Page 5 of Six
“He could know something of use for us, and you could get something of use from him…without paying for once.” Rami sounds serious.
I give him a noncommittal hum. But I know what my brother means. I do pay professionals to fuck. They know what I like, and are ready to get it. Get me. I’ve been using the same escort agency for years now without any problem. I’m big and strong and like it rough. Like to dominate and use. No feelings, not a care about the other person’s pleasure. It’s uncomplicated. It’s satisfying. It works for me.
That’s why I need to stop imagining those odd green/brown eyes turning watery while he deepthroats the shit out of me.
“Rague, we need whatever information we can get. Lenny lives in the dark ages. No laptop. No digital presence. Not even a damn Facebook account. He has an old-ass flip phone, for fuck’s sake. I can’t work my usual magic. So, we need to do this the old, hard way.” Rami is right. We need to go old school here.
I grunt at him. I’m not good at…talking. It took me two weeks to have a full conversation with Michael, my brother’s boyfriend and new addition to our family.
“Did you get the sassy twunk’s name?”
“No,” I growl. Rami is not going to let this go. Ever.
“No problem.” He shifts his eyes away from me and says, “Serena darling, please check the street cameras and follow a guy with shoulder-length chestnut hair, a pink hoodie, black backpack, and grey jeans.”
Serena is Rami’s AI. He createdherwhen he was in his teens. They are inseparable—virtually speaking. I don’t actually know how, but he’s able to communicate with her even from this rundown factory. Because of his devil-may-care attitude, I sometimes forget how extraordinarily intelligent Rami is.
“I gotta work tomorrow,” I tell him, not needing to explain more.
“I’ll stay and see if I can find out something more. Good job tonight, Hulky.”
I shake my head at the name while we head out. Rami has been calling me Hulky since we were kids. He finds it hilarious that the crowd chose Hulk for me. But the more I think about it, the surer I am that Rami had something to do with it.Assface.
He goes back to the screaming crowd, while my long strides take me quickly outside to the back of the factory. Here, out in the open, I can see the white, misty clouds coming from my mouth. I don’t feel the cold much, especially after a fight with the increase in my body temperature.
Snow covers the few cars scattered in the parking lot, the scorched wild grass, and the solitary street lamp. My old beat-up pickup looks fine tonight. It still sports thefuck youwriting on the side—need to get it fixed. People who fight in this kind of illegal ring don’t like to lose. Also, Washington Park, where the factory is located, is one of the most dangerous places to live in Chicago because of the extremely high violent crime rate. Hence the broken windshield and the slashed tires I’ve had to replace several times.
I get behind the wheel and start the engine. It’s past midnight, and I’m in need of a quick shower and a long sleep. I didn’t lie to Rami, I have work tomorrow. Owning a construction and demolition company with ten workers under me is tough. There’s a lot to do in and out of the office. I prefer the out of the office part; I like to get my hands dirty. It keeps my head busy and my body in shape.
I like my job, but as Margery, my secretary, has told me many times over, I need to hire someone to share the burden with and help me in the office. I’m not the trusting type though, and even letting her partially deal with the customers has taken some getting used to.
My head shifts once again to the sassytwunk—as Rami called him. Our time together may have been brief but the instantaneous attraction I felt can’t be denied. I just looked at him and felt my balls pull up tight. The way he openly ogled me and let me know he wanted to blow me. How he faced me fearlessly.
I haven’t felt this level of curiosity and arousal toward someone in a very long time, if ever. He’s far from my type. I usually go for sturdier guys able to take a pounding and definitely older than him. But I could see his toughness, not only in his tight body. It was brave and reckless of him to come on to me like that. He has a backbone.
The entire drive, I try to push the encounter out of my head. I focus on the road and thecase. The teens went to different schools, had different jobs, lived in different areas in the city, and only two of them used to hang out in the same circles, but were barely acquaintances. It almost looks like they were chosen randomly. By Lenny? He doesn’t look like the kind of guy with that much brain. An illegal fight ring? Sure. Taking boys and beating them to death? I’m not sure. The teens all disappear a day or two before being killed—the autopsy reports show an approximate time of death and also reveal traces of a new drug in their blood. A mix of barbiturates and opioids, which are sedatives and suggest the theory of a kidnapping.
When I turn onto my gravel driveway and shut off the engine, I’m swallowed by silence. My house is quite isolated on a two-acre stretch of land. It’s an old workers cottage that I restored all by myself. It looks even more quaint with all the snow turning everything white.
The creak of the wooden boards when I climb the small porch steps to the green front door tells me I’m home. I should fix that, but the sound has become comforting in a way.
The few times my brother, Raph, has come here, he’s bitched about the plainness and ordinariness of it. He lives with Michael in a luxurious penthouse in Streeterville. He frequents only high-society places, so of course, my middle-class lifestyle is not for him.
I could’ve bought a bigger, more opulent place if I’d wanted to. I have enough money to last me the rest of my life and then some. My brother, Uri, who owns a few restaurant chains, also has a knack for the stock market. He invested some of the money I made with my company. But even though I could get more, I don’t need to. My cottage suits me just fine, and I believe is quite spacious for one person. What’s more, I enjoy going to work every day. My aching muscles wish I didn’t have to go tomorrow though, but a few hours of sleep will help with that.
I type in the code to turn off the house alarm as soon as I get inside and walk across the dark living room and down the corridor to the bathroom. I turn the bright spotlights on, and dropping the duffle bag on the floor, I quickly throw my dirty clothes into the hamper before stepping inside the large shower stall. The cold water hits my shoulders as I place my palms on the cool tiles and let my head fall back.
Out of nowhere, a vision of me staring at those light green eyes and pouty lips while the guy bounces on my dick rocks me. All my blood rushes to the southern regions of my body. My cock juts out, heavy and thick. My balls tingle.
Jesus Christ! I’m twenty-nine and never before has my body responded this vehemently and spontaneously to another guy. Certainly not to a boy barely in his twenties with a death wish.
I need to keep my head in the game.
I speedily wash and get out of the shower. After drying myself, I walk to my room to pull on a pair of briefs. I send a quick text to the escort agency letting them know I’m going to need one this weekend. The reply arrives quickly, with a date and time to confirm. As soon as I do, I take a big calming breath and sit on my bed.
My hand goes automatically to the guitar propped against the nightstand. I grab it and place it on my lap. My cock is still hard, not at the thought of the appointment I made, but at the memory of a mischievous smile and a slim, but well-built body. His lean physique filled out those tight, worn jeans perfectly. His ass firm and round, a perfect bubble.
I realize just now that I’m humming “Green Eyes” by Coldplay while my fingers caress the guitar strings, forming the slow melody. Playing always soothes me. The notes and words fill my head, pushing away whatever thought or emotion clutters it.
