Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 51803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“I’m gonna do more than touch ’im, Peter,” growled the huge man. “I’m gonna fuck his sweet ass till he screams for more.” He grinned, more a baring of teeth than an expression of genuine amusement. “Reckon it might take me a while.”
Where are we, a bad prison movie? Valenti wondered dismally. He could feel himself sweating, could feel O’Brian’s anger like a line of heat along his spine, but he couldn’t let his partner take an active hand in this -- it would be completely out of character. He just hoped O’Brian realized it. Valenti was supposed to the protector here -- the Master, the sponsor. The realization bolstered his courage.
“You touch him, I’ll kill you,” he snarled, surprised to find that he really meant it. “I mean it. I will rip your fucking head off, man. I’m not telling you again. He’s mine.”
He stepped forward, feeling a rage he hadn’t known was in him at the thought of someone threatening to do that to his partner. If anybody’s gonna fuck you, Sean, it’s gonna be me. The thought appalled him, but the proprietary emotions refused to fade. O’Brian was his, goddammit. And he’d be damned if anyone else laid so much as a finger on his partner.
Growling something incoherent, the immense man stepped forward and grasped a handful of the button-down shirt Valenti was wearing. Not dressed right for the scene, Valenti thought absently. Gotta buy a pair of leather pants to fit in with this crowd.
“Whoa, boys. Take it easy now. Harry, you know how Mr. Conrad dislikes unauthorized violence on his premises.” It was the tiny red-haired man again, pushing between them fearlessly, although Valenti could have crushed him with one hand, let alone what the Neanderthal he was facing could have done. He half expected the huge man to turn and swat the little guy like a fly, but to his surprise, the ham-sized fist slowly relaxed its grip on his shirt, and “Harry” stepped back.
“Fine, I won’t fuck ’im.” He sounded positively sullen, Valenti thought, like a little boy pouting for a toy he couldn’t have. “But if they won’t give us a taste, they should at least have to put on a show. Make ’em enter one of the contests, Peter.” There were murmurs of agreement from the crowd of thirty or so men who had gathered around to see the action.
“Oh, yes, a hot-looking pair like that -- better than a porno.” This from a middle-aged man who was also wearing a pair of leather pants. He turned to the man behind him, who was obviously his “boy,” and Valenti saw that strategically placed holes had been cut in the pants. Pale, doughy cheeks flashed him, and he looked away quickly, trying to hide a smile. The adrenaline in his system was beginning to fade a little, leaving him feeling shaky and relieved. Apparently he wasn’t going to have to do the Texas two-step with the Neanderthal after all.
“Peek-a-boo,” O’Brian muttered; the pants had also caught his attention. “Gotta get you some pants like that, babe,” his partner continued in a low voice meant for Valenti’s ears alone. “You’d fill ’em out better, I’m sure.”
“Shut up. You’re not helping any,” Valenti said from the corner of his mouth. Clearing his throat, he turned to the tiny man named Peter. “What contests? We’re new here,” he explained. “Although my, uh, boy wandered down here yesterday by mistake.”
“Yes, I can see that. You two might as well have ‘fresh meat’ written all over you in big red letters.” The little man took in Valenti’s button-down shirt and pressed pants with an expression of disapproval.
“Look.” He took Valenti by the elbow and led him to a quiet corner, O’Brian trailing behind them. “Don’t you know that the Dark Knight is the leather part of the RamJack? Just by coming down here, you’re acknowledging that you want to play rough. The guys down here don’t always take no for an answer.”
“I kind of got that impression from your large friend over there,” Valenti said dryly, nodding at the Neanderthal.
“Oh, Harry? He’s harmless.” The little man made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “But there are a few more down here that you want to watch out for. You can really get hurt if you don’t know what you’re doing.
“What’s this contest he was talkin’ about?” O’Brian came up beside Valenti and wrapped a proprietary arm around his waist, leaning into him so that Valenti could feel O’Brian’s body heat all along his right side.
“That’s just a little fun we like to have. You’re not really dressed for it, of course, but you’re welcome to participate. The contests down here are open to all comers.” He grinned at them and nodded his head toward a small stage set against the far wall. “The blowjob contest is going to start in a few minutes, and after that there’s the Wankathon.”