Page 82 of Lord of Debauchery

But us.

If there really was such a thing.

Beads of his sweat dripped down to my back, rolling ever so gently off both sides. I knew almost instantly when he was losing all the stamina that had kept him going. It had seemed he was on a mission to claim every inch of me, ensuring I knew there really was no chance at turning back.

No matter the brutality, the concern, or the uncertainty about our future, I felt safer than I had in a very long time.

If not my entire life.

And as he made the most animalistic sounds to date, all I could was smile, enjoying the insane feeling of his hot seed filling my darkest hole.

CHAPTER 22

Beckham

Nothing was really ever set in stone.

Not life.

Not enjoyment.

Not family, including the birth of children.

Not even friendship.

The only thing that was in my mind was death. I was a firm believer when it was your time to die, the grim reaper would crawl his ugly ass from the depths of hell, using his chained demons to help in dragging you to the fires of purgatory. I had no doubt given my lack of humanity, my family’s brutal power, and my careless attitude that I would be roasting in hell for all eternity.

It was funny that after confronting my now bride to be I was content with the concept yet not willing to give up my life just yet. I had more to live for now than I had before.

It was exciting yet terrifying.

I was elated yet enraged.

I laughed as I stared out at the calm water, the afternoon sun providing a perfect backdrop, much like it had the night I’d considered several options with regard to Kenya. She’d been elevated to the status of not just my fiancée, which was still difficult for me to believe, but also my greatest weakness.

My father had warned me about developing a single weakness, although he’d sucked at the concept himself.

It was unusual and perhaps very wrong to feel happy, almost content when the threat certainly continued, but I just couldn’t help myself. In the last few days, my lovely fiancée had worked by my side, comparing names of the various lists, acting as administrator and sounding board. I was no fool. The lingering stench of the danger we were all in was riding high in the forefront of my mind.

However, clever as I thought the plan created might be, it meant shit if my uncle was already a step ahead. It had taken everything I had to keep my father from going ballistic, hiring everyone who owed him a favor to hunt down his own brother.

As I’d reminded him, given Uncle Mitchell’s obvious resources, he could easily get wind that we were onto him. If that was the case, he could decide to expedite the vile execution of his plan.

Prudence, temperament, and patience were primary and vital. As well as developing some damn good acting skills.

Photographs of my engagement to the lovely bride to be had been taken, a glorious story written by a buddy of mine who worked for the Associated Press. He had the ability and the connections to have the story placed in every major newspaper, both online and in print. In addition, we were set to appear on the cover of the New Yorker magazine with her connection to the Big Apple.

That should ensure her family learned of our dirty little game.

Although neither one of us wanted to think of it that way.

She had a massive ring on her finger, and an endless supply of funds as a special push to hopefully drive upper echelon members from their cave. Meanwhile several of the wives of the members of the Brotherhood were helping plan the festive event.

That would be in the articles as well.

It was risky as fuck, something I hadn’t wanted to agree to, but Constantine had convinced me everyone would be protected at all times.

Upon their suggestion, we’d all once again vetted out every single employee. If anyone wasn’t on the up and up, they were tossed. So far? That included fifty members from various regimes.

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