The Hunter (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (21 page)

The Hunter
: Past
-Chapter Twenty-Four-

Whimpering, I roll to my side, hands pressing against my temples. Waking up from being tranquilized is the worst. The headache that transforms into a full-blown migraine. It’s the lack of food and water. My belly stopped hurting yesterday, stopped feeling empty.

My ribs are broken. Lying on the floor is increasing the agonizing intensity of the pain. The sharp, hot stabbing sensation radiating throughout my side when I try to breathe is killing me.

Rolling to the side,
I drag myself to my knees. I know Ray’s back, I can feel him. It’s like our mutual blood connects us, sings in our veins. It’s similar to how I always tracked Ezra during The Hunter. Ray is in the room next door, and he knows I’m awake, too. I’m always the first to wake.

The prince and his pauper are curled around each other on the b
ed. Peaceful in their slumber. The uninjured get the soft cushion of the mattress, the inviting embrace of warm blankets, and the comforting touch of a pillow beneath their heads.

The dog, the whippi
ng boy, the bitch, the injured: I get the hard floor with no pillow or blanket. All I have on is a pair of boxers. Punishing Ezra, Ray took my clothing and gave them to Aaron, and then he turned the air conditioning to frigid levels.

Just after Ray crawled
out of his room last night… last night? This morning? I don’t know. Last we saw Ray, he was angry. Not-a-whore wasn’t as durable as she appeared. Ray’s toy broke, and he was not happy.

Ray walked over to Ezra’s chair and screamed into his face,
ADMIT IT!!!

Ezra calmly replied with,
I admit nothing
. Then they had an intense five minute staring contest. Eyes locked in challenge. Fist clenched as they used their minds to duel when their bodies were begging to help with the task. Never had Ray and Ezra looked more like father and son than in that moment.

Abruptly breaking the contest, conceding,
Ray walked away, went to his room, and came back with two burgers, two baskets of fries, and two milks. He handed one to Aaron and kept one for himself.

Admit it
, and I will give this to Cortez. Deny it, and I’ll give it to you
, Ray said.

Ray ended up handing me a beer. When I went to tank up on water, he’
d shut off the supply beneath the sink and broke the valve handles in the bathtub. There is no water in our motel room… except in the toilet. Ray then allowed Aaron and Ezra to use the shower in his motel room… after they ate their burgers and fries, of course. When they got back, Ray handed them each a piece of cake and another glass of milk.

Ezra and Aaron get fine dinin
g, and I get one bottle of beer and an endless supply of toilet water.

I’m starving.

I’m dehydrating.

I’m filthy from sex.

I’m exhausted.

I’m bruised.

I’m broken.

I’m slowly dying.

When everyone was settled down to sleep for the night, Ezra and Aaron on the cushy mattress, me on the cold, hard floor, Ray got out his tranquilizer syringes. He had to clean up his broken toy… and now I fear who or what is next door in his motel room. I can’t handle number four.

I stare at the floor as I listen to Aaron and Ezra stir on the bed. They always rise at the same time. I’m starting to think Ray gives me less drugs, curious to see what I’ll do. Marcus sent me because I was to be cunning. Maybe there is more to me than I realize. Maybe I’m not charming, I’m cunning. I’d love to think my way out of this, but I’m operating at a disadvantage.

Ray walks out alone, toy-free. He didn’t bring anyone to play with. Relief slams into me, and on the heels of relief, I begin to wonder why. Why doesn’t Ray have a toy? Why is he changing the rules in the middle of the game? How long can this possibly go on?

Looking like death warmed over, Ray exhaustedly rambles to Ezra,
“I’ve tried, son, really tried… to break you… to get you to see the truth. But you are so very stubborn.”

“I… I don’t know why,” Ezra cries out, sounding equally exhausted.

Ray ignores Ezra and continues on with his speech, “So I hurt your boyfriend, tortured your boyfriend. If you really loved Cortez that part of you that is protecting you from the truth should have risen to save him. I just don’t see how all of your personalities wouldn’t love Cortez. I don’t believe it. So either you are a liar… or a liar… or a liar… and a pussy… and a coward. You know, you really, really know, and you refuse to admit the truth just to punish me, to torment me, to torture me. You are willing to hurt those you love to be vengeful of me. Well… hurting Cort did nothing to you, and I really thought it would…”

“Father-”

“I hate hurting my nephew. But then I realized I was
only doing it because I knew Cortez could take it, because he’s so strong… and then I realized you would think the same thing, too. But what happens if I hurt the weak? Is your need for vengeance stronger than your need to protect?”

“I… he… he’s blocking me. I’m being serious. I don’t remember,” Ezra cries out, the first emotion I’ve seen from him. “I. Don’t. Remember.”

“Well, maybe this will jog your memory,” Ray murmurs as he grabs Aaron’s ankle and roughly yanks the boy across the mattress. Aaron claws at the bedding, making pitiful noises from the back of his throat.

I don’t try to save Aaron
, and neither does Ezra. So much for that weakling theory. Elder Holden’s replacement whipping boy just came up to bat.

“I saved you for the next to the last act. If this doesn’t work,” Ray ominously says, eyebrows dipping sinisterly low. “Then the finale will eliminate all need to lie. We’ll just make another,” he cryptically purrs.

“Aaron Frost, son of Patrick Frost. Patrick Frost, enforcer to Pearl Hastings. But before Pearl… came Byron Holden. My father was Nathanial Hunter, your father Patrick’s partner. I was only sixteen when I became The Hunter, The Meyers enforcer. I was raped by my father on Byron’s orders, and my father never laid a hand on me- he didn’t need to. It’s how my son was born.”

“I said I’d never touch Divina Hastings, and here i
s why. I respect Pearl. The woman defended her twin, and in doing so, she defended me. Pearl killed our fathers and her mother. But she wasn’t there when Diane and I were raped, and Diane was drugged, half unconscious. Pearl didn’t know the whole story. Patrick Frost was in the room. I was tied to a bed with a half-conscious Diane riding me, and Patrick was the one moving her.”

“Aaron, son of Patrick, I blame you for the loss of my manhood, my sanity, because I can no longer take it out on your father. I’ve never been the same since that night.”

“Father, no,” Ezra shouts. “You called us faggots. You’ve spit in Cortez face for touching me like that, calling us heathens and cousin-fuckers, incestuous sinners. But what would you be if you raped a boy. You’d be a faggot, but worse, you’d be a pedophile.”

“Beautiful speech,” Ray sighs, holding his hands over his heart. “So touching, warm and loving. Bravo, son
… Nice try. I’ve been testing my nephew for the past few days, and CONGRATULATIONS, Cortez Hunter,” Ray sings, “you passed. But you’ll wish you hadn’t.”

“What did I win? An express pass into Hell,” I listlessly mutter, rolling my eyes up to my tormentor. I wait for the hit that never comes. Ray just smiles
down at me like he’s proud to call me nephew.

“Oh, you’ll wish you were in Hell. It seems your cock never flags for anything. You don’t want to do it, but it still rises to the occasion. It doesn’t have to be me. As my successor,
Cort will do perfectly.”

“Perfectly for what?” Ezra hisses, and I await that hit again, and it never comes. I start to
really worry since Ray isn’t beating the shit out of me.

“A Hunter was raped by a Frost… and today
, we right that wrong. A Frost will be raped by a Hunter.”

“NO! NO. No. no. no. no. no, no, no, no…. no…. Uncle, please, no,” petrified, I beg for my life. I get on my hands and knees at my uncles feet and rest my forehead on the floor. My fingers curl around Ray’s ankle. “Please,” I lifelessly plead. “No.”

“Yes.”

Cortez Abernathy
: Present
-Chapter Twenty-Five-

The absence of Ezra’s enforcers signals that Ezra isn’t in his office on Katya’s floor. Switching hats from the owner of Edge Publishing to that of Dr. Ezra Zeitler
is his daily routine. I go in search of Ezra in his first floor office.

“When’s his next patient,” I ask the man who is always
firmly shoved up Ezra’s ass. Aaron and Roarke take turns being Ezra’s personal assistant, and not just at work. One of them is always lurking in the shadows. Aaron is sitting at their shared desk, eating a huge lunch.

“Twelve-forty-five,” Aaron mumbles from around his burger. It’s strange, writing about Aaron from our tortured past,
and then seeing the huge man before me. No longer weak in any capacity. At two hundred and fifty pounds and several inches over six feet, Aaron could kick anyone’s ass. Aaron may no longer be weak, but his personality is the same: sweet, impressionable, naïve, and Ezra’s little bitch.

“Is that chocolate?” I point at the milkshake
. Aaron doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to, either. The tightening around his eyes says,
why, yes, Cortez, it’s chocolate. Please, have my milkshake.

“Don’t mind if I do,” I
answer the tightening around Aaron’s eyes. I grab the milkshake and take a hearty pull.

“Your lazy ass will get fat,” Aaron growls, staring at the chocolate decadence streaming up the straw.

“I’m not fat,” I snidely hiss while pointing at my flat belly.

“I notice you didn’t bitch about being called lazy,” Aaron grumbles from around his burger. I just shrug. If the shoe fits… I’m too lazy to try it on for size. “I remember when you were a fat
, little pudge,” Aaron taunts, still eyeing his shake like it’s a prize.

I set the choc
olate shake down in front of Aaron. “I just wanted a taste… why do you have to be so mean?” My eyebrows pull together as my bottom lip pouts out.

“Cort,” Aaron sighs.

“I remember when you were four feet tall and only weighed seventy pounds, but I don’t call you a wimp to your face,” I softly say, sounding hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron apologizes, just like I knew he would. “You’re not fat. Here, have the shake.”
He hands it to me as a peace offering.

“Thanks,” I happily murmur, reaching for my prize. “I noticed you didn’t say anything about the lazy.”

“I cannot lie,” Aaron replies, grabbing a fistful of fries.

“I’m just fucking with ya,” I say with a laugh. “My lunchtime is dwindling.” I glance at the c
lock above Aaron’s desk- seventeen minutes- doable?

“Keep it below a keen. It was embarrassing last week when you were screaming Ezra’s name and I had two patients out here,” Aaron chastises, thoroughly annoyed.

“Be happy you weren’t Roarke, the day before yesterday…” I trail off. I plunk the half-drained milkshake back in front of Aaron, and then twist the knob to Ezra’s office.

I’d feared I was irrevocably broken when my cock deflated with Katya.

No fear.

None at all.

“Aaron, you need to inform the janitorial service that their employees are slacking again. I shouldn’t have to clean my own office when I pay them to clean the entire building. Lord knows what the other offices look like. You’d think they would make sure the boss’ digs were spotless.”

My cock punches like he’s the hea
vy-weight champion of the world and my boxers and jeans are his opponent. Ezra… sweet baby Jesus… Ezra is bent over the edge of his desk, dusting. Never in my life have I seen him dust… anything. But right now, I find it fascinating. Dust is sexy.

“What are their standards? Maybe we should interview other companies in case we have to retire our current services.”

“My standard is to make you very… dirty,” I seductively purr into Ezra’s ear. Ezra squeaks, shocked, a second later he relaxes into me. Not realizing I’d even moved, I find myself fused to Ezra’s back, my hard-on grinding into his round ass. My hands go straight to his belt, quickly unleashing Ezra from his constrictive clothing. Breathlessly, I pant, “Thirteen minutes until…”

“I’ve got
the time,” Ezra groans, salaciously rubbing up against me. “You come first,” a double-entendre if I’ve ever heard one. 

“Not today, I don’t,” huskily flows from my throat. Unbelted, unbuttoned, and unzipped, I palm the back of Ezra’s head and push him until he’s bent over the edge of his desk. With a sharp yank, his pants are at his ankles.

I possessively curl around Ezra’s back, sighing when the heat of his nude ass warms me. “Your desk… your ass… your turn… to scream for me,” I slowly and menacingly growl near Ezra’s ear. I nip the lobe as I pull away.

Crack!
echoes around the room, courtesy of my hand sharply slapping that tight, round ass. I luxuriate in the rebounding ripple as Ezra’s flesh moves from the strike. “My God, you make me hot, you sexy fuck,” I deeply growl from the back of my throat. “So fucking sexy.”

Ezra shivers, skin
beading with gooseflesh, lost in the passion of being owned. Ezra doesn’t let me take control often, but when he does, he’s totally passive.

Trust.

One hand impatiently tears at the front of my jeans while the other massages the pale rounds of Ezra’s ass cheeks. “So gorgeous,” I murmur as I gaze down in awe. The only flesh visible is pink with a big red handprint welling to the surface. There is something dirty about fucking with your clothes on. Even dirtier is when your lover is bent over his desk, waiting for you to fuck him senseless while people wait on the other side of the door- dirty hot.

Ezra i
s as impatient as I am. Moaning and breathing hard, his hands latch onto the edge of his desk, fingers curling, nails biting into the maple veneer. Ez’s legs widen, and then he rears his ass back and up, waving it like red in front of a bull, begging me to attack.

I lick my hand from wrist to fingertips, saturating my palm. I stroke my saliva all over my rigid cock, getting it nice and wet. I’ve never been so hard in my entire life. Working my mouth while staring down at the most seductive sight I could possibly imagine, my mouth waters in anticipation. My hands descend onto Ezra’s ass cheeks. My nails dig in, parting the crack, opening him to my gaze. With a
powerful movement, I spit directly on his asshole, the tightest hole I’ve ever entered.

“Oh, fuck,” Ezra cries, voice quivering with a combination of fear and lust-filled anticipation.

“Oh, fuck,” I playfully mimic Ez while palming my cock. With a forceful thrust, I shove into exactly where I belong. “This is my ass,” I warn. “If anyone borrows it, it’s because I allowed it. It will always be my ass. Right now, Whitt and Dalton are just my tenants. I can evict them at any time I please. I’m giving you until New Years, and then their lease ends. I’m open to renegotiations after that time. If the price is right,” I purr.

“Cort,” Ezra screams, and it shocks the shit out of me. He’s not coming, he’s just so turned on by me that it’s unfathomable. It makes me feel like a man- makes me feel
like the
hot one
for once- coveted, needed, loved, and lusted after.

With a hard thrust, I pound into Ezra, time and time again. His desk rocks, banging loudly. I mark my territory with ever
y sense: The sound of Ezra’s labored cries of ecstasy, the feel of my body riding his, the sight of my cock rapidly sliding in and out of his tight body, the taste of his skin flavoring the back of my tongue, and the smell of our combined masculine scents. I own Ezra in this moment.

My hand snakes around the front of Ezra’s throat
, fingers curling around the long column. I yank him backwards until his back rests against my chest. My thighs tighten and loosen as I surge my cock into Ezra’s body. Starved hands touch every part of Ezra’s body they can reach as he leans against me, quivering and writhing and groaning in ecstasy.

“Say it, say,
Cortez Julian Hunter owns my body, my mind, my soul
- say it!” I scream, wanting, no,
needing
to hear Ezra admit that I mean as much to him as he means to me.

“Cortez Julian Hunter,”
Ezra softly whimpers, suffering through my abusing onslaught. Hearing my name from Ezra’s lips causes me to fuck him like I’m insane- the pleasure is pure madness. “You own me, body, mind, and spirit- Cort,” Ezra chokes out, close to crying and I’m not sure why. “You are my life,” he strongly says with conviction. “You…
are
my life, too, you know?” he whispers.

Pretending that I’m not crying, because I’ve never heard Ezra sound so sure about anything, I allow my hands to wander. They both seek Ezra’s cock, gripping and tugging the thick, hard flesh in time with my slowed thrusts.

Our daily afternoon delight of hard fuckery changes to the slow and gentle rhythm of making love. “I love you, too,” I whisper in Ezra’s ear, moments after we scream our releases until we’re hoarse. “No matter how infuriated you make me… nothing will take my love away.”

“Nothing will take
our
love away,” Ezra whispers back.

Feeling like a rockstar, I walk from Ezra’s office and bump into his next patient- Dalton.
The red tint to the young gay man’s sculpted cheeks says he heard the passion flowing from Ezra’s office. I love seeing Dalton’s bright green eyes glazed with lust, and his ruby-kissed lips parted from breathing hard. I smirk, knowing that Ezra will be too spent to play sexy games with the French boy today. It will only be a cerebral fucking, for sure.