“Should I sharpen my teeth, Master? Wouldn’t that be cool?”
As the idea occurred, he faced the bodyguard, locking his eyes with the black, wide-set ones. The sour smell intensified, as tension built in Zaal’s big, meaty body with every move of his knife. The vein on Zaal’s neck trembled, and a thin layer of perspiration coated his forehead.
“No,” Talha said without looking up.
“Why not?” Slater’s aggressive attention returned to his master. Seconds ticking in his head, he studied Talha’s intelligent eyes scrolling through the paper but Master said nothing more. The caged agitation that he’d tried to suppress from the moment of his release now buzzed in every cell ready to discharge. One minute, two, Slater waited; when he grew tired, the blade met with the stone again. Falling into the trance the rhythmical sound provided, Slater didn’t notice a hand entering his private space, and the whetstone was snatched from his hand. Slater met his master’s warning gaze.
“Be quiet,” Talha ordered as his hand slipped the whetstone into the inner pocket of his beige jacket.
Slater loved his master’s timbre. Just like the sun-weathered face, Talha’s voice was dry, rough, entrancing. It never failed to make Slater hold his breath to taste his every word.
Using the moment, Slater complained, “I’m bored, Master…”
Talha glanced over the paper, and every small hair on Slater’s arms rose in anticipation.
“Master?”
“Are you done?” Talha spoke after a brief silence.
“Yes…”
“Did you memorize everything already?”
The soft words flowed through Slater’s system, making him crave the touch of fire and ice only his master could provide. “Yes.”
“Then watch clouds.”
“For four hours?” Slater almost choked on his saliva, but Talha’s focus had already abandoned him. The man lifted the paper, and Slater lost his patience. Flipping the blade in the air, he leaned over and sliced the thin paper from top to bottom. The long sheet fell apart in Talha’s hands, forcing the man to grant him his whole attention.
From the corner of his eye, Slater saw Zaal grabbing his gun. His finger eager to pull the trigger as a grin of excitement stretched his mouth. The black muzzle of the gun burned Slater’s temple, but he didn’t care. The tension compressed and sprung in his chest as the liquid amber of Talha’s eyes oozed into his soul. Heaving a sigh, Talha dismissed Zaal with a flick of his wrist, then folded the shredded paper in the middle.
“So needy... What do you want, Mutt?”
“Play with me…”
“No.” The sharp reply made Slater’s cheek twitch.
“I’m bored, Master. Play with me.” Irritation found its way into his voice alongside the demanding notes.
“No. I need you fit.” Not compromising, Talha glanced at his watch. “Entertain yourself. I have to work.”
“Fine…” Slater hissed.
Talha reached under his seat and pulled out the laptop. Slater’s focus slipped down but stumbled over the shirt. Too many pieces of clothing covered this muscular body for Slater’s liking. The desire to spoil Talha’s designer suit, so the man would strip, poisoned his blood.
His tennis shoe bumped against the black leather of the seat in front, as Slater spread his legs apart. The zipper vibrated against his groin, coming undone slot by slot a moment before he shimmed his ass out of his jeans and took his heavy cock into his palm. His gaze traveled up Talha’s smooth, square jaw to the hard line of his mouth. Five years older than Slater, Talha was broader, an inch taller, and a bit more muscular. At thirty-three, with his hair brushed back, he looked a couple of years older. His slightly arched brows and nose, broken in fights, enhanced his predatory aura.
Lust spiked Slater’s blood, splashing red desire all over his vision. Relaxing against his seat, he licked his lips. Talha’s rough skin allured him to lean closer and moisten it with his tongue.
At the hazy edge of his vision, Zaal’s face contorted in disgust, the conflict of interests twisting his features in an unreadable grimace. Slater didn’t care.
The air scraped his throat with every shaky breath; precum leaked over his fingers, marring his jeans. The uncomfortable atmosphere thickened as emotions streamed through the air. Disgust, hatred, contempt, discomfort, ignorance—all had colors and scents that crawled under Slater’s skin, igniting his depravity. His soul burned with all-consuming arousal. Slater craved Talha to look, and Talha did.
A surprised glance held and lingered. The rough mouth curled up in a lopsided smirk as a long, index finger brushed over the chapped lips, betraying Talha’s building arousal. Slater shivered under his cannibalistic stare.
“Need help?” Talha murmured. The cloud of discomfort emitting from Zaal darkened.
Slamming his laptop closed, Talha put it aside and removed the table. The papers scattered over the floor. His foot slid up the denim fabric toward Slater’s groin. Pressing down, it scratched the skin on the back of Slater’s hands and terminated the stimulation. Not gentle, not caring, but rough, authoritative, merciless. Pressure crushed Slater’s cock and balls, making him shudder.
“Hurts…” The weak complaint only made Talha’s lips twitch.
“Hands.” The husky voice seeping into Slater’s soul demanded obedience.
Instantly dropping his hands, Slater welcomed the direct skin to sole contact. His lungs burned from oxygen deprivation, forcing his nails to scratch a long trail under his t-shirt to alleviate the pressure in his chest and gain more pain. Up and down, the rough underside of the shoe rubbed his cock, the cruel heel meeting his balls with every thrust.
“You’re such a horny dog, aren’t you?” Talha observed.
Slater whimpered and closed his eyes, concentrating on the burning sensation growing in his lower belly. His thighs shook following the jerky rhythm of Talha’s foot as the cleansing pain burned every thought out of his head, leaving only lust behind.
“What should I do with you?”
Holding his breath, Slater listened to the voice of his master. The voice that had guided him through so much pain and pleasure; the voice that knew what he needed better than anyone else. More. Rougher. Harder. This wasn’t enough; chasing his pleasure, he thrust his hips forward, imprinting himself into Talha’s shoe. A shudder ran through his body, and a weak, shaky plea escaped his lips, “More, Master.”
“So demanding…” Talha rustled. At that moment, Slater was ready to do everything for him, if only his master kept pressing, kept rubbing his dick with his foot. His nails dug deeper into his chest as he threw his head back. He growled as the pressure accumulated in his groin and discharged in a vigorous impulse of energy that seized every muscle in his body with a painful spasm.
“So fast…” Mockery in Talha’s voice slapped his cheeks with the searing heat of humiliation. “On your knees.”
Face red, Zaal growled and stormed out of the private cabin. For a split second, Slater detested him even more, but Talha’s gaze, brimming with raw hunger, evaporated every thought out of his head.
Unable to resist the temptation, Slater dropped to his knees on the soft flooring, ogling Master’s groin. The fabric, stretching over, outlined Talha’s thick, long cock that begged to be licked. Looks painful… Willing to relieve the pressure with his mouth, Slater crawled closer, put his palm on Talha’s knee, but the calm voice froze his motor functions with a single ‘no’.