“Fuck.”
Wait. Did he say that out loud? Fuck indeed.
Tank snorted and patted Clover’s thigh as if that was supposed to help.
Chapter 3 – Clover
Tank’s heavy arm over Clover’s shoulders was like an anchor keeping him in a seated position, even if there was no reason for this, since Tank had used keys found on Riggs to cuff Clover’s wrist to his ankle, and the chain was too short to allow running. Or walking for that matter, which had been made clear when Tank had got tired of watching Clover tiptoe while bent over and carried him to the van as if Clover wasn’t heavier than a cat.
When the other three men had found out what happened, they’d taken their masks off as well, which sealed Clover’s fate. But whatever that would be, he still needed to find out.
The black-eyed scorpion of a human being called Drake eyed Clover in silence, playing with a curved knife in a silent promise of delivering painful death, were Clover to attempt another escape. “We could just dump him somewhere. We’re in the middle of a desert. No one would find him,” he said, barely opening his mouth and making no attempts to correct his lisp.
Clover wasn’t sure whether Drake was putting it up for discussion, or saying those things as a threat. He didn’t like it either way and backed into Tank, who felt so sturdy Clover could just about imagine Tank wasn’t his captor but someone to ensure his safety.
The auburn-haired guy who’d so far been the nicest of them all, called Boar for reasons beyond Clover’s understanding, glared at them from the driver’s seat. “Jesus, Drake! Give the boy a break. Why would he rat us out after we saved him from getting trafficked? Let’s just talk things through with him and be done with it by tomorrow.”
“Where are you from?” Tank asked, teasing Clover’s ear with his hot breath. They were so close that if Clover didn’t know the real reason for it, he would have assumed the guy was making a move on him. “When did they take you?”
“I refuse to answer until I know who you are,” Clover said, despite knowing these people could make him talk. They’d killed two people in that house, including Riggs. And then they casually blew up the building before packing up.
The other man at the front, Pyro, snorted. “Feisty for a kid half Tank’s size.”
This one really scared Clover. While stocky, rather than huge like Tank, he looked like an alien with the blue braid-mohawk and shaved eyebrows. But where he lacked hair above his eyes, twin tattoos of hot-rod like flames licked their way halfway up Pyro’s forehead. They were a poisonous green color, too.
“I’m not a kid. I’m nineteen,” Clover said.
Boar nudged Pyro with his elbow, grinning, and whispered all too loudly. The movement drew Clover’s eyes to the fat fists, and he noticed the two sets of letters on his knuckles. One spelled his own nickname, the other—Boar’s. Were those two family? A couple? Surely they couldn’t be brothers.
“Told you he’s legal.”
Clover’s face went aflame, and he looked their way, at a loss over what that meant, but the van stopped, and the opportunity to ask questions was gone.
“Right. Let’s get on with this,” Tank said, pulling at Clover’s shoulder to bring him closer to the doors at the back of the van. Drake held them open, revealing a small ranch-style house in the middle of nowhere. At first, Clover feared they’d just pass him on to someone like Riggs, but all the lights were off, and when Pyro produced a set of keys to open the door, it became clear it was their place.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Boar said, following Pyro inside.
Clover groaned when Tank picked him up. “Would be more comfortable if I could actually walk on my own.” He frowned at Tank. “Or is this fun for you?”
Tank shrugged and placed Clover back on his own feet, which left him to continue inside in the awkward position, both feet and chest bare. It didn’t help that he’d hurt his foot out in the desert. “Suit yourself, but I don’t mind a bit of weigh lifting, since our job tonight was much easier than expected.”
Job. So they were… mercenaries? Contract killers?
He inhaled softly and looked at the ends of his long white strands swiping the sand in the uncomfortable position. Each movement was a struggle, and when he glanced at Drake between his legs, the dark glare made him huff and try harder. But as he reached the steps leading inside and stomped on his own hair, Tank had enough.
He hauled Clover over his shoulder and carried him inside. Focusing became that bit harder when the thick fingers dug into the flesh of Clover’s thighs, but he still made the effort and took in the simple yet neat living room with leather seating, a TV, and a large table in the back, close to an outdated open-plan kitchen where Boar handed Pyro a beer and pulled the shorter man in for a kiss.
Clover did a double take, blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, but nope, Pyro grinned and squeezed Boar’s ass.
The hand on Clover’s thigh felt much hotter than before.
“Get a room,” Drake said, but passed his two companions on the way to the coffee machine, keeping more distance than necessary. So there were straight guys who had no issues with gay people, but it was hardly ever this casual, especially among hyper masculine guys like those four.
Were they all queer?
Before Clover could have answered his own question, Tank carried him farther down the corridor. “I’m gonna talk to him on my own first. Don’t interrupt me!”
Clover gulped loudly when Pyro laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Talk to him. Sure.”
Tank carried Clover down a short corridor and into a tidy room without much more than a big bed and a few chests of drawers. He rolled Clover down to the mattress and locked the door behind them.
“Listen, boy. You and I are gonna have a chat, because you’re not going anywhere until I know what your deal is.”
Clover bit his lip, thinking back to Riggs telling him that there has been a ‘special request’ for a man like him. If a lot of money was involved, he might be tracked down and captured again. After all, how many young, handsome albino men with no relatives were there? He was prime merchandise.
“I… need to leave the state.” It wasn’t like there was anything left for him in his native Arizona after Jerry had sold him off and Troy had cheated on him last year. “And you… take on difficult jobs, is that right?”
Tank blinked and let out a snort, taking off the thick vest, though the chest underneath was no less impressive in size without the extra padding. “Why? You want to pay us to take you beyond the state border? Wouldn’t it be cheaper to just take a Greyhound?”
Clover tried not to stare, but the ideas put in his head by Boar and Pyro wouldn’t leave. If these guys were gay or bi, he could be safe with them. Well, at least safer than he would have been with straight mercenaries. Until the danger blew over. He just needed time.
“Someone’s after me. I have friends in New York, and they’d pay for your effort once we get there.” He didn’t know anyone who’d bother to lend him even a hundred bucks, but New York was the first far-off place that came to his mind. He could disappear in a big city, and from there, maybe travel to Canada? With skin like his, Mexico was out of the question.
Tank removed his utility belt and hung it on the wall before stretching in a way that showcased his figure despite his dark green T-shirt being too loose to cling to his massive form. Its color complemented the olive shade of his skin, and Clover found himself staring once again. Despite his initial fear, he was positive Tank didn’t have ill intentions toward him. His business wasn’t strictly speaking legal, but whose really was these days?
“Let’s quit this dance. Who are you? How were you taken?” Tank asked, dropping to a stool across from the bed, under a framed picture of flowers that was so not Tank its presence proved he couldn’t have been the one who’d decorated.
Clover dialed up the victim act, staring at Tank with wide eyes. “My name’s Clover. I was travelling through Arizona and made friends
with this guy, Jerry. Before I knew it, he sold me off to Riggs, who you already know of, and here I am. There’s no more to it, other than how I look. Someone wants a person like me. Please, wouldn’t it be a nice road trip for you guys? You take me to New York, and I pay for your services once we get there?” His heart rattled faster by the second. There was something about Tank’s sheer size and calm presence that set Clover on edge. So he faked a smile and tentatively extended his cuffed wrist. “Please? I won’t run again. I panicked, because I don’t know who you guys are.”
Tank stared at him, his expression hard yet unreadable. Clover might have as well begged for the help of a granite sculpture. “Don’t you have family to contact? Wouldn’t it make more sense for your friends to pay for your plane ticket? Traveling by car means more opportunities for someone to take you.”
Tank’s gaze was like a searchlight about to uncover all of Clover’s secrets. He hadn’t said it yet, but he was on the track of Clover’s bullshit.
Think, Clover. Think. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t leave my friends in the nicest way. But I can convince them to pay you once I’m there in person.” He dared nudge Tank’s rock-hard, tattooed forearm with his fingers. “I can make it worth your while.”
The way Tank’s gaze zeroed in on him made Clover’s heart skip a beat. Silence extended between them like a strand of bubblegum.
Tank grabbed Clover by the wrist, but didn’t squeeze, and instead rubbed his thick thumb over Clover’s vein. “For the record, I think you’re a lying liar who lies, but maybe we could figure out this little road trip.”
Hook. Line. Sinker.
Clover dared a little smile. “We could?”
“But it’s no charity run, boy. Nothing in this life is free, understood? I don’t believe there’s any money at the end of this imaginary rainbow you’re creating, but I see something else I like.” Tank’s gaze darkened as it slipped from Clover’s face and down his body.
The air between them became hotter, and Clover’s throat dried out as if he’d inhaled fire.
Was it hella shady? It was. Could it work? Absolutely.
“Just you?” he whispered, unable to comprehend the scope of what this conversation implied. Would he get to have this beefcake and eat it too?
Tank’s smile widened, becoming predatory. “We’ll see what the other guys say when I’m done with you.”
Clover took a deep breath, letting his gaze wander over the thick arms, which surely had enough power to twist the neck of a bull. He was salivating already.
In the face of Clover’s silence, Tank leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Your choice. We could escort you to the nearest police station for free. Or we take you to New York, but until we get there, you’re ours.”
Clover’s heart fluttered for all the wrong reasons. Tank’s offer was wrong on so many levels, but Clover didn’t trust the police. The fact that Tank was actually posing the offer as a choice inspired some trust. They were alone in the middle of nowhere. So if Tank wanted to force things, he could have. But he didn’t. He might not be a good guy, but he was honest.
Clover’s lips were too dry to speak, but he was hypnotized by the intensity in Tank’s dark eyes, so he leaned forward and left a gentle kiss on Tank’s stubbly chin as his answer.
Tank’s eyes were like hot chocolate, inviting Clover closer. But before he could have moved, Tank stood and approached the bed with slow, deliberate steps. “How’s it gonna be, boy? Wanna give it a trial run?”
Tank took off his T-shirt while asking the question, and the reveal made thinking much harder than usual. His chest was an artwork made of muscle, ink, and scars. Clover had a preference for big guys, but he’d never been with a man Tank’s size. He could already imagine all the ways in which Tank could twist and turn him in bed.
“Are you asking for a sample, or an advance?” Clover laughed nervously, surprised by how flustered this situation was already making him.
“What do you want it to be?” Tank asked, stopping when his crotch was in front of Clover’s face. The air became too hot, and the whiff of arousal beckoned Clover to seek out more.
“Uncuff me?” Clover asked, shaking the hand that remained cuffed to his leg, but Tank chuckled and stepped back, taking away the arousing scent he carried. Before Clover could have begged him to stay, he unbuckled a satchel at his belt and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.
Clover sighed, deflated. “Not gonna happen?” He should have been worried, but right now Tank didn’t scare him, no matter how big he was. Judging by the front of his jeans, Tank didn’t have malicious intentions. Only horny ones.
“Not until we’re done. Can’t have that pesky hand doing something it shouldn’t. You need to get yourself acquainted with my dick first,” Tank said, and swiftly attached Clover’s other hand to the chain already binding him.
Clover looked up Tank’s body with a deep breath, excited by being helpless with this strong, competent man. Tank wanted him a lot, and he’d wanted him from the moment they’d met. Clover could now see it now. It was why Tank had chosen to carry him, and keep his arm over Clover’s shoulders.
Staying with him until they reached New York would hardly be a chore.
With the warmth of arousal already curling in his stomach, Clover leaned forward and nuzzled at Tank’s zipper.
Tank hummed and patted Clover’s head before taking off Clover’s glasses and gently placing them on the bedside table. “How about you open your mouth so I can see where I’m gonna put it?” he teased, opening his belt with the other hand.
The hairs on Clover’s arms bristled, his heart already drumming, and he couldn’t even blink when he opened his mouth wide and let his tongue out in invitation. He wanted to see Tank’s cock as soon as possible. He now regretted being cuffed, not because he wanted to run, but because he wanted to pull down Tank’s zipper. But he could always do that with his teeth.
Tank’s size didn’t frighten him anymore. As long as this man wanted Clover, he’d be safe.
The massive hand slipped to the back of Clover’s head, holding him in place while Tank rubbed two of his fingers up and down his tongue. “Nice and warm. I’m gonna enjoy this. We’re gonna enjoy this,” he said, and while Clover didn’t know whether Tank meant the two of them or the four mercenaries, the moment Tank opened his zipper, it no longer mattered. His mouth longed for the weight and taste of this man’s cock.
Clover nodded and closed his lips around the thick fingers to suck on them. These fingers had killed the man who’d taken Clover, threatened him, and had been ready to sell him like an object to be used. Clover would suck Tank’s cock even if he wasn’t as hot. Even if, to these men, he was to be an object, he’d be setting his own price, not allowing another to profit.
He could already imagine those fingers inside of him too, then Tank’s cock, his heavy, strong body on top. Clover loved the weight of a man on him. Sex was the only time he allowed himself to be brainless, and while Tank was a bit of a dick, he didn’t seem cruel. People who didn’t hide their darker side usually weren’t.
With a growl that sent a jolt of excitement down to Clover’s balls, Tank pushed his pants and underwear low enough to expose his cock. It wasn’t completely hard yet, so he gave it a couple of pumps, slamming his fist against the heavy-looking balls each time. There was something beyond beautiful in this moment of anticipation.
Clover’s eyes were glued to the cut dick, cockhead already thick and lickable, but he was a good boy and sucked on the fingers in his mouth. He moaned and let his gaze travel up Tank’s inked stomach, all the way up to Tank’s face. The intense brown eyes met Clover’s and Tank groaned, sliding the fingers back and forth between Clover’s lips.
“Will you be a good boy?” Tank asked, and the sound of his fist slapping against balls made Clover shudder and push closer, eager for a taste. The fingers left his mouth, almost instantly replaced by the cockhead, which moved up his tongue and tickled the back of h
is throat.
Clover blinked a few times and gave a nod, unable to contain the feelings Tank’s presence triggered in him. Not of affection, but of an unreasonable desire to submit to whatever Tank demanded. There was an unspoken promise that if he’d only do that, everything would end up fine. He would be taken care of.
Clover’s own cock was painfully hard, and he squeezed it through his jeans while sucking on Tank’s stiff dick. The fingers in his hair forced him forward, and Tank pushed his cock in farther.
“That’s good, boy. Suck harder.”
So Clover did, responding to the order as if he’d been trained to do so. Maybe because the order wasn’t a chore. From its base to the tip, Tank’s cock was thick, throbbing perfection which Clover couldn’t wait to have between his legs. Because he already knew they would go there.
Following the underside of the cock with his tongue, he looked up, meeting Tank’s gaze, which burned like hot coals that would soon consume him too. In this moment, Tank was his commander, and if he wanted Clover to suck while he made shallow thrusts, pulling his cockhead back and forth through the tight ring of lips, Clover would do as told. He complied when he was told to lick the tip, when he was ordered to suck harder. And when Tank decided he wanted to fuck his face, Clover had no choice but to relax and let it happen.
And he loved it.
His eyes watered as he gagged on the cock, feeling saliva drip down his chin. Tank’s intensity had Clover trembling, and he whimpered for more, because the chain cuffing his hands to his ankle kept him folded in two, without the chance to unzip his own jeans.
“I wanted to fuck your pretty face the moment I saw you,” Tank grunted, holding the back of Clover’s head with his meaty hand.
Just as Clover was getting used to the deepening penetration, Tank pushed him farther on the bed and straddled his face, holding it up at an uncomfortable angle to keep fucking Clover’s lips. The sudden change in position yanked at Clover’s cuffed joints, and he ended up having to lift one leg to accommodate the chain.
Their Bounty (Dark Gay Harem Contemporary Romance) (Four Mercenaries Book 1) Page 3
