Money Man (Woolf Tales Book 3)

by Viva Gold

  “Do you want to be a tailor, Bastien? You’ve asked me many astute questions.” Myer had a curious expression on his face. Bastien flushed bright red looking a little startled. “I wonder…” Myer pondered out loud. I cocked my head at him while Bastien frowned. “Are you perhaps interested in an apprenticeship?” Bastien’s eyes grew so wide I thought they’d get stuck like that. My heart thudded in my chest. I couldn’t believe Myer would offer such an opportunity just like that. “It doesn’t pay too much, but I would teach you everything I know. Your curiosity is inspiring; really.”

  Bastien’s mouth fell open. He snapped his head to me, then back at Myer. His hand flew to his chest and his breath stuttered. I frowned at the all too familiar signs that he was struggling. In a flash, I gathered him into my arms. “Breathe, baby boy.” I whispered in his ear. I remembered Liam had made me count when I was having my panic attack. “Count with me, Bas.” He looked startled. “Une…” I encouraged.

  “Une,” he choked out.

  “Deux,” I urged.

  “Deux,” he sputtered. “Trois, quatre, cinque, six, sept.” By twenty he was breathing normally and I mentally congratulated myself for helping stave off a full-blown panic attack. Bastien inhaled deeply before turning to face Myer, who stood stoically with a patient expression on his face. “It’s ok to take it back,” Bastien wheezed.

  “Take what back?” Myer enquired. “My offer?” Bas nodded. My heart squeezed with sorrow. “No, I don’t think I will. I see great potential, boychick. I can deal with a few wobbly moments; believe me, we’ve all had them.” Myer gathered his things. “I will bring your suit on Friday morning. You can let me know then.” He reached out to shake Bastien’s arm and we both stilled as the old man’s sleeve rode up to reveal a series of several digits tattooed on the inside of his arm. He noticed us staring. “I recognise survivors,” he told Bastien gently. “I think we’ll make a great team; please think about it.”

  Tears pricked the backs of my eyes. My own recent experience, as horrendous as it was for me, could no way compare to what this old Jew had endured as a concentration camp inmate. I had a blinding moment of clarity that put everything into perspective. “Thank you, Myer. For everything,” I told him, my voice thick with emotion.

  He grasped my hand. “Enjoy the present, Tal, but always look to the future, my friend.” And with those words of wisdom, he bade us goodbye until Friday.

  The front door closed and with it the last of Bastien’s ability to remain calm. He was a ball of excitement who babbled endlessly about Myer, fabric, sewing machines, thread, tailor’s chalk, and all manner of things. While it was amazing to see him so animated, it was also incredibly arousing. I decided the only way to shut him up was to shove my cock down his throat. I dragged him up to our bedroom and seduced the living fuck out of him.

  14

  “Taaaaaaal!” Bastien cried. I had been edging him for a while. If he wanted something to get in a tizzy about, then I could think of nothing better than a monumental mind fuck. Every time he thought I was about to let him come, I stopped. His whining was just the cutest thing and I wondered how he’d look with one of those puppy masks and a butt plug tail. I snorted at the preposterous image, even while my dick was getting all excited by the idea. Whilst I was still not on the same page as Izzy who enjoyed his particular brand of BDSM, I considered that kinks weren’t all the same and that some options may be fun to explore with the right person. Not sure how I would broach the puppy play idea with Bastien when I, myself, wasn’t even sure about it, but I tucked that thought away for when we knew each other a bit longer.

  “Look how exquisite you are when you’re so needy.” Bastien was bright pink in the face and decidedly sweaty. He was trembling with the need to come; his every muscle was taut. I had him on his back holding his knees to his chest so I could play with his hole and his cock at the same time. “My slutty, wanton baby boy.”

  Bastien rolled his eyes. “Need. To. Come,” he forced between gritted teeth. He was panting. His balls were high and tight, and his cock leaked a steady stream of pre-come that was pooling on his belly. I leaned down and lapped at it.

  “You taste divine, doll,” I drawled as I pegged his gland with two fat fingers. He arched off the mattress. His mouth opened to yell but I clamped a hand over it to muffle the sound. “Tut, tut, noisy boy, we don’t want Gayle to hear now, do we?” Bastien’s eyes widened and he shook his head. He was such a love, but I wasn’t into denial, just a little bit of torment, so I reached for a condom and sheathed up. I pumped some lube on my cock and effortlessly slid it into Bastien’s body.

  “Ah, oui…mon dieu! Fuck me, Tal.” Bastien let go of his knees and wrapped his legs around my waist holding me in place. He bucked his hips forcing me to go deeper. I rammed back hard. The push and pull waged a battle until we finally found our rhythm, carrying us toward the blissful slip and slide to heaven. My wounds pulled and my body ached, yet I wasn’t stopping.

  Bastien’s body was at once both fluid and taut. His eyes were screwed tightly shut in concentration. His sex noises were insane. Finally, he grunted and sighed, and as his walls clamped down on me sucking me in, a deep sense of joy suffused every fibre of my being. Bastien’s mouth formed an o; his back arched and he shuddered as his orgasm hit. It was a full body experience from the look and sound of it, and so fucking sexy I shot my load hard into the condom inside of him.

  “Tal, Tal, Tal,” Bastien’s slurry voice chanted my name like a mantra. I kissed his hot, puffy lips feeling like I had come home in more ways than one.

  I woke to an empty bed. I thought perhaps Bastien had popped to the loo, but when he failed to return after a few minutes, I grew concerned. I spread my hand over his side of the sheets and discovered they were cool to the touch. The house was quiet and dark. I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and glanced at the time; half past two in the bloody morning. I flopped back to my pillow and groaned. I rubbed my eyes before throwing off the covers and swinging my legs off the side of the bed. My body hurt. It was healing, but the vigorous love making set me back a little bit each time. I fumbled in the dark for my sweats, stumbling into them, then padded on bare feet across the carpeted bedroom floor to the door.

  “Bas?” I whisper called as I descended the stairs. There was a sliver of light coming from the kitchen, so I headed there. “Bas? Baby?” He was sitting at the kitchen table in my old bath robe staring into the garden.

  “Je viens de voir un renard. I just saw a fox,” he murmured. I could hear tears in his voice. My heart squeezed. I stood behind him resting my hands on his shoulders, remaining silent. His melancholy mood saddened me. We had spent a great week together and had a lot of fun despite my ordeal. However, I realised with shame, that I had neglected to take into account Bastien’s precarious hold on his own mental and emotional wellbeing. It confirmed to me that I was a really shit boyfriend with no real experience at relationships. I had to do better.

  I leaned down and kissed the side of his face. He smelled sleepy; a mix of warmth and musk. I inhaled deeply trying not to be too creepy, and threw my arms around his shoulders pulling him back into me. “What’s wrong, Bastien?” I asked in a steady voice, although my heart was pounding. If he told me he wanted to leave, I’d surely die on the spot. Part of me wanted to shout that this is why I didn’t do relationships, because it hurt too fucking much. He tipped his head back to look up at me. I gasped at the pain in his eyes that turned them from their usual amber to a darker shade. I cupped his chin and pressed my lips to his. “Tell me.” I sat and pulled him on to my lap. He buried his face in my neck.

  “I had a bad dream and didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “Do you remember it?” I prayed that he didn’t. His nod into my neck told me differently. “Do you want to share it with me?” He shook his head. “It might help make it less scary.” I cajoled him. He sniffed. I waited.

  “I was back at Henri De la Roche’s chateau, a few weeks before Jason came to r
escue Remi.”

  “Go on. You’re safe now. I have you.” I wrapped my arms round him and held him tight.

  “The littlest of us, Dix, was having a bad day. He was frightened and the drugs made him both lethargic and hyper so that he was never able to rest properly. Henri was in a rage having tracked Remi to Greenall Manor, and he’d just discovered that the object of his obsession was now in a relationship with Jason. It made him volatile, and poor Dix happened to be outlet he was looking for.” Bastien shook his head. “That bastard made us all sit in a circle on the floor of his study. Dix sat in the middle of the circle and we played spin the bottle. You know that game?”

  I nodded. “Used to play it at school.”

  “Well, this game had different rules. Dix got to spin the bottle every time and whoever it landed on was instructed by Henri to dish out the ‘kiss’.”

  I could tell immediately by the way Bas said ‘kiss’ that something far more sinister had befallen Dix each time the bottle was spun. I shuddered, fearful to hear of his fate. Bastien had turned a sickly shade of grey as he became lost in the memory that had surfaced in his nightmare. His eyes were shockingly dead as he re-told the tale.

  “Henri shot us all up with some kind of drug that made us loopy. Whatever his command, we obeyed. It was horrible. I was sick that day with flu and couldn’t play, but that monster made me watch. He collared me and leashed me to a chair. If I tried to look away from the proceedings my collar tightened cutting off my airway. If I closed my eyes and he caught me, I received a jab from his fucking cattle prod. To the balls.” Bastien’s voice broke. I hugged him tighter to my side ignoring the pressure to my bruises. His comfort was more important than mine.

  “The things the boys had to do to Dix were horrible. He was too young; only about thirteen at the time. He cried incessantly and begged for Henri to end the game. Of course, Henri had not drugged poor Dix, so the child was fully aware. He was bound, beaten, fucked in every hole, caged, clamped, pissed on…you name it and Henri made the boys do it. And I watched, helpless to save him.” Bastien ran his hands over his face and shivered. “Dix didn’t speak for a month afterwards; not until he was safely back in Paris with Remi’s parents at the rescue centre. It was only when we heard that Henri was incarcerated that he finally began to interact. Dix was very forgiving and never held us responsible. I still feel guilty though.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. There was nothing you could do,” I implored.

  “I know that, but I don’t feel it. Especially when it all comes back to haunt me in my sleep.”

  “What can I do?” I cupped Bastien’s chin turning his head towards me. He dropped his forehead to mine.

  “This…” he whispered. “Exactly this.”

  My heart flipped and I melted against him. “Always. I will always be here to hold you.”

  “Always? Is that a promise, Tal, because I feel things for you that will devastate me if you leave.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. For the first time in my life, I’m genuinely happy. Despite all the shocking and horrible experiences we own between us, I wouldn’t change anything because it brought you to me. I…I…Bas…I love you, baby boy.” Bastien gasped. I hadn’t meant to reveal the depth of my affection for him as I worried it was too soon. The last thing I wanted was to spook him, but he was deeply troubled tonight and obviously feeling insecure. I didn’t even realise I was going to confess my love until the words left my lips. “You don’t need to say it back. I just wanted you to understand just how serious I am about you.”

  “Tal.” Bastien placed his hands gently around my face. “Mon sauveur.” I frowned. “My saviour,” he explained, with a cute smile. “Merci beaucoup. Love is not something I had expected to find when I came to the party with Angel. But then I met you and I was so overwhelmed it sent me into a panic. You remember?”

  “Of course. It was only a little while ago. That’s why I’m worried that you might doubt me.” This was all new to me and I wasn’t used to feeling unsure of myself.

  “I do not, Tal. I believe you, because I feel the same. Je t’aime.”

  My heart fluttered frantically in my chest. I was overwhelmed with emotion at hearing Bastien confess his love for me. I was the luckiest man in the world. I kissed him with renewed passion. When we came up for air, I scooped him up into my arms and took him back to our bed. We crawled under the covers where our arms and legs entwined bringing us as close as possible. We spent hours revealing our hopes and dreams in unhurried whispers, until we finally fell asleep wrapped up in each other.

  The following morning, I woke to an empty bed. I was disappointed that Bastien had risen without me, and also a little curious to find out where he was. I threw off the duvet and trudged into the bathroom to take my morning piss. After a very quick shower, I hauled on a pair of jeans and an old grey t-shirt and headed off in search of coffee and my boyfriend.

  “Hmm, boyfriend,” I muttered out loud to myself. The word was strange and unfamiliar on my lips, but I grinned feeling stupidly happy.

  Downstairs, I could hear voices coming from the kitchen interspersed with bouts of giggles from Bastien that warmed my heart. Gayle was clearly weaving her magic. I smiled, relieved with the knowledge my mother obviously liked Bas. She was a perceptive woman and I had no qualms in trusting her not to pry too much by bombarding him with too many questions.

  “And how do you say ‘pass me the butter’?”

  Bas giggled again. “Passe moi le beurre.”

  “Pazzay mwah le burr.” My mother’s French accent was appalling. I snorted with laughter as I entered the kitchen. They were sitting at the table eating breakfast.

  “Bonjour, Tal.” Bastien beamed at me through a mouthful of buttered challah bread. It was Friday and I assumed my Dad had been to the kosher bakery to get bread and stuff for the weekend. It was his usual routine. “This is delicious – sit down and have some.”

  I plonked my arse in the chair next to his and popped a kiss to his chomping cheek. I was thrilled to find him so relaxed.

  “Mama.” I leaned forward and kissed her too. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, bubbeleh. Now eat.” She gestured at the food as she passed me a plate. As usual the table was heaving. I took two slices of challah and loaded one with cream cheese and smoked salmon, and the other with chopped herring. Bastien side-eyed me and paused mid-chew.

  “Something wrong, Bas?”

  He swallowed what was in his mouth. “Please, don’t eat that.” He nodded to the chopped herring. It was extremely fishy and oniony. I loved it.

  “And why not? It’s very tasty.”

  “It smells bad,” he whispered warily.

  I dipped my nose towards the bread and sniffed. “It smells exactly as it should.” I took a big bite, making noises of appreciation. Once I had finished the slice, I wiped my mouth and grinned at him. “Gimme a kiss.” I breathed over him. He grabbed his nose and shook his head. I leaned towards him and Bas planted a palm firmly to my chest.

  “Do not. You stink. Mon dieu, tu sens le vagin.” Bastien grimaced just as I burst out laughing. I understood enough of what he’d said to know he was referring unkindly to a part of the female anatomy I was unfamiliar with.

  “How would you know?” I frowned at him. He merely smirked in return. That was a conversation we would be having soon, but for now, I went back to my breakfast.

  “Don’t be vulgar, the pair of you.” Gayle admonished. We both uttered apologies before tucking into the remainder of the food. I reluctantly avoided any more herring. As we drank our coffee, Gayle cleared the dishes to make way for a plate of Danish and rugelach.

  “This looks interesting, Mrs Roth. Quest-que c’est?” Bas held up a rugelach.

  “It’s a chocolate yeast pastry. Try it; it’s good.” She watched with unrequited joy as Bastien ate. She did love to feed people. Turning to me with a smile, my mother told me, “Davey is popping over. He wants to see you.”

>   I choked on my Danish. “What? Why? When?” I sputtered, not quite ready for my last fuck to meet my latest one. I felt Bastien’s gaze on me. I shifted in my chair.

  “Really, dear, I’m sure Davey just wants to see how you are after...you know.” She waved her hand in the air. “He’s always been an attentive assistant. Goes over and above…”

  “Mother!”

  Gayle snorted. “Or should that be down and under?”

  “Oh my God, would you stop!” I dropped my head in my hands. The woman was mortifying.

  Bastien giggled at my discomfort. “Seems like Davey is a very loyal employee. I would like to meet him and thank him for taking such good care of you. Perhaps point out that now I can relieve some of his workload.”

  I scowled and twisted in my chair to face him. He wore a gleeful expression. “Well, someone’s English has improved. And, no, Bas, you won’t be relieving Davey of anything.”

  Bastien clapped his hands and squealed as the doorbell rang. “I hope that’s him.” I gaped at him, wondering where this new-found playfulness had appeared from. I hoped it was because he knew he was loved.

  Davey entered the kitchen bringing with him a cloud of ‘Fucking Fabulous’ by Tom Ford. It was his latest signature aftershave and he bloody bathed in it evidently. I noticed Bas scrunch his nose as the waft descended over us.

  “Boss, how the hell are you, I’ve been so worried. I was just telling your mother that the office has been…” Davey paused to gawp at Bastien. “Well, hello, who the fuck is this delicious raven-haired accessory?” He dropped gracefully into a chair opposite. He held out his hand for Bas to shake. “I’m Davey; Tal’s very personal assistant.”

  Gayle placed a plate in front of him, more than used to his dramatics, and well-practised at ignoring them. However, today was different apparently. She swiped him across the back of his head. “Ow! What the hell, Mrs R?”