Текст книги "Finding Master Right"

Автор книги: Sparrow Beckett

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Noooooooo.

One of his big fingers prodded at her backside, and she heard the sound of packaging just before a cold, slick dribble slid down the crack of her ass. His finger caught it and spread it around, and he didn’t seem to care how much she tried to avoid penetration. He held her in place, and slowly he fucked the tip of his finger into her poor bottom.

Her hand stilled on her clit, and she held her breath. He tore open another packet of lube and slicked the tip of his finger more before coaxing it all the way in. Staying very still, she could feel his every tiny movement. She moaned low, sounding tortured even to her own ears. It felt too weird, but the way he was humming in satisfaction said this wasn’t the last of it. He finger fucked her ass until it didn’t feel so tight and awful.

“It’s just one finger, little slave. I’m going to add another one now.”

“No, no, Banner. Please. Another day, okay? I’ll let you do it another day. Not today.”

“‘No’ and ‘another day’ aren’t your safewords.” He chuckled, then paused. She didn’t reply. “I’ve been wanting this sexy ass of yours since I met you. I didn’t fuck you here because I thought I’d let your future Dom have the honor. Now that you’re mine, I don’t need to deny myself anymore.”

His words and their meaning blurred in her head, too heavy to process now. Another slick finger tried to gain entrance. This time she didn’t attempt to talk him out of it, because she assumed her body would simply refuse. Unfortunately, he was very convincing, and she hissed and swore through the burn of his second finger sinking into her.

“Please, Master.” She choked, gasped, tried to escape him.

Instead of giving in, he dragged her hips to the edge of the bed, added lube, and stretched her poor, suffering anus more.

Why had she wanted him back again?

“I think you’re ready now, but it’s still going to be uncomfortable. Do you remember your safeword?”

“Yes, Master,” she replied miserably.

“Do you want to use your safeword now? I won’t be upset.” He sounded sincere, but the truth was, she was more than a little curious. The first time he’d touched her there, it had blown her mind. She might have developed a fixation with the idea. She just hated having to admit it.

“No. You can . . . try if you want to.” There. That made it about him. “But if it hurts too much?”

“You’ll tell me, and I’ll stop.”

“O-okay.”

Banner stroked her skin as though he were comforting a skittish animal. The tip of his well-lubed dick slid back and forth over her ass, and then he pressed the tip inward with firm but gentle intention. The burning stretch of it felt impossible, but she couldn’t escape him.

“No, Master. I don’t like it.” She whined, and he stilled.

“Wombat?”

Was she giving up? Apparently, this could be amazing. “No, Master.”

“Shh. Relax your body, sweet girl. It’ll be better when I’m all the way in. Try to focus on letting me in, okay?”

She doubted that was true, but she’d gotten this far, so she wasn’t going to give up now. Inch by inch he fought his way in, adding lube and starting again when necessary. Finally, she felt his thighs touch the back of hers.

Banner arched protectively around her, holding her to him. She sniffled, sobbed, felt like her body was being invaded.

“I know, that wasn’t very fun, was it? But you were such a good girl for me.” He groaned in her ear, and it made her shiver. His cock twitched in her ass, and it felt a hundred times bigger than it already was.

“Not fun at all.” She was too afraid to move.

A hand slid between her thigh and the bed, seeking out her clit. Still sensitive from being kept so close to orgasm, she moaned and squirmed despite herself. Banner withdrew a tiny bit, then pressed back in, circling her hardened nub with cruel and persistent fingers. He’d made her move, damn him, and soon the fullness and burning soreness was stoking the banked fire in her belly.

It seemed impossible, but slowly his huge cock fucked her ass, claiming the last bit of her as his own. Aching, she writhed and babbled beneath him. He toyed with her clit, his touch gentle and teasing, a horrible counterpoint to the unbearably hard cock inside her. Pressure built in her pussy and bottom until she was a throbbing mass of sensation. Ache and ecstasy distracted each other—blended until her body clamped down on his cock. The orgasm rushed her, intense and stupefying. Her own hoarse screams deafened her.

“Fuck!” Banner’s voice was thick and pained. He panted, sounding as though he was trying to control himself.

Sore as she was, she squeezed his cock, trying to slow him down, but accidentally triggering her second orgasm. The movement of his hips became uncoordinated and with a desperate yowl, he came, his dick pulsing inside her and his fingers digging painfully into her clit.

Her third orgasm caught her by surprise. Unlike the others, this one was a total bitch and made everything throb painfully.

By the time she was coherent enough to realize that Banner had collapsed on top of her, she also heard applause coming from down the hall. She buried her face in the now sweaty bedding, feeling a stinging blush creep up her chest.

“Don’t worry. It’s tradition, little slave.” He peeled her hair away where it was stuck and kissed the back of her neck.

Her heart fluttered. How could he sound romantic when his cock was still buried in her ass? “Tomorrow when we see them, no one will mention hearing anything.”

Slowly, gently, he slid out of her, giving her body time to adjust to his withdrawal. He groaned.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” She looked back at him, and he was grinning at her.

“That . . . that blew my mind. Are you okay?” He stroked her ass, examined her, then patted her as if he approved of something.

“I don’t know.” She sniffled. “I feel like my new Dom should buy me a pony or something, although I have no desire to sit on anything ever again.”

“You’re not bleeding or anything, so you’re good to go again anytime.” Banner went into the attached bathroom and washed his hands and did whatever else guys did postsex.

She rolled onto her side, whining as all of her muscles protested. Her ass ached, and her clit felt as though he’d sanded it off. Good to go again anytime? No fucking way.

He came back before she’d found the energy to move and settled them under the covers. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her face, her eyelids, her lips.

“When I was on my way here tonight, I never thought . . .” He stared at her, so close that he almost looked as though he had one eye. Kate moved her head back a fraction until he had two eyes again.

The wonder on his face made her feel important and special—as if she were the best thing that had ever happened to him. Maybe it wasn’t true, or maybe it was just the after-orgasm buzz, but for now, she’d take it. This close he was almost unbearably beautiful. The short dark hair and dark eyes usually made him seem dangerous, but the only danger from him right now was the way his lazy smile made her heart skip a beat.

But what would happen the next day? Were they actually together—a couple? Or was this just something he had to get out of his system? Asking for answers this minute seemed rude, but she had to know. It seemed like they were on the same page, but what if they weren’t?

Relax, Kate. Enjoy the afterglow. There’ll be time to interrogate him tomorrow.

“We seem to have this problem where we keep ending up in bed together.” She smiled shyly.

His brows drew together. “It’s a problem for you?”

“As long as we never have to um . . . do that again . . . then no.” She held her breath, wondering if that would be a deal breaker for him.

“Never?” How did a guy manage to look dominant while lying on his side and cuddling?

Something stirred inside her, responding, wanting to please him. He smelled like sweat and sex and still faintly of leather, and even though she was sore, her body was trying to convince her that maybe some quiet, vanilla sex could be doable. Did he even do vanilla?

“W-well. If it was a hard limit, would you give me away again?”

“No, absolutely not.” He pulled her tighter.

They stared at each other. Banner seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but he only played with a lock of her hair. Eventually, he just kissed her—sweetly, like they were sixteen and on their first date.

“There’s a lot we need to talk about, but maybe we should wait until we’re not in a house full of people.” His words rumbled in his chest, the vibration feeling sexy under her hand.

Was “having a lot to talk about” good or bad? Not knowing what he meant was making her stomach twist.

“Okay.” She laid her head on his shoulder and snuggled in. The first hint of sleepiness tried to steal over her. As she began to drift off, she had a vivid recollection of Ambrose and Konstantin applauding. “Oh fuck. I can’t believe you made me scream like that!” She buried her face in his neck.

“What? What? I can’t hear you,” he said loudly, then grinned. “There’s some sort of weird ringing in my ears.”

She laughed and smacked him.

He quickly reminded her why smacking a Dominant was a bad idea.

Chapter 18

The obnoxious preprogrammed ringtone dragged him out of a deep, almost drugged sleep. Lost, he tried to follow the noise, then realized it was the only thing glowing in the dark room. He stubbed his toe on something but managed to grab the phone and hit ANSWER before it went to voice mail.

“Hello.”

“Banner?” Meadow? Was he late for school? He blinked, trying to get his bearings. Her voice was weird, as if she’d been crying. Meadow didn’t cry.

Shit. Mom?

“It’s me. What’s the matter?”

The other end went silent and terror leached through him. Then his brain took a step back, watching things unfold dispassionately. He remembered the gurney. His father’s waxy skin. Abruptly, he sat down on the floor and realized he was in a room with carpeting. Not home. Where the fuck was he?

“Meadow?”

“It’s . . . it’s . . .”

Mom. Hell, how were they going to go on without her? They were too young to be orphans. Such a weird word, “orphans.” It conjured images of lockets and mangy dogs. She’d overdosed. They’d known it was coming.

Meadow was talking now, the words coming out jumbled. “You have to come now! They pumped his stomach. He’s unconscious. It was the whole fucking bottle, I think. I just picked it up for Mom yesterday. If Dylan hadn’t called the house phone . . . Oh god. Mom is here with me, but they’re not sure if he’s going to be okay. Banner, you have to come and fix this!”

It was Rook? Rook? He was on his feet and searching for a door or something. It was so dark. Something banged into him at waist height. A light turned on.

He looked around the room and saw Kate sitting up in bed, her hand on the bedside lamp.

“What’s wrong?”

Maybe that’s what she said. The words were coming from a long way off. She took something out of his hand. The phone. She was talking to Meadow.

Kate hung up and put the phone on the bed. She dressed, threw his pants at him, then ran down the hall and came back with his shirt.

If he died . . . If Rook was dead by the time they got to the hospital . . .

There were things he had to say. Did the kid know how much he loved him? Pressure and buzzing started in his head.

Did Rook know how much of his life revolved around him and how, if he died, Banner’s world would be unbearably lonely? There were other people, but Rook was the only one who could be his Rook. There was no other solemn, artistic soul who got him the way his brother got him. No one else who he understood so well.

Kate shook him. He’d been standing in the middle of the room, naked, not doing anything. It only took a second to get dressed. Kate pocketed his phone, then led him down the hall, asking where his car keys were. She found them in the jar by the door.

This was his fault. What had he missed? Rook had seemed happy at the art show. He’d smiled. Teased him. Lent him Dad’s watch.

The watch.

Late alarm bells went off in his head. He’d been happy that Rook seemed happy, but it was all wrong. That wasn’t the way Rook had been lately. And the watch—how had he missed that? Rook clung to the few memories he had of Dad. He never would have lent that watch so easily. He’d given it to him already knowing. At the art gallery he’d already had a plan.

Ambrose came down, bits of lint and bed fuzz stuck in his short hair, then Konstanin right afterward. Kate spoke to them. Urgency pierced through his fog. He grabbed the keys from Kate’s hand and ran to his car. He fumbled. The car door wouldn’t open.

Konstantin reached him first. He took the keys and opened the car doors, then shoved Banner into the backseat with Kate. Everyone was talking, but all he could hear was a loud ringing in his ears. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at it, but there were no messages.

His baby brother hadn’t even sent him a text to say good-bye.

***

The smell of the hospital made Banner dizzy. The yellow walls and orange chairs were probably supposed to be cheery, but it felt like the seventh circle of hell.

Meadow sat in the waiting room, her face pale and drawn. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her out of the house in a T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. When she saw Banner she leapt to her feet, glaring.

“Did you know he was going to do this?” The accusation in her tone caught him off guard, and he just stared at her.

“If he’d known, he would have been there himself and warned the rest of you.” Ambrose patted her and she began to cry huge, gasping sobs. “I know you’re upset, but you can’t blame this on him.”

Banner went to his sister and pulled her into his arms. Some people would have been angry about the accusation, but Meadow was Meadow. She was quirky and not good with people, even on the best of days. They hadn’t been close for years, but the terrified way she hung on to him was reminiscent of when they were kids and had hid on the couch from imaginary floor sharks.

The room went quiet. He was glad no one bothered them with platitudes. No one knew if everything would be alright.

A woman coaxed a teenage boy into the waiting room. Dylan. The boy cried inconsolably. His entire frame trembled, and his teeth chattered. His mother was white with anxiety.

“How is he?” she asked as soon as she saw Banner.

He wished he knew what to tell her. They’d seen each other a lot over the past couple of years when they dropped the boys off at each other’s houses.

“We’re not sure. They let our mom in, but she’s been in there a long time.” Meadow sobbed and turned her face away from Banner’s shirt, but he didn’t let her go.

“Dylan, I have to thank you for calling the house.” Banner nodded to the boy. He wanted to comfort him, but he couldn’t let go of his sister. “Meadow said if you hadn’t called, it would have been too late. How did you know?”

Dylan wiped his face on his sleeve. He almost didn’t look like himself, he was so puffy and red.

“We were texting.” His voice cracked, and he drew a shuddering breath. “He didn’t seem right, and he said some weird things, you know? Then he said good night, and I went to bed. But then I got all creeped out and texted him to see if he was okay. He wouldn’t answer. He never turns off his fucking phone.” A deep, desperate sob escaped him. “Never. I kept trying to get him to answer me, and I thought maybe he was just really sound asleep, but then I got scared.”

“What kind of things was he saying?” Meadow asked.

Dylan looked at his mother.

“I already know, Dylan. It’s okay.” She brushed his long brown hair out of his eyes. “You didn’t seem to want to talk about it, but we’ve known since you were little. Why do you think sleepovers are in the living room?”

He stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head. “You knew? But I’ve always been so careful. Oh God. You knew, and this was all for nothing!”

“Was it the idiots at school?” It had to be. Nothing else in Rook’s life had seemed that bad.

Dylan nodded. “They’ve been threatening . . .” He trailed off, eyeing Kate, Ambrose, Konstantin, Meadow.

“To do what? Hurt him?” Meadow pressed. She tensed in Banner’s arms and looked as if she were ready to march over to the school and wait for the bullies on the front step. With a bat.

“No,” Banner disagreed, wondering how much Meadow knew.

“To out him?” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for fuck sakes! To who? Who doesn’t know?”

“Mom? I don’t know. Other kids at school?” Banner shook his head in confusion.

Meadow pulled on her hair in exasperation. “Fuck! Mom knows. She’s the one who told me, like, five years ago. Like it was supposed to be a big surprise?”

“No, no.” Dylan shook his head. “They were threatening to tell my parents. One of them has a picture of us . . .”

“A picture?” Dylan’s mother went paler. “Of what, exactly?”

“Us kissing.” Dylan pulled away from his mother and sat in one of the orange plastic chairs. “The kid said he was going to text it to Dad. Last night Rook kept saying he was ruining my life.”

Dylan’s mother, who’d been dabbing at her eyes on and off, started to cry. “This is our fault, then. If we weren’t so worried about messing up the conversation, we wouldn’t have procrastinated. This never crossed our minds.”

The adults in the room reassured her, but she didn’t look convinced.

They waited. Kate was there for him, holding his hand. Her quiet strength kept him from falling apart.

Eventually, Konstantin got to his feet. “Does anyone want anything? I’m going to see if the cafeteria is open. I need coffee.”

“Do you want to drive Kate home? She’s probably exhausted.” Banner looked over at her, sorry she’d been dragged into something so traumatic. Her hair was mussed, and her dress was rumpled, but she was more beautiful than ever.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He thought of insisting she go, just to be polite, but he didn’t want her to leave.

They settled in. Kate was true to her word.

***

The waxy look of Rook’s skin made Banner want to vomit. The IV in his arm and the neat way the hospital sheets were tucked around him gave the whole tableau a surreal feeling—as though he’d just walked onto the set of a bad television hospital drama.

The boy’s eyes flutter open. He looks close to death, small and pale in the bed, like a bundle of sticks. Cue emotional outburst from older brother.

“Hey.” Banner squeezed Rook’s hand.

Either Rook hadn’t heard him, or he was still as out of it as he’d been last time it was Banner’s turn to come in. The doctor had said they’d got him to the hospital before there’d been any serious damage, but the tension in Banner’s gut wouldn’t dissipate.

“I’m sorry.”

“Shh. It’s okay. Don’t worry about apologizing.”

“No, it’s not okay.” The thinness of Rook’s voice tore at Banner. Tears gathered at the corners of the boy’s eyes and gradually spilled over.

Banner wiped at them with his hand, then looked around for a box of tissues. They were the miniscule square ones made from the sandpaper reject pile, so he used the edge of the sheet to dry Rook’s face instead.

“I tried to make myself throw up right after I did it, but I didn’t know how. The finger thing didn’t work.”

For some reason, that was a partial relief. Maybe he’d never do it again. They’d have to be careful and watch him.

“If you had died, I would have strangled you.” Banner wiped his own wet face with the hem of his T-shirt.

Rook squeezed his hand. “I know. I thought of how mad you would be, but only when it was too late. At the time, I kept thinking it would make your life easier.”

All of Banner’s manly reserve gave out. He carefully crushed the boy to him, as if holding him close would erase the past few hours. “If you ever think that again, just call me instead of trying to guess. You’re my best friend, jerkface. Who would I talk to about the meaning of the universe, and art, and our crazy family, and my problems with women if you ditched me?” He bumped Rook’s forehead with his own.

Banner got onto Rook’s bed and laid beside him. They stared at the ceiling in silence. He didn’t know what to say. But more than that, he was afraid of saying the wrong things.

Rook spoke first. “Meadow said you brought a date.”

“I did.” Banner grimaced. “I probably owe her a real date after this.”

“No shit. I’m sorry if I ruined things with her.” There was an edge of despondence in his voice, but he covered it with teasing. “Is this the one you’ve been whining about for months?”

“Yeah.” He thought about Kate sitting in the other room, and anticipation spread through him. Was she actually interested in their relationship being long term?

Hopefully, this hadn’t scared her off, but Rook came first in his life, and she needed to know that.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted. I should have figured out what was going on with you without having to be told.”

“You’re my brother, not a mind reader, my keeper, or my therapist.” Rook was quiet for a while, as though he’d dozed off. Banner was surprised when he spoke again. “Mom seems different today.”

“I think you woke her up.”

“Maybe. We’ll see if it sticks.” Rook stared down the bed at their legs, side by side. Banner knew it used to bother Rook that he was so small compared to himself. He hoped he wasn’t dwelling on something that silly now.

He could feel himself dozing off, the lack of sleep and the ebbing of adrenaline finally hitting him.

“Banner?”

He startled awake.

“What?”

“I know this is a weird time to mention it, but don’t wear leather pants. They make you look like a moron.”