Page 4 of Unholy

My hands move rapidly up and down him, at times pulling on his barbells, which are followed by hisses.

Slowly, I allow a drop of spit to run off my swollen lips and onto his cock, acting as lube for my hands working his shaft. Then, closing my lips, I position his head before them and blow on the tip with my breath. Which I know is causing his spine to shiver and ass to clench at the sensation.

Wrapping my pouty lips around him once more, I position him so his head rubs against my cheek several times before I take him all the way back. The slam of his hand on the wall startles me, and I know he is on the fucking brink, right where I want him.

My head bobs back and forth rapidly on his cock. I don’t gag as I take him deeper. My eyes roll back the farther I get. More drool drips down my chin and onto my chest as my eyes water.

A loud groan erupts from Sinclair as his cock pulsates in my mouth. His warm cum floods my throat, coating it, and I am determined to milk him of every last drop. I don’t let up. I squeeze his base harder, and he grunts as more cum shoots out of his cock.

He tastes so fucking good. The salty release is exquisite. This is what elite dick tastes like. Only the fucking best.

I can feel his cock soften as the last drop drips out of him. Pulling back slowly, the once cool metal is now warm in my mouth as my tongue plays with them all before releasing him.

Before letting him out of my grip, I lean forward one last time and kiss his tip, leaving what is left of my black lipstick as a souvenir.

Rising to my feet, his cock remains in the hole, likely as he catches his breath and the stars fade from his vision. Smirking to myself, I know he is seeing stars, who wouldn’t be after that?

Turning toward the door, I make my way out, letting the mixture of drool and cum sit on my chin, glistening. Looking up at Delacroix, he is in the same position I left him in. Completely unfazed by what he just witnessed.

Before leaving the room, I turn my head, my long ponytail brushing against my shoulder as I turn to face Delacroix. “What was the bet?” I allow my curiosity to get the best of me.

“None of your fucking business,” he snaps back.

I nod in understanding and close the door behind me.

Asshole.

2

NATHANIEL

Iswear to fuck if anyone sees me here, I will beat the shit out of Delacroix. Tucking my cock back into my trousers, it’s all I can bring myself to think about.

But motherfucker, that was the best blowjob I have ever had. She must be new here, because I can’t see Greta holding out on me all this time.

Greta is a mystery to many; some even believe she is an urban legend. A myth.

But not to me. I see her. Really see her.

She is more than the owner of this place that some call a brothel; most call it ‘The Ranch’. It’s not anything we have discussed before; we have an unspoken respect for one another.

Not many get the luxury of this with her. It’s not by coincidence either, Greta is as calculated as I am. Anytime we make eye contact, a million words are spoken with one look. It’s something that just happened one day when Elijah left Montana with his mom all those years ago.

There is a bigger picture at play here, and I am determined to figure it out.

Until then, I will continue to invite her girls into my home every night, then kindly send them away once I am done. Business as usual.

Taking my navy suit jacket off the chair, I slide both arms through and adjust the cuffs of my white dress shirt. I have a rule for myself: always look sharp, never disheveled in public or in front of others. Never show your hand, because if you are having a bad day, they will use it against you.

Unless you are in the inner circle, and I can fucking tell you that my circle is as tiny as my pinkie finger.

Walking to the locked door, I unlatch the chain and open to the hallway, where a gloating Delacroix greets me.

“The man of mystery shows emotion. Is that a smile I see?” Clasping my hands together, I taunt my best friend since childhood. This man got on the dean’s list at Harvard, fucking brownnoser; the dean himself called him to congratulate him while D was getting his dick sucked, and all he did was shrug, finish on her face, then hit the showers. I myself was shocked Delacroix knew what a blowjob was, so naturally I stayed to watch and encourage him, which is how I knew this all happened.

So to see him have a tinge of a smile on his face, in this moment, is monumental.

At times, I see a lot of my son, Elijah, in him. It wasn’t until that day at the dinner table when Elijah asked, ‘What is the best way to kill someone?’ did I get it. D and my son are wired differently, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take the piss out of them.

---