84
shuffle
The Master
I wander into the kitchen at four in the morning. Beer bottles, shells, and cards litter the place as I notice the tank top, yoga pants, black lace bra, jeans, and white t-shirt in a chair. Not sure what the fuck is going on between Cruz and Tuls. It’s bizarre.
Sleepily, Iris asks, “Did they play strip poker?”
“I have no idea,” I mumble, grabbing a water bottle. “Come back to bed with me.” We quietly return to the bedroom, and I shut the door. “You planned on this.”
“Not exactly,” she whispers, turning on the television. “She mentioned when we were on the roof in Boston that he was cute.”
“This started with Cruz being cute?” I flop on my belly and open the water bottle. Passing it to her, I rub her thigh.
“Yes.” She takes a small sip. “Because he is, but he’s gay, Sal.”
“Do you not think I know this?” I charge, understanding precisely who Deacon Cruz is. I know him. “He also enjoys playing with the right girl.”
“… Are you?”
I furrow my brow. “Am I gay? No, I just like Cruz in my ass.”
“… What about Mass?”
“Mass is fun to flirt with, but so is Sato and even X at times. God, Fink, is hella fun to toy with, but I am in love with Cruz. I’m a one-man kinda guy.”
“If that changes…”
“That ain’t gonna change,” I assure, laying my head on her leg. Her fingers ruffle through my curls. “We aren’t playing gays I’d like to fuck. I am sticking to what I know—you and Cruz.”
“You never know,” she says, stopping on a repeat of a baseball game. My focus is on one flower. “What?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“I’m closer to your color,” she answers. “And as for Rowan…Tuls…she’s a feisty one. I wouldn’t put anything past her.”
“You bring Cruz this beautiful, tough-looking, punk girl, and you think he’s not going to tap that?”
“I hoped he would,” she boasts, rubbing my back. “He likes a strong woman. And he liked Kaci.”
“So did I,” I bravely confess, feeling my heart tighten. “Before I knew all the manipulative shit she pulled.”
“You lost your wife.”
“It was more than that,” I whisper on the verge of crying. “I lost my best friend. Cruz filled the void. But losing her has impacted you and I. I lost all of my trust for a long time.”
“She wasn’t good like Deacon…”
“No, by the end, we were nothing like we were in the beginning,” I mutter, rolling over and looking at her natural beauty. With the makeup gone, she looks so young and fragile. Delicate. Breakable. My fingers play with the ends of her hair. “When I first met her in the club, she was incredible.”
“She brought freedom.”
“Ya, but she never really knew about the guy thing. She may have known on paper or photos, but she never really witnessed it except for the one time I let Fink spank me.”
She takes another drink as we have this strange, honest conversation in the middle of the night. “I’ve been fucking Amber and Jaid since 2015.”
I blink like a million tiny spiders just attacked my irises. “… Seriously?”
“I fucked Cas too.”
“Ya, so did I,” I casually admit, “Some things you live to regret.”
“Do you regret, Amber?”
“I regret not killing her a lot,” I harp, cackling. “She is a bomb waiting to detonate.”
“Please don’t let the fact that my clit has come under her tongue play into whether or not you eliminate Amber. I have no emotional strings.”
“Me either though not my clit.” I grin. “… What about Jaid?”
“She likes to strap it on,” she says with a shrug. “The relationship is different. We have a deep emotional bond.”
“… Jaid? Strap it on?”
“Yes, Prissy Pants?” she clarifies, being a snot. “She straps it on, but so does Rowan.”
“… Should I be concerned?”
“No,” she giggles, turning off the television. “Amber will probably try and save herself by saying she is working for me, but I’m telling you now, there are only three people in the world I fully trust, and they’re all here.”
“You have that much faith in Rowan?”
“Yeah,” she confides. “I do. Do you want Hannah?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“There is only one girl I want,” I muse, lifting the fabric and running kisses on her belly. “And she is wearing my shirt.”
“The oysters were delicious,” she mutters. “Do we have more?”
“It’s four in the morning,” I reply as she grins. “I’ll be right back.”
I step out of the bedroom to find a buck-naked Cruz cleaning up the kitchen. I slip past his picking up trash to the cooler and grab my Queen her late-night...err, early morning snack. “Are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be?”
“Because I have a magically delicious leprechaun sleeping in my bed.”
“Is it going to interfere with us?”
“No,” he says, quietly setting bottles in the trash can. “We spent a long time talking.”
“Did you fuck her?”
He shakes his head. “Hell no! I ate her pussy for about four hours between discussions on astral projection and religion.”
“You’re kidding.” I snarl as he grins. “She come?”
“About six billion times.”
“Good job!” I wink. “We’re fine.”
“Is she okay?”
“You want to see her?” I shove the oysters at him. “Go!”
Half an hour later, the kitchen is clean, and I’m sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in one hand and a smoke in the other when Rowan appears from the bedroom in a long-sleeve RR shirt.
“Is he okay?”
“I wish I could tell you,” she says, swallowing half my cup of coffee and stealing a smoke from my pack. I flick the lighter. “Iris said it was bad. He didn’t say two words to me.”
“… What? You two didn’t mess around?”
“God! No!” she says as I know he lied to me. “I didn’t do shit but go to sleep. I heard him take a shower and leave the room.”
“Fuck…he was taking the clothes to the laundry.”
“I don’t know shit about laundry,” she says, taking a drag. “Iris said they were going to rape him, Sal.”
“… Cruz?”
“Yeah,” she confirms as I dart up and rush for the bedroom. “Salvatore!”
My heart stops at the sight of my lover, gracefully thrusting his dick inside of my girl. His ink-covered back arches and sways as her swooping legs gently wrap around his muscular calves. They’re beautifully tangled together—enough to leave me breathless. His corded forearms conceal most of her face, but she perks up to peek at me, and I know—we aren’t okay.
Maybe we’re never going to be okay.
For a split second, I witness the love of my two submissives before turning smack dab into Rowan. “You don’t want to go in there.”
“Is he fucking her?”
“Yes,” I huff.
“And you’re mad?”
“Hurt.”
She quickly offers, “You want to go fuck?”
“No,” I reply, cracking my knuckles and unexpectedly feeling catapulted over a very steep cliff. “I want to go run.”
“Then, I’m going with you.”
“How do I deal with this?” I ask, sitting on a bench three miles from the house. “I mean, I was right there. I am so in love with her, and she doesn’t even know. She isn’t seeing me.”
“You may not want to hear this,” Rowan says, stretching her fingers. “But they endured some major, next-level trauma in New Orleans. It doesn’t mean either one of them love you any less.”
“I know
they love me,” I huff, trying not to lose it on my way over the cliff. “I’m just not sure that love is enough anymore.”
“Bullshit!” She smacks me in the arm. “Love is always enough.”
“I hate how apt you are at understanding me.”
“What do you want me to say?” She giggles once. “It takes one to know one.”
“That scares the fuck out of me, Rowan.”
“Maybe it’s supposed to, Sal.” Her hand lays on my sweaty back. “You need to be questioned. Challenged. Provoked. If I can do that for you and save this thing you have going on, I’ll do it.”
“Your accent is fading.”
“So is yours,” she says as I turn to look at her. “Boston.”
“… What is happening?”
“You aren’t going to like this,” she says, staring in my eyes. “You condoned their affair, and something bad happened while you were allowing that to occur. Now, they’re finding serenity in one another. It’s a far better option than what he’s been thinking.”
“… Do I even want to know?”
“He is afraid to tell you anything because he thinks he failed you.”
“What?” I ask, hitting every branch and boulder on my way down to the ground. “My girl is alive! How could he have failed me?”
“I’m not saying his feelings make sense,” she consoles, gripping my hand. “I’m only telling you how he does feel. The real question is—do you love them enough to let them go?”
“Fuck!” I slump back against the bench and run my hands over my face. “We’re so fucked if you’re asking me that!”
“No,” she says. “I’m planning on you reacting poorly, which will most 100% assuredly fuck it up. What you need to do is give them some time and space.”
“… Together?”
“Yes,” she contends. “Together—Deacon and Iris—they bonded over something we cannot possibly understand because we weren’t there. You don’t have to like it. I’m sure they didn’t ask for it to happen, but the fact is it did. It’s like an assault victim times two.”
“I should know all this, but it’s never hit this close to home,” I mutter, lost. “… Alone?”
“Yes, alone. If you genuinely love them, you do not overreact to this. You play it cool. Do not go on the offense. Because it has zero to do with you and everything to do with what happened those few weeks.”
“I can’t decide if I was turned on or wanting to kill them.”
“There…” she quips. “Focus on your feelings. You don’t want to kill them…”
“No,” I agree. “Why are you not upset?”
“Because my only commitment is to Iris,” she points out. “I promised I would stand by her side if she kept Kill Rat off of me.”
“They’re pissed?” I ask, concerned.
“Hell yeah, they’re pissed,” she mutters. “They were making bank in Houston until The Brethren came in and took over. Stroker has a lot of men, but nowhere near the power of Morpheus. It would have been a slaughter, so they retreated. But now they blame me.”
I stroke my chin as I try and come up with an answer. “The guy that saved your life…”
“Stroker Mullins wants to kill me,” she interjects, shaking her head. “I talked to Iris, and she offered to help keep me on the lam.”
I’m none too happy about my girl’s generosity. It puts an unnecessary target on her back. One more she doesn’t need.
With a newfound determination, I say, “I have to go back there.”
“There is no denying that,” she contends. “You don’t want to run away either, but if you blow up at them—you can kiss your holy trinity goodbye.”
“And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I remind you of someone else,” she whispers, clutching my hand. “I look like shit with long hair.”
I grin. “It’s okay, Rowan. It was time to put it to bed.”
“Fight with—not against—them.”
“What are your plans with Cruz?”
“I don’t make plans,” she says, giggling. “I’m doing well to have one obligation. I’m a fucked up kinda girl.”
“You’re one of the most level-headed ones I know.”
“And that says something about you.” She winks.
85
No One Loves You Like I Do
The Master
When we arrive back at the house, Cruz is in the kitchen cooking breakfast, and Iris is curled on the sofa reading. I make a beeline for the shower, not wanting to talk.
I stay in the hot water for a long time, thinking about how much I love them. I consider Rowan’s wise words as I try and comprehend that blowing up serves zero point. Putting that into practice…ugh.
I ask myself—what would Dom do?—because his views on this life harmonize deep in my soul.
I wrap a towel around myself and glance at the blur in the fogged-up mirror. I remember the words I wanted to hold true to…
…we’re not going back
…we’re not going gray
…we’re not going under
…we’re not going in
…unless we’re staying for good.
I am the priority.
Fuck bloodletting.
And getting harmed.
I boldly stride into the living area and order, “Cruz. Nakamura. My room. Knees. Now!”
They gasp like I’m speaking a language they understand, but haven’t heard in years. The familiarity is evident as they nervously glance at one another. They can behave, or I am done.
The secrets stop here.
I return to the bathroom. I brush my teeth. I toss on a pair of gray sweats and grab my ball cap because I’m less intimidating in casual attire than any other way. We’re going to talk. We’re going to communicate. We’re going to get somefuckingwhere other than here. And I am leading the progression.
I’m a motherfucking trailblazer.
Swinging open the door, I snicker at the sight of two nude bodies, kneeling on the floor. “I didn’t say get naked.”
“Formal protocol, Sir,” Iris replies with a straight face as I smirk. “Imperative.”
“I’m impressed,” I praise, sitting in the chair I assume Cruz moved to the open space. “I want the air clear. I can deal with what I walked in on, but I need to know what is going on.”
They’re dead silent.
Until Iris glances at Cruz, he quickly blinks at her before casting a solemn gaze to the floor. “They wanted us to have sex.”
“… Enzo?”
“Yeah, and his men,” he mumbles distraught. “And despite my best efforts, I went flat, and they knew. I’m so sorry, Sir. I just can’t keep it up under stress like that, and you know that, so I pray you forgive me.”
“Calm down, Cruz.”
“They humiliated you,” Iris interrupts as I slowly lift a hand, demanding her silence.
“And they were going to rape Iris, and I told them—No, rape me.”
With tears dripping from the corners of my eyes, I sincerely whisper, “Thank you for that. Many years ago, I did the same, but I didn’t get out of it. When I say you did the honorable thing, I mean that from deep in my soul.”
“It was my honor, Raniero,” he says. “I would do it again in a heartbeat, but they saw your name on my back and...”
“I made a move to keep us alive.” I almost snap my fingers at Iris, but I wait, letting her finish. “We ended up killing two of the three, and Deacon ground his monster in me.”
I don’t need the details. I’ve been at the receiving end of Cruz’s beast many times. In shock, I ask, “Are we going to be okay?”
“We’re going to be,” Cruz assures. “I’m sorry about this morning.”
“No, it’s my fault,” she says. “I know you need me.”
“Actually,” I interject. “It’s all three of our faults.”
Cruz looks at me. “… How is it your fault?”
“It’s my fault because I didn’t sit you both down so we could est
ablish some rules to serve as the groundwork before moving forward.”
“I’ll stay out of the nest, Master.”
“It’s irrelevant,” Iris whispers. “The nest doesn’t want to hatch any eggs.”
Stroking my goatee, I ask, “Did you know Iris collared Rowan?”
“I found out when you did,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting it, but I also wasn’t expecting my sister to be yours.”
I hastily defend, “Is that a problem?”
“Only because you aren’t being honest with yourself or Iris.”
Feeling agitated, I ask, “In what regard?”
“Thinking that you can behave with Skeeter,” he accuses. “We know you won’t. It’s just a matter of time.”
“My plans involve two people—you and Iris. Skeeter will be handled, but you’re going to have to trust me.”
He doesn’t stop. “Do you love her?”
“… Skeeter?”
“Yes,” he hisses.
“I do,” I admit. “But we want very different things.”
“And do you not question what that love does to Iris?”
“You mean the love that I built while you were off fucking my girl?” I slam, not holding back. I’m an angry bastard. “No, I don’t.”
“Sal,” Iris says. “Please.”
I snap, “Stay out of this, Iris.”
“I’d like to remind you, I was taking care of your girl because of your incompetence.”
“Deacon!”
He roars, “Hush, Iris!”
“That’s it! I’m leaving!” She gets up and throws some clothes on. “You two can destroy one another just fine without me having to witness it. Maybe Durante isn’t such a bad option!”
My jaw tightens. “You need to sit your ass right back down, Iris Amarie!”
Without a word, Cruz and I immediately reunite into a boys’ team as I glance at the door, and he quickly blocks her exit. “If there is one thing I do know in all of this mess, baby girl,” Cruz fumes as she stands in front of him. “It’s that you are not leaving!”
“Let me out of here!” she screams, shoving Cruz. Her efforts do little good. “Rowan! Help!”
Diary of a Submissive (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 4) Page 71
