by Dee, Cara
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 mouth 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.
"You 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.
Bit by bit, I will learn to let go of my old ways of thinking, but one thing I know for sure already.
I've surrendered completely to both my Master and the man I hope to include in the relationship I have with my Lina.
We're different, she and I, which I didn’t see before. I thought we were the same, except maybe she's a little bolder and a lot more carefree. But, regardless, Mark evokes new feelings in us—new desires. Lina wants more of the physical sting; she wants Mark to play with her body with a healthy dose of fear and pain involved. I want the head games; I want him to control my mind, push me down
, and take care of me as if I'm not capable of doing it myself. For me, it's about letting go of everything.
It's liberating.
Soon, we even have different arrangements with Mark. While our girl wants set times for scening, I like it when the lines are blurrier. I say Master and he's Master. It goes for both of us, really. If he wants to play, I'm game. Plus, Lina loves it almost just as much when only he and I do a scene, because it means she gets to add to her video collection. We all create a balance that works for us, and Lina and I fall deeper when Mark admits that we make him happy—that we provide him with the challenge he's missed for years.
Whether we're Master and subs or lovers, partners, boyfriends, girlfriend…it looks like we're all surrendering in a way. I surrender to my true tastes, Lina surrenders her body to temporary bruises and marks that send her into oblivion, and Mark surrenders to a new relationship that he one day states he wants us to keep building on as long as we move in together.
Eventually, I learn that surrender doesn’t necessarily make you weak.
It can make you whole.
*
Excerpt from Touch of Trouble (Touch Series, #4)
Kayla Brandon
When a waiter arrives at our cabana on the beach with breakfast, I stay quiet as Daddy takes care of everything. Instead I focus on tying the two ends of my white bikini around my neck, and then get my hair up in a high, messy bun at the top of my head. I do not want to get sunblock in my hair later. It gets all sticky. After a week in the sun, it's more red than brown, and a few golden highlights have appeared.
This is our last day in Mexico, and Daddy's family flew home yesterday. It was fun to see them again, especially his sisters who've warmed up to me since last time. At first they were wary of our fourteen-year age gap, but it's all good now.
I've tried to make Daddy extend our stay, but he's set on our flying to Oregon tomorrow. No matter how much I've bribed, whined, bitched, begged, and bargained, he stands firm. He wants us to get it out of the way so we can move on. Silly man. Why can't we move on without seeing my family? Ugh.
Especially that damn Amanda.
"Come here and eat your breakfast, Kayla," Daddy says. Scooting closer to the middle of the large, U-shaped couch that basically takes up the entire cabana, I end up next to him, and he's got everything set up on the small table in front of us. "Do you want me to cut off the crusts on your toast?"
I nod and lean my head on his shoulder. "Yes, please." It's pretty early, so I'm still tired. I intend to make the most of our last day, though, which was why I dragged Daddy down here before eight o'clock. But he didn’t protest; he just changed into his black board shorts, grabbed the book he's reading, and then we headed down to the lobby, got ourselves a cabana, and ordered breakfast.
"Something wrong, sweetheart?" he murmurs and kisses the top of my head.
I place a hand on my tummy and pout up at him. "Maybe I'm getting sick."
"Nice try." His mouth twists into a smirk. "Does that mean you're too sick to go swimming later?"
Dammit. I scowl and look at my plate, grabbing a triangle of toast with butter and jam. I adore swimming here, 'cause the water is so gorgeous. Crystal clear, turquoise, and the sand is almost completely white. Also, if I'm sick, we won't be able to scout for a location to have our wedding next spring.
"Some food might make me feel better." I backtrack and smile sweetly.
He chuckles and takes a sip from his coffee as he unfolds the newspaper he ordered to be delivered with breakfast. "Somehow I'm not surprised you'd say that." He hums and flips a page, while I worry the pristinely white sofa's gonna be all smudgy from the paper.
"I love you," I say, maintaining my sweet smile.
He doesn’t turn my way, but I do see the edges of his mouth slanting up a little. "Mmhmm. Love you, too, baby girl."
I huff and cram some toast into my mouth, realizing he still won't budge.
Not only are we definitely going to Oregon tomorrow, but I'm evidently healthy as a horse.
There's just no playing Nicholas Ford.
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