KING (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (6 page)

“Font, have you seen my tablet? I need to download that book Ava was telling me about.”
Scatterbrained and bubbly, Spyder digs through her bags searching for her
Ipad
.

“Petite soeur,” Dalton says in amusement, holding up a purple tablet decorated in rhinestones. “Looking for this?”

“Merci, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” sadness bleeds into her voice as she hugs the device to her chest.

“You’ll never have to find out,” Dalton assures her and adds a sweet kiss to her pouting lips. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Dalton sways as he walks towards me. His slight frame rolls in invitation as he stalks to me. My cock fills to bursting in a heartbeat. “Five minutes?” I scoff. “I need a hell of a lot more than that,” I complain as I walk towards my room, feeling his smoldering presence at my back.

“Sorry, I can only give you a taste. Itsy Bitsy needs me more than you do.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that if I were you,” I tease, yanking him into my rooms and pressing him against my locked door. My chuckle turns to a lust-filled moan as our bodies perfectly align. Dalton’s cock digs into my thigh. I swirl my hips, teasing my erection against his narrow waist. A hiss passes my clenched teeth at the exquisite torment of pleasure.

“You have a
hand,” Dalton breathlessly groans against my neck, nipping the skin with his blunt front teeth.

“This hand?”
I challenge, “Is going to be busy.” My palms grip his hips and lift until we’re lips-to-lips. “I have very talented hands,” I breathe against his lips, flexing my fingers on his boney hips. I descend on him in starvation. Dalton’s taste boils my blood, flooding me with rising lust. His pouty lips attack mine with equal fervor.

“A taste, you say,” I teas
e, drawing my mouth from his. Dalton tries to follow and continue the kiss. When I don’t allow it, he growls, thumping the back of his head against my door.

“Daniel,” he purrs in heavily accented French. My ears quiver in delight, arousing from the sultry tone of his voice.

“Dalton,” I purr back. “You’re the one who said a taste. Five minutes, you said.” I laugh as he writhes and groans in frustration. 

My grip transfers from his hips to his throat. One hand gently encircles the slim column of his neck, holding him against the door. His back slides along the door as I lift him farther. I dip my neck and
bite the outline of his cock against the fly of his jeans. Dalton’s so aroused that a wet spot is growing on the front of his skinny jeans. Denim that barely contains the biggest cock I’ve ever seen.

Dalton weig
hts no more than a small female, since he uses food as self-punishment. He’s almost a foot shorter than I am, and I love it. It makes me feel all the more manly.

“Hmm…” I hum. “The record is three minutes. We only have two left. Do you think I can beat it?”
I speak of my true talent- my mouth. Whether it’s a kiss to the lips, cock, cunt, or ass, I am a master.

“Mon dieu,” he cries in pain.
“Oui, s'il vous plaît!”

I chuckle in amusement. In the past few weeks my rusty French has sharpened. I fought Regina for years as she tutored me. She said
I’d need it one day, and she was right.

“My God!
Yes, please!” I snicker as my teeth draw his zipper down. “Oh… fuck,” I groan. “Commando.”

Dalton thrashes like a wild animal, baying and grunting, nearly blowing his top as I lick the flesh that was behind the fly of his jeans. That wet spot is the size of a silver dollar and I crave it with a single-minded madness.

“No wasting it,” I chastise, fingers plucking the button on his jeans.

Twelve inches of male perfection smack
s me in the face. I don’t laugh because it drives my lust to astronomical proportions. I suck down as much as I can take, more than half.

“Thirty second countdown,” Dalton breathlessly warns as I bob my head, licking the underside of his cock, and cup
ping his balls with my free hand.

“Seriously?
You’re gonna want me to stop when the five minutes are up,” I say around my slurp. “Are you batshit?”

“Fifteen seconds,” Dalton
groans, fingers finding my hair, twisting while his nails bite into my scalp. I try harder, since I guess he’s serious about the time constraints. I attack him like a feral animal: saliva dripping off my chin, hand pistoning the base of his cock, cheeks bowing during retreat and puffing out with advance. My crazed sounds match his agonized cries.

“Three…” his cock starts flexing, quivering, as the pressure builds in his sack. “Two… One… mon dieu, Daniel!” he screams as molten liquid floods my mouth, jets down the back of my throat, and spills from my lips, coating my hand. My mouth works until the last drop shoots from the plum of his dick.

Precum soaks my trousers, preparing for its own pleasure. My release is stuck in my balls, building from just the sound of Dalton’s pleasure.

I tuck him safely inside his tiny jeans that I couldn’t squeeze my thigh inside, let alone my waist. I stand, r
elocating my hands to Dalton’s hips again, not allowing his feet to touch the floor. I fiercely attack Dalton’s mouth, sharing his taste on my lips- tongue spearing, delivering the salty sweetness of his release between his eager lips.

“The countdown was for your new record,”
he giggles, high off pleasure. “Thirty seconds, Daniel. I don’t see any way you could break that.” Dalton falls lax against the door, eyes glazed from pleasure, pleasure I gave him.

“Move in with me,” I beg. “We could try to break that record in our spare time. Share my rooms with me.”

“Daniel,” Dalton denies me, trying to lessen the rejection. He stares at me through guileless green eyes.

“Your sister needs you,” I try the technique that worked on Syn. I settl
e him to his feet, and walk to my closet.

“No
, she doesn’t. I’ll just be in the way. She needs to bond with Marcus without having me to run to for comfort.”

I can’t stand the look of pity on his face. I grab an identical pair of charcoal trousers. I yank my soiled pants off while Dalton watches from the doorway.

“Did you cum?” he asks, noticing the flagging erection inside my boxers and my need to change pants.

“Nah,” I murmur, refusing to look at him as I yank my pants on
, tuck in my shirt, and zip up- signaling that there will not be any more play between us.

“Why not?”
Dalton’s voice is confused, if not a little hurt.

“Doesn’t matter,” I mumble while putting myself to right
s. What I really want to say is,
the anti-Viagra, when your boyfriend acts like you asked him to play golf, not that you invited him to move in with you.
It was my way of making our relationship official and exclusive. I guess he doesn’t want what I want. “No biggie,” I say with false nonchalance.

“Don’t be like that,” Dalton snaps.

“Like what?” I ask, pretending that I don’t understand.

“Cold and distant,” he replies.

I palm the nape of Dalton’s neck and kiss him with all the love and lust I feel for him. I shove the hurt down. We’ve known each other for years, but a gay relationship is new to both of us. The fact that I’m falling in love with him doesn’t mean jack-shit, apparently.

“It’s your birthday, aren’t you the one who’s
supposed to get the blowjob?” Dalton teases, hugging his arms around my waist and burying his face against my chest.

“I wouldn’t know,” I mumble against his silky hair, drawing his musky scent into my lungs. “I’ve never had one on my birthday.”

“Well, there’s always a first time,” Dalton drawls in a tone that causes my eyelids to shutter my vision. He rubs his cheek against my nipple, trying to arouse me.

“Guess I’ll hold out until my twenty-fifth,” I curtly say as I untangle from our embrace. “It’s been fifteen minutes- Itsy Bitsy is waiting.”

“Wait,” Dalton hisses, grabbing my arm to still me as I stride towards his sister’s room. “I just can’t stay here, that’s all. It’s not about you.”

“I find it interesting that Roman also refuses to move in,” emotionlessly hisses between my clenched teeth.

“You’re jealous,” Dalton says in shock, feet stalling mid-stride.

“Should I be?” I challenge
, wheeling around and facing him. “Do I have a reason to be?” I back him up against the hallway wall with my anger. The tentative thread of control, that has been unraveling all day, is about to snap.

“Daniel, what the hell?”
Dalton hisses at me, thoroughly incensed that I’d intimidate him.

“Regina was joking around with me a few days ago. It seems that Roman only trains one way… with release. You trained with him for years. You failed to mention that his hands have been on your cock- a lot.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Dalton defends, his own dominant nature rising inside him. Dalton’s anger backs me to the center of the hall.

We find ourselves at odds in the center of
the hallway. Our wills fight each other, neither backing the other to the wall. Sure, I could pick his ass up and throw him, but that isn’t the point. This is a dominance challenge, not a display of physical strength.

“I’m not staying at the Brownstone to fuck Roman,” he growls, eyes shining
a pissed off light- sexy as hell. A raging erection erupts in my pants. Fuck it! If I drool all over myself again, I’ll walk around with my shirt untucked.

“Why?” I demand.

What a sight we must make: standing in the middle of the hall, seething. My face tilted towards Dalton’s with his raised to meet my angry stare- jaws locked, fists clenched. Menace and fury radiating off us like a building storm.

“It’s difficult for us to be around you guys, alright?
Roman has feelings… and so do I. You’re still married. I can’t watch you watch her with longing. I want to be that for you and I’m not,” Dalton’s voice cracks under the strain of his emotions.

“It’s not like that,” I
poorly deny, to the point that I sound like I’m whining.

“Once you get this shit figured out we can move forward. Let her go, Whitt. Just let her go…
” Dalton pleads, eyes beseeching me.

“What the hell does that mean? Are you breaking up with me on my fucking birthday in my fucking house? That’s harsh, man, even for the asshole Thompson you used to be,” my voice breaks and it pisses me off.

“No!” his shout echoes down the hallway, no doubt filling the rooms of the people we’re fighting about. I hope to God they’re off somewhere else instead of witnessing my shame.

“I like what we have and I want more. When you’re ready
, we’ll move forward. I just got a divorce, and you should too. It feels incredible to accept who you are, to not worry about how it’s affecting everyone. Be selfish this once, Daniel. Just be yourself.”

I reach up and cup the side of his jaw. “I was so proud of you for that, Dalton. I wanted to be as strong as you.” A sound of frustration tears from my chest as my hand falls to my side. “I can’t divorce her yet. It’s complicated.” How do I explain without explaining?

“You’ll always have an excuse, Daniel, because you don’t want it. You want her forever. I hate to tell you that it’s not going to happen. That year will end without you winning her. She’ll drop your ass and marry Marcus in a heartbeat.”

“Thanks, you’re so sweet,” saccharine falseness flows like venom from my tongue.

“You need to get a grip,” Dalton cautions. “You’re crossing a line with me, and you won’t like where it leads.”

“Don’t leave me,” I plead
, and it makes me angry. As a result, I go on the defensive. “I know when the year is up that my happy ending won’t be with Regina. She’s sharing her rooms with Marcus while I sleep alone because my boyfriend is shacking up with Roman for Christ’s sake! You think I don’t get it,” I rapidly fire, backing him to the wall.

“I loved seeing how happy you were- how proud- as you entered your home. Do you know how much it hurt when you picked Regina up and kissed her? I don’t want to admit this, but it should have been me! You wanted me to be authentic… it’s your turn. If you’re gay, you’re gay. You
should be married to a man, not playing house with the woman that practically raised you. You’re not in love, you’re obsessed!”

“Did you fuck him?” I ask, getting down into his face
, refusing to acknowledge the uncomfortable truth in his words. I turn his pain off and turn on my own. I will show Dalton selfish.

“No,” Dalton
answers, unaffected by my intimidation.

“Did he fuck you?” My eyes flare wide in fear.

“Yes,” Dalton breathes under his breath without any shame or remorse.

The crack and pain are simultaneous. I stare in disbelief at the fist-sized dent I gouged into the wall an inch from Dalton’s ear. My fist struck out fast and without thought, and that scares me more than the violence of the act.

Dalton looks up at me, calm and in control. “I’m sorry,” I mutter and take a step back.

“I understand,” he cocks his head to the side, scrutinizing me.
Dalton looks pleased with what he finds. “I’ve wanted to do that every time you look at Regina. I like her, she’s a good woman. But you’re gay, goddammit!”