Page 48 of Integrated (Mistress & Master of Restraint #11)
“Ugh!” Cort forcefully propels me against the steel-reinforced security door leading up to the loft at Alt. Grinding his damp crotch against mine, Cort fiercely looks me in the eyes, checking to see if I’m okay with what we just did.
“The guys are in their bed, making love right now.” I reassure Cortez, how no matter what, we’ll always be good. “What we just did was play. They aren’t strangers, and we can trust them. They’re our friends who have the same twisted needs as us. Never fear, I don’t regret a second of it.”
“And what do you call this?” Cort purrs, fisting my sticky hair. Then he attacks my neck like a hungry vampire, adding his own marks to match the ones I placed at his throat.
Sidetracked by the attention, I forget to answer. Gripping Cort’s shirt in my fists, I grind my ridged cock against Cort’s. The sensation of him throbbing beneath my touch, just about does me in. Or maybe I’m the one throbbing for release. I never got off, but the wetness soaking into my pants signals Cortez most certainly did.
“Hmm?” Cort murmurs as he sets his teeth into the side of my throat, causing me to shout out in pain.
Writhing, close to maddening ecstasy, it’s hard to think straight. “ Hunger . I call this starvation. I can never get enough of you.”
Needing to touch him, I wedge my hand between our melded bodies, then shove it into his trousers. Hard but definitely satisfied, I encounter a sticky mess Cort made in his pants while the boys shot on our faces. Cort’s cock eagerly greets my stroking fist.
Pressed against the door, I allow Cortez to own me. He needs the reassurance after what we just did with Whitt and Dalton. The security of knowing, that no matter what, we belong to each other. We simply allow others to give and take pleasure from us, just because we want to and we can.
Standing in the alleyway, even knowing we could get arrested for public indecency if a passerby spots us in our erotic entanglement, I allow Cortez to make a feast of my throat.
Acting like randy teenagers during their first wank, our hands are shoved down each other’s pants, fiercely stroking in jerking movements. The waist on Cort’s trousers is chaffing my wrist, but I seriously don’t give a fuck, thinking it adds to the frantic experience.
In long, wet movements, I lick Cort’s face clean of the evidence the boys left behind, while his cock rubs along my palm like velvet covered steel.
Teeth set into my neck, hard enough to break skin, taking me completely by surprise. Shouting my release, my head jacks backward to bang on the metal door.
Cortez releases bursts of joyous laughter, then mutters how he hopes no one heard the bang, thinking it a gunshot. Seconds later, he’s pouring red hot into my awaiting palm.
Quivering with our release, we barely stay upright. Holding onto each other for support, we laugh in pure happiness while we groan in ecstasy.
“No one gets me like you do,” Cortez drowsily whispers against my cheek. “I doubt if I lived ten lifetimes, I’d ever find someone as perfect for me as you are.”
“That’s why you told Whitt to get his head out of his ass, isn’t it?” I question out of curiosity.
“Yeah, once you find an unconditional love like this, it’s easy to spot it in others. Whitt and Dalton have that, which is why playing with them won’t be a disaster.”
Beyond relieved Cortez is confident in us and what we just did, I slump against the door, weak knees barely keeping me vertical.
“I want them to have what we have. I want them to learn from our mistakes. They’re amazing human beings who deserve what we have.” Cort speaks with conviction, getting choked up.
“Me too,” flows on a breathy rasp. “Me too.”
“We have a lot of obstacles in our way just because we’re gay, we shouldn’t create more if we can avoid it. We’re already punished enough by not being physically able to create life together, to the point we have to locate trusting people to help us achieve the goal of parenthood. Whitt and Dalton need to accept what they have and be happy.” Cort grins but tears are glistening in his eyes.
“You’re an amazing human being, Cortez Hunter,” I mutter in awe. “Thank you for making my life worth living.
“Don’t forget– tomorrow night I’ll become Cortez Zeitler.” Cort struggled more than I realized over his last name. Neither one of us wanted to share a surname with Ray. Marcus never legally adopted him. The world already has a Cortez Ramirez. It came down to wanting our family to share a surname.
“I’ve been counting down those minutes since Marcus adopted me– I’ve always wanted us to have the same last name. Shared blood or not, a name makes us a family to the outside world. It’s a legacy.”
“Speaking of Zeitlers…” Cortez trails off as he steps away from me, then begins to put his clothing to rights. There’s nothing he can do to hide the cum stain on his trousers.
Sure as shit, as if he was created from the early morning fog, Marcus takes shape as he leans against my SUV. Arms crossed over his chest, he glares at us in utter disappointment.
As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I focus in on Roarke lounging on the hood of my car, tablet lighting up his face, thoroughly engrossed in his game.
“Your public antics prove you behaved yourselves with your soon-to-be brothers ,” Marcus angrily twists that word again.
Clearly Marcus is more concerned with grown men having familial attachments, than the actual blood tie Cortez and I share, or he just realizes how nothing would ever keep me from Cortez. Not even shared DNA. Nothing.
Is Marcus jealous?
That’s a question I’ve asked myself time and time again over the past few months. Marcus said he was never in love with Cortez, yet he keeps getting his boxers in a twist over us playing with Whitt and Dalton.
Maybe Marcus is concerned, worried if we blur the lines, hearts will get hurt.
Around January, I stopped trying to analyze a man who tells me one thing and does another. My adoptive father plays more head-games than I do, and that’s mighty impressive. All I can do is love the man, let the noose tighten on his throat, then be there to resuscitate him.
With a newly acquired career path, a power position with Dominion’s founders, a house being built he doesn’t know exists, and the pending nuptials to Regina, Cort and me messing around with Whitt and Dalton should be the last thing on Marc’s mind.
“It was fantastic!” Cortez gloats as he sashays over to the SUV– really, that is the only way to describe the swagger Cort employs to annoy the hell out of Marcus. “I’m good on cocksucking for a few days, thanks for asking.”
“Great, just what I didn’t want to know,” Roarke grumbles as he slides off the hood to get into the driver’s seat.
Cort and I get into the back, sharing an identical look of disbelief when Marcus doesn’t take the passenger seat. Crawling over my legs, Marcus squeezes his ass in between Cortez and me, readying for an epic lecture.
“Great,” Roarke draws out. “It was bad enough I had to sit out here with the grumpy asshole. By the way, Whitt needs to invest in some shades. Marcus watched the whole thing. I tried not to, but the bastard was giving a play-by-play. Now Master Asswipe makes me look like a glorified fucking chauffeur driving the haughty Zeitlers to their estates.”
“You’ll deal.” Marcus snidely dismisses Roarke, then turns his amber fire our way. “Now listen up, you cocksuckers…” and the lecture begins.