Dark & Dirty: A Dark Erotic Fantasy Anthology

by Lea Bronsen

  "They know," his father said.

  "Cease involvement. I can never come back to the business. Time to sever ties." He'd been prepared for this scenario. Not that never seeing his family appealed to him.

  "No. The prick didn't wire the payment. We've informed the company that we can no longer do business until their debt is paid. The asshole hung up on me."

  Butcher sat forward. "Are you safe?"

  "One company out of more than I can count on my fingers? Stay away regardless. It's going to get messy. I have confirmation that a friend of yours slipped through before lockdown. Keep your eyes open."

  Butcher pulled the phone away from his ear. One last message came through before he ended the phone call.

  Kill them all. Rain blood, son.

  The plane taxied to the private section of the airport. Perks of the family, but ones Salvatore would have access to as well. He grabbed a phone linked to the cockpit and changed their drop-off point. The regular area of the airport would be much more crowded than the select section. Blending in with an expensive suit wouldn't work. Both he and Gianni needed to look like they belonged despite the dark hair. Mustering up his nerve to enter the same space as his guest, Butcher opened the door to the back of the plane. Gianni slept. The angered lines in his face were soft as an angel except for the dark circles from his withdrawal. Getting clean was going to be a fight, one Butcher was all too familiar with. Unbuttoning his jacket, he hung the garment in the closet. Suits weren't his favorite choice to wear, but in order to look the part of a personal guard, he'd donned it. Rosalia had teased him constantly on how uncomfortable he seemed. In truth, he had great range of motion in the well-tailored outfit.

  Stripped to his underwear, he rifled through for something more casual and settled for a Henley and jeans. His gun was in the suitcase. No amount of money would get a gun past security in a carry-on. He preferred using his hands when necessary. Hearing Salvatore's bones crunch beneath his palms would bring him a lot of pleasure.

  Zipping up his jeans, he glanced over. Gianni was awake. "We're going through the main terminal." He thumbed over to another set of drawers. "There's a change of clothes in there."

  "Do you have anything for a headache?"

  "Not until we get to the house. I don't carry any of that with me." He leaned over and uncuffed Gianni.

  "Why are you doing this?" His voice was ragged. Butcher remained calm. At this stage, Gianni was unpredictable.

  "I promised your mother to keep you safe, remember?"

  "No." Gianni wiped his eyes, but stayed on the bed. Butcher studied the murky, dull haze in the youngest Bencivenni's gaze. Methodically, he picked a t-shirt and sweater out of the drawers and dressed him. Bruises marred most of his body, attesting to his treatment in prison. His father's reports to prepare him for the job didn’t lie. The guards had abused him under the guise of protection. Butcher wouldn't doubt if Salvatore had something to do with it.

  Butcher's first line of duty was to get Gianni safe, yet shimmying his sweat-soaked pants off tempted him. The outline of his package was prominent with the drenched briefs. He peeled them away. His parched mouth wished to quench the cock before him. For a whole year he'd tried to forget the slow inferno of his forbidden lover. Alcohol burned away the memories on the surface, yet the subconscious guarded them close. To give in to his desire, to relive those moments lost, would put them both in danger. He had to restrain his urges.

  Gianni gripped his neck and forced Butcher's lips to his own. Sweet and salty. He lost control and invaded Gianni's mouth with his tongue. Straddling a leg, he groaned as his guest rubbed a hand along his crotch. He kissed deeper, biting Gianni's lip and tugging before drowning again. His hand folded around his long-ago lover's erection. How he wanted to swallow his cock down to the base until he sated the thirst within. His mouth found Gianni's neck and he sucked hard. A lasting mark to claim him for the days to come.

  "I'll do anything you want." Gianni gasped and groaned under his touch. "I just need one more line. I can quit after one more line. I promise."

  Butcher froze, but Gianni continued to grind into his hand. What a fool he'd been. Bencivenni's advance had been fueled by his addiction and nothing more. Pulling away, he sat on the corner of the bed to gain composure. How was he going to fix someone who nearly broke him a few years ago?

  Rosalia floated in the corner. A single tear rolled down her cheek, sparkling like a falling star.

  The hardest thing to resist was the one you desired most. He wanted Gianni, but in the fuck-up world they lived in, they could never be together.

  Chapter Four

  With the help of his father’s contacts in Switzerland, Butcher managed to move Gianni unscathed through airport security and to a cabin in the mountains, away from anything close to civilization. Supplies would come at random intervals, with a window of five minutes, to let them know the delivery was on the way. Butcher hoped this would give them enough warning if someone followed them up the remote ride. To further protect themselves, he had an underground shelter to lock Gianni in and a station about one hundred yards away equipped with a rifle. He had never attempted a shot longer than that. In his youth, he could run that distance in eleven seconds. With rough terrain and ten more years into the equation, he'd have to figure out in trial runs.

  His charge had cursed and pleaded the whole trip up the mountain. By the end, sweat coated his skin and he shivered.

  On the couch, wrapped in several blankets, and stripped of all clothing, Gianni slept fitfully. Butcher made sure no drugs, even ones as simple as aspirin, were stashed in the house. While he'd dealt with his addiction through an intense boot camp his father had forced him into, taking his experience to help Gianni was going to be hard. What if he failed Rosalia? Would her ghost haunt him like the many other apparitions from the cleaning jobs in the past? Would they drive him back to the ledge of his apartment complex to jump and end it all?

  The probable outcomes to his latest job clouded his mind. Instead of dwelling on any one element, Butcher decided to orientate with his surroundings. The ground floor was one giant room that opened to a decent-sized kitchen. A hearth was the centerpiece on the opposite side. Hidden in the mantle were a few 9mm handguns, along with the ammunition. He ticked off all the invisible areas where a weapon was stashed. Upstairs had a full spa bath nestled between two spacious rooms. Gianni would sleep in the one on the right and he on the left. Hopefully, the space would get the vision of sliding his dick between Gianni's cheeks out of his head. The last thing that boy needed was someone using his body for pleasure.

  He remembered how he'd lingered on covering him in the blanket to get a good look at his physique. Too drunk in their past tryst to recollect every inch, he memorized the olive skin. What would one touch cost him?

  His phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, taking him away from the growing lewd thoughts in his head. Their supplies would arrive in five minutes. He slipped the phone into his pocket. With a passing glance at Gianni, he scooped him up and carried him upstairs. No one was to see who he had within the isolated house. Whether his father hired these men or not, trust wouldn't be handed out freely. Even within the layer of blankets, the cold chill of Gianni's skin seeped into his. Damn boy had wrecked his body, and for what? His jaw tightened. Had his family not shunned him for his preferred bedmate, addiction wouldn't have taken a firm hold. Their world was nothing but drenched in sin, and if the devil took them in the end, he'd meet him gladly.

  Kicking the door open, Butcher held Gianni close. No amount of blankets would banish the demons in his bones. Butcher had been there, entrenched in the throes of addiction, to know the battle ahead. He set him gently on the bed, gazing at the sereneness on his face. Leaning in, his lips touched a cool forehead. "Hang in there." The phone in his jeans buzzed, and he lamented leaving Gianni's side.

  Back downstairs, he retrieved one of the guns in the mantle and snapped in a fresh magazine before flipping the safety off. He tucked the
piece in the back of his jeans and headed for the front entrance. The door was reinforced with an inner steel core so no bullet would penetrate. Peering out the peephole, he noted two gentlemen on the porch. Both had packages at their feet and their hands were out at their sides and in full view. With a check of the cameras to make sure no one hid to the side, Butcher opened the door.

  "On the counter is fine." He gestured to the kitchen.

  "I have an envelope for you." One of them tapped on his box after setting it on the counter. "We caught two people at the bottom of the hill snooping around. They claim they've squatted here in the past."

  Butcher shook his head. "I highly doubt that, unless they put a lean-to in the back."

  "You want to take care of them yourself?"

  Again Butcher shook his head. "Blindfold and dump them twenty miles away in the higher regions so while they're sucking for oxygen, some sort of epiphany puts some sense into their heads." He took the envelope and fished two photographs out. He didn't recognize either of the men.

  "Mercy from The Butcher." The man grinned.

  He didn't smile back. "If I catch them here again, they won't get another warning. You can go."

  Without another word, the two left in silence. After securing the door, he placed the weapons back. If need be, he could reach another weapon stashed around the house. Gianni getting ahold of one was more of a danger than anything outside the house. He busied himself with putting the supplies away, but his mind returned to Gianni. The subtle outline of his toned body and the virtual playground it presented.

  The weariness of the day gripped him, and he plodded up the stairs. He planned on checking on Gianni one more time before heading to his room. With the creak of the door, he peered in. Gianni shivered on the bed, the blankets a tangled mess on the floor. Butcher's mouth went dry. His gaze traced every contour, memorizing flesh to never forget again. Part of him wanted to wake the sleeping form, the other remembered his duties. Blankets in his hand, he covered Gianni, only to see his guest groan and twist out of his covers.

  "I'm going to regret this." Slipping between the sheets, Butcher hugged Gianni close. The chill of his body seeped in before Butcher's heat warmed his skin. He bit his lip as his cock stiffened in desire. The spirit of Rosalia smiled from the shadowed corner before disappearing.

  He closed his eyes and willed sleep to come before he did something they both might regret. Gianni's hand smoothed over his, gently tugging the appendage down to his exposed crotch. Butcher should have resisted, yet as his palm touched the hardened shaft, he groaned.

  "I was pretty high that night." Gianni softly spoke. "Hell, I've been high most of my adult life." His palm molded to Butcher's hand to encourage him to grab hold. "But I remember you."

  "You don't remember shit." Butcher snorted, but didn't pull away. The soft velvet comfort of another's man's cock enticed.

  "If my mother sent you, it was for a reason." Gianni arched his back to press Butcher's obvious erection into his ass. "She knew what I was, even if I did parade Tina around at family functions I bothered with." He chuckled. "And fucked Salvatore's wife before their vows."

  Butcher stroked the offered cock slowly. "I'm not giving you any drugs." He tugged and covered the tip with the foreskin.

  "You fucking me is all I need right now."

  Butcher stopped and sat up. "No. I'm here to protect you, nothing more." He trembled, his words ringing false in his ears.

  "Touch me again and say that to my face."

  He turned. Gianni kneeled on the bed and palmed his cock. "You're lucid."

  "Did my mother's instructions say not to fuck me or not to give me any drugs until I sobered up for good?" Each slide along his cock called to Butcher like a deafening command from the heavens. He stood and walked a few steps away, but his gaze stayed with Gianni's cock play. When the youngest Bencivenni left the comfort of the bed and stalked toward him, Butcher stumbled back into the wall.

  "Stop me." Gianni's voice held nothing of the slurred speech he witnessed on the plane. Before him was a man seeking the comfort of a lover. Breath close, Butcher didn't stop him when he undid his pants and pulled out his erection.

  "Stop me," Gianni repeated. His hand smoothed over Butcher's shaft along with his own. Flesh touched flesh. He groaned, refusing to participate or push his lover away. Their precum mingled, creating a slick surface to pleasure them both. Too long away from the excitement of a male partner, Butcher growled and yanked Gianni to him. His kiss, born of hunger, demanded the same in return. As their tongues intertwined, his cock spent.

  "Touch me, Butcher," Gianni mumbled through their passionate kisses. Coated with his cum, Butcher jerked his lover's cock fast and furious. With a cry, Gianni came. Butcher caught him as he nearly collapsed.

  "We shouldn't have done that."

  Gianni laughed. "The hell we shouldn't have. I'm too tired for anything else."

  "I'm supposed to be helping you, not fucking you." Butcher dragged him to the bed and tossed him on it. "Stop tempting me."

  "Never." Gianni weakly flopped his flaccid penis at him. "Not until you let me fuck that ass of yours."

  "This is the last time we do anything sexual together." Butcher cursed under his breath, buttoning his pants back up. "Go to sleep."

  "I'll go to sleep to that lullaby any day, lover."

  Fuming, Butcher stormed out of the room. Without Gianni's need for drugs fueling his advance, Butcher had let him break the barrier he tried to maintain.

  Rosalia's apparition waited by the stairs. Sadness and decay twisted her features.

  Throwing his hands out to sweep the image away, he charged down the stairs. "Enough!" Out on the porch, he strode into the woods for a little solace. How in the hell was he going to keep his distance from Gianni when he remembered their all-too-brief relationship from the past? His cock begged for him to give in and fuck Gianni. His mind remembered when he had to walk away the last time. He couldn't deal with that pain again.

  * * * *

  Tired, but sated, Gianni stretched on the bed. One of his many fantasies with Butcher hadn't played out to his liking. The sticky residue of his lover still clung to his skin. Not the best for sleeping options to stain the sheets, though the memory would bring a blissful rest. If he gained Butcher's trust enough, maybe he could find a way out of this mountain prison. All he had to do was tempt him enough to give him the fuck of a lifetime. One that would let his guard down for Gianni to slip away. Hearing the front door slam gave him hope he'd have a few moments to explore his surroundings.

  He'd recognized this cabin as soon as he'd opened his eyes. Long ago, his mother would take him here on business while his brothers and sister stayed with his father for other family matters. Though his sister was named after their mother, she showed none of the fierce instincts of survival. Her husband—the prick—had her as a cowed housewife with three children each a year apart. His cruel, hard stare always toward Rosalia to fall in line as his little sister did. Gianni grinned at how defiant his mother would be. In the end, she was the neck that guided the serpent. Without her, their family would suffer soon enough. If Butcher watched him, Gianni's family must have broken the pact with the most respected cleaners in the business. That didn't make him feel any safer.

  Rising, though his body revolted, Gianni paced his room. Every square inch of him still ached. His first plan was to get Butcher into a routine before planning his escape. Though he knew the cabin, the forest was completely foreign. Survival in the elements wasn't his strong suit, but money would buy anything. Creeping out of the room, he peered over the balcony. No sign of Butcher. He proceeded to the bedroom at the end of the hall. His mother stayed here and whispered all the secrets it held. Inside, Gianni smoothed his hands over the gas fireplace. His fingers pressed into the fluted wood-carved mantle, and a satisfying click answered. Hidden within was all he needed to escape—a fat roll of cash, a 9mm, and a few extra magazines. Closing the casing, a queasiness rose in his stomach.
The euphoric state from the simple hand job with Butcher had staved off his unquenchable thirst for cocaine briefly. He needed a fix. His captor had made it clear he'd found everything. How could he have been that proficient when Gianni hid the bulk of his drugs right under the noses of his family?

  Back in his room, he rifled through his belongings. "Come on." Shirts flew in the air as he dug farther into the small carryon. He'd been very selective on what he packed. At the bottom, he reached his tailored jacket. His breath lodged in his throat. He'd stuffed a few small bags of white powder in the delicate seams. He cursed Butcher's name. Not for the frayed damage of the jacket but the loss of his cocaine. Nothing remained at the bottom of the suitcase. He frantically poked the exposed seam. Something nicked his fingertips. Blood welled on the pad. Anger seethed as he yanked the fabric apart. A small sheaf of paper taunted him. Scrawled in black ink was a simple message.

  Do you think I'm that stupid?

  The jacket flew across the room, followed by the suitcase. All he had was gone. The glorious powder that fueled his soul scattered God knows where by that bastard, Butcher. Didn't the asshole realize his lungs would revolt without the sweet ecstasy of fine snow? He snatched up the lamp, intent on smashing it to bits. Chills ran through his veins. His pulse tapped a death march. The smooth wood of the lamp focused his mind. Each delicate detail brought the smiling face of his mother to life. She'd carved the base with quick efficiency on the back porch while he watched in wonder. In it, he saw a piece of dead wood breathing life with every shaving that hit the deck. A masterpiece that showcased her talent in using a knife. He gently placed the lamp on the end table. Crisp air called to him to cleanse the fresh ache filtering into his muscles. His mother would want him to get clean before he ended up in the graveyard with her.