Queen (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (110 page)

“I don’t know how to make love, Regina. You know that,” he says in defeat.

“Can I show you how? I w
on’t dominate you, I promise.”

“I watched you and Whitt trying to figure out how to give you what you need,” he admits.

He hides his eyes from me by covering his face with his arm. I watch his perfect lips as he murmurs his pain.

“Pretty boy was a natural lover his very first time, and I was jealous. I didn’t want to be, but he can love you in a way that I can’t,” he murmurs in shame.

“Let me show you how to express your love with your body. I’ll prove to you that I can be on top without dominance. I’ll show you how much I love you,” I purr and kiss around his upturned arm. His lips quirk up into a half-smile and I know he’s freely giving himself to me.

“I spent a lot of time tied down and
ridden,” spills from his lips.

My throat clenches on a sob. How could I have forgotten? His hands latch onto my hips when I try to climb off of him.

“Prove to me that it can be different, my love,” he whispers.

His face is taut. The corners of his eyes crinkle from stress. His teeth are gritted. It’s not sexy looking at your partner’s tortured face.

I smooth a fingertip over his features until he relaxes. I decide that it’s been too long since we were acquainted with one another. I touch him with my fingertips and follow their path with my lips.

I softly drag my fingers through his ringlets. “This is sexy as hell,” I murmur in awe as I coil his baby-soft, bla
ck hair around my pinky.

“I saw how you looked at Dexter’s hair,” he says sheepishly. “So I grew it out. I like this length. It’s not really what an elected official would wear, but I wanted to arouse you.” His bronze skin takes on a glowing rosy hue and
I chuckle.

“Bashful Master of the Universe is a ne
w experience for me,” I tease.

“I’ve had a lot of reality checks lately. I wasn’t arrogant before or humble, but now I understand jealousy and self-consciousness. I didn’t want you to change for me; I wanted to change for you,” he solemnly confesses. 

“I don’t want you to change yourself for me. You can cut your hair if you wish. It’s just so beautiful that it’s a shame to cut it so short that you can’t see its natural curl. I have a bit of a hair fetish,” I admit and blush in embarrassment.

“I remember your fascination with Roman’s hair.” He serenely smiles up at me wanting
any touch I’m willing to give.

“Dalton and Roman have the same haircut. It’s identical,” I smirk. “I hope Whitt likes that. Dang, he was awe-struck. He couldn’t even speak or look away. I loved the look on his face,” I say in amusement. 

“I know the expression,” he smoothly says and flashes me a devastating smile.

My breath hitches in my throat and I whimper. My body falls lax and m
y eyelashes lower.

“That’s the one,” he teases.

My eyes angrily flick up to his and my mouth gapes open. He gazes at me with the same look that was on Whitt’s face as he looked at Dalton. My mouth dries up and I try to swallow. It’s a heady sensation when the expression is pinned on you. My breathing accelerates until I’m softly panting between my parted lips.

“And this is the one that is only reserved for you. I’ve held it in check. I’ve looked at Cort before and he freaked on me, so I try my hardest to hide it,” Marcus finally admits.

I lean down and kiss his forehead, gently smoothing his hair out of my way. I kiss the crinkles in the corner of his eyes that make him more distinguished. It’s a sign of his wisdom and the life he’s led to protect us. I remember what he looked like at twenty; thirty-eight agrees with him more.

“I’ve seen you both look at each other like that. It’s not as intense, but it’s obvious. I’ve caught the look when we were in public. You’re secret isn’t as secure as you think,” I tease.

“Dexter asked if I was gay tonight, and he was worried I’d be offended. I tried to explain it was about connecting with someone. Does it bother you that I have feelings for Cortez? I meant what I said before: I love him, but I’m in love with you, and that is a huge distinction. He belongs with Katya and Ezra.”

“No, I understand it. Whitt,” I breathe. “He isn’t for me, but the love isn’t any less. It’s pure or I wouldn’t want him to find a mate so bad. It’s not because I want him out of my life; I want him to live his life. You and Cort will have to carve out your private time just as Whitt and I manage. One love doesn’t lessen another. It makes me smile when you look at him.” I smile against his cheek as I recall seeing all the precious moments we’ve spent together.

“I’ve missed you so much. It was killing me,” he says in that aching voice that breaks my heart.

Jamie and I healed through pain. It was twisted and sick, and I worry it will hurt us for the future. Marcus and I heal through touch- comforting, connecting, insanely intimate touch. Fingertips glide through sweat-slick skin. Tongues collect the beaded moisture, and drink as if it nourishes our souls like the nectar of the Gods. We massage, stroke, kiss, and caress every inch of flesh on our bodies. We learn the topography of our partner so that we will always recognize the other.

The bond that forms in the intimate, dark hours of the early morning doesn’t frighten me. It’s a comfort as it ensures that the other will never be lonely again.

We move our bodies to show our love, our minds to connect our hearts, and our mouths to profess vows. The vows are permanent and unyielding, and stronger than any marriage vow ever spoken. We started as separate entities that had a common purpose to protect all we call our own. A partnership is formed of the body, mind, and spirit. We are lovers, best friends, allies, and equals.

Our bodies align perfectly as our foreheads rest together in support, our lips as we breathe each other’s exhale, our chests as our hearts beat in a tandem rhythm, and our cores merge as one. Even our tears of sorrow and hope mingle on our cheeks and lips.

Chapter Forty-Two

“I love you,” I pledge. “But if you fuck Katya in any capacity I will yank your manhood off with my bare hands.”

“Nothing says I love you like violence,” he snickers. “Just Cort,” he negotiates. “I’ve never wanted another woman but you. You forget I’ve known you since you were fourteen. I’ve stood by and waited, longed to possess you- to be possessed by you. I won’t touch her like that,” he promises.

“Who’s my no?” I tenderly kiss his neck and
he stirs to life with a groan.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he says in amusement. His lips lift in a smile against my forehead. “I used to be insanely jealous. I don’t mind you fucking someone. It’s this I worry about,” he
kisses me and rocks his hips.

I gasp into his mouth in pain. I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve made love. I’m pulverized- raw.

“I know that any sex between you and Whitt will be loving and it’s not about me. I don’t want you and Jamie to touch in anger again. I will meet all of your needs, including that one. It won’t be tainted if we’re meeting each other’s needs for release. You can be affectionate with him, no sexual contact. I’m a jealous bastard, and my best friend is the father of your children; and some days I want to kill him because of it. Don’t kill Olivia when you meet her, but I have a feeling it will be difficult for you.”

“True,” I agree.

“Be careful of Roman,” he growls.

“What?” I gasp in shock.

“Jamie and I agreed on him from the moment we saw him. He’s been a thorn in our sides.”

“I thought you liked him,” I say in confusion. “He lives with Jamie for Christ’s sake and you pushed him and Dalton to become friends.”

“I love him and respect him. He’s an incredible guy and that’s what worries me. You have more history with him than you do us. If you want him let me know and we’ll do it together.”

“What!” I squeak.

“No solo-time with Master Alex,” he slowly cautions. “If you want him we can do as we did with Jamie,” he says in a husky voice. “He wants you, and begs me all the time. It’s getting old,” he pretends indifference.

“OH! MY!
GOD!” I shout and start to giggle. “Holy shit batman! It was you. It was you,” I giggle and point at him.

“What are you going on about,” he laughs with me, but his face is bright red from embarrassment. He’s feigning ignorance.

“Who is the other,” I muse and nibble on my bottom lip.

“Excuse me?” His voice is perfect, but his pink cheeks are a dead giveaway.
“So… Which was it? Whose mouth was where,” I tease.

I try to hold his eyes so I can read his emotions and thoughts. Amber headlights roll around, looking at random stuff to avoid my gaze. His face is bright red and he’s worrying his lip. After a few moments of schooling his expression, he looks at me innocently and hums, “Hmm…”

My hand seeks the nape of his neck and tangles in his curls. I draw him down to me and press my lips to his ear.

“Does he taste as good as I imagine?” I breathe into his ear in a lust-filled voice.

His body spasms as he fires his instantaneous release inside me and grunts a garbled sound of intense pleasure. I hold him while he rides the wave, but I can’t stop snickering.

He pays me back for my teasing. “Yes,” he sighs against my cheek. “He’s d
elicious,” he moans in my ear.

“Oh God,” I groan as aftershocks roll through me.

He laughs at my reaction and continues my torture. “Both mouths at the same time,” he seductively taunts me. “I’d just taken him in after he was shot, and you were with Grant playacting a happy family. Roman and I bonded over stories of you, and we were so damned lonely. It wasn’t punishment or making love. It was pure lust for you. We stopped when Jamie was reborn.”

“He was your love
r,” I whisper in shock.

“Not really… It was more of a convenience. I know what he’s capable of both sexually and intimately, and your feelings for him will intensify it. I’m too jealous of both of you if you do that without me. No Jamie and no solo-time with Roman. I won’t touch Katya or Olivia-
ever. We’ll work from there.”

“So…” I draw out and wonder if I should say it- fuck it. “You sent me home to him after fucking and marking me in a jealous rage because you were sending a dozen messages at once?”
“Oh, fuck yes!” He snickers. “You were vulnerable and one touch with him and I’d have lost you. Jealous isn’t a strong enough word to describe how I felt.”

“Do you still want him?”

“He does have very pretty, long hair,” he jokes. “He was the first person who did that to me and it wasn’t about force. I…” He blushes bright pink and casts his eyes down. A bashful Marcus is the most devastating creature in my universe. “He taught me to like it. I… he… was the…”
“Spit it out,” I prompt with a chuckle.

“I’ve never tasted Cort. My first experience was when I was strapped to a rack and had a device put over my mouth so I couldn’t bite. Roman’s the only guy I’ve willingly done that for. It was… nice.” He ducks his head.

“Don’t you want to do that to Cort?” I coax him to keep spilling his secrets.

“He freaks out. His addiction to giving head is the only reason he’s calm with me. But we do it under the guise of punishment or he freaks. He’s getting bolder lately,” he says with a grin and I wonder what I’ve been missing out on.

“Master,” a deep male voice quivers, and then breaks. Roman calls from the other side of my bedroom door. I instantly go on alert. I’ve never heard that tone from him. I don’t process, I react. I run to the door, unlock it, and let him in.

Roman’s blue-green eyes are the size of saucers. His throat convulses as he tries to swallow his excess saliva. He’s terrified and nothing terrifies someone from our old neighborhood.

“We didn’t want to interrupt your reunion,” he stares at the floor but his eyes rove up my body and quickly cast down again.

“What happened? Are the kids
alright? Did Dalton relapse?”

“Slow down, Sweetheart. Everyone is healthy. I just talked to Devlin; he said Dalton is fine-
angry, maybe a little scared.”

“Why do you look petrifi
ed?” Marcus asks from the bed.

“You’re probably going to kill the messenger,” he whimpers a
nd stares a hole in the floor.

Marc stalks across the room buck-assed naked. Roman pretends not to notice. His red-hued skin makes it impossible to see if he’s blushing, but there are other indicators. I snort when I see the front of his pants. His eyes rove around the room sheepishly avoiding my inquisitive stare and all things Marcus- it’s reminiscent of Marc a few minutes ago.

“Look at me,” Marcus commands with a fingertip to the taller man’s chin.