Page 12 of Six
“Wait, Beauty—” he points at my dick “—and the Beast!” He waves his hand at my brawny body and lets out a hearty chuckle.
Is he…teasing me? Apart from my brothers, who know I’ll never hurt them—much—no one else dares to do that. But Oliver’s eyes show a glint of impish glee. His laughter is light and melodious in the dusty bathroom, it makes me want to share the amusement with him.
“Well, thanks for the laugh and the protein.” He rubs his belly, and I find myself snorting while staring at his mouth, recalling when it was hoovering my cum down his throat. Damn, that was hot.
I don a blue and black flannel shirt on top of the t-shirt. When I look at him again, he seems uncomfortable for a moment. His eyes dart away when he says, “Well, see you around.”
“Are you…okay?” I suddenly hear myself ask as he grabs his backpack and turns to leave. I’d been rough, perhaps too rough? Never cared before, but I need to know that he’s fine. Why? Don’t know. I just do.
He looks back at me, and the puzzlement is quite clear in his gaze, like my concern toward him is unexpected. And it fucking is.
“All good.” Before walking away, he gives me that crooked smile again. The one where two curved lines, like parallel brackets, form on one corner of his mouth.
There’s no way this is the one and only time I fuck that mouth. Despite the fact that I never go for the same guy twice, I need to feel this again.
The easy way he took all of me. How he enjoyed being face-fucked. How he responded to my simple commands, as if he was made to follow them. A thousand images flash through my mind, and in every one of them, he’s eager to do exactly as I order—ass in the air, on his knees, thighs spread, tied hands and feet.
I’m hooked on him already. The realization makes the hair rise on the back of my arms. I inhale deeply. This attraction is likely to become a complication when I should be a hundred percent focused on Lenny.
Although my head is crowded with conflicting thoughts, there’s a deep calmness to my steps when I go looking for Rami.
The next day, I’m driving down the long, jagged path that leads to Meg and Linda’s house. The white frosted trees on each side create draped shadows along the snowy lane on this sunny day. I pull up at the tall gates, and through the open car window, I look straight at the small screen on the slate wall to let Serena scan my eye. The AI takes care of the house security, mainly because our base is here as well—which is where wetake careof the donors, better known as the evil shitheads.
Rami offered to install Serena at my place too, but I went for a regular alarm system. I’m not really comfortable aroundherlevel of technology.
“Welcome, Rague,” Serena’s voice says from the speaker on the wall.
“Thank you,” I reply, letting her check my voice as well. We can never be too cautious, doing what we do.
“Please enter.”
I wait patiently for the gates to open and then drive the remaining distance to the garage, passing by the tall, white-columned house. Rami’s Jaguar I-Pace is charging and Raph’s Ducati is next to it. My other brothers, Gabe and Uri’s cars are missing, though. If they don’t hurry up, they’ll end up being late. And Linda can turn quite prickly if we don’t get to the family gatherings on time—or any other appointments we have with her. She doesn’t turn full-frontal angry but uses sneaky Machiavellian ways to get back at us, with a Cruella smile on her face.
I turn off the engine, and my mind wanders to Oliver and his mischievous smirk. I slept like a fucking baby last night. And this morning, I jerked off in my bed while thinking about him—more specifically, how he successfully sucked my brain out of my cock like he said he would.
Then I spent a good hour going through Oliver’s background files. My curiosity has more to do with the wild attraction and the odd emotions he ignites in me, rather than the need to get more information on Lenny from him.
Oliver’s father is a lowlife piece of shit. He went to prison twice for pimping and was arrested several times for dealing. He looks much older than his forty-seven years. But the continuous consumption of drugs and booze take a heavy toll on the body. We should keep an eye on him. Oliver’s brother instead is a straight A student, he won a scholarship to a very good high school. He’s much younger than Oliver, but Rami added some pictures where I can see them strolling on the street together, Oliver smiling happily. The mischief dancing in his eyes.He’s beautiful.His brother is barely visible under the layers of clothes covering him.
The rumble of Gabe’s GT snaps me out of my head. He parks next to me while I get out of my dusty pickup truck and walk toward him. My brother is a lawyer, a shark. He surely looks like one, always wearing his sharp, tailored suits, shiny leather shoes, and slicked-back hair. His ruthless, austere demeanor isn’t an act. And although his cold-blooded and sadistic methods are very entertaining when aimed at one of the donors, he’s not completely heartless. He cares about us, in his own way.
“Rague, tell me that barely concealed barrel on the bed of your pickup is not the one filled with acid.” His impassive voice has a bite to it.
I just grunt at him.
“I told you to get rid of it. If the police stop you, it could get tricky.”
“I own a demolition company,” I remind him.
“And you need a barrel of acid?”
I shrug. “It’s cheaper to buy in bulk.” I actually have two more at home. Acid is one of the best ways to get rid of a dead body. That and cremation. I’ve been thinking of building a cremator to help dispose of the corpses. Plus, I love fire. Such a clean, beautiful, and efficient way to eliminate the…unwanted.
I walk past the wall of tools that hides the secret entrance to the base, and open the door that connects to the house foyer. It always surprises me how the atmosphere changes from the laid-back, man-cave garage to the ostentatious decor of Meg’s family home. It’s all white marble, shiny columns, luxurious furnishings, and heavy ornaments. Most rooms on the first floor are closed. The sitting room, parlor, drawing room—they all look the same to me. We only used them when we were kids to play hide and seek. I remember Ferdinand, the butler, going crazy trying to find us.
“Who helped you yesterday?” I ask, heading to the dining room with Gabe walking next to me. It was my turn to assist with the discarding of the donor’s body—we have a rotation in place. Nobody likes this task because it can turn messy and lengthy, but I actually don’t mind it—there’s macabre beauty in watching a body dissolve into nothing. Yesterday was my turn, but since I had to be at the fighting ring, one of my brothers must have taken my place.
“Sari.”
