by Sara Brookes
“God, Marcus—” Enver’s voice was strangled, a quiet snarl brushing against Marcus’s lips as he wrapped his hand around Marcus’s cock.
“Shit,” Marcus breathed out as he squeezed his eyes shut.
“Don’t come until I say so,” Enver ordered, his voice rumbly and gruff and all those things that made it so Marcus couldn’t think coherently.
He tilted his head back and uttered a soft curse before he answered, “Yeah.”
Enver stilled his head, gripping Marcus’s shaft tightly. “Yeah?”
Marcus moaned. “Oh my God...fucking hell. Yes.” He paused, struggling to maintain control. “Yes, all right?”
“Watching you obey me even though all you want to do is blow your wad turns me on. Love seeing you in my ropes, but this...” Enver squeezed the dick pulsing against his palm. “I can’t fucking wait to watch you lose your shit while still covered with my come.”
“Holy shit...yes. Please. Yes. I can’t fucking wait anymore.”
The echoed words hung in the air between them.
“You can, gorgeous.” Enver nipped Marcus’s bottom lip. “And you will.”
Time ceased to function as Enver continued to hold him, his grip tight and unmoving as that frustratingly wicked grin curled up the edge of his smug mouth. That beautifully sexy smug mouth.
“You’re fucking amazing, Marcus.”
As the benediction washed over Marcus, Enver slid his hand up the length of Marcus’s dick. The movement was enough to cause Marcus to lose his composure. He gave a sudden shudder that quickly morphed into a convulsion as he began thrusting his hips furiously, hard rasping moans vibrating his throat.
The orgasm didn’t just shoot through his cock, but seized his whole body to bring him to a violent pinnacle. He fucked into Enver’s tight grasp, luxuriating in that sensational grip stroking him as his groans became a roar, unable to control his response. His seed exploded from him, the hot stream of his need spilling over the Persian rug rubbing his shins raw.
“You’re so beautiful to watch.” Enver rested his brow against Marcus’s. “So fucking beautiful.”
“Thank you, Sir.” It came out thick, his chest weighted with far more than just the energy he’d exerted. He closed his eyes as Enver’s arms wound around his shoulders. His breath left him a long expulsion. “Can I hold you?”
Enver pulled Marcus to his feet, standing with him, and stripped away his shirt, rubbing it over Marcus’s chest to remove any ejaculate that hadn’t already dried. He tossed it to the side and pulled Marcus closer, pressing his mouth against his ear as he guided him to a nearby couch. “I love that you smell like me now.” He dropped, pulling Marcus down on top of him, arranging their bodies so their chests were pressed together, their legs tangled.
Overwhelmed, his body weak with exhaustion, Marcus sighed as he rested his cheek to Enver’s chest, enjoying the sound of the strong heartbeat as he snuggled against him. “I’ll add that little detail to the program.”
Enver huffed out a laugh as he slid his hand down Marcus’s back, the muscles trembling under his touch. “Later. Right now, you’re going to not think about work and let me take care of you and tell you how much you’ve pleased me.”
Pleasing a Dom had once given him a bright, needy edge. Now, with Enver, it was a deep, gut-aching need that involved his heart as much as his loins. “I could stay this way forever.”
“So could I.”
Chapter Eighteen
Marcus wrapped his hands around a mug, absorbing some of the heat as he scanned the coffeehouse. The first few hours after group session was always tough, leaving him feeling as though he’d been scraped raw, his past quickly seeping through the scars of the attack. Ground Hogs in Sacramento had always been a good place to decompress afterward. He’d found the trendy café’s sister store in San Francisco while attending the Fordham Street Fair. The once-a-year kink-centric festival was always a good way to let loose and relax with people of similar interests.
“Mind if I join you?”
The familiar voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Hey, cupcake. Always room at the booth, my gorgeous best friend.”
In the twenty minutes since group, Zoie had pulled her long cascade of wavy chestnut hair into a high ponytail. Though her eyes were dry, the delicate skin around them was still red from where she’d been crying.
He gave her an understanding smile. “I see you’ve brought snacks.”
She adjusted the plate of bite-sized pastries she’d arrived with as she sipped her coffee. “We both had a tough session tonight, so I thought we deserved chocolate.”
The harsh sound of her voice grabbed Marcus’s heart, twisting it hard. No one else in his life understood the kind of pain he lived with daily. “I keep waiting for it to get easier.”
“It will. Someday.”
He hoped she was right. Every day was a struggle, but at least it wasn’t as prevalent as it had once been. He wanted to point out that Zoie was still attending group too despite the fact she considered herself past the tangle of emotions related to her own trauma. Though their situations were remarkably different.
“I know you don’t believe me,” she began. “But it really will. You’ll be able to bury your anger over the ordeal and make peace with it.”
A level Zoie herself hadn’t achieved yet. Not if tonight’s session of waterworks was any indication. “Thanks for meeting me. I know you’re busy.”
“Are you doing all right?”
Marcus shrugged. He hadn’t felt all right since Zoie had called to report about Davis’s parole months ago. “Do you know where he is now?”
“You know I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”
“Then you wouldn’t have come.”
Zoie smirked. “Yeah, I know. Just thought you needed a friend. And that you would feel better if you knew everything is normal. No trace of him. It’s like he’s disappeared off the face of the Earth.”
“He was a good student in high school. Just never had the motivation to apply himself. All it would take is the right contacts. You’ve said it yourself, contraband flows pretty readily despite all the controls you guys have in place.”
“As much as the system tries to stop it from happening...you’re right. He contacted you so soon after his release, he had to have set about obtaining information while he was still inside. I’ll see if I can’t find out more.”
Words couldn’t express how grateful Marcus was for Zoie’s continued involvement. She’d worked his case as a rookie cop. One of her first. It had been an open and shut case, with video evidence of the attack thanks to the high school’s foresight to install security cameras throughout the classrooms. Though she’d quietly moved up the ranks to detective, she’d maintained contact with Marcus so much that he now considered her his best friend.
“Been staying busy?”
“Trying to. Have a new client I’m installing a system for.”
“You and your geek shit.”
Despite himself, Marcus smiled. “Been hearing that a lot lately.”
“Oh boy.” She set her mug down and touched the back of his hand. “You’ve met someone.”
“How in the hell do you do that?” Zoie’s uncanny knack for uncovering something always amazed Marcus. It was a quirk that made her such a damn good police officer. “But yeah, I have. Nothing serious.”
Zoie’s eyes sparkled as she leaned forward on her elbows. As her sleeves slipped, Marcus caught sight of the faint lines along both of her forearms. She quickly adjusted the sleeves of her sweater, hiding the scars, as was her habit. “You don’t do casual, Marcus. If some guy has your interest, I know he’s something special.”
Because this was Zoie, Marcus leaned forward. “Tall, dark and fucking gorgeous doesn’t even begin to describe him.” He spread his hands about a foot apart. “Monster
cock. Nothing like I’ve ever seen.”
She narrowed her eyes as she sipped her tea. “Ass.”
He was glad to see amusement sparkling in her eyes, a nice change from the cloudy cast they’d been earlier during group when she’d been exposing her heart. He knew talking about the scars she’d self-inflicted as a young teen were still difficult to discuss, but also the best therapy because each one had a story that needed to be told.
“Oh yeah. He has a spectacular ass too. Sincerely, though. He’s a nice guy. Older. Smoker, which I’m finding exciting for some reason. Hates technology. Shuns a lot of modern-day shit.”
Her eyebrows rose. “That’s a change.”
“I know, right?” Certainly not the typical Dom he usually went for, but Zoie didn’t know about that part of his life. He usually preferred someone who could meet him toe for toe in terms of computers and technology, but Enver was a refreshing change, both as a lover and a companion.
Marcus suddenly sat back, cursing softly. “Fuck me.”
Zoie looked around, her sharp gaze assessing and searching for an immediate threat. “What’s wrong?”
He waved off her alarm. “Sorry. Just had a revelation about Enver.”
She visibly relaxed, but Marcus knew he’d set her on edge now. “Your beau, I take it?”
“Yeah,” Marcus said slowly. “I realized that he’s the first one I’ve had this kind of connection with in years.”
Her face brightened with a wide smile. “Oh, Marcus, that’s wonderful! I’m so excited for you. Which means I need to meet him. Immediately. How does next Thursday sound?” She extracted her ringing phone. “Crap. It’s the precinct.”
“Need to go?”
She held up a finger as she answered and then listened. As she hung up, she stood. “Incident a few blocks from here. I’m serious about meeting this guy.”
“You want to see if he checks out.”
She glared at him in mock horror. “I resemble that remark.”
He stood, pulling out a card he’d forgotten about until he saw her fidgeting with her sleeves again. “This is the guy I was telling you about, Constantine Volkov.”
She eyed the bright artwork filling most of the card. “Does he look like the demon-fighting Constantine we both know and love?”
“I wish. But he’s the artist I told you about when you asked if I knew anyone who did good work. I don’t know him personally, but I’ve seen his art first hand.” Marcus gestured to her forearms and the reminder of the cuts she’d self-inflicted as a teen. “Didn’t think I’d forgotten about our conversation about doing something about those, did you?”
Her eyes clouded again for a second before clearing. She shoved the card into a slender pocket affixed to the back of her phone. He’d have to remind her about it again in six months, as was his habit.
A few years back she’d casually mentioned covering her scars as a way to move on. He would remind her of it until she finally bucked up the strength to talk to a tattoo artist about what she had in mind.
Zoie set her hand over his and squeezed. “Call me later?”
He nodded and she disappeared in a blur. Though he hated seeing how many hours she worked, he knew it kept her mind occupied. Allowed her to control a compulsion she would live with for the rest of her life.
He stepped out of the café and into the evening air, inhaling deeply as he thought back to his revelation about Enver. The last man he would have ever expected to take to the virtual reality machine as well as he had. Beta testing was progressing seamlessly, with the handful of testers blown away by their experience. There were adjustments to be made...there always were, but BLINC was close to completion. And Marcus would be free to move on.
Only he didn’t want to.
His steps faltered as he drew closer to the dimly lit parking lot where he’d left his car before group. He blinked a few times, trying to process the sight of someone taking a sledgehammer to the driver’s side door. Glass sprinkled the concrete where the headlights had already been shattered. A heavy bang reverberated through the night air as something heavy connected loudly with the sheet metal hood.
“Hey!” Anger propelled him forward. “Stop! That’s my car.” His words were drowned out by the vandal striking his car again. Too late he heard the scuff of a boot against gravel behind him. He knew better than to let his guard down, but the sight of someone working his car over had fuzzed his brain stupid.
He turned to face his attacker. Recognition clicked seconds before the first hit came. Pain exploded on the undamaged side of his face, taking him down in the blink of an eye. White and black spots danced before his eyes as he blinked, trying to process what was happening.
“Get up or I’ll shove my fist up your asshole, you dickless faggot.” Davis Connelly’s face came into view, the gently sloping lines of youth gone thanks to ten years of jail. “Or maybe you’d like that, filthy pervert.”
Marcus rolled to his side, struggling to make his body and his muscles work. He made it to one knee, but paused, his vision canting wildly. Davis took advantage of the position and Marcus heard the sweep of his leg an instant before it connected with his ribs. He waited for the explosion of pain, but he’d passed the point where he could even register the wrenching agony.
That was bad. Real bad. He’d been to this place before. Where the body was injured beyond the point it could process damage. Where everything shut down as self-preservation mode kicked in. He felt the crack as bones reacted to the kick, his lungs screaming as all the air was pushed out with brutal force.
“Do you have any idea how much I’ve thought about finishing what I started that day in the classroom?” Davis touched the ridges on Marcus’s face, caressing them almost lovingly. As though he was admiring his handiwork. “Days upon endless fucking day in a ten-by-ten cell. Every day started and ended with the memory of how I didn’t successfully rid this world of you.”
Marcus collapsed, his breathing labored as he struggled to pull in enough oxygen. His brain was screaming for him to stand, to defend himself, but his body betrayed him, refusing to work. Most of all, he wanted sleep. To check out and finally, finally be free of the torment that he lived with every day. The hate and brutality would be gone. If he just lay there and let Davis finish the job he’d started, he would finally have that peace.
“Jeff, bring me the sledgehammer. I want to show this pansy ass how a real man fucks.”
No. No. No.
Just as he gathered his strength and started to rise again, Davis grabbed the back of his shirt and shoved him down, pinning him with his foot. Marcus tried to roll to dislodge Davis, but his attacker’s foothold was too strong. Cool air brushed against his skin, and Marcus realized belatedly that Davis had stripped his pants to his knees, fully intent on following through with his threat.
Adrenaline coursed through Marcus’s veins as he struggled, fighting even though all he wanted to do was give up and end the madness. Somewhere through the haze, sirens pierced the air.
“Fuck, man. The cops. I thought you took care of them.” The ground under Marcus’s cheek vibrated as Davis’s companion dropped the sledgehammer. “I’m gettin’ outta here.” Footsteps faded into the dark as he ran away.
Davis growled, pinning him in place with his knee now as he leaned close, put his mouth against Marcus’s ear. “Mark my words, I’m going finish what I started ten years ago. Even if I have to take myself out with you to get the job done right, I will rid this world of your filthy, disgusting queer ass.” The pressure against Marcus’s neck vanished, and the rush of cold wind was replaced by a warm wetness on his exposed skin.
Frozen with fear, Marcus waited for Davis to deliver his end.
But minutes later as the sirens drew closer, he realized he was now alone.
He tried to get up, but collapsed against the ground, exhausted and spent as the last of his en
ergy bled away. The pain that had been absent during the attack rushed forth, slamming into him with the force of a violent hurricane. He willed the darkness to come so he couldn’t feel anything at all. But, stubbornly, he stayed fully cognizant and awake, feeling every bruise and scrape as they bloomed.
Blue splashed everything around him, a macabre dance of light against the concrete jungle that jutted up toward the sky. His body went immediately tense as a hand touched his shoulder.
“Marcus?”
His breath gusted from his lungs when he recognized the friendly voice. “Zoie.” Thank god it was her and not some faceless uniform that would see him like this.
“Don’t talk. I’ve got medical on the way.”
“No.” A slash of pain cut off what he was about to say. He groaned as he rolled up to his knees, forearm wrapped around his midsection as if that would somehow alleviate the ache. He fought with the waistband of his pants as he took stock now that the immediate shock had started to wear off. “Don’t call the EMTs.”
“Marcus—”
“No, Zoie,” he barked out, his voice catching on a cough. “I’ve had enough of hospitals. You know that. I’ll be all right.” He accepted her assistance standing, held on with a tight grip as the world tilted wildly a few times. He fumbled with his pants, grateful when Zoie tugged up the fabric and buttoned them in place.
“What the hell happened?” She frowned when Marcus remained tight-lipped. “Off the record, promise.”
“Get me out of here and we’ll talk.”
She studied his face, clearly torn between the oath she’d sworn when she’d earned her badge and loyalty to her best friend.
He knew her well enough to know she wasn’t going to budge until he gave her something. “It was Davis.”
That information seemed to cut loose her choice. She guided Marcus’s arm over her shoulder, patiently supporting him. She looked to the uniforms that had just arrived. “Waller, I’m going to take him to the hospital myself. Ambulance is tied up with a crash over on Montez. They’ve got their hands full.”