Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (96 page)

“Why are you whacking off?” I growl, trying to
get a good look over his shoulder, and hating that I’m so short.

You’re the first female I’ve seen in eleven years,
Grant types. A moment later, after he is sure I read his sentence, he clicks another thumbnail- Roman’s sleeping form pops up.
Glad to see he’s still breathing.
Even in written form, I can hear his wry sarcasm.

“He kept denying me access,” I practically whine.

Because I told him to,
Grant types.
Stand in front of me, so we can communicate, and so you won’t have to struggle to watch me stroke myself to thoughts of you.

“I’m not fucking you,” I hiss. “I’m not cheating on Wil.”

A series of clicks and movements, and then a letter pops up- document after document, overlapping one another. I gasp when I realize what I am seeing- Wil and Grant’s email correspondence- years’ worth.

I’m not asking you to fuck me. I just want you to watch me.
I’m so close, Faith. I don’t want to be typing when it hits. Please watch me or quit talking to me until I am finished. It feels so good- it feels so good to have you near. You smell divine. It’s been so long that I can smell your arousal, or am I imagining it? I remember your sweetness, the lush scent of your juices-

“Stop,” I shout, shutting my eyes. He’s not speaking, but I can
feel him in my head as if he was. The way his voice used to drive me to madness.
It wasn’t the tone, but the words that were spoken,
his first note to me- I finally understand their meaning.

Don’t look at the screen, Faith. That’s how you stop. But you can’t not look, can you?

“
Yeah, it’s like a car wreck,” I sarcastically say.

Watch me. Watch my hand massage my arousal. Watch me cum all over my chest. I want to show you how much I’ve missed you, my new mistress.

“Fuck you, Grant- I’m not your mistress, dammit!” I try to shout, but it comes out a yelp.

You say you aren’t my mistress, yet you tell me to fuck you… hmm… are you confused, Faith? That is a contradiction. You can’t have both. And I can guarantee that I can get you beneath me, screaming out my name as you reach your climax… much as how I am nearing mine. Watch me, Faith. Watch stream after stream of hot cum land on my chest. Don’t you want to watch me cum, Faith? I want you to watch me. I want you to see me- see the me as I am. I will no longer pretend to be someone I am not. Watch my hand, Faith. What do you have to fear?
Grant manages to chant with his writing.
I need to show you something you must learn to please your Wil. Trust me, Faith.

The emails from Wil scatter across the page, covering the document that Grant was using to communicate with me.
I get a brief flash from each email before they are covered with another and yet another. Wil had been confiding in Grant about his problems.

“You’re going to tell me what is wrong with Wil, but the price is that I have to be your mistress?” I incredulously ask. “This coming from the man who said I was worth more than a whore,” I hiss in disgust. “I can just ask Wil myself.”

Wil won’t answer you- it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, but that he is too uncomfortable. It was easier to put his thoughts into an email than into spoken words- I should know, it’s how I communicate- with ease. And no, I am not offering an even exchange for sex. I just think we could enjoy sex together. I am lonely, you are lonely. I am unsatisfied, you are unsatisfied. I have knowledge you need, knowledge that will help you in the future, knowledge that I want to provide. But really… I know you are attracted to me as I am you… I just really want to fuck you. But right now, I just really want you to watch me cum.

Before I can decide one way or another, the chair swivels, giving me a view of Grant’s hand firmly stroking his cock. I want to look at his face, into his eyes, but his masturbation blinds me. He’s bigger than I am used to, nowhere near as big as Cortez, but bigger than Wil. Aroused to the point of pain, his cock throbs in his hand- the purple veins ribbing the length.

“Um… you’re bigger than I’m used to,” I mumble, tongue feeling too big for my mouth. “I… um-”

Does Wil’s not satisfy you?
Grant singlehandedly types, eyes nowhere near the laptop.

“Yes, I love Wil’s cock… I was just saying that you’re bigger, not necessarily better,” I grumble, blushing bright red.

Good. I’m glad he satisfies you… except… I believe I could satisfy you even more.

“Not cocky at all, are you?” I snort, shaking my head at the arrogance.

Not cocky- experienced in pleasing your kind- not women- your family members. A long time ago, nineteen years ago, your mother had no complaints. And a few years later, I awoke from a nap to a beautiful vision. A woman was in my room. Her white nightgown rising above her hips as she sat astride me. I pretended to be asleep, but the feel of one of the tightest pussies engulfing my cock had me crying out- had me coming. I knew she was a virgin. I could pretend that it wasn’t cheating because if I hadn’t awoken, I’d have never known. I let her ride me as I orgasmed. I let her ride me until she orgasmed. She left me panting and confused and covered in her virginal blood. So yes, my Angel, I missed out on having you- your mother and your oldest sister felt incredible.

“You lie,” I say in disgust, and a bit of awe.

I do, but you mustn’t forget, I am a storyteller. No, I’ve never been with your sister. I wanted to shock you.

I finally meet his eyes, as he’s wanted. Vibrant blue eyes assault me- I gasp in shock at seeing that color after so many years. I hadn’t realized that that color doesn’t exist
in nature anywhere outside of Grant’s eyes. Even Whitt’s eyes aren’t as vibrant. I don’t notice the scars for many reasons. I know what Grant looks like, his eyes overpower the need to visit the ruination of his face, and the hand stroking his cock is too tempting to ignore. But mostly, I am so confused, story or not, lie or not, I have no idea if Grant was with my sister, too. And I suspect that is exactly what he wanted me to feel.

I feel confused and utterly intrigued.

Join me, Faith. Stroke your pussy. Show me you remember what I taught you oh-so long ago. Prove to me that you missed me. Run your hands down that chiseled belly of yours and sink your fingers deep inside your cunt. I want to hear you scream my name as your pussy clenches around your fingers, juice dripping down the side of your hand. I want you to cum for me, Faith- cum for me.

The faster Grant types, the faster h
is hand moves on his dick. Rapidly squeezing and twisting, Grant jerks himself off. Grant leans farther back in his chair, spreading his legs. Long, lean thighs perfectly frame the display he is giving- I can see him from puckered asshole to manipulative smile. His fingers painfully clench as they glide up his shaft. Grant is harder than any man I’ve ever seen. His cock is almost completely purple from head to base. The tip is leaking a constant steady stream of precum, precum that he uses as lubrication.

Strange moan-like sounds emanate from his chest. Agonized and deep, sounding monstrous and scary, but somehow endearing, too.

Someday, I’m going to cum in your tiny pussy. My cock that is bigger than you are used to will thrust in far and deep. I’ve dreamed of the sensation of your cunt gripping my dick in the throes of release.

“You’re never coming inside me, Grant. Not on your life. You are the most fertile person I know besides my mother. Combined, we would make a kid, and I refuse that to anyone but Wil. If I were to become your lover, you will never cum inside me,” I warn.

Will you allow me a few thrust without a condom. I have to know what you feel like- our flesh sliding together without a barrier. I bet it’s divine.

“Can I trust you, though? Will you make me regret allowing it?”

Yes, you would regret it. Because the instant I was inside you, I would hold you down and fuck you senseless. I would cum inside of you while you struggled and screamed and threatened and fought me. See, once you save someone’s life, they know you will never harm them- I can do whatever I wish to you without recompense. I want to cum inside you, and given the chance, I will. It will be a wild ride, but one worth riding.

“You’re a fucking lunatic. Captivity has made you mental,”
I humorlessly laugh.

No, captivity hasn’
t made me mental. It has made me inventive and desperate- desperate to act out all the fantasies I’ve envisioned.

Grant and I both get waylaid when his hand leaves the keyboard to cup his sack. He gently strokes while the other hand circles the base of his cock. It puls
es in his hand, as if he is staving off his release by force of will and the pressure he puts on the base of his cock. A whimper flows from my mouth when his fingers slide farther south, stroking the path between his balls and his ass. He rubs his knuckles over the area, his eyes boring into my face.

I lift my gaze from his show to look at his face.
Remember this part,
he mouths.

“What?” I gulp out of confusion.

Gay or straight, once you’ve had a taste, this is a hunger that needs fed. I’ve never desired a man, nor have I ever touched one. Anal play does not equate gay. All men have these parts, and to ignore them is ludicrous. Regina taught me a thing or two about my body. When we would sixty-nine, she would always bite and lick my taint, and then shove a finger up my ass while she sucked me off. I’d cum like a geyser. Your man has issues, but he will enjoy this, too. Trust me.

The emails- Grant is showing me what Wil needs, showing me what Wil confided in him and told him not to share. Grant is finding a way around his silence.

Before I can reply to Grant’s written words, he is undulating in his chair- fucking his fist while his other hand alternates between squeezing and twisting his balls and running his knuckles up and down his taint. It’s an impressive display that he has obviously uses often- this is the way Grant always seeks pleasure- at least since he was with Regina.

A low and tortured sound rumbles up his throat from his chest and spills from between his parted lips. Ropes of semen flow from his cock and splay across his chest. Pump after pump of his hand
draws more and more out. I whimper with Grant as he climaxes. The muscles in his abdomen flex and twitch as he writhes in ecstasy.

I watch Grant stroke himself, but from a distance, because the agony in his eyes captivates me- swallows me, digests me. I find myself walking forward, leaning over his chair, and resting my cheek to his marred cheek. A pain so deep, wrenches from my chest.

Crying, I whisper in his ear, “I would have helped reunite your family, Grant. All you had to do is ask- your family is my family. I would have gone to Restraint because you asked. You didn’t have to manipulate it out of me. Just as I know you would have attended the meeting this evening. You killed yourself to save them. You know that having a voice in the game saves them, too. Lastly, you didn’t have to throw yourself, have a tantrum to get my attention. Disfigurement or not, you are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen… and she will think so, too. Don’t treat yourself like a whore, because you’re worth more than that.”

I kiss Grant’s cheek. I kiss the tears that fall from his eyes. I rub my cheek against his, not realizing how badly I’d missed my friend until I could see him, smell him, feel him,
and hear him breathe in my ear.

“I missed you,” I say, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Why, Grant? Why did you kill yourself?”

Grant hesitates. After clearing the tears from his face with a fingertip, he begins to type at lightning speeds.

She wouldn’t have moved on and she wasn’t safe with me. She wasn’t happy with me- not truly. The man I showed her wasn’
t the real me, so how could she love me. I knew the only way a woman like Regina would move on is if I were truly gone. But then I died, and she still hasn’t moved on. She needs a push in the right direction. I know her, because she didn’t hide herself from me- she and Marc could be happy- my children could be happy. Regina and Marcus together would be good for my family.

“You’re dangerously close to falling off the edge of martyrdom, Grant. The whole
, I did this for them
is total bullshit. You say it’s for them, but it’s because you didn’t think you deserved them. I’ll try to forgive you if you admit it to yourself at least.”

I just breathe in Grant. I’ve missed his calming influence. Looking back, I realize he manipulated me like no other. I manage Ezra and Wil and Zane, but somehow, Grant was the one that managed me. I think that is why Stanton feared him, feared I would get hooked up with Grant. But I never did. Aside from some very hot words in my ear, and a dumb-assed teenage girl kissing on Grant when she was feeling self-conscious, we behaved ourselves. We did share a goodbye kiss so many years ago.

Being in Grant’s presence makes me want more. If I were to take Grant up on his offer of being his new mistress, we would never hit that plane of existence where two people respect one another. I’ve learned over the years, the pleasure of sex is not worth it- not worth ruining friendships- real, genuine friendships. Plus, Grant has more baggage than I do- not going there with him, no matter how badly my body is simultaneously begging for Grant’s touch and bitching at me for not accepting it.

My fingers twist in his downy-soft blond hair. I yank his head back and bare the column of his throat to my gaze. Grant
passively allows me to examine his neck. My face lowers, lips fluttering over his buttery skin. I kiss a scar on his throat- a scar that could mean so many different things, but with my knowledge, it can only mean one thing. I smile against his flesh.

“Did it work,” I confidently ask. I should be pissed after everything, but I’m not. I sound mildly amused. “What was done was meant to be reversed. It took a great deal of trust on my part- my trust in Wil. Did it work?”

You tell me…

“Ah! Nice,” I sarcastically say. “You’re keeping this bit of knowledge for later, aren’t you? You know you can trust me, Grant.”

I can trust you in all things. Perhaps I am saving the answer- perhaps not. Perhaps that is the answer. But I will tell you… Wil knows. But he is just as honorable as you. Go ahead and ask him, because he won’t answer you, either.

“Answer me this, how long have you been speaking
- you and Wil? Was it in person?”

Grant doesn’t type out an answer- a Cheshire cat grin splits his face. The smile is so brilliant and devious that
I am blinded to his scarring.

“Sonofabitch,” I hiss. “You’ve been meeting him, haven’t you?”

Grant’s smile gains extra wattage. I blink a couple times and growl underneath my breath. “I’ll see you at the meeting.”

I turn to leave, but very strong fingers bracelets my wrist. I’m yank
ed against his chest, almost overturning the chair. Grant controls me with the hand on my wrist and his eyes piercing mine. His other hand grips my chin, immobilizing me.

I missed you,
Grant mouths to me,
really, really missed you. I’ve never stopped seeing Wil. He saved my life- twice. That creates an unbreakable bond.

I just nod my head in reply, a wave of intense emotions roll over me. Not betrayal, but something damned nea
r close. Wil and Grant- friends- I can’t wrap my mind around that.

“Later,” I
grumble. Grant still knowing me- knows when to let go. My hand is released from his iron-grip. I quickly flip around to leave the room.

“Ugh!” I grunt out, hitting a very solid chest. My eyes look up and up and up, and meet Roman’s furious stare. “The fuck,” I hiss in awe. “You must be heavier than I estimated…”

“With a very fast metabolism,” Roman snidely says. “If it wasn’t for your cum-stained shirt, I’d kick your ass,” Roman bites out, gesturing to my stained shirt. Grant marked me when he tugged me to his chest. “But something says Grant was very happy to see you.”

“Not cool,” I grumble, stomping my feet down the hallway. When I reach the top of the stairs, I yell back, “drink plenty of water, wouldn’t want you to have a headache from the sedatives, now would we?”

Yeah, yeah I would.

~Chapter Eighty-Six~

“My, my, my, you three look very handsome,” I say, impressed. Stanton is reading the newspaper, ignoring the boys as they watch television. The three of them are dressed up for the meeting: dark slacks, button-up shirts, and dress shoes. Torian even combed his hair, something that doesn’t happen unless one of us tackles him while wielding a brush. My guess, Zane tackled him this time.