Body Parts

by Adrianna Dane

  If he dreamed of any man, it was that hulking god back at the Ransom estate. Now there was a man to give one wet dreams ‑‑ both rugged and gorgeous with that earthy, primal beauty. If Paul hadn’t been on the fast track to power and wealth, he might have considered something a little more long term with that one. In the end, Athan had been unable, or unwilling, to give Paul the information he had wanted.

  He turned toward Donald, dismissing his erotic memories of the lusty caretaker. He reached out to fold back the misplaced lock of blond hair. “I need your help, Donald. There are a lot of files I’m going to be required to wade through and they’ve only given me a month. Do you have any idea how much information I’m going to need to double check?”

  “Did you do it, Paul? Did you fake the results on all of those research projects?” Poor Donnie. He had that same innocent look they all had. The ones he could easily manipulate. Even the old farts had that certain naiveté about them.

  “Of course I didn’t do what they’re trying to say I did. But I’m going to need help to prove it to their satisfaction.”

  “I don’t know, Paul. You know I’m Dr. Carter’s assistant. I’m just not sure it would look right if I helped you. Not now.”

  “We don’t have to tell anyone and I can make it worth your time.” He again placed his hand on Donald’s leg. There was a reason for the intimacy with these well-placed employees of the institute. He knew exactly how to reach their most vulnerable spot. His hand shifted upward and squeezed. He dropped his gaze down and deliberately licked his lips. “Just you and me, Donnie. What do you say?”

  He heard the sharp intake of breath and knew his ex-lover, soon to be current lover, was folding. He’d never been able to resist Paul, even when he was totally pissed at him about one thing or the other.

  “I could lose my job over this,” he muttered.

  Paul squeezed again and this time his gaze dropped to Donald’s crotch. He saw the rising bulge there and knew it wouldn’t take much more.

  “What do you say we skip this dinner and go back to your place? We can pick up some Chinese takeout at that spot you like so much.”

  He slid his glance slowly back up to meet Donald’s dilated, hungry gaze. Oh, he was ready all right.

  Paul saw the tug-of-war in his expression. He stroked his hand a bit higher, felt the heat of his stiff erection.

  “All right,” he answered in a raspy voice, giving in the way Paul knew he would. “I’ll do it.”

  Paul gave one last squeeze. “You won’t be sorry. I’ll make sure of that.” He threw some money on the bar and then rose from his stool. “Let’s go.” He slung an arm around Donald’s shoulder. “What do you want to eat?” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “I’ll call ahead so it’ll be ready when we get there. I don’t want to waste any time.

  They stopped just outside of the restaurant and Paul drew him off to the side, pressing closer to him. Donald was about a foot shorter so Paul dipped his head. Donald licked his lips. “Something nice and spicy. Maybe some of that shrimp and some fried rice.”

  Without raising his head, he glanced at his phone and dialed the number, ordering quickly. Hot and spicy shrimp for Donald, and moo shu pork for Paul, with a generous portion of fried rice, and a serving of egg rolls. He snapped the phone closed and dropped it back into his pocket. “All done,” he said just before he kissed Donald, cementing the deal.

  His taste was young and wealthy, so unlike the earthy, wild taste of Athan. It didn’t turn him on the way it used to. With any luck he’d get the information he wanted sooner rather than later. The thrill of the chase was no longer there with this young pup. Once he had the information he wanted, he was gone.

  He raised his head and dragged his eager lover toward a taxi. It dropped them just outside the Chinese restaurant; they went in to pick up their takeout, and Paul paid for it. Then they walked around the corner to Donald’s apartment.

  Once they’d entered the apartment, Donald took the food into the kitchen and Paul shrugged out of his jacket, loosened his tie, and slouched down on the sofa. Donald came back in carrying two plates and set them on the coffee table. Then he sat down next to Paul.

  Paul leaned over and licked Donald’s lips. Donald opened his mouth and Paul deepened the kiss, his hand going to the front of Donald’s pants.

  “I don’t want to wait. I want to taste you now, Donnie. Get naked for me, handsome.”

  Donald quickly divested himself of his clothing and so did Paul at a slower pace, watching Donald slip down to pure vulnerability. Once he was ready, Paul pulled him down onto the couch. He sucked at his nipples, then rode lower to pull his engorged cock into his mouth.

  Donald loved it when Paul went down on him. He’d always reveal the deepest secrets in the afterglow ‑‑ so easy to manipulate. He could tell Donald was close and he wasn’t quite ready for him to drop over the edge. Not just yet. He stopped and tilted his head up to look at him.

  “Hungry yet, Donnie?”

  Donald looked down at him with lust-glazed eyes. “Fuck you! Finish it. Your blowjobs are better than anyone else’s. God, I want to feel your mouth again. I’ve been thinking about you ever since you left for that damn Ransom estate. I don’t know why the hell you had to go there. But you’re back now and that’s all that matters.”

  There was something in Donald’s voice that warned Paul. In a flash, he suddenly knew why he’d been called back and who had instigated it. Lashing out in the heat of anger wasn’t going to get him anywhere, not just yet.

  With deliberate movements he sucked Donald’s cock into his mouth and brought him off quickly. The little traitor bucked beneath him, then dropped back onto the couch. He needed to find out exactly what he had done.

  Paul reached over, picked up one of the plates and a set of the chopsticks, and began to feed Donald, who had a contented expression on his face.

  Afterglow.

  He held a piece of shrimp in front of Donald’s lips. He opened his mouth and Paul placed the morsel on his tongue. Casually, he searched for another tempting bit and held it out. When Donald reached for it, Paul pulled it back.

  “It was you, wasn’t it, Donnie?”

  A guarded look settled into his expression. He wouldn’t look at Paul. “What are you talking about?” He felt him stiffen beneath him; the smell of fear permeated the air. Paul already knew the answer. Son of a bitch! He’d ruined everything.

  “You’re the one who suggested they review my research, aren’t you? Why’d you do it, Donnie?”

  Donald straightened up and turned away. “You walked away, Paul. I loved you, would have done anything for you, and you fucking walked away. That damned project meant more to you than I did. What we had meant shit to you.”

  “So you wanted to get even with me.”

  “I wanted you back,” he cried. “I wanted it the way it was between us before you left.” He jumped to his feet.

  Paul realized he had seriously underestimated the young man. This was one jilted lover who was obviously more dangerous than he’d anticipated. Even Tom Odell wouldn’t have done something like this.

  But Paul knew that it only took one miscalculation to lose everything. And that’s what was about to happen to him.

  He had to be careful about how he played out the rest of this hand. Very, very careful. He reached out for Donald’s smaller, sweating hand and yanked him back onto the couch. He stroked his face.

  “It’s all right, Donnie, we’ll get this straightened out. You should have called me rather than doing something like this.”

  Donald looked up at him with teary blue eyes. It really was a shame. “I’m sorry, Paul. I just didn’t know what else to do.”

  Paul was going to lose the one big break he could have had with the Ransom estate, because of this little bitch’s jealousy.

  “Where’s the lube?”

  “In the bedroom,” Donald muttered.

  “Go get it. I’m going to fuck you right here. I don’t
want to wait.”

  “Not in the bedroom?”

  “No, Donnie, I want to do it here. Now hurry up.”

  Donald scooted off the couch and practically ran to the bedroom. And Paul made his plans.

  He looked up as Donald reentered the living room and handed the lube to Paul.

  “Kneel on the floor and face the couch and put your hands behind your back.”

  Donald looked at him hesitantly. “What are you going to do?” He bit his lip.

  “You’ve done a bad thing, Donnie, and you need to be punished. Do what I tell you to do. And I’m taking you doggy style.”

  It wasn’t Donald’s favorite position, but he obviously knew he was treading thin ice with Paul. “I’m sorry, Paul. I’ll fix it, I promise.” He knelt on the carpet facing the couch and put his hands behind his back.

  There was no fixing what he’d done. It was too late for that. Paul picked up Donald’s tie and wrapped it around his hands, tying them tightly together.

  “Ow, that hurts,” Donald whimpered.

  “It’ll stop hurting soon, lover,” he soothed. Satisfied with the restraint, Paul leaned down, squirted a generous amount of lube into Donald’s hole, and readied his own cock. Donald had no idea what he’d done, how he’d ruined all of Paul’s carefully constructed plans.

  He pressed the tip of his prick against Donald’s anus. It slid in easily with the help of the lube.

  “Oh, yeah,” Donald whispered as Paul sank deeper. He closed his eyes as Paul began to build a powerful rhythm, and Paul knew he was ready. Reaching over, he picked up his own tie that he’d discarded earlier.

  Donald was going to have to pay for what he’d done. There was no going back, no fixing it. He looped the tie around Donald’s throat, crossed the ends, and yanked hard. Donald thrashed beneath him. If Paul had retained less control he would have come right then, but he didn’t. He waited until the last bit of life was sucked from him and then he slid from inside the silly, dead bitch.

  Quickly he cleaned himself up and dressed. He checked the apartment carefully, thoroughly. He methodically cleaned the food from the plates into the garbage disposal, wiped everything down that might have had his prints on it, and stuffed the tie he’d used to strangle Donald into his pocket.

  He was fucked at the institute; there was no going back. What Donald had done destroyed everything. Donald, of course, hadn’t known about the falsified records. He’d simply tried a ruse to get Paul back to the institute. But he’d opened a can of worms that Paul couldn’t close.

  His only hope was Athan. The caretaker knew something about the research files and he would have been able to discover exactly what it was if only he’d been given a little more time. He had to get back there because time was running out. He had no more options. And this time he wasn’t going to be so nice.

  Silently he closed the door on poor, deluded, dead Donald.

  Chapter Ten

  Since her arrival, Korrie had taken to eating her meals either in the kitchen with Mrs. Grippen or in the library. The dining room seemed much too formal for her tastes, although she expected Paul had enjoyed the ostentatious atmosphere of the more formal room. Maybe that was another reason she didn’t like to eat in there.

  Tonight it was the library. She looked across the table at Athan. She still had difficulty believing he was a man made up of parts of others, that he had been reanimated by scientists. And that his need for sex was more voracious than anyone’s she had ever met.

  “Do you believe that man should be able to artificially create life?”

  She had to smile. Athan’s question was one as old as time. Many scientists at one point or another ask that question.

  “I think we can animate life into an object. Can we infuse it with soul? That might be the better question.”

  He nodded. “You are speaking of spirit, the individuality and humanity infused into a body. The vibrations.”

  “The music of soul.”

  There were questions in his eyes. He had a thirst for knowledge. She tried to use her scientist’s mind to dissect him. After reading through quite a bit of Sheba Ransom’s journal, Korrie understood she wasn’t the only one who sometimes felt that she had a split personality.

  “Do you believe in the mysticism of soul? That it cannot be replicated? Or do you think it is simply the brain that fuels the body and creates personality on its own?”

  “Looking at you, Athan, I have to believe there must be a way or you wouldn’t exist. Would you?”

  His gaze turned away from her. “That’s just it, isn’t it. I shouldn’t exist.”

  She laid down her fork next to her plate. “But you do. Yet, you aren’t strictly a product of the science, are you? Cornelius Ransom’s theory, according to Sheba’s journal, isn’t strictly valid, is it?” She laced her fingers together and settled her chin against them. “Sheba spoke of the elixir she produced to revive you. But she doesn’t speak of it again after the first entry. And according to Cornelius’s research notes, she never did tell him what she had done, did she? Or I would have found indications in his documentation.” She leaned forward. “What type of elixir did she use?”

  His focus turned back to her. The ebb and flow of his intense, electric gaze already had her melting. His magnetism reached out to grab her. “I have studied both their sciences. I worked closely with each of them. And yet, I do not understand how I have come to be. I have searched, but have discovered no ‘golden elixir.’ And I know it was never used in any of the other experiments that came after me.” He drained the wine glass setting next to his plate. The candlelight flickered and the shadows traveled over the contours and angles of his handsome face.

  “I wish I had the answers you need, Athan. I’m a researcher like many others. I seek answers. I would love to have discovered the secrets to life, but they elude us.”

  “They changed over the years. They became more…I’m not certain what the right word is…desperate, maybe. For the Ransoms time was running out like the sands sifting through your fingers. Life is made up of finely grained moments that shift away never to be reclaimed.”

  “It’s true. And we can’t bring the past back as much as we would like sometimes. We have to move forward. We have no choice. I do believe destiny plays a large role in the paths we choose.”

  “But isn’t destiny something that is intertwined with that mystical spirit?” He leaned closer. “What am I, Korrie? I don’t know if I contain any sort of divine spirit that can put me on a course with some mystical, chosen destiny.” He jumped up from the table and paced across the room. “I am alone. As you said it ‑‑ unique. Bound and tied to an existence that no one can possibly understand or relate to.”

  Korrie rose from the table. “Athan, we are all unique beings in one way or another. We have to listen to our heart. My destiny has brought me here.”

  He turned to look at her, his expression dark and brooding. “My brain comes from one man, my body from another, my chemistry in many ways man-made. Parts of different beings, different sources. How can that cohere seamlessly into one? There are so many times I feel torn between the demands of this body and the morality of this mind. You have no idea what that’s like.”

  She reached up to cup his cheek. “Athan, I’m so sorry for your pain. God, I wish I knew the right words to help you.”

  “You were born of parents, tied by blood to ancestors, those that came before you. I am tied to nothing but creators with no shared blood. I watched them try time and time again to create others as they created me. All failures. Those lives, those bodies reside in my memories. They do not die. I cannot make those images disappear. I helped them, Korrie. I helped them to create monsters, simply because my need was so great to connect with another like me.”

  “Athan, we aren’t going to solve the mysteries of life, not tonight. I wish I could take your torment away. Come walk with me in the garden. This house holds too many ghosts.” She reached for his hand and they left the library.
He had lived his whole life isolated by his circumstances, tormented by what the Ransoms had forced upon him. She didn’t know if there was a way to change any of it.

  They stepped out into the walled garden and she inhaled the intermingling scents of herbs and flowers. “This is your creation, Athan. Anyone who can grow and nurture this much beauty has to have a sensitive soul. You aren’t some monster because the Ransoms blended their sciences. You were born as surely as I was, but simply through another process. I was nurtured in a womb, you in a laboratory. In her way, Sheba loved you. I can sense it in her writings.”

  Kneeling down, she pressed her hand into the moist earth. “What you create here in this garden, you nurture life. We all nurture in our own way. Some scientists nurture through experimentation and the desire to prolong our humanity. I don’t know what’s wrong or what’s right; I don’t know that any of it can be considered wrong or right. It just is. And we have to work forward from there.”

  She felt his hands on her shoulders, lifting her, turning her. His magnetic gaze, reflecting the starry night sky, held her motionless. “You are you, Athan. As individual as any living thing on this planet.”

  “You, Korrie Odell, are a most unique woman.” He lowered his head to capture her lips. “You offer me hope where I have never been sure there is any for someone like me. There’s a purity and truth in your words that I have never known before.” He pressed her closer. “I need you, Korrie. I need to be inside you, to connect with you. I need you as I have never needed another living being in my life. You cleanse me in some indefinable way.”

  “I’m yours, Athan. I don’t know why or how, but I’m here for you. I said it last night. I’m your vessel, only yours. Fill me to overflowing.”

  His lips branded her as he lifted her into his arms. She didn’t know where he was taking her, and she didn’t care as long as he held her.