“Where have you been, Master?” The liquid, unstable voice trembled in the gloom.
Talha frowned. Usually, Slater would be delighted to get his reward, but he didn’t look happy at all. Eyes cast down, Slater avoided meeting his gaze.
What the fuck is wrong? Alert, Talha studied the perfect profile. Calm, beautiful, rough; who could say it belonged to the bloodiest ripper in Anatolia? Releasing the man from his embrace, Talha switched on the night lamp. A soft, golden light illuminated the carved wood of his Mauritanian style bedroom. Strained shoulders, downcast eyes, clenched fists made Slater look... guilty? Examining the ripper’s tense frame, Talha went for his usual, matter of fact statement. “None of your business, Mutt.”
But instead of acceptance or submission, Slater spat out, “You reek of a bitch, Master.”
The words worked like a slap, flooding Talha’s face with searing heat. For a moment, he wasn’t sure how to react. Alertness spiking as his wary gaze roamed over the floor, then back to Slater.
How does he know? Who told him? Slater’s abilities to detect sounds and smells had always been above average, but even with his sharp sense of smell, he wouldn’t be able to say what had happened a day ago, as Talha had showered twice since then. Or… He swallowed. Fuck me...
Subduing the defensive impulse to cross his arms over his chest, Talha let them hang freely alongside his body. “Are you jealous?”
“No, Master.”
“Good.” Adding a fair amount of dissatisfaction and ice into his voice, Talha forced the words through gritted teeth, “Then why don’t you clean me up with your tongue, you disloyal dog?”
Slater spun, finally facing him; his lips twitched, but he didn’t drop on his knees. His shoulders squared, head tilted to the side, and a deadly warning glinted in the depth of his squinted eyes.
“Look down, Mutt!” The back of Talha’s hand connected with Slater’s cheek with a ringing SMACK. Head whipped to the side, the younger man blinked. Confusion crossed his face as he raised his eyes.
“I said, drop your fucking gaze!” This time, knuckles colliding with a cheekbone, threw Slater to the floor. Shaking his head, the ripper wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and froze, examining a red, glistening line stretching over his skin.
“You disobeyed me,” Talha stated, trying to shake the chill of disappointment that panged his heart. “You’ve been in London, haven’t you?”
Silence. Talha clenched his teeth and crashed his shoe against Slater’s ribs. With a gasp, the ripper doubled over on the fluffy, red and white carpet. Hands clasping his torso, his body convulsed, seized by a violent fit. Harsh breathing filled the air, interrupted by barking coughs. Despite the obvious pain, Slater’s arctic glare stayed glued to Talha.
Shifting his focus from the ripper to the white plaster molded ceiling, Talha searched for the right words. His gaze slipped down a golden stone wall until it reached a massive bed, draped over with an embroidered bedspread and silky pillows.
“Slater…” The impact from the punch still buzzed in his knuckles, and Talha brushed his fingers across them. Smearing Slater’s blood over the skin, he watched it dry under his touch. “If you don’t follow my orders, get the fuck out.” The words scratched his throat, but he still forced them out. Reaching Slater’s ears they sank deep, clouding his eyes with confusion and disbelief. “I don’t need a disloyal dog.”
Cheek twitching, Slater’s lips drew up baring his teeth in a painful, animalistic snarl.
“No. Master can’t…” The bloody, wicked smile of doubt lit up the beaten face as the ripper propped himself on an elbow, washing Talha with a bold, challenging look.
“I can,” Talha deadpanned. “If you don’t follow my orders, you have no right to call me Master. If you want to stay, you have to do exactly what I say.” Pausing, he let the ripper process the information.
Knuckles blanched white where Slater dug his fingers into the thick carpet. A blue vein swelled on his temple, and forced, venomous words left his mouth. “Slater always does what Master wants…”
“No,” Talha corrected. “Slater always does what Slater wants. You failed me. You disobeyed. Name one reason why I should keep you?”
A murderous glare flashed up, alerting Talha but the ripper lowered it the next instant. “Slater will do everything for Master.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Slater will stay.”
“Fine.” In a heartbeat, Talha materialized by the ripper’s side. Grabbing Slater’s chin he forced it up. A thumb, brushing over the plump mouth, stretched the bottom lip down, revealing the perfect row of white teeth. “Lick me clean.”
Seconds ticked, morphing Slater’s face into a battlefield of emotions. His nostrils flared, jaw bulged, lips quivered, but he still stretched them in a deadly smile.
“As you wish, Master…” The snake-like hissing emerged from Slater’s throat as he leaned forward, picking up the zipper of Talha’s pants with his teeth, then tugged it down. His fingers found the belt, yanked it out of the loops, then cast it aside. Never tearing his glare from his master’s face, Slater peeled Talha’s pants down along with the underwear.
Warm breath hitched against Talha’s soft flesh, refueling his lost arousal. His cock twitched, as a hesitant tongue brushed against his length as if Slater expected to taste a woman on him. This forced obedience, mixed with the indignation glowing in Slater’s eyes, triggered something raw and brutal in Talha. The heat, spreading from his stomach, reached his head, drowning everything in an impenetrable red fog of pure lust. His mouth parched. Needy fingers, looking for distraction, entwined in Slater’s hair; his other hand seized his twitching length and squeezed the first clear drop out.
Bringing Slater’s face closer, Talha smeared the precum over his lips. Slater shuddered, pulled back, and his spine, as if breaking, snapped forward. His face softened and pink touched his cheeks, spreading down to his neck. He swallowed and looked up with a completely different gaze. The hatred vanished, leaving behind a burning, zealous demand.
That’s it, Talha thought. Submit to me, and I’ll make you feel good.
With a flick of his wrist, Talha slapped the plump lips with his length, again and again. Pupils blown out, Slater caught a shimmering thread of precum stretching down Talha’s cock with the tip of his tongue.
So fucking perfect… Talha thought as Slater sank into submission. Lean, sinewy frame, long arms, and muscular shoulders, yet sensual eyes, sinful lips, and olive skin flushed with the glowing color of lust. Corrupt, immoral, and lewd, he was pristine in his depravity. The thought that someone so strong, impulsive, and deadly submitted to his will, unleashed the darkest desires in Talha’s chest, making him want to push the boundaries and learn the limits of Slater’s obedience.
“Lick…” he ordered and tensed as the blissful hotness of the mouth enveloped his cock. Pushing a breath out, Talha relaxed. Slater was rarely aggressive when aroused, and it didn’t look like he would strike anytime soon.
The curled up tongue lapped over the bottom side of Talha’s cock and trailed a swollen blue vein. The ripper shuffled closer. A cold ear pressed to Talha’s hip and a warm nose brushed against his sack before Slater nuzzled his groin. Talha gasped as strong teeth seized the stretchy skin of his balls, pulled it, then sucked on it.