perfect. But it wasn’t just that, and I can never go back and fix it. There is no altering the past. It was more bad than good. It’s why I won’t go there with him again.”

“Hind sight is twenty-twenty,” Stanton says without humor. “I thought my first time was special, too. But when I look back… not so much. I made it more inside my head than the reality of it.”

“Exactly,” I agree.

“Did we just agree on something,” Stanton says in disbelief, staring down at me in awe. All I can see are the whites of his eyes and his front teeth peeking out of his smile, glowing in the dead of night.

“Shockingly, I think we did!  I think we just bonded over a torturous first sexual experience,” I tease.

“All kidding aside,” Stanton soberly says. “It’s why I worry about you. It’s why I didn’t want you having sex. That messes you up, skews right and wrong.”

“Too late,” I grunt. “Murderous whore, remember?”

“Don’t downplay that,” Stan sharply bites out. “Don’t lessen yourself like that.”

“Sorry,” I mumble, properly cowed.

“Wil has his own demons he’s facing. You are right not to go there with him yet. It would ruin your friendship when it fell apart. There are too many variables still pressing down on you both.”

“Stanton,” I seriously say to gain his attention. I know he can feel my gaze on his shadowed face. “You’re letting them win. You’re thirty- you’ve spent almost nine years stewing in self-hatred. It’s time to let go and find some happiness. Sex can just be sex if you’re with someone you trust.”

“It’s finding someone you trust-”

“You don’t try,” I softly chastise. “You wouldn’t even know if a girl liked you.”

“Seeing Caleb this evening changed some things in my way of thinking. I will try, but it will be with great difficulty. I don’t trust easily. I have you and Bianca to worry about. The game- I don’t want to find a woman and long to marry her
with this brutal game hovering over our heads. It would be wrong. If I loved her, I wouldn’t do that to her.”

“This
her
- your fictitious wife, she isn’t real. Don’t worry about what you’re doing to a fake person, worry about what you’re doing to yourself. You are self-punishing.”

“I’ll remind you of this conversation in the future, my dear girl. I guarantee ten, fifteen years from now,
that you still won’t let a man into your protective shield. I guarantee it.”

“Well, you can bitch at me then and tell me I told ya so. But right now, you are deflecting because we’re talking about you, not me,” I growl.

“Fine, but I have similar issues to the ones your boyfriend has. I see it in Wil’s eyes. There is a fear that settles over him.”

“What do you mean?”

“No, Faith. That is too private for me to discuss with you- too adult- too individual. Wil’s issues are of his business and you have to wait for him to come to you. Mine are between me and whomever I decide to bed. Boundaries,” he stresses, “are important between a parent and child. You aren’t a child of my blood, but you are my daughter none the less. Understand?”

“Understood,” I mumble. “I’m not giving you details about me, either, then,” I petulantly say.  

“God, I hope not,” Stanton groans. He bends down and sweetly kisses my forehead. “But my brother will easily tell me,” he taunts, hopping off the bed while manically laughing. “Night, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Hey, no! No! NO! NOOOO!” I shout, almost running after Stanton as he enters my bathroom. I thought he was joking, but he’s really going to Caleb’s room via our jack-and-jill bathroom. “Not cool, asshole!” I yell as the door clicks shut.

I lay back against my mattress, the trail of Stanton’s evil laughter putting a smile on my face.

~Chapter Fifty-Nine
~

“I’m having cake,” Bianca declares as she spreads the frosting on the outside of the cake as I spin the stand- a little trick me and my mini-me saw on the
Food Network
. “He’s not stopping me.”

“Oh my God, I love you so much,” I giggle. “You are the most precious thing I’ve ever seen.” Just looking at the brown-eyed beauty melts my heart, and then her girly voice says something badass and I want to laugh to death.
Amusingly, I haven’t been a good influence on my little sister. 

“I bet Caleb will eat the whole cake in front of us,” I taunt, running my tongue down the offset spatula. “This is some good shit,” I say in appreciation of the buttercream we whipped up. Bianca and I like to cook together- she’s a natural... and if it wasn’t for her dancing or Caleb’s dietary restrictions, she’d weight more than me. She could eat me under the table, and I’m a big eater.  

“He can try,” her tiny voice dips into a growl. “But it ain’t happening. If he wanted a cake to himself, he should’ve made one, then.”

I don’t reply, I just quietly laugh to myself as I pick up the kitchen. Bianca is piping frosting on the cake. I’m glad she’s young
with a limited vocabulary or it would be highly derogatory. She’s pissed that her uncle is
abandoning
us. She’d rather eat his restricted diet than miss him. I check on the lasagna that Caleb requested. He said that MREs suck ass, and he didn’t care that it was July and ninety-five in the shade, he wanted a hot meal before he left.

“Good?” Bianca asks, showing me a stylized
Happy 18
th
Birthday, Marine Green
.

“It’s perfect,” I praise, feeling a bit choked up. The words make it real. None of us know where he will be stationed after boot camp or if we will get to see him before he’s deployed somewhere scary. Stanton promised that we
could go to Caleb’s boot camp graduation, but I think it was said to pacify us. I see the horror lurking in the depths of his eyes. Stanton’s going to make us take a clean break. Lie so this goodbye won’t hurt, and then when the time comes, deny us the visit. I understand it, but Bianca won’t. 

“My cake,” the birthday boy grandly says. “All my cake,” he teases.

“Not all of it,” Bianca grumpily growls. “I’m getting a slice, too.”

“Bianca,” Gunner sharply barks. “You keep up with what I taught you. I’m not being mean and it has nothing to do with weight. You’re a kid and all you want to do is eat junk. If you eat your dinner, then you can have desert. No cake for a meal or candy or ice cream or chips or soda. Eat first, reward to follow.”

“I’m not gonna get fat,” Bianca whines.

“I know that, buttercup. I’m teaching you to be an adult.
The saying
have your cake and eat it too,
means you better earn that slice of cake.”

“You didn’t earn this cake,” she petulantly says, and for once I understand everyone in my life- why they
always want to beat the living shit out of me. Strangely, what Caleb is trying to drill into Bianca’s skull makes sense.

“I did,” Caleb says with the patience of a saint. “It’s my birthday, so I get cake. I’m leaving, so I get cake. I’m going to boot camp, so I get cake. That right there means I earned three slices. You and Syn made the cake and are my party guest, so you can have two, but only after you’ve eaten real food first. A plump ballerina wouldn’t be very fluid on stage, now would she?”

“No,” Bianca pouts, jumping off the stool, and drags her feet over to her uncle. She gazes up at him with huge, watery brown eyes- imploring him to stay. “You don’t have to go. Stay here with us,” she pleads, pouting out her cupid-bow mouth.

“How would you feel if you were offered the chance to dance professionally and your relatives wanted
you to stay with them? It wouldn’t be fair, now would it? We all have to grow up sometime.”

Bianca huffs in a shaky breath. I see it
, and wait for the show. The bottom lip quivers, the tiny shoulders shake, and the eyes plop huge tears on her chipmunk cheeks. She stares Caleb down, and then the building sob spills out her throat. I try to grab her as she runs by me towards her bedroom.

“Let her go,” Caleb orders, grabbing my wrist. “I know she will miss me as much as I
’ll miss her. But I won’t allow this manipulation to manifest. It stops now or she will be worse than your mother.”

I wince and glare at him. “How cruel,” I spit, feeling my own sob building in my chest, burning and stinging my eyes. The betrayal pierces me deep
ly.

“Faith,” Caleb says in a no-nonsense tone, fingers tightly wrapping around my wrist. “I mean it. Don’t. Bianca needs to learn this lesson. She is upset, but not that upset. If you go to her, she will wrap you around her little finger. Bianca looks cute
right now because she’s eight, and you want to give in. But this behavior won’t be cute when she’s a manipulative bitch of an adult. You don’t know Gwen like I do. I watched her do that to Stanton for two years straight. It’s best to stop Bianca now, before she hurts someone, especially herself. You’re real, and she needs to be real, too.”

“Caleb, that’s enough,” Stanton barks as he walks down the hallway from his bedroom. His voice softens when he turns to me, “Faith, go check on dinner, our guests will be here shortly. Frankie just called to say they entered the building.”

I quickly stride away, flicking tears off my face with a fingertip. I pretend I’m paying attention to my tasks, but I’m watching and listening to the brothers argue.

“Don’t feed into this shit, Stan,” Caleb hisses.

“Bianca’s my daughter, and you won’t be here in three hours, so shut the fuck up and tone it down. Don’t ever talk about
her
again.” That
her
is my mother, not Bianca. Stanton can’t even say her name without wincing.

“You don’t like
her
,” Caleb snottily says, sounding just like me. “So don’t raise your daughter to act like her, either. I’m looking out for that baby girl. I was here when Bianca was brought home, don’t you fucking forget that, Stan. So don’t pull that shit about whose daughter she is. I helped raise her until two years ago, so you tone it the fuck down.”

“Guys,” I warn. “Don’t fight,” I sadly sigh. “We don’t have much time left together, and anything could happen in the future. I get where you’re coming from, Cale
b. But Bianca should still be treated like a little girl. And Stanton, stop with the ownership stamping. We all have been raising Bianca, for her betterment. Just be thankful
she
doesn’t have her talons in her.”

Two pairs of fiery
eyes glare at me. I watch as the fight bleeds out of the brothers- shoulders slump, muscles relax, breathing slowing to normal. I don’t know what they would have said because the elevator doors chose that moment to crank open.

“My man,” Caleb excitedly calls, “where’s your lesser half?”

“Since the last time you saw him, you broke his nose, I didn’t think you’d want to hear his version of happy birthday,” Ezra dryly says, but a shit-eating grin splits his lips.

“Well, his big head got in the way of the soccer ball,” Caleb says without shame, crossing the living room to embrace Ez in a manly half-hug.