Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (60 page)

“Syn,” Roman groans, annoyed by my antics. The movie pauses with the remote that’s duct-taped to the bed’s handrail. “Thanks for coming,” he genuinely says, finally giving me
his blinding, devastating smile.

“One hell of a set up you got, right there, for your convalescence,” I tease about all the duct-taped objects within Roman’s grasp. The majority are remotes. Another is the base to a cordless phone.
The plastic cup acting as a cup holder for a glass of water has me snorting. “Who’s the inventor?”

“Marc,” Roman and Grant say at the same time. “Enough of a tour
for now, and Roman has had your undivided attention for weeks. It’s my turn,” Grant says, a deviousness filling his voice.

“Um… what?”
I ask in confusion while eyeing a naughty acting Grant.

“Roman, if you call Stanton, I swear to God, I will take away those remotes and play musicals twenty-four/seven,” Grant warns in a voice I’ve never heard before- deep and husky. He means business.

A warm palm surrounds mine and yanks me from the room. I quickly follow Grant up the stairs as the sound of gunfire and a car chase filters from the living room. It’s either follow or be dragged up the stairs by a determinated Grant, as he takes me where he wants me. I try to look at the house as we charge through it, but it’s too much to take in at once. A large portion of the upstairs is open with shelves and shelves of books. Before I can examine the titles, I’m tugged into a bedroom and released. The sound of the door lock clicking into place hitches my breath.

“Strip,” Grant orders in a husky voice.

Wide-eyed, I stutter, “H…uh?” My body starts to shake from the adrenaline of anticipation that floods my system.

“We don’t have a lot of time. Twenty minutes, maybe,” Grant says with a brilliant smile, dimples indenting his cheeks.
The devil has a smooth voice and smiles like that. “I promised you a massage and I want to give it to you.”

“O
hhh…” I self-consciously look down, worried about taking my clothes off.

“Syn,” Grant purrs near my ear. It’s a warm comforting sound without much sexual heat
, but it’s a banked fire waiting to ignite. He’s trying to ease me. “I’ve bathed you,” he starts chanting words in a lulling, coaxing voice. “I’ve intimately inspected you. I’ve seen every inch of your flesh. I was in the room when you had sex with Ezra. I’ve even heard you climax. You’ve cried and laughed in my arms. There is no need to be shy around me- get naked,” Grant purrs the order, “and lay on your belly on my bed.” The word
bed
is a deep, husky breath from his parted lips.

As I do as Grant asked, I realize that Stanton is right about me, at least where Grant is involved. If Grant asks, I will do. I’m extremely vulnerable to Grant
’s manipulations, and he is manipulating me. I’m just not sure why.

I don’t act like other girls
would have. I don’t go slowly by revealing myself as a tease or act shy and self-conscious. I simply remove my clothes beneath Grant’s ever-watchful, glittering gaze and crawl on his bed. Grant is right; he’s seen me at my worst. There is no seduction after that.

This bedroom is definitely Grant
’s. Seeing his personal possessions, something lights in my mind- intuition, maybe. This room is about the borrowed time he’s living on with Regina. This room within this Brownstone is Grant’s true home. It’s why he’s so happy and proud. It’s a home that Grant is building with his best friend and his enforcer, and I’m honored that he’s allowing me into his private space. I have a feeling Grant doesn’t invite many people in his life- he walks around with a façade as thick as my own. Only his is built on false goodwill and cheerfulness.

“I’m going to say some things that
will be very inappropriate- salacious, even- but I won’t do anything inappropriate,” Grant promises himself more than me. The husky tone in Grant’s voice makes me look over my shoulder. Unbidden, my eyes seek out the evidence of whether or not he likes the way I look lying on his bed. Hours earlier I told my baby sister to never care about what a man thinks, and here I am, hungry for Grant’s approval- and his body approves.

Grant’s eyes slowly follow the path of mine. A naughty grin pulls at his lips.
“I’m aroused, but you can pretend that I’m not if it’s easier,” Grant’s voice gets even deeper as he walks over to me. I close my eyes because I crave watching him come to me. “No harm in looking and enjoying what you see.”

“I think you’re riding the edge of cheating, Grant,” I sound serious, but I’m teasing. I have no idea why my voice is a gravelly purr. I’ve never heard myself sound like that before.

“Maybe you better not talk or I will break my own rules.” Grant softly chuckles as he sits astride the backs of my thighs. I groan deep from the back of my throat when his warm fingers dig into my shoulders and rhythmically squeeze. My scalp tingles and tightens, my skin beads with gooseflesh, and my toes curl for the sheer pleasure of Grant’s attentions. I bite back a moan that threatens to spill from my lips.

“You’re strung so tight,” he growls. “You really needed this, didn’t you? You were such a good girl being Roman’s watch dog. I appreciate it. I appreciate you. It’s why I’m doing this.”

Grant’s praise does something strange to my insides. It’s like I want to cry and sing at the same time. I hear an echo of Stanton saying the phrase
daddy issues
and I realize he is right again.

“Don’t think about him right now,” Grant warns
, telling me I didn’t think the thought, but rather, said it aloud. “Stanton’s right and wrong. You do have a lot going on in that head of yours. Stanton’s fears are warranted where it comes to me, but I won’t harm you. You trust me, right?”

I moan, “Yes,” when he rubs lower on my back, palms kneading my flesh.
His hands roll down my spine, lighting off sparks of pure pleasure. I can almost feel the endorphins flooding my veins.

“Stanton is a good man,” Grant admits, “but your
mom royally fucked up his head. He doesn’t believe in premarital sex. He makes it sound like a sin because he couldn’t handle it. Don’t let his fears ruin you- shame you.”

“What do you mean?”
That caught my attention, the lust and pleasure fog lifts. I look over my shoulder at Grant, eagerly waiting to hear more about Stanton. Stan never talks about himself.

“
It took Gwen two years to get Stanton to sleep with her. She almost had to marry him. After they were engaged for a year, Stan was finally convinced that they would marry, so where was the harm in making love to your future wife. Well, they never got married, Gwen tore Stanton’s heart out and left him bitter, and Bianca was born nine months later. It’s Gwen’s M.O. I would know. She did the same thing to me and I didn’t understand that that’s what happened until I had to sit idly by while she repeated it with my friend.”

“Oh, God!” I cry
, burying my face in the covers that smell exactly like Grant. I feel ashamed and disgusted because my mother did that to two men who are so important to my existence. I’m mortified for us all.

“Shh… I’ll explain, and then I’m going to be very, very bad,” Grant warns
, voice dipping low. “It messed Stanton up. He’s never been with another woman. Gwen solidified his feelings on premarital sex. But he won’t date, so how the hell will he ever find a wife. He lives to work and be a good dad.”

“But…” I stutter out. “Isn’t he
frustrated?”

“Sex?
” Grant replies in a voice that tightens muscles deep within my belly. “He’s not a saint- Stanton is a powerful man with deep urges he fights. So once a month he pays the same woman to put on a pair of latex gloves and stroke him off. He even wears a condom. It’s clinical and cold, and it’s sad. I’m telling you because we need to set him up with someone and I’m using Stanton as an example of what I don’t want you to become.”

I want to tell Grant that my slut of a body will never let me be. I will always succumb to its hunger, but I won’t feel good about it. Right now, I’m succumbing like a good little slut. My body is on fire
. I’m moist between my thighs- and all I’m getting is a back massage while talking about my guardian’s fucked up sex life he had with my mother. I shouldn’t be turned on, but my body doesn’t give a shit.

“You feel so much guilt over sex,” Grant pulls the thoughts right out of my mind. “You believe
that a woman is a man’s equal. Sometimes I think you believe men are beneath you. But for some reason, you have fallen into the mindset of a submissive woman. Men do not feel shame over sex. They feel triumphant. My first was your mom. She didn’t wreck me. I’ve been with a handful of women since, and I’ve never regretted Gwen. She gave me Whitt, and he was the best gift I could’ve ever been given besides Niel. How could I hate her after that?” he wistfully asks. “No shame, no regret, no guilt. If you are equal to a man, then act like a man, and own your pleasure.”

“Fuck,” I groan. “How the hell are you in my head? I’m laying here and instead of enjoying the massage, I’m calling myself a slut for being aroused.”

“I know you’re aroused, as you should be,” Grant arrogantly says in a smooth masculine voice. “If you weren’t, I’d fear I’d lost my touch.”

I close my eyes and try to shut off my thoughts and just enjoy the rhythmic pulse of Grant’s fingertips massaging my flesh.
But it’s fruitless. My mind is a battlefield of self-doubt. I groan, but it’s not pleasure- defeat.

“You are very young and vulnerable. This scares the shit out of Stanton. You don’t know what you want yet. You feel like shit that you’ve had sex. You didn’t really
enjoy it. But that’s not entirely true. I
know
you enjoyed Ezra and didn’t feel guilty afterwards. So I’m going to help you out and tell you what you want.”

“Yeah, you know me so well,” I growl, annoyed that this impenetrable façade I’ve built up is translucent to Grant.

“I do,” Grant says, not offended. “I know you because I’ve been watching you. Stanton’s right on one thing, I’m stalking your ass because I want be your lover.”

“What?” I look over my shoulder at Grant. His blue eyes latch on to mine. I thought he was teasing, but he’s dead serious. I swallow to wet my dry mouth. “Because of my mom?”

“Fuck no,” Grant hisses in distaste. “I keep telling you that you aren’t her. If you’d let Stanton in, he’d explain. But it is uptight Stanton we’re talking about, so it would be the P.G. version.”

“What kind of version are you giving me then?” I grumble as I hide my blushing face against the mattress.

“What do you think, Syn,” Grant leans down over my back and salaciously purrs in my ear. “I’ve got you naked underneath me, don’t I? I believe this is the triple x version of the conversation.” He huskily chuckles and it confuses my mind and body. Warning alarms blaze that this is wrong, but my body is relaxed and quivering, my mind is warring to be at peace, and my emotions are all over the place.

I swallow so hard it echoes around the room. I’m so out of my league with Grant. I haven’t a fucking clue what I’m doing right now. My mind is so foggy that I can’t think straight.

“I’ll give you the uncomfortable truth. You don’t look or act or speak or think or smell or sound like Gwen. It’s your emotional reaction and emotional attachment to people in your life that is similar. The psychology of how you feel before, during, and after sex. You think if someone shows you love or affection that you have to pay them back somehow- more often than not with sex. You’re going to be wicked pissed at me for saying this, but I am able to read you because I could read Gwen. No excuse for her behavior, but she’s had a hard life. I respect that you react to pressure differently than Gwen. I respect you, Syn, in a way I never respected your mother.”

The c
ombination of the reverence in Grant’s tone and the words he speaks makes my heart falter. My breath hitches and threatens to cease.

“Breathe,” Grant
gently coaxes, rubbing the column of my neck with his warm palm. “Breathe.” And I do.

“
Hold on a second, he’ll send out a search party if you’re late,” Grant suddenly murmurs, at complete odds with our conversation. Grant reaches for the phone on his nightstand. He quickly dials the number. “I’ll bring her home a bit later.” Long pause where I can hear Stanton growling into the phone. “I’m telling her something she should’ve been told a long time ago- No, we’re not having sex. Go get laid and get off my dick, why don’t you. Have more respect for me than that, Stanton. I’m fucking offended and I know it hurts Syn that you think so little of her… Yeah, I’ll see you in an hour.”

Grant tosses the phone on the mattress. “He’ll be here in forty-five minutes, I predict. He was pissed but guilt is golden,” Grant says in amusement. “It might have been a guilt trip, but it’s still true. It bothers me that he
thinks I’m a pedophile or that I’d cheat on my mistress,” Grant says it with a straight face and I bust out laughing at its ludicrousness.

“You think that’s funny, did ya?” Grant laughs. “How about this?”

“No! I cry uncle,” I hiss as I’m assaulted by ten digits tickling the shit out of my sides. “Oh, God, you’re gonna bruise me,” I giggle as his fingers dig into my ticklish spots. “Stop,” I breathlessly beg, trying to buck him off my back but he’s a wiry bastard.