by Nero Seal
Talha laughed, listening to the small arrogant woman. He could break her neck with one hand, yet she dared to talk to him like this, to propose such a thing. “You, western girls, are born with balls, aren’t you? Maybe because your men don’t have them?”
“Maybe.” Smiling, she squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “So instead of a year of privileges, I offer you a lifetime of power.” Reading his face, she added, “Don’t worry, it’s just business. I’m not going to be a jealous wife. You’ll have to remain faithful to me until I’m pregnant. You have to indulge me—I don’t share a cock. After this, you are free to do whatever you want, so do I. Of course, it will all be written in a contract.”
Curious, Talha flicked a hand in the air, asking her to elaborate. If a man had dared to talk to him like this, he would have already broken his neck, but this little lady provided entertainment.
“The one, who owns London, owns the heart of Europe. As the new leader of the Hale family, you will have limitless power, but I want something back. I want to retain my position. I decide what is good for the family here, but you can have the title like my father does now. Of course, I won’t interfere with your business in Anatolia. You can use our resources as you please, as long as you don’t cross my plans. And as a wedding gift, I want Iblīs[1].”
“Your head is in the clouds, Minik kuş[2].” Talha chuckled.
“This is a good deal, Talha. You are the first man I’m offering it to.” Her smile grew bigger. “If you refuse, I’ll keep my father’s word and grant you one year, as we agreed. But soon enough, I will find someone else, and then London will be closed to you forever. I chose you because people respect and follow you, even the Devil himself. And you are handsome, so I don’t have to retch every time we fuck. On the contrary, I look forward to it.”
Unable to hold back, Talha laughed. The more he listened to the small woman talk, the more his mood improved.
“You are cute, Minik kuş. I like you,” he said; his hand caressed her shoulder. “So here is what you’re gonna get. I’ll marry you, and I’ll support you, but my surname stays with me. You can keep yours if you wish, but if you bear a son, he will be Demir, not Hale. My surname comes first. If you need a pushover, you can find a western man with no balls. And you can’t have Iblīs. No offense, Minik kuş, but he will not follow you.”
Her face didn’t change, as if she expected this answer, and his respect for her increased.
“He will if you order him to. Everybody knows he follows your every word.” She pressed her lips together, her eyes steely, cold. “I want him to be loyal to me too. I want him to treat my enemies as his own. I want him to protect me, if not as his Mistress then as your wife. Order him to do this or it’s no deal.”
“You don’t know what you are asking for.” Talha’s smile fell as he examined her serious face. “If you play with the Devil you always have to pay. You will come to regret it, but it will be too late. No one controls Iblīs.”
“I’ll take my chances,” she said, tensing under his touch.
“If you’re scared, I’ll provide you with loyal people; people who will die for you. You’ll be safe.” Noticing the hard line of her mouth, Talha decided that this deal wasn’t about her needing his support. She didn’t care about the Hale name either. All she wanted was Iblīs. “Who are you scared of, Minik kuş?”
“I’m scared of no one. I want him to ensure my power. Iblīs, or no deal,” she pushed the words through gritted teeth, never looking away.
“Fine… I’ll take what you are offering, but you will regret it, Minik kuş.” Raising his open palm in the air, Talha gave up.
“We will see. Invite me to dinner to close the deal.”
THE BURN PULSED AND STUNG under his finger pads. The bandage his master had applied was gone, and the crimson blemish glistened with lymph, indicating his body’s attempt to repair the damage. He shouldn’t be rubbing it, but he couldn’t help brushing his thumb over the red, damaged area, reanimating Talha’s incandescent touch in his memory.
Standing in the middle of the airport, he stared at the departure board. Boarding to his flight had been announced, but his legs refused to move. Something itched in his chest as if an important piece of his body was missing. The empty space gnawed at his other organs, looking for a substitute.
“I wish Master was here.” He dropped his gaze to his ticket. “I don’t want to go alone…”
‘If you’re good, I’ll reward you.’ Talha’s words replayed in his mind. The invisible clamps of loneliness squeezed his heart as he remembered the rest. ‘But if you’re bad, you’ll never have freedom again, you understand?’
He tilted his head to the side.
“I don’t want freedom. I want to see Master…” His fingers unclenched, dropping the ticket to the gray carpet. With the decision made, the invisible weight, that had crushed him the whole day, lifted from his chest. Stepping on the ticket, he strolled toward an airline counter.
A STRONG AIR CURRENT HIT HIS FACE, stirring his hair and welcoming him into the darkness of the suite. Ghosting through the shadows, Slater stalked toward a wall-size window; his gaze stumbled at the panoramic view across London that sprawled under the dark, cloudless sky. The bright moon reflected in the black waters of the Thames. Its bluish light leaking through the window illuminated the room’s luxurious atmosphere. Slater couldn’t help noticing that water still bubbled in the Jacuzzi, and two wine glasses guarded the rim.
Something twitched in his guts, awakening an unfamiliar, burning sensation that resembled irritation. Mixed with longing, it poisoned his blood. His jaw hurt with tension as he bypassed a fireplace and a low marble table on his walk to the bedroom.
The acrid stench of sex and a woman’s perfume slammed against his face as soon as his foot crossed the threshold. Flinching back, he tugged his shirt over his nose. All his being rebelled, screaming at him to get out of the bedroom, but the insurmountable tug of gravity inched him forward. Lurking in the shadows of a closet, he edged to the bed.
The dead light of the moon silvered the crumpled, messy linens and played with the platinum hair of a woman sprawled across the bed. A pale, dead-like hand, so slender that any strong wind could break it, twined around Talha’s tanned torso.
“Is that so, Master…” A muscle under Slater’s eye twitched as a bitter taste flooded his mouth. The spring in his body tightened, vibrating with pressure. The barely audible sound it emitted penetrated his ears. He couldn’t understand what caused the discomfort, but the tightness in his chest only aggravated.
His gaze darted all over the scene until returning to the arm, long fingers, and polished nails that sharply contrasted with Talha’s dark body.
The hand doesn’t belong…
Twirling on his heels, he stormed out of the room.
“YOU’VE BEEN GOOD,” Talha murmured and wrapped his arms around Slater’s torso. The clean, heady scent filling his lungs, he dug his face in the ripper’s soft, short hair. The strong muscles tensed under his touch. Even through the black hoodie, Talha could outline the relief of his rippled stomach.
“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 seari
ng 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.
Talha itched to reach out and wipe the bloody saliva off the corner of Slater’s mouth but refrained. Slater didn’t need care and affection. He needed a firm, brutal hand to guide him through pain and life.
A tepid tongue, painting a wet trail up his length, brought Talha’s attention to the sinful mouth that stretched in a wicked smile. In the next instance, the tight ring of Slater’s lips fastened around the barely visible circumcision scar, and a painful suction made Talha grind his teeth.
Not willing to play yet another one of Slater’s games, he raised his palm to hit him, but the cruel mouth had already released its deadly grip and was now soothing the pain with long, soft kisses. Slowly, gently, then hard and passionate, lick by lick Slater’s galvanizing caresses electrified Talha’s body, until every nerve buzzed and trembled with electricity seeking discharge. Unable to control his urges, Talha fastened both hands on the back of Slater’s head and thrust himself deeper into the twitching throat.
Slater’s shoulders heaved as he gulped saliva down with his eyes squeezed shut. Short, fast spasms jolted through his frame, threatening to turn into vomiting, but instead of pulling back, he pressed forward, welcoming Talha’s orgasm with a few swallows.
The room blurred before Talha’s eyes. The surroundings shattered, swayed, and he gripped Slater’s shoulder to maintain his balance. Holding himself in the heat of Slater’s mouth for another moment, he withdrew. His heart leaped into his throat.
Slater’s almost black lips parted, glistening with saliva and cum, that trickled down his chin. Long, clum
ped lashes trembled, and every time he blinked, clear drops escaped his eyes and painted lines down unshaven cheeks.
Examining the face, colored with fists and arousal, Talha wondered how he tasted without being poisoned with the acrid smoke of weed or force-fed wine.
“Swallow,” he ordered, and Slater instantly obliged.
Unable to resist a pull as strong as gravity, Talha leaned forward, wiped the excessive moisture off Slater’s bristled chin with the back of his hand, before crashing their mouths together. His palm outlined Slater’s face, then clasped the back of his head. His demanding tongue slipped into the mouth, tasted the pungent mix of cum and blood.
Blue eyes shot open, and Talha squeezed his own, wondering if he’d just signed his death warrant. To his surprise, Slater didn’t pull away but leaned in, allowing the kiss to deepen. Not wanting to think, Talha let himself drown in the sweetness of Slater’s mouth. Savoring the rare moment, he enjoyed the slow, lazy responses of Slater’s tongue and shaky, uncertain breathing reverberating against his own throat.
Head swirling with oxygen deprivation, Talha drew back, then froze watching the metamorphosis on Slater’s face. The haze of arousal evaporated from the icy-blue eyes, substituted by a devilish glow.
Fuck…
“What was that, Master?” The inquisitive note in Slater’s jittery voice kicked Talha out of his heightened state, and before his reaper said something else, something unforgivable, Talha back-handed him, sending him back to the floor.
“Shut up.” Shaking the mist of euphoria, Talha pronounced every word as clear as he could while zipping his pants. “Tonight, you will only talk when you are spoken to. Understand?”