KING (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (28 page)

“Who’s Jon? Where do we find him?” Marcus directs at Dalton, his tone full of impatience. Marcus has to do something, and he has to do it NOW.

“Jon was my grandfather’s henchman.
He was a cruel sadistic bastard that loved to torture anything that breathed. I slit his throat,” Dalton says, matter of fact without an inflection of regret.

You know you’re in a hard group when a comment like that garners no true reaction except contemplation. I can see the wheels spinning in their minds. Everyone is quiet, even the youngest among us.

Dalton breaks the deafening silence. “I don’t know anything about Jon. I don’t even know his last name.” Regret is heavy in Dalton’s tone, his accent becoming prevalent. “I will go through the financials and see if Jon was legally employed by one of our companies. I think Bianca will be our best direction. Maybe she can lead us to who took over for Jon.”

~Chapter Twenty-Four~

“Just l
et me grab my wallet, and then we’ll go,” I call to Dalton as I charge towards my closet.

“Okay,” Dalton
pleasantly says, and I can tell by the proximity of his voice that he didn’t stay in the hall. I turn around and find him sitting on the edge of my bed. Dalton hands lightly rest on his thighs as he inquisitively looks around the room, cataloging my personal space. He’s been in here one other time, and I didn’t let him past the door. It was when I ravished his cock, and then he rejected me by refusing to move into this very room.

I feel
contrite. Rationally, I know I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do. Seeing my boyfriend patiently waiting for me, in the very spot that Ezra and I made love last night, makes me feel like a total letch.

Dalton
gives me a perceptive look and arches a black brow in amusement. “Gorgeous, come give me a kiss before we go,” he softly breathes. A slight blush pinkens his cheeks as his luscious mouth curls into a seductive smile.

“How can I deny that?” I walk over to
the seductive man and tilt his face up by flexing my fingertip under his chin. Dalton’s hypnotizing gaze hitches the breath in my throat. “Who could deny these lips,” I purr.

My tongue slashes out and licks a long, wet path across his bottom lip
. He whimpers for me and shivers from the contact. A groan, deep in my chest, erupts from the decadent taste of his mouth. Dalton’s hands grip my waist and I shudder from the contact.

“AH!” I shriek when I’m upended on the bed. Dalton tackles me and straddles my hips.
His gorgeous crimson lips flash me a devious smirk and I instantly know that this moment has Ezra’s touch all over it. Ezra taught me to be gentler, but what is he counseling Dalton on? How to be more aggressive?

Inky lashes cast half-moons on Dalton’s cheeks. The crescents are so beguiling that I moan. It’s moment
s like these that I remember my boyfriend’s schooling wasn’t traditional. He was taught the art of business by his father’s abusive hand and the art of seduction by his mother’s whores. Dalton excels at both. 

“Did you make love to Ezra?”
spills unbidden from my parted lips. I’m surprised there isn’t an ounce of jealousy in my tone.

“No,” he smirks, “Did you?”

“Yeah,” I softly murmur, bashfully. I look away and sheepishly say, “No penetration, though.”

I expect Dalton
to be outraged, but when I finally look at him, he’s grinning down at me. “I fucked Ezra… no penetration, though.”

“Fuck,” I hiss and it turns into a laugh. “I should have known better!”

“As if you didn’t figure it out before just now… Ezra isn’t exactly a saint. He’s using our relationship as a way to get some. I don’t mind,” Dalton shyly murmurs, his pale cheeks turning an inviting shade of rose. “It felt incredible.”

“Ugh,” I grunt. “This feels incredible,” I ar
ch my back, pressing my erection into his perfect ass. “Kiss me.”

Dalton lies down on top of me, and h
e’s so light that I barely feel the weight pressing down. He gazes at me with huge green alien-eyes. He waits, a silent question in his expression. Dalton is pausing to see if I’ll take the lead, dominate him. I fall lax to the mattress and smirk up at him. I can learn new tricks if he can. Let’s see what Ezra taught him.

Surprise flashes across Dalton’s
face a second before he impatiently descends to my lips. I don’t close my eyes as he kisses me. I watch him instead. The cascade of his silky hair falls, framing his face and tickling my forehead. The thick fringe of his lashes hides those gloriously foreign eyes- they glow with an otherworldliness that I’ve never seen outside of Olivia and Spyder. It is completely Fontaine.

My eyes slip shut at the same time my hands rise to
cup the back of his head. I part my lips, allowing him access to my tongue. Dalton’s heady moan fills my mouth, vibrating against my lips and reverberating along my spine. Need coils in my stomach- a fierce hunger that demands satiation. This appetite- desire for him can never truly be fed. It wanes only to return with twice the force. I miss him even when I’m with him.

Dalton
eats at my mouth and tongue- teeth nipping and lips suckling. My fingers clutch his hair, holding back the desire to devour him alive. I mew and thrash on my bed, trying not to rule our pleasure. I let Dalton take from me everything he wants and I request nothing in return. I just experience.

Slowly I extract my leg from between his, an irrational need to part my thighs. My arousal is
engorged to the point of pain. My closed legs threaten to crush the heavy sack that draws tightly to my body. My legs fall farther apart in silent invitation. Dalton readily slips between my thighs, and grinds his massive cock into my ass and balls. I wince because it feels divine.

“Daniel,” purrs from his lips as he finds an agonizing rhythm that has me o
n the edge of release. Dalton thrusts against my ass in a parody of the real act. “I need you inside me,” he breathes into my mouth and I nearly combust.

“It’s against the rules,” I cry out in misery.

“Fucking’s against the rules. You just lie there; I’ll do all the work.”

And I do.

I lie on my bed while Dalton does whatever the hell he wants to do to me, and I exult over the fact. I snort as Dalton struggles to divest me of my pants. He gives up with them halfway down my thighs.

His eyes sparkle with mischief as he strips down complet
ely naked. My avid gaze drinks in the glorious sight. Fully clothed, Dalton is just a small Emo guy, until you look into his vivid eyes and take in his mind-blowing face. Without the guise of clothing, he is exquisite, otherworldly… mine. Thin to the point of emaciation and androgynous in the extreme, Dalton doesn’t seem manly. But that is until you witness the twelve proud inches jutting from between his hips. The length that I’ve been frightened of but will one day take in full. The way his cock throbs and jerks under my rapt gaze, I’m sure it’s hoping that day is sooner rather than later.

“Are you drooling for me?” Dalton teases.

“Constantly… I’m like a leaky faucet. Drip… drip… drip…” I self-deprecatingly tease. “I’m always wet for you, baby.”

“Good,” he growls, crawling up between my legs.

My eyes flutter shut when Dalton rubs the thick head of his cock between my buttocks. My breath ceases in my lungs and my dick wildly jerks in anticipation. I don’t move a muscle in fear that I’ll accidently impale myself on his arm-sized cock or fail some kind of test he’s giving me. I ease when all Dalton does is rub back and forth along a path from my tailbone to my belly button, gliding the bulbous head of his dick down the length of mine, swirling around my balls, and painfully pressing against my taint. Dalton maddeningly teases me. With each pass, I relax more. With each pass, I’m stimulated to the point of release.

“Ahhh
…” my body rolls in a wave as Dalton tests my resolve. I don’t know if I’m scared he’ll press into the hole he’s tantalizing or if I fear he won’t. My legs open wider and wider until I can’t bend any further, silently begging him for something I can’t vocalize.

Dalton chuckles at me and purrs, “Not yet.”

Every muscle in my body relaxes in curious disappointment. I close my eyes and expel a long, lingering sigh.

“Fuck!” I shout when my cock is embraced with the moist heat of Dalton’s tight body. He sits astride me, fully impaled. It’s the most intimate moment of my life. I’m used to fucking from behind as I stare at the delicate arch of his back or the wondrous sight of my cock sawing in and out of his ass. We’ve made love a few times facing each other, but always in the dark of night.

This intimacy is staggering. In broad daylight, Dalton rides me while
adoringly gazing down at my face. We both wear similar gobsmacked expressions: glazed eyes, mouth agape, ruddy cheeks from arousal, and quivering flesh. It takes all my tenacity not to pass out from the emotional pleasure of it.

“I’m sorry, I’m not going to last long,” I warn. “I’ll try to do better next tim
e,” I self-consciously mutter.

Dalton
expression softens as he smiles down at me. “I’m right there with ya, Gorgeous.” He shudders above me and closes his eyes.

I can’t help myself. I sit up, not to take over and dominate him, but because I have to hold him while we make love. My arms encircle his hips and grip his ass. My
mouth finds moan territory and suckles in fevered ecstasy. His skin smells fantastic. His taste is decadent. The sensation of his flesh between my lips, between my teeth, and wrapped around my length has my orgasm barreling up my cock.

“Please,” I beg, holding out for as long as I can. Lightning flashes down my spine, but I ignore it. My balls scream to expel the pressure, but I agonize through it. I will not cum until Dalton does. We’re going together this time.

Dalton’s fingers bite into my shoulders as he uncontrollably bucks in my lap- head lolling on his neck as he erratically rides my hips. Dalton keens in rapturous ecstasy. Moments later his passage passionately contracts, gripping my cock, sucking the cum out in a fierce pull.

The instant the first wave of semen splashes my chest, I let go. I roar my powerful release. I held out for as long as I could and I’m rewarded with its potency. No more half-assed
orgasms. I crave this steamrolled, jackhammer to the nuts, aching prostate agony that leaves me breathless and replete. I couldn’t get up again if my life depended on it… well, maybe fifteen minutes from now.

~Chapter
Twenty Five~

“Shit! We are sooooo late,” I laugh, ducking into the café with Dalton trailing behind me, holding my hand.

“It was worth it,” he purrs. “I didn’t want to leave… ever.”

“You know
, all you have to do is say yes, and that can be our reality,” I frantically persuade, hungering for Dalton to relent. “Every night we could fall into a pleasure induced coma.” I imagine him lying in my bed and contentment fills my soul. I want that. I don’t want to be alone anymore and I want to share my life with Dalton.

“I’m thinking about it, Daniel
. It’s a huge step. Please, don’t pressure me,” he grumbles, finding offense where none was meant.

“I’m sorry.” I pull Dalton
to a stop and cup his cheek, fingers fanning in his silky hair. “I didn’t mean it like that. No pressure- honest. I just want you to know that I’ll be waiting for when you’re ready-
if
you’re ever ready.”

I flutter my lips against his mouth in apology. It’s the barest brush of a touch. As I pull away
, I hear, “Disgusting. Faggots make me sick. We should just ship them off to an island and let them screw each other to death. They can die of AIDS.”

Two good ol’ boys are
yakking it up, cackling at Dalton and me- finding themselves superior to a couple that actually respects each other. A myriad of despicable words flow from their low-mentality mouths. They mock-punch and point at us, even draw in other diners. Most disdainfully scoff at the pair, but a few mumble in agreement.

“Homophobic assholes,” I mutter under my breath as Dalton tries to release my
hand. I wrap my fingers tightly around his. We have no reason to be ashamed.

Everything I despise about humanity scrolls through my mind: Disrespectful.
Uncouth. Impolite. Narrow-minded. Ignorant. Bigots.

Yeah, because AIDS
manifests from anal sex. If that were true, the girls they oops would be dropping like flies.

“Ignore them,” I grumble as Dalton says, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” I look at him, trying to read his emotions.

“You don’t have to… you don’t have to be this way in public. I’ll understand. I know you have an image to protect as a Whittenhower.” His tone is so shamed that it hits me deep in the gut. Dalton won’t even look at
me; therefore, I can’t read his emotions.