by Aria Grace
David had no idea what he was walking into. He trusted others and lost his life because of that trust. But I'm not as naïve as my big brother was all those years ago. I know better than to trust first. And if there's a Nicola back in this town, I have to assume he's looking for me. My list started out with eight names. Five have been ticked off already. Mostly family and guard members who were present for David’s murder. Whether they knew what was going to go down that night or not is of no consequence. They helped the man who killed my brother. And for that reason alone, they will all die.
My first kill was the man who took the bag from David ten years ago. One of the brothers let his guard down after the family moved out of town. I was able to cut the brake lines in his car, ensuring the accident would not be traced back to me but making sure they knew they were on someone’s radar.
When they left Nevada, I worried it meant I wouldn’t be able to complete my list. I thought I might not ever get closure on my brother’s death. But just because they were gone doesn’t mean they were forgotten.
The Canadian crew was coming in hot, and their dealings with the casinos were starting to get noticed. I never got the whole story on why the Nicolas left because I didn’t care. Still don’t. Whether they live in Vegas or Texas or Timbuktu doesn’t matter to me. I’ll go to the ends of the earth to scratch off every name on my list.
Although, now I have to wonder if maybe they’ve figured out who I am and have decided to come to me.
6
Liam
“God, I am so—” The words die mid-breath when I see Scotty, twisted in a very unnatural way on the floor between our beds. “What are you doing?”
He grunts out some unintelligible words, and then his limbs relax and flop onto the floor. “I’m trying to limber up.”
I raise an eyebrow and scoot around him, slipping on a pair of underwear under my robe. “For what? You got some contortionist audition coming up that you forgot to mention?”
The serious expression on his face does not crack at all. “Practically. If it's anything like last week, then yeah, this is going to be an acrobatic feat. The guy I'm seeing again tonight had me hanging by my ankles last time. I had to crawl up the wall with my hands and try not to bounce off it while he fucked me. It was crazy…”
I smile at the image of Scotty trying to be as flexible as possible for his clients. His frame is much wider and a few inches taller than mine, so the fact that he can even get into the position I just saw him in is pretty impressive. I've been small and skinny my whole life, and I can barely touch my toes. “Sounds like fun. Just don't hurt yourself.”
“We’ll see.” He slips off his boxers and grabs a clean robe from the supply that hangs in every room of the compound. “What about you? How was your night?”
I grimace at the memory of the spanking I just endured, shifting my weight off my tender ass cheeks. “Decent. This guy was really into spanking, but he said he wanted to start easy, so he only used his hand.”
“Ouch.” Scotty gives me a sympathetic grin. “I’ve had a few of those. They can be hot as hell, but they’re usually just annoying.”
I pull the small jar of ointment out of the robe pocket that I snagged on my way out and hold it up to him. “I may need your help putting on this cream later.”
Scotty glances at the jar in my hand and nods. “No problem. If it helps with sore muscles, I may need you to do the same for me.”
“Sure thing.”
He picks up his phone and glances at the time. “Shit, I've got to go.” Scotty blows me a kiss as he opens the door. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck,” I call out just before he closes the door behind him.
Despite Mr. Spanky getting a little overzealous, this week has gone better than I expected. After passing out on my first night, I was terrified my second night on the floor would be another disaster. But Tanner sent some of the more mild clients my way, and things have been going pretty well. I haven't passed out again, and I've even gotten lucky a few times and been allowed to climax with my clients.
The guys that have been around here for a while made it clear we shouldn't expect to get off while we're working. But knowing that it's always a possibility helps keep me from getting too down on myself about what I’m doing here. It’s a job that pays a lot of money. That’s it.
And when the guilt and shame start to stifle me, I can easily retreat into my head…just like I did when I was a kid. After the first few times my aunt came into my bedroom at night, I figured it out. She used me to sate the needs her husband couldn’t fulfill, and I used her to learn how to check out of my head when I needed to escape reality.
Damon, one of the old-timers here, reminds me every night to put on a fake smile when things get bad and shield all emotions except those the client wants to see. That trick kept him sane in the beginning, though he rarely needs to use it anymore. But since my sanity seems to be a slippery rope to hang on to these days, I’m employing every advantage I can.
During the few times I’ve been allowed to enjoy myself with a client, I'm not proud to admit that my thoughts have been straying toward a certain knight-in-leather-armor. Edge hasn't been back all week, but after casually asking a few people about him, I learned that he only comes in once every month or so. The only good news about that is I should have enough experience by the time I see him again not to pass out. Not that it matters much. A guy like him won’t want to spend his time or money on me. I’m what a place like this calls the “B-Team.” Of course, Tanner would never actually label any of us in a derogatory manner to our faces, but the fact that I’m getting the easy clients is a clear sign that he doesn’t trust me yet. I don’t blame him, but I am determined to prove he didn’t make a mistake when he took a chance on me.
I know he knows who I am. His eyes locked on my tattoo the second I bared my soul and my body to him. But he didn’t turn me away, and for that, I’ll always be indebted to him. Even if I do survive the next three hundred and fifty-eight nights.
“I know it hurts, but you’ll thank me for this in an hour.” Damon glances at Scotty and motions to the bottle of bourbon he brought with him for this torture treatment. “Give him another shot.”
I shake my head to ward off both him and the alcohol, but when he slides all five of his fingers into my hole, I reach for the bottle to take a swig directly from it. “Fuck, are you sure you’re doing it right?”
“Just breathe, Liam.” Damon slowly eases into me. “I’ve been with that dude before, and he’s not nearly as gentle as I’m being. If I can get you 90% of the way there, you probably won’t black out when he fists you.”
The term for the barbaric sexual act is violent enough, but how anyone can find this pleasant or fun is beyond me. It feels like Damon’s punching my insides with every centimeter he breaches. But I know he’s right. If I’m stretched out before I meet with my client tonight, one who requested me but I’ve never met before, I’ll be much more likely to please him. And that means one night closer to the end of my time here.
“Are you all the way in yet?” I pant out, barely able to breathe much less talk. “I think my vision is starting to blur.”
“Shit.” Damon slides his fingers up my back to settle my nerves, but that’s not where my nerve endings are on fire. “Scotty, get down there and distract him. I just need a few more minutes, and then I’ll put in the plug.”
“On it, boss.” Scotty doesn’t think twice about dropping to his knees in front of me and taking my limp dick into his mouth. He’s my friend and wants to help. And it’s no surprise that it does help.
A lot.
Without realizing it, I allow my attention to refocus on Scotty’s warm mouth and expert tongue instead of the pain Damon’s still inflicting. Several moments go by as I get fully hard, and when Damon fully exits my body and my muscles clamp down around the base of a two-inch butt plug, I shoot into Scotty’s mouth, either from relief or pleasure. Probably both.
7
Edge
I’ve waited for Tanner to call me for almost two weeks, and I’m done being patient. He has to know who Liam is, and he has to know I want information. I thought he’d contact me after that night, but he hasn’t. And his silence is starting to get old. Either he’s avoiding me because he knows I’m not going to like what he has to say, or he’s being a pussy. And Tanner isn’t a pussy.
I pick up my phone to call him but think better of it. He won’t tell me anything important over an unsecure line. If I want real details, we’ll need to be face-to-face. And since he’s at The Vault every night, that’s where I need to go.
It’s not a long drive out of the city to the compound Tanner and his business partner own, but it’s desolate. There isn’t much to look at for at least twenty minutes until the cluster of buildings comes into view.
I’ve been here a hundred times in the past, but the strange flutter in my belly makes me feel like it’s my first time. I know it’s not my talk with Tanner that has me unnerved. Even though I don’t want to acknowledge it, my interest in Liam Nicola is stronger than it should be. I can pretend to be curious only because of his familial ties, but that would be a lie. Sure, it’s a small reason, but there’s so much more than that. His alabaster skin and those blue eyes are the real reason why I haven’t been able to sleep well in weeks. His presence in my dreams has me waking up in a cold sweat and with a hard cock two or three times a night. As stupid as it is to think of anyone connected to Joseph Nicola in a physical way, it’s also my best strategy for closing out my list.
“Is Tanner around?”
Asher holds up his finger as he finishes his phone call. “Yes, sir. I’ll turn it off and remove the battery. See you then.” When he drops the phone onto the base, he laughs out loud. “Holy shit, people are stupid.”
“No kidding,” I deadpan. “You want to be more specific?” I can only imagine what he has to deal with on a daily basis at this place.
Asher shakes his head as he grins even wider. “I probably shouldn’t, but let’s just say if you don’t want your wife to know where you’re at, don’t forget your cell phone here when she has an app tracking your ass.”
“Noted.” After another look around the nondescript lobby, I get right to the point. “Anyway, can I get a few minutes with Tanner?”
“Sure thing.” Asher picks up the phone and types in a code. “He’s supervising a show right now, but you can head on back.”
I don’t normally walk around The Vault when I’m not a paying customer. But everyone here knows I’m practically family, and no one would care if I ever paid or not. But just being here without an encounter in mind feels strange. In fact, my body seems to know that once I enter this space, physical release isn’t far behind, making my cock engorge with blood. But before I can think about getting my rocks off, I need to know what Tanner knows.
Tanner is easy to find once I work my way past the huge crowd huddled around one of the center stages. When he sees me, his soft smile drops to a resigned smirk and he nods. He knows what I want without my having to ask for it. Good. Because I’m not leaving until we hash this out.
The scene on stage is an older guy with his key holder. The Dom is using a feather brush to tickle and tease the man into begging for relief that isn’t possible while his cock and balls are locked inside a metal cage. His imprisoned flesh is dark red and folded in a way that hurts my dick just from looking at it.
The man on the table is begging for permission to come, but his key holder has other plans. He pulls a long glass dildo out of a box and lubes it up. I’ve never felt comfortable playing with glass, but every time I’ve witnessed one being used, my curiosity is piqued. I could watch this all night. But before I get too consumed in it, Tanner pats my shoulder.
“Let’s go to my office.” He nods toward the mirrored wall upstairs, overlooking the floor. “I can watch from there.”
Without a word, I follow Tanner into his office and settle on the armchair so I’ve got a bird’s-eye view of the scene playing out below us.
Tanner takes the chair beside me, sitting silently for several minutes. Just when I think he’s going to make me work for it, he clears his throat and shifts to face me. “What do you want to know?”
“Why is he here?” My voice is low and controlled. I’m not pissed at Tanner. Until he gives me a reason to distrust him, I’ll continue to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Tanner rubs his palms up and down his face before leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs. “He ran away from the family.”
“Bullshit.” If he expects me to believe that, maybe I’ve been giving him too much credit all these years.
With a roll of his eyes, Tanner cracks a smile. “I knew you’d say that.”
“So, then, tell me the truth.” I lean forward too, leaving less than a foot of space between us.
“It’s true, Edge. He got spooked and ran. I had Johnny look into him as soon as he showed up. The family has put out some quiet feelers for him, and it seems they think he’s dead.”
I laugh out loud. “If anyone thought he was dead before you put him out on the floor, that fantasy would have been dispelled as soon as his tattoo was displayed.”
Tanner blows out a heavy breath and leans back in the chair. “Fuck, I told him to keep it bandaged. I didn’t think anyone saw it before it was covered.”
“Covered, how?” A stupid Band-Aid wasn’t going to keep that kid alive if he was trying to hide from his uncle.
The corner of Tanner’s lip curls up into a half smile. “You won’t recognize it when you see it.”
“What’d he cover it with, Tanner?” I urge again, curious and a little pissed I didn’t get a better look at it before it was camouflaged. “Is the number gone?”
Tanner nods. “Allen came down from Portland and drew a kick-ass dragon on his hip. It’s blowing flames right toward his cock. You’re gonna love it.”
“You really think it’s just a coincidence that he ended up here?” I don’t usually believe in coincidences, and this one is just too close to home. One of the very few people I care about like family in the whole world is now harboring a relative of the only people in the world I want dead.
Not even karma would make it that easy.
8
Liam
My back is still sore from the flogging last night, so when my client drops his pants and reveals the smallest penis I’ve ever seen, a wide smile breaks across my face. Not because I’m making fun of him but because I know that whatever he plans to do with that thing isn’t going to hurt. Hell, I might not even feel any kind of penetration. It reminds me of what my dick looked like when I was about five.
“You like what you see, boy?” The gravelly voice of the large man in front of me takes me by surprise, and my eyes immediately shift from his crotch to his face.
“Um, yes, sir.” I clasp my hands behind my back and give him a docile glance. “Very much so.”
With his thumb and forefinger, he rubs his micropenis a few times, maybe attempting to make it grow…and potentially show.
It doesn’t do either, and I have to pitch my back in order keep a stoic expression.
“Good, cuz I’m gonna give it to you nice and hard.” He steps toward me, forcing me to step back until my legs hit the bed. As soon as they do, he shoves my shoulders down so I’m sitting. Once my face is closer to his waist level, he plants one foot on the bed beside my thigh and wraps a meaty hand around the back of my neck.
“Open wide, pretty boy.” My jaw automatically drops, and my eyes focus on a mole just below his belly button. “Cuz I’m gonna fuck your face until you swallow my load.”
The mini-dick comes straight at me. Before I realize it, my nose is buried in coarse hair and his wormy cock is resting on my tongue. Without much thought, I swirl my tongue around the stiff flesh and begin to suck.
His fingers dig into my hair, and he leans down to grab one of my hands. I’m tempted to pull away, but my
training kicks in and I allow him to slide my open palm to his ass check.
“Fuck my ass, boy.”
Since he isn’t asking for lube, I gently press into him dry. He lunges farther into my face as my first knuckle passes his ring of muscles.
“That’s right, boy. Just like that.” The drops of spit landing on my face gross me out enough that I push my finger all the way inside him.
I don’t know if it’s the shock of the intrusion or actual pleasure, but his little dick pulses on my tongue, and two small bursts of bitter cream hit the back of my throat. Another trick Damon taught me was to moan in delight whenever I take a load, as if I’m turned on by my client’s release. The few times I’ve done it have resulted in bigger tips, so I go for it, moaning loudly as I lick him clean. “Mmm…”
The man pulls out quickly then yanks my head up so he can kiss me. His tongue laps up all the remnants of his release from my mouth before he pulls away completely.
“You’re good, boy. I’ll definitely be back to see you.”
“Thank you.” I stay seated on the bed while he gets dressed and heads to the door, slipping two hundred-dollar bills onto the dresser before closing the door behind him.
I pull a small bottle of mouthwash from under the counter and rinse, spitting it into the trashcan by the door after a long gargle. The man’s sour taste isn’t completely gone, but the minty alcohol flavor makes me feel a thousand times cleaner.
Since my body wasn’t really touched, I don’t bother putting on a robe before heading out to the main display floor. It’s a little later than usual, but if I can take two clients in one night, that puts me even closer to my goal of freedom.
I’m just about to close the cage door behind me when a strong hand closes around it, stopping me from snapping it shut. My eyes follow the thick muscles up to the hard lines I’ve seen nightly in my dreams. That tanned skin and those hazel eyes have made me wake up with my fist around my cock each time.
