Bad Boy 4

by Jamie Lake

  “And second of all,” Tony continued, “When I make an investment, as I’ve made one in you, I expect certain … returns on my investments; a certain amount of loyalty, and with that loyalty comes certain protections.” His smile returned, but it seemed more like a show of teeth than mirth or happiness. It was a show of aggression, a silent threat.

  Tony picked up a glass of wine and began to sip a taste. “Protections from certain individuals who threaten to tell everybody about your little side occupation as a gentleman’s masseuse, for example. I don’t take kindly to people threatening my people. You see, I don’t do threats. When those people don’t listen, I take action and I make sure they are no longer a threat.” He explained all of this as if he were simply talking about the weather. He shrugged it all off and smiled brightly, despite his oddly threatening tone.

  It dawned on Peter what Tony was saying. The only person who’d ever threatened to expose him and his secret side occupation was his roommate Anton. Just less than a week ago, he’d said he’d tell Peter’s parents, his school, the press, that Peter was an erotic masseuse. The world stopped. His heart stopped. He felt the breath sucked from him. His vision tunneled and for once, he was truly afraid, sickened.

  “Are you saying …?” Peter started to say. His mouth was so dry he could barely talk, and so Tony cut him off easily.

  “Yes, Petey. I’m saying … Anton had a real mouth on him. I mean, but you’ll be happy to know, he fought until the end, I heard. I mean, he screamed and yelled and he cursed, and I’m just glad my men took care of it. He won’t bother you anymore.” Again, his voice was almost cheery. He didn't seem bothered that he was talking about a man's murder. A murder for which he was responsible.

  “You’re a monster,” Peter said, his eyes darting at Tony. He shook all over, and his ears were ringing.

  “Well, that’s not very nice. Not very grateful at all. No, Petey, I’m your protector. I protect my investments. If this got out, it could ruin my reputation as much as it could ruin yours. Now, I’m going to make myself really clear. I don’t give any more warnings. You can kiss that little teaching job of yours goodbye, and if that cop appears even two feet away from you, he will no longer be a factor and neither will his son. I’ll ship that boy of his, Johnny, off so far that no one will find him. Hell, I heard they pay top dollar for little boys like him in China.” He barked out harsh laughter before guzzling down the rest of his wine. The hand on Peter's shoulder squeezed so hard now that Peter was sure it would leave a bruise. Peter tried to twist away, but Tony's grip was too firm.

  “Fuck you!” Peter said, “Don’t you touch them.” The thought of Johnny being hurt, of Chip getting hurt, made him drown in guilt and desperation. Unshed tears stung his eyes and his lower lip trembled.

  “No, Petey. Fuck you. Fuck … you…” Tony stared him down, then relaxed, putting his hands on his shoulders again, “All you have to do is cooperate. Stay with me a few days, let me show you what the good life is like. And show a little gratitude. Can you do that for me? Can you, Petey?” Tony asked. It wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to run to Chip, to warn him, to beg for help. But this was all his fault. He'd lied to Chip, and now he'd put both him and his son in danger. All he could do now was try to make up for it somehow. And the only way he could think to do that was to appease Tony.

  Peter stared at the marble floor. He knew he had no option. He was so upset he was shaking.

  “I don’t hear you?” Tony said, cupping his ears, his voice sing-song and mocking.

  Peter nodded, “Yes.” It broke his heart, but he knew there was no other answer that Tony was going to accept.

  “Good,” Tony said, sounding chipper again as he laid on the massage table. His legs were parted, exposing his massive erect cock which was swinging between his legs along with his golf ball-sized testicles, “Now do me. And do me good.”

  His hand curled around the thick trunk of his cock and he began to stroke himself, legs open in invitation. Peter knew he should have just stormed out. He should have left. He definitely shouldn't have looked at the delicious display Tony was putting on. Peter knew it should have made him sick, but it didn't. Immediately, he felt himself stir, growing hard. Tony looked so sexy laying there, stroking his big, fat dick. Pre-cum oozed from the tip and slid down the shaft, and he could see it shine in the dim light. He wanted to taste him.

  His heart tugged him in the other direction. He didn't want to do this: he didn't want to betray Chip. But how was he supposed to go on like everything was normal without giving into Tony's demands? He knew it was just excuses he was making. Peter wanted him, even though he was a monster. Part of it was the rush of danger, as loathe as he was to admit it.

  Frozen to the spot, Peter couldn't move. All he could do was stare at the elicit sight of Tony pleasuring himself, squeezing his cock and stroking it just for him. He was such a powerful man, so handsome. Sexy. Again, he knew he should leave. Seek protection from the police, but guilt and desire warred within him and made him stay. He couldn't further endanger Chip. He certainly couldn't put little Johnny in peril either. So, instead of running out of the opulent penthouse as he should have, he moved over to Tony.

  Stooping, Peter picked up a bottle of massage oil and smeared it on his hands. He rubbed them together to warm them. Before he could stop himself, he put his hands on Tony's strong, broad shoulders and started to massage the kinks out of the powerful muscles.

  "Mmm, Petey, boy. That feels amazing," Tony growled, continuing to stroke his cock.

  Peter just nodded and swallowed dryly, feeling his heart race as he ran his oil-slicked hands over Tony's shoulders. He trailed his fingers over his pecs and then back to his neck, digging his thumbs in firmly, but gently. Tony's neck was a mess of knots, and he made sure to rub them all out. Tony groaned under his touch, his hips jerking upwards as he continued to stroke himself. Peter wanted him, and wanted him badly.

  He tented his pants. He'd worn tight jeans today with a button-down dress shirt and now those jeans were horribly uncomfortable. He ached and hurt. Peter wanted to take his cock out and stroke it too. He'd give anything to put his oil-slick hand down his pants and jerk off. Maybe then he could relieve himself and he wouldn't want to lean over Tony and slide his tongue into his mouth. It was like a siren's call, and he couldn't resist crashing against the shore.

  Peter leaned over, his hands sliding down Tony's chest, and he ran his tongue over the seam of his mouth. The kiss was deep and hot, passionate and rough. Peter poured all of his anger and frustration into that kiss. He bit at Tony's lips and growled into his mouth. He wished he could hurt Tony as much as he'd hurt him. But no, he had to take this, had to do this for Chip. To protect him. He tried to ignore the little voice in his head that said he wanted this, needed this. It just made him feel guilty and selfish.

  Tony grunted and pushed himself up, letting the robe fall away to reveal his toned and muscular body. He hopped off the massage table and stalked towards Peter. He up-nodded.

  "Get upstairs," he commanded, coming ever closer.

  It was his last chance to flee, Peter realized. He could turn and run now and just deal with the consequences. But no, he wouldn't. He couldn't, and worse still, he didn't want to. He wanted to go upstairs. So he turned, his heart pounding, and headed up the steps. He could feel Tony following behind him, like a storm brewing. Peter's steps were heavy but his head was light and dizzy.

  He'd just barely made it up the stairs when hands clamped down on his hips and spun him around. Tony yanked him against him and grinded his fat cock against his thigh. He laughed at Peter, harsh and cruel, his gaze trailing down to his crotch. After moving against him teasingly a few more times, Tony shoved him down on the feather mattress.

  The breath oof'd out of him, and before he had time to catch it again, Tony was on top of him, kissing and nibbling at his neck, pounding his hips against him, looking for any relief he could find. Peter gasped, hands curling in the silk sheets. His cock was
hard and aching, straining at the front of his jeans. All thoughts of leaving, even his thoughts of Chip, were fading. His body and its desires took over. He knew he'd regret it later, but for now, this was all he wanted.

  Tony jerked his shirt open and the buttons popped and clattered to the floor or hit the wall. His thumbs brushed over his nipples, making Peter moan hotly. Peter could feel Tony's throbbing dick against his thigh, even through his jeans. Again, he bucked his hips. He was so close to begging. Please, he thought. Just fuck me.

  Maybe Tony was a mind reader, or maybe he sensed his need, because he yanked open his jeans and pulled them down to his knees. He cupped Peter's dick and stroked it through his boxers. That's when Peter lost all control. He helped in removing the rest of his clothes while Tony grabbed some lube from the bedside table. Peter snatched it from Tony and squeezed it over his cock, heavy balls, and between the cheeks of his pert ass. He spread his legs wide, arching his hips upward and Tony clearly appreciated the view. He licked his lips and grasped Peter by his narrow hips.

  Peter clenched his teeth, breath hissing, as Tony pressed the head of his dick against the tight pucker of his ass. It was slick and hot, and he wanted to be filled with all that hard cock, but Tony was wide and long, and he wished he take it slow. But he didn't. With one smooth, quick thrust, he was inside Peter.

  A loud, gasping moan bubbled past his lips as Tony filled him. He was stretched deliciously around that long, thick rod. Tony growled through his teeth and began to piston into him. Peter could feel his heavy balls slap up against his ass as Tony thrust into him, over and over again. Lust and rage boiled within him, and he raked his nails down Tony's broad chest, leaving red welts in their wake. When Tony leaned over to give him a deep, passionate kiss, Peter bit his bottom lip and tugged on it roughly.

  Snarling in pain and anger, Tony yanked his head back and grasped Peter by his knees. He pushed his legs up and apart, and leaned back to fuck him more deeply, more rapidly. He lowered a hand to curl it around Peter's drooling cock and began to pump him, jerking him off as he fucked him.

  Peter was even more lost then. His eyes rolled back and he groaned. It felt so good. He'd never had it so rough, but he didn't care. It was just what he wanted, maybe what he needed in that moment.

  The slick, hard thrusting into his tight ass drove away the thoughts of Anton's death and of Chip, of Johnny, of everything. There were only Peter and Tony, writhing together in the bed. It was animalistic, wild, and passionate. Peter sunk his nails into Tony's hips, yanking him even harder against him. Tony tried to kiss him again, but Peter ducked his head and bit down on his throat.

  Sweat slicked their bodies as Tony expertly stroked his dick. As he went up on the shaft, he squeezed gently, rubbing his thumb over the head. He kept his pumps in time with his thrusts, and it was almost more than Peter could take. He threw his head back with a loud cry, feeling his release build. It tingled at the base of his spine and clenched his heavy balls. With his sweat dripping off his body, Tony thrust three times in succession, hard and fast. With a loud cry, he released into Peter's velvety, hot, tight ass. Peter could feel his cum fill his insides, hot and thick. He could feel Tony's cock throb and twitch as he came.

  Tony cumming inside him was all it took to bring on his own orgasm. White, thick seed spurted out of his cock as Tony jerked him off. It spattered over his stomach and chest. He came so hard, that some of his pearly seed hit his neck and chin. Tony leaned over him, still gently squeezing his dick, and licked at the cum on his neck and chest.

  He lay there, panting, his body aching from the rough treatment, as Tony slowly pulled out. He felt so used, so disgusted with himself. What had he done? How could he do this to Chip? To himself? Peter’s anger was too intense for him to hide, and a tear carved its way out of his eye sockets and rolled down his cheeks.

  Tony seethed in rage, his face getting even redder. He raised a hand and slapped him across the face. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded harshly.

  Peter’s skin stung with pain and his head reeled. He didn't fight back, although he felt like he deserved the pain for what he'd done.

  “I give you all this, all this, and you’re just lying there like a bump on a log. I protect you from that ... that ingrate roommate of yours who threatened to ruin your life,” Tony said, rising and grabbing the robe to cover himself. “What more do you want from me?” He was shaking he was so angry. Peter looked at him warily.

  “Nothing,” Peter said with conviction, “I want nothing from you.”

  “You love me, I can see it in your eyes, but you’re denying yourself to me. You'd better shape up, or I promise you, you’ll be sorry," Tony threatened.

  Peter didn’t exactly know what Tony was threatening, but he knew he wasn’t joking either. Peter wanted to get back at Tony in the only way he knew how. He may not be able to help his body’s reaction or his attraction to the man, but Peter could deny him his heart. The problem was, his heart seemed to be fighting him all along the way. It was as though his heart had its own mind, and it just couldn't decide.

  “You stay here. I’m going to the gym and you'd better be here when I get back,” Tony mumbled, tossing a wad-full of cash on the bed like Peter was some cheap whore.

  Peter couldn't even watch him go. He squeezed his eyes shut against a flood of angry, hurt tears. His stomach hurt, everything hurt. Peter curled into a tight ball and buried his face in the pillow, only allowing himself to really cry when he heard the door to the penthouse slammed closed.

  CHAPTER 2

  It’s starting to get dark, Peter thought, as he looked out of the floor-to-ceiling windows that wrapped around the penthouse. It was a gorgeous suite: there was no doubt about that. Too bad he really couldn’t enjoy it, as he felt like he was being held prisoner. What was more, he knew that it was soon going to be dinnertime, and he couldn’t reach out to Chip to let him know what was happening, out of fear of getting caught. His cell phone was not an option. Tony was likely keeping track of his phone calls to and from whomever, and making calls from his hotel room had the same obstacles. There was nothing he could do but wait out the night and hope that Chip didn’t worry too much about him. And Peter knew Tony was not just making idle threats. He’d hurt Chip and Johnny badly without batting an eyelash, and Peter knew the best way for him to protect them both was to keep his distance: to officially break it off whenever he could, or worse yet, to hurt Chip badly, deeply enough that Chip would want nothing to do with him anymore, no matter how much it would hurt the two of them.

  It was the only way. He'd break his own heart to protect Chip and his son. He loved them both. In a few short weeks, they'd given him what he'd always wanted - his dream. A man to love who loved him back and a family. It was such an achingly beautiful dream, but he knew he had to wake up. It hurt to let it go, but what choice did Peter have? He was cornered. He knew he just had to let it go and realize that this is now how things were.

  Peter hated himself. He hated who he’d become, but as he allowed himself to sit in the empty walkway and stare out at the Las Vegas skyline, something was rumbling inside him. A voice was speaking, and that voice was getting louder. He would not crumble and fall. He would not be a victim. He would find it in himself to fight back, to get himself out of this entrapment. He would repair the life he’d damaged for himself, and as his inner voice became even louder, and even though he knew it was not wise and perhaps not above the fray, he would seek revenge. Tony would feel his wrath.

  He understood and accepted, for now, that he would probably lose Chip. Not because he wanted to, as it was the last thing he wanted, but because it was to protect him. And in order to protect Johnny and Chip, he had to be strong. He'd already let Anton down. He didn't want anyone else to pay for his mistakes. Tony had to pay.

  But how?

  As Tony entered the penthouse later on that evening, his hair still damp from the gym, Peter stared at the television. He wouldn't even look at him. His body was still achin
g and sore, and he just couldn't bear the sight of him right then.

  “Hey,” Tony said, “I’m going to hit the shower. Want to join me?” Tony's voice was neutral, but it still held a surly edge to it. It sounded more like a warning than anything else. A test, maybe.

  Peter knew that it was not really a request, it was an order, and he resented the hell out of it. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wanted to yell, to shout, 'no!', but he knew that right now, that wasn't even an option that was on the table.

  “Sure,” Peter said, conjuring up a fake smile and following him inside the massive shower with multiple shower heads that shot steaming water out from every direction. Tony took his clothes off and let them drop on the floor, revealing his gorgeous, well-built body. For a man his age, in his early 50s, his body was undeniably hot. Peter just wished that it didn't cause a visceral reaction in him every single time. His own body just kept on betraying him.

  “Come on in, baby,” Tony said, turning the shower knob on full-blast. Baby: that word irritated Peter. It was reserved only for Chip as far as Peter was concerned, but he stared at the floor as he removed his clothes and entered, closing the glass door, trying not to show how irritated he was. It was hard to keep from slamming the door or spitting right in Tony's face.

  Tony squirted the liquid mint-scented shower gel in his hands as the beads of shower water pelted him, drenching his hair. He really was a handsome man, and Peter wished, for the moment, he wasn’t. He wished he was as ugly on the outside as he had been on the inside. Tony rubbed his hands together, foaming the soap and applying it on Peter’s chest. His energy was much calmer than it had been before he left for the gym. Maybe, Peter hoped, that Tony got out some of his aggression when working out, and he wouldn't take it out on him again. He wouldn't press his luck or even dare to hope that though.

  He took a deep breath, the cool air giving Peter goose pimples as he lathered the soap all across Peter’s shoulders, neck, and nipples.