With a low groan, Mark begins to push into me, and the second the head of
his cock passes my tight ring of muscle, we both begin to let out labored breaths through clenched teeth. He never ceases to kiss me or touch me. His callused hands knead my thighs, encouraging me to lock my feet around him. I do, and with a buck of my hips, I force him deeper inside me. All the way.
"Oh, fuck," I breathe out, my eyes growing large. "
Mark
."
"Jesus," he mutters breathle
ssly. "You gotta calm down. I'm a little bigger than the toys I've fucked you with in the past."
You're telling me this now
?
I
clamp my mouth shut, wanting to scream. Again, I feel stupid. I've been up close with Mark's cock several times; I should
know
he's not a fucking piece of plastic or silicone. And I do remember how sore Lina was after our first weekend. While we're pretty similar in length, Mark and I, he's thicker.
It doesn’t t
ake that long for the pain to ebb, though. The way he touches me and whispers obscene words in my ear heats me up like nothing else. He takes control, not that he ever lost it, and slowly starts to move, all while keeping up his other ways to satisfy me. He's a kisser, I already know, but today is the first time I get to experience it, and now I understand why Lina often gives out dreamy sighs after kissing Mark. He's a master at that, too; he's passionate about it—nothing half-assed or unemotional. He's also generous with his touches and murmurs of both affection and dirty words.
"S
o good," I sigh, consumed by a new kind of fire. The burn isn't as dull as it usually is, but it's not a bad thing. It makes everything more intense instead, and I move my hands up his thick biceps to feel more of him.
"Understatement." He grunts and thrusts a bit harder. I feel his long, thick cock sliding in and out of me, less resistance with each pass. "
And now that I know what it's like to be inside you—" he nips at my upper lip and slips a hand between us, wrapping his fingers firmly around my dick "—I won't let you push me away." I moan as he strokes me at the same pace he's moving inside me. "I get that not everything is fixed by a fuck." A dark chuckle slips through his lips, and I shudder and reach up to claim his mouth with mine. He speaks into the messy kiss. "But I won't allow you to sink into that little hole where you're disgusted with yourself." He has an eyebrow arched when I meet his gaze. "You think I don’t know how your mind works?"
I swallow thickly, not knowing what to say.
"You're mine now, Brayden." His voice is low, full of both warning and promise. "Mine and Evangeline's. And why the
fuck
would we allow our boy to hate himself?"
"Mark," I mumble, shaking my head. I avert my eyes. "It's not—"
"—that simple? I know," he finishes. "But we've got time and patience to make you understand." He kisses me again, mingling our tongues together languidly, and speeds up after having slowed down just a little. He also tightens his grip around my cock, causing me to whimper and arch into him. "Just keep one thing in mind. We want you for who you are—sure as hell not for who your family wants you to be."
I chuckle shakily and tilt my head toward his
neck. "Don’t ruin the mood."
"You little bastard." He huffs a quiet laugh and drives into me with force, and I'm blinded by a mixture of incredible pleasure and pain. "Better?"
"Yeah—oh, fuck." I gasp as a series of tremors run down my spine, each seemingly head
ing in a different direction. My balls start to tingle, my skin becomes damp with a new flush, my muscles strain, my ass tenses, and several other sensations struggle to pull me under. "More," I plead. "Fuck me harder. I
need
you."
He doesn’t respond verbally, but he does pull out of me, causing me to wince, and he twirls a finger. A silent command for me to get on all fours.
Oh, hell yeah
. Scrambling into position, I push out my ass much like Rory did last night. I do it without shame, and then I drop to my elbows, ready for him.
This time there's no wait—no going slow. Gripping my hips, he pushes into me with a hard thrust. "Fuck," he growls, setting a fast pace. I cry out, the sound muffled as I bury my face in my pillow, and I take his cock the way I want it. He fucks me forcefully—plain and simple—and I'm already addicted. "So damn amazing," he groans. "My dirty little fuck-toy."
"Oh, Jesus." I gulp and bite down on the pillow. A brand-new type of arousal flares up inside me, and it's the result of his previous words.
My dirty little fuck-toy
. That line goes on repeat in my head as he hammers into me, leaving me to hang on for dear life.
"This is what you want, isn't it?" he demands, slightly out of breath. All I can muster is a weak nod as I fight my orgasm. "You want me to use you. You want to rely on me, be dependent on me, count on me to take care of you like the little boy you are."
I squeeze my eyes shut, exposed and raw. I do want all that—when I'm his sub, and that’s who I want to be right this moment. I want to curl into him, give everything away, and trust him to catch me or whatever.
It's so easy when he's Master.
I'm not saying I want it 24/7—far from it—but I do want it more than over the weekends and the few weekdays we find time.
"I'll make it happen." He suddenly stops, grabs one handful of my hair, grasps my shoulder with his other hand, and pulls me up. My back meets his chest with a muted sound, all while his cock pulses hotly inside me. He's close, I realize. "You're my little puppy, remember?" He nuzzles my neck, breathing harshly. I feel his chest's rapid movements and how he grinds deeper into my already-sore ass. "I'll keep you on a leash, baby boy; I'll make sure no one but me and Evangeline gets close to my property."
I groan and turn my head, needing more contact. "Master," I mumble weakly.
"That’s right," he whispers. "Call me that whenever you want me to take control. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir—Master." I nod quickly and manage to reach his jaw for a kiss. Thankfully, he tilts his head so I get his lips. "Thank you." I exhale, more relief flooding me. "Thank you."
"M
y pleasure, I promise," he chuckles huskily. But humor aside, he drops a soft kiss on my shoulder and hugs me to him affectionately before pushing me down to the mattress again. "Hold on tight."
I immediately grab on
to the sheets, bracing myself for more merciless fucking, and I'm not disappointed. He delivers with his entire body. The kisses are back, now along my spine. He fists my leaking cock and strokes it hard, he uses his free hand to touch me all over, evoking goose bumps and shivers, and his moans and curses only add to it all.
It's not long before I'm begging to come.
"Not yet," he grunts. "Almost.
Fuck
—almost there, baby."
Peering over my shoulder, I watch in a daze as he tips his
head back, lost in excitement and concentration. Only a few seconds later, he sucks in a breath and screws his eyes shut. His thrusts become jerky and irregular, and I know he's coming. Heat surges deep inside me, and slick morphs into soaked with his release.
"Come, Brayden," he grits out.
Dropping my forehead to the pillow again, I let go of every thought that isn't centered on his cock filling my ass and his hand pumping my own cock. He keeps rocking into me, in the middle of his release, yet his hand working my dick doesn’t falter. When he tugs and twists and swipes the pad of his thumb over the head of me, smearing the arousal that has leaked out, I'm a goner.
I cry out into the pillow
as spurts of come begin to shoot out of my cock. With another twist, he gathers hot liquid from me and uses it as extra lube. At the same time, I feel him slowing down, gradually beginning to soften inside me.
E
ventually I collapse, still panting and shuddering from the aftereffects of the orgasm. In fact, as Mark gives my cock a final upstroke, he squeezes out a last little trickle of come before he slides his hand free from under me.
"So fucking good," he pants.
I nod and hum, but then I let out a noise of discomfort as he pulls out of me and drops his weight next to me. Christ, sore doesn’t begin to describe it. I'm also sleepy and hungry and in desperate fucking need of a shower. But getting out of this bed seems like mission impossible. Not even the wet spot under me makes me wanna move.
"I could lie here all day." I yawn, instinctively moving toward Mark's body for comfort. Maybe that word isn't the right one; after all, I don’t need comforting, but whatever. I'm too spent to think clearly. With Mark lifting his arm for me, I snuggle close and hope sleep will take me.
"Don’t fall asleep." He kisses my forehead. "We're gonna take a shower now, and then we'll meet up with Evangeline for lunch."
I think I actually whine, but it could've just been in my head. "We can order in. I'm tired." Another yawn slips out and I kiss his chest before settling again. "I could use a couple hours of shut
-eye."
His chest rumbles with a chuckle. "Nice
try, but we're gonna have an ecstatic girl on our hands once she finds out about us, and I fear for my furniture. Remember how she jumped on this bed just because I bought a new video camera after Thanksgiving?"
I snort a laugh. "She'll probably pout and wonder why we didn’t
videotape ourselves this morning." Now I suddenly miss our girl like crazy, but my arms and legs feel too heavy to move.
"She loves you—wants what's best for you," he murmurs. "There's no telling how excited she'll get."
"Ugh." Fine. All right. "But I can't move." Too tired. "And where are we even gonna meet up with her?" I crack one eye open.
"She likes that place on
16
th
Street." Now it's Mark's turn to yawn, but he's got better self-control, 'cause he still begins to get up. "Come on, baby boy. Let's shower before we head out. We can text our girl on the way."
Well,
at least we're relatively close, since Mark lives in the Haight.
Chapter 5
About an hour later, Mark and I get away from the cold December weather and order sodas and sandwiches before taking our seats by the large window in the bohemian-looking café. The sun is out and the sky is blue, but it's fucking frigid outside.
I shrug out of my jacket, dressed casually in jeans and a
Henley, but I keep my beanie on. "I'm starving." I lean forward in my chair and immediately dig into my ham and Dijon mustard sandwich, nearly burning my tongue on the melted cheese. "Damn, this is good."
Mark runs a hand through his hair, dropping his own beanie on the table, but his eyes are trained on his phone, and there's a smirk on his lips.
"What?" I ask, curious.
He chuckles and shakes his head, pocketing his phone. "Just
Rio. He's in the neighborhood with his little brother who's picking out engagement rings for himself and his boyfriend." He unwraps his grilled cheese, amusement in his eyes. "Rio despises shopping, so he's sending me sarcastic comments about salespeople."
I snicker and return to my sandwich. "I thought Doms liked to be in charge of what their subs wear and stuff. Shopping is involved there, isn't it?"
"The internet is a fucking amazing thing," he deadpans before he grins and shoots me a wink. "Besides, look where we're at. You've met Rio and Gabriel."
True. From what I've seen,
Rio—or Mr. Kelly or Master Kelly as I know him—is kind of a reserved man. But last week when Mr. Kelly's brother visited Switch, it was easy to see that Gabriel was the opposite. They share the same features—although Rio is a lot taller—with the alabaster skin, very green eyes, and close to raven-black hair, but Gabriel is certainly not dominant. One word to describe him would be flamboyant.
"So, you've got
Gabriel high on life and with a million friends," Mark says, grinning, "Rio tagging along, and where are we?"
The Castro, also
San Francisco's gay district.
"Mr.
Kelly is straight," I state unnecessarily.
Mark shrugs. "He's done his experimenting like most of us, but yeah, he's only into women. Why?" He cocks his head and places an arm on the back of my chair. "You g
otta relax with the labels, pup. It's not a big deal."
"I know," I mumble and look at my food. "I'm trying." I let out a soft breath and pull off my beanie. "But I'm not gay."
"Of course you're not." He smirks, not missing a beat. "You're fucking obsessed with Evangeline's pussy."
I flush and look around us, hoping no one heard him. "And you call Lina shameless," I mutter and shift in my seat.
I'm so sore, it's not even funny.
"Hey." He nudges me and leans closer. His expression is serious now, but it's still soft and patient. "Would it be wrong if you
were
gay?"
"No," I insist honestly. My shoulders drop slightly. "It's just—" I sigh in defeat. "It's up here." I tap my temple. "How I grew up. My dad…" Fuck, am I really going into all that now?
Here
?
"Your dad, what? Tell me." It's not a demand this time. Just a request. He wants to know but won't push me.
"He caught me when I was seventeen," I admit, tensing up. "There was a guy I liked—we fooled around, had sex, no big deal, but…" I make a face and look down. We only had sex one time. He topped me. Before that, it was just kissing, touching, fooling around…
"Your father made it a big deal, and since then
, he's been preaching like the devout Catholic he is," Mark finishes.
I nod; that’s exactly what happened.
My father, the mighty Clark Zeagler, had high hopes for me, his only child. I was gonna study politics, be great at sports, and build my own fortune. Instead I was drawn to computers, and I only liked sports for the fun of it, not to compete and bring home trophies. I was weak, according to him. Not man enough. After catching me with my old high school friend, my father looked at me with resentment and disappointment in his eyes. The lectures were cruel, and I started to shut down.
Then I left altog
ether; now I barely talk to my parents.
I would've cut all ties if it weren’t for the concept of Catholic guilt. My mother can play that
card like she invented the game. Though, while I cave on a couple of occasions and talk to her for a few minutes, I still keep my distance. She's never been a part of Dad's bullying, per se, but my beliefs about her innocence evaporated when she allowed him to keep going.
"L
ike I said earlier—" Mark pulls me close and kisses my temple "—we'll make you understand. One day at a time. Okay?" I nod again as he cups my neck and presses our foreheads together. Even though we're in public, I feel that I like this, revel in, and want it. "You're beautiful. You know that?"
More heat creeps forward, coloring my cheeks. "Stop seducing me." I don’t stand a fucking chance against this man. "You've already got
ten me into your bed." I tilt my head, wanting his mouth.
"My next plan is to make you stay," he murmurs, brushing his lips over mine. "Both of you." I swallow hard and kiss him back. "I've seen your apartment, and I don’t like it. It's not a safe neighborhood, either."
I laugh through my nose, still kissing him lightly. "We can't all be fancy gym owners and work as bartenders only for kicks." Staying with Mark more, though? Hell yeah, I'd love that.
"Yeah, 'cause that’s so fucking fancy," he drawls. "But trust me—" he lands a final kiss on my lips, a firm, warm one "—we'll revisit this topic soon. Now, eat. You're lookin' a little skinny." He mimics Lina's words from last night, making me chuckle.
Naturally, this is the moment Lina walks through the door with a beaming smile on her face and rosy cheeks from the cold.
Mark offers a lazy smirk, and I roll my eyes, though I'm smiling.
"I saw you!" she whisper-shouts and closes the distance, ripping off her knitted beret and gloves as she goes. Instead of sitting down in the empty chair, she plops down on my lap. "I saw you through the window!" Before I can even get a word in, she starts to pepper my face with kisses. Her lips are softer and poutier than Mark's, and just as addictive. "I love you, I love you, I love you. By the way, our car broke down. I had to take a cab the last bit."
That
said, she jumps over to Mark's lap to kiss him, too.
I shake my head,
dazed and slightly overwhelmed. Our car…and the kisses…and maybe we didn’t have the café's customers' attention before, but we sure as hell do now.
"You're too fucking sweet, kitten." Mark's blue eyes flash with amusement and he captures Lina's mout
h in a deep kiss. I smile at them, feeling a sense of
this-is-it
, and finally get back to my neglected sandwich. "Don’t worry about your car. I'll arrange for it to be picked up later."
"Mmm." Lina hums and rests her head on Mark's shoulder. "This is nice. I should go order something. Brayden, what did you get?" Leaning over, she opens her mouth, and I dutifully extend my sandwich to her. She takes a small bite, chews for a second, and her
eyes light up. "Oh, yeah.
J'adore la vraie moutarde
.
C'est parfait
."
"You sit tight, sweetheart." Mark lifts her off his lap. "I'll get one for you. What do you want to drink?"
"Oh, thank you. Iced tea, please. Peach!" She pops a kiss on his cheek, then sits down again and turns to me. "So—"
"Did you get the job?" I ask before she starts her inquisition.
"Yes, I did. Like
that’s
interesting." She rolls her eyes. "Now, tell me
everything
."
"I'm beginning to wonder if you're on crack," I tell her, hiding my smile.
That earns me a
look
—one I've learned Kayla is also very capable of. It's a chick thing.
"Just tell me before I
die
, Brayden." She pouts, being all dramatic.
*
After we're done eating and Lina has received the short version of how Mark and I spent our morning, Mark tells us that Rio is just up Castro Street and wonders if we'd like to join him for coffee. So, we bundle up and leave one café for another.
It was only a few days ago we were here the last time; when the farmer's market on
Noe Street closed for the season, and I'm kinda relieved. Farmer's markets, flea markets, and antique shopping all fall under the category of Lina's favorites. I'm the one she drags with her. Or Mark, I suppose, for next season.
"I just got a text from Kayla." Lina shivers from the cold and hugs my left
arm. "They've landed in Mexico, and she's already scheming to make their vacation last longer, thus not going to Oregon for Christmas."
Mark, walking on my other side, squeezes my hand and we grin at nothing, not saying a word. Because we still think the whole situation, how Kayla and Mr. Ford met, is funny as hell.
Spending Christmas with your cousin, also known as your fiancé's ex-girlfriend…
priceless
.
"Oh, you two are awful." Lina notices our expressions, and I get a slap on my arm. "That Amanda woman is a bitch, and she's gonna be all claws out when Kayla and Mr. Ford get there."
"I'm sure Nicholas can handle it," Mark points out. "Hell, I'm sure Kayla can handle it, too."
"Still…" Lina sighs, ever the sweetheart.
"Oh! There's Master Kelly!" The subject is closed when she spots him outside a coffee shop.
He looks tired, which I suppose is the result of the shopping with his younger brother. Much like Mr. Ford, he dresses in suits, and you gotta be blind to say he's not handsome in a black peacoat, gray dress pants, a
knitted scarf, and the lapels of his coat up to protect from the harsh winds.
"Y
ou look like shit, man." Mark smirks and shakes hands with Mr. Kelly.
"Fuck you too, mate." Mr.
Kelly smiles faintly and shakes his head, then lets out a chuckle and nods at something across the street. "Remember the week before I flew out on my last assignment?" Mark frowns, confused, but nods nonetheless. "I had dinner with your family—met your brothers and sisters and so on."
I like that Mark sees all the kids he grew up with as siblings, even if only three of them are biological.
"Yeah? What about it?" Mark sticks his free hand down into a pocket of his jeans.
Mr.
Kelly offers that ghost of a smile again, and it widens slightly when he sees our joined hands. "I know it's been a while, but I reckon I just saw your big brother—Garrett?—go into that bar across the street." At that, we all look in the direction of his earlier nod, and we spot the sign of one of the countless gay bars in the Castro.
"Are you kidding me?" Mark chuckles darkly, his eyes narrowed and trained on the bar. "I swear to Christ, if he's been acting like a douche all these years just because he's hiding his sexuality, I
will
kick his fucking ass."
I don’t even know what to think about that. I've heard stories about Mark's brothers from both
he and Lina, and the oldest Cooper son doesn’t seem like a nice guy at all. I'm glad I haven't met him.
"He'
s got a wife and daughter, yeah?" Mr. Kelly arches a brow.
I pinch Lina's ass 'cause she's staring. She's hypnotized—her word, actually—by Mr.
Kelly's accent. She has a thing for accents, but I wouldn’t say Mr. Kelly's is all that different from ours. It's just a few words and expressions he uses that sound more Australian and maybe Irish. I think Mark told us there's half-Brazilian in him, too, but he sure doesn’t look Brazilian, aside from his dark hair.
"Yeah." Mark sighs heavily
and massages his forehead. "Ah, fuck it. Maybe there's an explanation, though I highly doubt it, but I'm not touching that one right now. Let's grab a cup of coffee." He nods at the coffeehouse we're standing in front of. "Did Gabriel find the rings?"
Mr.
Kelly groans and chuckles tiredly, the old topic forgotten for now, and our day continues. We have coffee with Mr. Kelly, talk about this and that, although Lina and I are mostly content to sit back and listen, and then we part ways. Grocery shopping is our last item on the to-do list before we go back to Mark's place to rest for a bit, make dinner together, and get ready for a scene where we'll all finally be on equal ground when it comes to intimacy.
For instance, when we kick back later that night with hot chocolates on the rooftop terrace, blankets and an open fire and everything, I don’t have to pull away or tense up when Mark comes near. We bundle up and sit close, tired and sated, and share sensual kisses between the three of us.
When we go to bed, I no longer need Lina as a shield.
When we wake up in the morning, both Lina and Mark make sure I shake off the old mind
-set my father's pushed onto me. Because like Mark said, it's not gonna go away overnight. But they're patient, and I want him too much to go back to being a coward.
Fueled by an urge to prove myself—to all of us—I mirror Lina's moves and
we service our Master like he's our drug.