Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (100 page)

I join the girls’ team: Gwen, Fate, Kris, and Olivia. Amelia is on our team, too, along with Bianca. But both ladies are involved in a debate about the merits of dancing in Las Vegas. Stanton is going off on showgirls and strippers, and his daughter will be one over his dead body. To which Olivia then murmurs under her breath,
that can be arranged
.

“You can say something,” I whisper in my mother’s ear. Gwen and I don
’t have the best relationship, but we are trying. I know she has had a horrific life. I just blame her for wallowing in her pain and not putting a stop to the events that transpired- events she should have stopped. Just because people treat you like an object, doesn’t mean you have to be one. Basically, we just don’t understand the other.

“No, I can’t,” she unsurely whispers back. “Can I?” Her big blue eyes implore me to tell her the truth. Gwen has a hard time determining the truth from a lie, and I’ve had to tell her who she could trust because she doesn’t trust her own judgment.

“You’re Bianca’s mother, and she is an adult- a married adult that wants to stay with her mother-in-law. She shouldn’t have to be demeaned by Stanton’s controlling behavior.”

I wait for Gwen. If she doesn’t step up, I’ll muzzle Stanton. I half listen while I watch the boys and Grant. Zane is very comfortable with Grant, pushing those twenty visits into the hundreds.

“I read one of your books once,” Torian conspiratorially says. “Are any of the characters real people? Do you write it autobiographical?”

Grant answers with a monstrous laugh from deep within his chest. I roll my eyes. Torian is going to be a holy terror. What have I gotten myself into?

“Stanton,” my mother’s soft voice shocks me and whips Grant’s head around to look in her direction- his silent laugh dying on his lips. “Stop.”

“What?” Stanton stutters out. Shocked that Gwen addresses him. She has never spoken to him that I know of.

“Bianca is a young woman. She’s nineteen. Trust that you raised her well, and trust her in return. Let her follow her dreams,” Gwen eloquently says. I feel so proud of my mother that tears prick my eyes. Never has she stood up to a man- any man- for any reason.

“You have no-” Stanton barks, but Gwen interrupts him with a firm, “shut up!” Surprisingly, Stanton does shut up. I think
he is speechless, as are we all.

Arms surround me from behind, drawing my back against a strong, muscular chest. I stand, stunned. Wil holds me in the presence of our family. He has never touched me in this room or in front of the majority of these people.
I’ve always pushed the thought away, but like a sore tooth, it throbs. I’ve always felt like a dirty secret that Wil hid in our bedroom. Our family and the game players know Wil and I are together, but he’s never shown any interest in me in their presence. When we are at home, he doesn’t even sit next to me on the sofa. The members of our fire department don’t even know Wil and I live together.

It’d be a lie if I said that Gretchen’s malicious words didn’t hit home
like a punch to the cunt.

“What’s happening now?” Wil whispers in my ear, lips softly fluttering over my flesh. The sound vibrates down my spine and makes me shiver. Wil, thinking I’m cold, pulls me tighter to his chest, his warmth permeating my shirt and seeping into my back.

I turn my head to whisper back, but I’m rendered momentarily speechless when I see his face- bright-eyed and open, Wil smiles at me. “Gwen is defending Bian-” my sister’s name is cut off when Wil’s lips descend on mine. Confused, I can’t even kiss back as he slowly caresses my lips with his. He pulls back and nuzzles the side of my neck, placing a kiss to the skin before he whispers to me.

“Can
we go home now? I want to go to bed,” Wil breathes the words against my neck. His hot, moist breath has me shuddering in his arms. “Please,” he begs, pressing his growing arousal against the small of my back.

“Um…” I finally notice that the room is silent, and it isn’t because of Gwen acting out of character. It’s because of Wil acting out of
the ordinary. The cold-hearted enforcer is cuddling and kissing on me. Showing me with his actions, not his words that he wants to have sex very badly… and I’m not the only one that is reading his intent.

Wil doesn’t notice or he doesn’t care. “Did someone slip X into your coffee?” I jokingly say
, my laugh is strained, but I’m half serious. Wil doesn’t behave this way, even when he’s horny. He’s usually riding out his fears. Tonight, he isn’t afraid as he nuzzles my throat, kissing and nipping at my skin.

Setting his teeth into the nape of my neck, my knees turn to goo. Wil hold
s me upright as he whispers against the back of my neck without removing his teeth from my flesh. “I need to be inside you,” he longingly says, his chest vibrating against my back. With each word, his tongue caresses my flesh.

“Wil,” a half-strangled moan erupts from my lips. “What’s up with you?”

“My boogiemen are dead, and everyone in this room is either family or friends. We can trust them- we’re finally safe.” The hot moisture landing on my neck makes me regret asking, but Wil won’t be deterred, even by uncomfortable emotions. He squeezes me tightly, firmly pressing his arousal into my back and giving a slight grind that has my eyelids slipping shut.

“We’re going home now- alone. So either someone can drive you,” Wil directs to Stanton, Amelia, and the boys,
“or someone can drive us… right now. But we need the apartment empty for a little while,” Wil warns.

“We’ll take you,” Roman says, eyes on Grant’s rapidly moving fingers. “We’re the closest to Midtown. Everyone else lives
out here in the Gates or they’re staying here.”

“Where is Olivia staying tonight?” I don’t know why I even care right now. But with Wil fused to my back, I worry about his family.

“Olivia and Sebastian are staying here. Devlin is staying with Boyd and Gretchen. I was about to extend an invitation to my daughter if her father won’t throw a hissy fit,” Gwen says, the sarcasm in her voice makes her sound more like me. Wil snorts against my neck, hearing it, too.

“Well, since t
hat is settled,” Wil purrs, “We’re leaving now.”

“What the hell got into you,” Boyd says in awe. “I’ve never seen you
act like this- like ever.”

“I’m not fighting it anymore,” is all Wil cryptically says.

“Is that what you called it?” Boyd sarcastically mutters, “’cuz you did a shitty job of it for the past thirteen years. I remember a car ride where your control was zero.” Boyd smirks.

“Yeah,
” Wil growls, and I can almost hear in his voice the blush staining his cheeks. “That was me fighting it. If I hadn’t, Zane would have brown hair and pale blue eyes. Trust me, you weren’t there- that was the fight of my life.” Wil takes my hand and pulls me from the house, with Roman and Grant trailing behind us.

The four of us load into Grant’s car with Roman driving. Wil attacks me
like a madman. Yanking me into his lap and kissing me with tongue and teeth. All I can do is whimper. Unlike Wil, my control around him is always zero.

“Audience,” I warn when Wil’s head disappears u
nderneath my shirt. I squeak out when his teeth latch around my nipple.

“I don’t care,” Wil murmurs around my breast, the words vibrating my skin, creating a delicious sensation. “I want Grant to watch.”

“But it’s not only Grant,” I caution.

“Bbbbeee firrrm wittth hiiim,” a distorted and pained voice says from the front seat. I can barely understand the words. I jump so hard my head hits the roof of the car. My heart lands somewhere in my throat- pounding viciously hard until I can’t hear anything but the lug-lug sound.

“Holy fuck!” I shout. “You can talk!”

“That’s the longest sentence he’s capable of,” Wil says as he pulls his head from beneath my shirt.
“A year ago he could only get a word or two out at once. With time, he should be able to speak enough to communicate. No long speeches or anything, maybe ten words every hour or so. It’s a lot of stress on his damaged cords.”

“I don’t und
erstand,” I whimper. “We made it so that it could be reversed.”

“Thhheeee aaacccid,” Grant garbles from the front seat. “Mmmmy fa-” he runs out of energy. A frustrated fist smashes into the glove compartment.

“Just sign it,” Roman patiently says. A second later he translates, “it’s my fault, not Wil’s. When I tried to kill myself, I permanently ruined myself- in many different ways.”

“Grant,” I sigh. I reach over the back of the seat and try to hold Grant the best as I can. I want to comfort him. “A string of five words is better than none. The ability to get stronger is the best news I’ve heard in a very long time. You should be proud- I’m proud of you.”

I watch Grant’s fingers slowly move, slower than when we were in my mother’s living room. It takes me a moment, and then I realize that he is signing at a rate that Roman can read it while he drives. I need to learn sign language. Wil learned years ago, saying he wanted it for work- in case we got a disabled patient. I’m such a moron- it was for Grant. I’d feel betrayed, but nice things about Grant never fell from my lips when Wil brought him up over the years. To say I was angry was putting it lightly.”

“Grant says to be firm with him,” Roman says. He makes a choking sound in the back of his throat- part laugh, part snort. “I’m not repeating that, no fucking way. Grant, you go ahead and text that to Faith.”

My phone signals an incoming message from Grant.
Total control. If you have to, tie him down. If he freaks, don’t stop.

~Chapter Eighty-Nine~

“Ugh!” I grunt as I’m thrust up against the inside of our front door. The door hits the frame with a loud crash. Wil plasters himself to me, lifting me up until we are face-to-face, with his hips pinning me to the door. His eager lips seek out mine- a blood-boiling melding of our lips. Impatient whimpers spill from my mouth to his. I nearly cum when he sucks on my tongue in a rhythm that mimics the blow job I gave him earlier this evening in the shower.

“What’s up with you?” An uncomfortable giggle bubbles up my throat
as Wil tears at my clothing- literally ripping my shirt off my chest. I fear that this new horny Wil has nothing to do with his need for me and something entirely different and painful.

“You dominating me in the shower did something to me. All night I couldn’t stop thinking about
going home and devouring you, of thrusting inside you, of coming inside you. My God, Pixy, I want you so much that I physically ache,” Wil groans, pressing his cock between my thighs, and grinding us together. “Let me in there, Plllleeeeeaaassseee,” he begs, voice flowing along my skin.

“I will never stop
you,” I breathlessly promise. I decide clothing is overrated. I shred the shirt off of Wil’s back, needing his hot flesh pressed against my naked chest. A sigh slips from my lips when his broad chest is a velvety press against my breasts.

“Good,” Wil growls, fingers working at the button and zipper on my pants. “I do appreciate you. I know I’ve hurt you constantly with my evasions. I didn’t want to lie to you. I just couldn’t tell you the truth. I was scared,” Wil reluctantly admits. “But it had nothing to do with you. It was all about me. I want you, Pixy
,” he groans in pain.

“I can see that,” I giggle, uncomfortable with the emotions I’m feeling. Wil never talks hearts and flowers. I’ve walked around in a state of confusion for the past thirteen years since I met Wil. His actions alwa
ys screamed he wanted me. But Wil’s words, or lack thereof, always made me doubt us as a couple. Wil has been by my side, never leaving me, since I thought I was having a miscarriage. That was the day he took responsibility of Zane, and me, in a way.

“
It killed me when you were talking to Greta like you mean less to me than she does to Boyd. That’s bullshit. I trust you. I respect you. I want you to be happy. I want to be your husband, but not until my baggage is packed away and not controlling my life. Don’t ever doubt us- don’t ever let anyone make you doubt us. We are more than what we seem from the outside looking in. I feel the connection, too,” Wil finally admits. “It used to scare me, but now it comforts me.”

Be firm with him
. Grant’s horrific words echo in my mind- the words weren’t horrific, his new voice is. “Wil, strip completely naked and get on the bed. Lie on your back, spread-eagle, with your arms over your head. Wait for me,” I order, heading towards Stanton’s room.

I don’
t wear a robe, but the man I call Dad has a collection. Stanton lives in his ‘smoking jackets’ all weekend, while he talks on the phone and reads paperwork. I bought him a pipe as a gag gift a few years back. I steal the sash to the robe that is hanging on his bedroom door, and then the neck tie that is draped over the knob on his dresser drawer. I bought this brown tie for him almost ten years ago because it matched his eyes- it seems fitting that it will be used by me tonight.