by Dee, Cara
As usual, we fall asleep in Mark's massive bed, Lina wedged between us and limbs tangled together under the sheets. We sleep naked, our bodies still temporarily sated from tonight's activities.
*
The next morning, Evangeline wakes us up too early just to kiss us goodbye. She whispers something in Mark's ear, which makes him rumble a sleepy chuckle, and then she walks over to my side of the bed, dressed and ready to go, and murmurs that she loves me and supports me, no matter what. With a glint in her eye, she whispers, "Make our day, mon ange. I know you're ready for the leap."
Rubbing my eyes, I frown and yawn, wondering what she's talking about. But instead of clarifying, she grins and blows me a kiss.
"I'll see you for lunch," is the last thing I hear her say before I promptly fall back to sleep again.
*
When I wake up again, my head is on a solid chest and a muscular arm is wrapped around my shoulders. My leg, I notice, is draped over Mark's thigh. Oh, Jesus Christ. This is what I'm supposed to rebel against. I'm not supposed to like this—want it, crave it, fucking yearn…
Feeling a twinge of panic, I carefully move away from his warmth. As I always do. Mark shifts and turns, his breathing even and calm, and we end up on our sides. Close, but not touching. Face-to-face, chest-to-chest, and…other parts. Fuck.
Willing my semi-hard dick to calm the fuck down isn't going to happen. So, I scoot down slightly, hoping to keep my morning wood away from his. Having seen Mark in action and woken up near him before, I'm willing to bet I'm not the only one who's hard. 'Cause it feels like he's always in the mood.
With my face to his collarbone instead, I hope it eliminates the risk of us, um, touching. And shit, I'm really overthinking this. But I can't help it. Around him, I tend to overanalyze everything.
Right now, there's the familiar voice in my head—my father's—and it tells me that a small scoot is too little. I should get out of bed and start my day. Or simply just get away from Mark.
Yet…I stay. Close enough to feel his breaths on the top of my head. Close enough to feel his body warmth. Close enough to—oh, shit. Holding my breath, I lie stock-still as Mark's arm comes down over my middle. He shifts once more, and then we're definitely touching. More than his arm around me. With my head tucked under his chin and his impressive body pressed against mine, I should panic further. I should run for the fucking hills.
There are plenty of them here in San Fran.
But I don’t run. I'm tired of running.
I almost jump out of my skin when I hear his gruff, sleepy voice. "Why does it feel like I'm in bed with a robot?"
Maybe because I'm as rigid as one?
"Sorry," I mumble, swallowing hard. Fuck, I'm nervous. My heart is pounding too fast, and I'm painfully aware that my cock is brushing against his. Hopefully, he won't notice, but…who am I kidding? Mark always notices. He notices everything. He knows too well I'm struggling with my attraction for him, so why I even bother to hide it—since I fail, anyway—is beyond me.
"When are you going to relax around me, Brayden?" he whispers. His hand gently rubs my back; it's a touch of comfort, because that’s what he does. He's always there to comfort and support. "I can touch you during a scene, but…" But that’s different. He doesn’t often touch me intimately, even though his hands on me always feel scorching and sensual. "I know you want it." His soft, sleep-laced voice sends tremors down my spine.
I give a quick shake of my head in denial, but my words have run out, and despite my weak attempt at rejecting what I want, my body betrays me. All the time. The dreams I have, the fantasies running through my head…
It's wrong, it's wrong, it's wrong.
Dad's voice.
I hate him.
"Look at me, Brayden."
Forget it. No way. I can't—I…I obey.
Warily, I lift my head and peer up at him. As always, there's no judgment in his eyes. There's patience, plenty of it.
Does he know how fucking attractive he is? Does he know that, aside from Lina, he's the one I can't stop thinking about?
I bet he does.
"Such a stubborn little sub," he murmurs and cups my cheek.
It heats up in response and I try to duck my head again, but he doesn’t allow it. While staring at me intently, practically searing his way into my fucking soul with those deep blue eyes, he shifts a few inches closer to me. A challenge appears in his gaze, quiet determination, and…something else.
I suck in a quick breath, feeling his cock pressing against my own.
Immediately, shame floods me. I've been told too many times that this is wrong and perverse.
"You know, I could just fucking kill your father."
I stutter a breath, wondering if I have any secrets left. While I haven't told Mark about my family, it seems he already knows just by observing my behavior and being aware of my father's name.
"Wh-what?" I croak.
"It's fairly obvious that he's told you a bunch of horseshit," he replies bluntly.
If I wasn’t so wound-up and ready to break, perhaps I'd laugh at his words. Instead I just offer a vague shrug, not wanting to confirm anything, and I'm granted the permission to lower my head. Staring at his broad chest again, I focus on getting control of my breathing. Nothing seems to work. My mind tells me to get the hell away, yet the rest of me…
Indecision is a heartless bitch. Confliction is a goddamn cunt. Vulnerability is a fucking hag.
Lina would make this easy for me. She's been the barrier between Mark and me, and she has the patience of a saint—kinda like Mark, I guess. I'm lucky to have her. God knows I couldn’t love her more. Or maybe I could. After all, I find myself falling for that woman more every day. But right now, she's not where she's supposed to be. She's not here. Which leaves nothing between my body and Mark's. Not even underwear or the sheets. We're both using the same covers. Both touching.
Her not being here reminds me of something else, too. Whenever we spend the weekend at Mark's place, he has us servicing him in the mornings. It's extremely erotic to see Mark using Lina, and it's strangely satisfying, too. I can't even begin to explain it, but like I said, she's not here now. So, who is going to service Mark?
You're reaching.
I know, but it would be easier if I didn’t have the choice. If Mark commanded me to—to…to do something, I would. I think. Yeah, because it wouldn’t be my decision. It would be his. Just like last night in Mr. Ford's office.
Mark won't do that, though. I can tell. This is one thing he wants from me—of my own choosing. I have to take that first step; he won't do it. Problem is, I won't either.
You sure about that?
I bite down on my lip, a crease appearing on my forehead, and I stare at the hard planes of his naked chest. Lina's had her mouth all over it. Her hands, her thighs, her sweet pussy.
The only thing I envy is that I don’t have the same closeness with him—that intimacy.
Hesitantly, before I can chicken out, I place my hand on his bicep. Other than a small twitch of his muscles, there's no reaction. Not until a minute or so later when he softly brushes his hand along my spine. Again, it's to comfort me, reassure me, and it works to an extent. He lulls me into a relaxed state—at least to the point where my chest is no longer heaving with each shallow breath. Another few minutes later, he pauses and rests his hand on my lower back. It's casual, if not for two fingers being so close to the crack of my ass.
It's arousing and new and thrilling and scary as hell.
In the end, I succumb. My muscles unclench, and I even burrow close enough to drop my forehead to his collarbone. Dad's voice screams furiously, but Mark's protectiveness helps to keep it out. I guess he makes me feel—I don’t know, accepted? Regardless, it's impossible to stay away any longer.
When he hums and breathes me in, his nose in my sleep-tangled hair, I just sigh in contentment and melt. Maybe I can stay like this for only a little while—and be satisfied with that.
Bullshit.
Yeah, I know. Fucking hell.
Whatever—right now, I ignore all the voices that make me come off as a goddamn nutcase. I let myself have this. The only thing that would be more perfect is if Lina were here, too. Then again, if she were, I'd be using her as a shield again.
I realize I don’t want that.
In a bold move, I nudge my foot between his and end up with my leg trapped. Arousal spikes. Desire settles like a rock in the pit of my stomach, and Mark makes his own move, hitching his leg farther up my thigh. Under the covers, my cock throbs next to his, and I accidentally—instinctively—buck my hips forward an inch or two. But it's enough for him to notice.
"Jesus Christ." He groans under his breath, causing me to stiffen. "You're killing me here, pup."
"I'm sorry," I rasp, about to panic. Overcome with too many feelings, I begin to stutter like a moron. "I j-just—I need, um—"
"It's okay." He cuts me off and cups my cheek, once again forcing me to face him, much to my mortification. "I know what you need."
Without another word, he tilts his face over mine and kisses me. Squarely on the mouth. Soft yet firm lips. Scruff. It scratches against my skin in a way that makes me shiver.
Chapter 4
While shock sears through me and stuns me into immobility, the parts of me that have longed for this are stronger. It's his touch—I surrender to it. Completely.
Kissing him back, I let him take control even though I participate as much as he does. A strangled noise erupts from my throat as he slides his hand down and palms my ass, then gives a slow thrust that grinds our cocks together.
He doesn’t stop, either. It's merely the beginning of one of the most erotic experiences of my life. The kiss deepens, and now that I've caved, I can move on my own; I don’t need his hand urging me.
That means he can use it for…fuck, anything. My cock throbs as unbidden thoughts flash through me. But they trigger me, too. I become a slave—fucking desperate. I cling to him, craving more. Our tongues slide together, lips insistent and locked. Then that skilled hand of his slips between our bodies; he cups the heads of our cocks and gives a sensual tug and twist.
I groan embarrassingly loud and thrust upward, into his palm.
"That’s it," he murmurs huskily. He starts to kiss my jaw, my throat, my neck—at the same time as he wraps his long fingers around us, inches away from reaching all the way, and strokes hard, smoothly, expertly. A ragged whisper, "You like this, baby?"
"Yeah—fuck. Yesss." I hiss when he tightens his hold. "Please…"
I didn’t know it would feel this way.
I didn’t know, I didn’t know, I didn’t know.
"Please what?" He nips at my neck. "Give me your words. Tell me what you want."
Tall order. I want too much. All of it. It's almost overwhelming. I've denied this for so long, and now that it's within reach, I have no idea where to start. The fact that he keeps stroking, rubbing against me, doesn’t make it easier for me to think.
Think, goddammit; think. During our scenes—yeah, he's touched me. He has rolled on condoms and cock rings, and he has inserted anal plugs and used dildos. He has prepared me. But that's been different. He's been Master, and he's done the same with Lina. Except with her, there've also been more intimate touches—touches because it simply feels good; touches without real purpose. Kisses, hard fucking, and oral sex. None of that with me. But now—like I said, I want it all. At once.
"I want you to use me," I blurt out, panting. I kind of regret the wording, because it feels like a dark secret. Though, it's the truth—and another thing I've kept hidden in the past. Men are supposed to be strong, type Alpha-fucking-male, providers for women, and unyielding.
And here I am, dreaming of being Mark's fuck-toy.
I fantasize about him taking me relentlessly, claiming me in brutal ways.
Like always, only Lina knows my most animalistic desires. I could never hide that shit from her. But despite her open mind, sweetest heart, and constant reminders to me that we're all different, that we all have different wants, I can't shake the feeling of being weak—a disappointment.
My body tenses up when I realize Mark has stopped. Peering at him nervously, I see that he's studying me. Hooded gaze, revealing lust, but past that is nothing but experience. He reads me too well, and it leaves me exposed.
"I'm not going to take guesses right now," he says gravely, unmasked desire still in his voice. "But—" he pushes me aside and follows, covering my body with his "—one thing is fucking clear, Brayden. We will talk about whatever you're hiding." Slowly, he lowers his face and brushes his lips over mine. He also lets his weight press into me, probably knowing I want it—and can take it.
With me…he can be as rough as he wants. Just a thought.
"But you don’t want to talk right now, do you?" It's another one of his husky whispers. All I can do is shake my head and welcome his mouth. "I love seeing you like this. Surrendered, wanting, no more resistance, so fucking ready for me to do whatever I want."
"Mark," I whimper pathetically. Just give me something.
I'll worry about the aftermath later.
"I've waited for this." He grinds our cocks together again. "Thought about this—countless times." His voice is addictive. "Soon, I'll have you bound and spread for me." Seduced by his fucking authority. "Both of you—you and Evangeline." I writhe and buck under him, crazed for more. "Two little subs under my care." Nuzzling the spot below my ear, he whispers his final words for the moment. "But right now I want your mouth on my cock, baby."
My mouth waters at the same time as I admit to myself that I, for some goddamn reason, like his new name for me. Term of endearment. Nickname. Whatever. Baby. Humiliating and arousing. It could be sweet, too, I guess.
"I want it," I hear myself moan. "I want you."
Mark lifts himself off my heated body but dips down and kisses me softly. "Glad to hear it, Brayden." Rolling over, he ends up on his back next to me, and he coaxes me to come with him. "You know I want you, too."
I do. He hasn’t made that a secret, ever. If he had, I wouldn’t have found the guts to give in. Or maybe I would, but not yet. As it is, Mark never hides anything. He also doesn’t miss anything. I've been fooling myself, thinking my thoughts are safe from him, but he knows. He knows humiliation turns me on.
It would be a different kind of humiliation than the one I've experienced in the past. Mark wouldn’t bully me, push me down and leave me there, or be evil and cruel. He would use my weaknesses for him and Lina against me, taunt me, and expose me, but he would also catch me and bring me back.
Scooting down his body, I settle between his muscular thighs, again feeling my mouth watering.
"What a spectacular fuckin' sight," Mark mutters and drags a hand over his face.
Relief rushes through me, but I only show it with a silly little grin. I'm high on that relief, almost delirious, and the small grin is still in place when I lower my head and close my mouth over the head of his cock. Fuck, yeah. I savor his musky scent, the flavor of him, and unlike Lina, who can be a bit of a tease, I take him farther and farther until he hits the back of my throat. Our girl can deep-throat, but I'm gonna need practice. All I can do for now is to finally give him the attention I'm capable of. With nothing holding me back, I hope to become the sub, the man, he deserves.
"Christ, that’s perfect," he moans.
Peering up at him while I soak his erection with my tongue, I see tensed abs, defined pecs, and a face flashing with dark desire. When his lust-filled eyes meet mine, it's like we fuel each other. I acknowledge the urgency in his gaze by tightening my lips around his steel-hard cock, and his groaned curse makes me wanna hump the fucking mattress.
I suck him as hard as I can and grind my own dick against the sheets. I feel the wet spot I create on the fabric and only rub harder. My hands slide up his muscular thighs to fondle his tight sac, having watched him enough to know what he's into.
Every now and the
n, a spurt of pre-come coats the roof of my mouth as proof that I'm doing it right, and I savor the salty taste of him. It's been almost ten years since I was with a guy intimately, and I don’t remember it being this good, this sexy, this satisfying, this consuming. Hell, my one and only other experience with another man ended in disaster, and it's nothing I think of fondly.
Mark bucks his hips, thankfully not treating me like I'm made of glass, and he soon fists my hair to guide me over him. "Wait," he grits out and stills me. "I want to be inside you when I come."
I whimper pitifully, nod, and lick my thoroughly-used lips. Pulling me up his body, he gives me a bruising kiss and explores my mouth with his tongue, barely letting me breathe. The realization hits me hard—that he's wanted me for a while now, and just how much he wants me. It makes me feel both desired and idiotic. Because I wish I could've been more for him from the get-go.
He rolls us over so I'm on my back. He grinds our dicks together, still kissing me hungrily, then breaks away. Breathing heavily, he mutters, "Don’t move a fucking muscle." He leaves me panting and on the verge of begging for his touch, but he's only gone for a moment. When he returns, he's got a bottle of lube. "Finally all mine." He's quick to cover my body with his again, and he captures my mouth in another hard kiss.
It's night and day—Mark and Lina. One is hard, big, less pliable, and oozes power and strength. Another is soft, small, sweet, and radiates…I don’t know, brightness, I think is a good word. They're both wonderful and insanely appealing to me, but in different ways.
"I feel stupid for not asking." He kisses my jaw and wraps his fingers around my aching cock, giving it a slow stroke. I choke on a breath and grab on to his shoulders. "Are you ready for this, Brayden? I mean sex…with me." He nuzzles his nose to mine. "Do you want me inside you?"
"Yeah," I groan and buck my hips. Fuck, can't he see how ready I am? "I want you. Now."
He already knows I love it when he uses toys on me, so it can't really come as a shock that I want his cock, can it?
"Demanding." He smirks and shakes his head in amusement. "That’s my job." I flush as his eyes turn dark and predatory. "And how I fucking love that job," he murmurs and sits back on his heels between my parted legs.