Lust for Vengeance Page 4

  Judas stared fascinated as the graffito apparently dripped its ejaculate, then he concentrated again on the fingers inside him. They worked impatiently on him and had started to rub irresistibly to and fro in an obvious attempt to bring him off some time soon. That did the trick, and the next sounds that came from him seemed like the moaning of someone lost in the depths of bliss.

  "What the fuck? Judas! Jude...are you okay?" There was Fergus's voice, but Judas could barely hear it now. Yet again it seemed that he had to endure another attempt at enforced coitus interruptus from the ex con, but this time he was damn sure that he was going to get to finish.

  His muscles clenched tightly around the fingers buried deep inside his ass, so much so that he imagined that he could feel every ridge of the busy fingertips.

  Like the most subtle of vibrations, Joe's tongue fluttered along his length hungrily, and Judas spilled into his waiting throat, his head falling back as he mumbled breathlessly,

  "I'm...I'm just coming..."

  His eyelids fluttered and battled to stay open. His chest began to rise and fall rhythmically and he tried to ignore Fergus's ranting voice at the other end of the phone, concentrating instead on the noisy swallowing sounds from the stranger between his thighs. Glancing downwards, Judas felt another great surge of pleasure as he watched Joe take every drop from him, the corners of his mouth wet with saliva as he lifted his head and ran his tongue around Judas's still throbbing cock to lick it clean.

  "You dirty bastard! Don't bother the fuck coming over now...meeting's cancelled.

  I'm going out!"

  Judas didn't much care about that now, a satisfied smile on his lips as he looked down at Joe, his hair now damp from his own pleasure as he leaned his head against Judas's thigh. Judas moved the phone to the young man's wet mouth and he urged him with a small laugh, "Say hello to the nice man, baby. He's mad at me. You made me late...but maybe I made you late too."

  The labourer's lips parted and he looked amused as he whispered throatily into the phone. "Hello...?"

  Judas laughed softly as he heard the click that meant that Fergus had hung up on him.

  Fergus growled and slammed his phone down on the table. Judas MacGregor had always been a filthy swine, and clearly time hadn't changed him. No doubt the last five years had been a slow cruise of sex and luxury for the bastard.

  How was that fair?

  The bitter hatred that was welling within Fergus threatened to explode and as he watched the other men sitting around waiting for the meeting to start, he got to his feet and yelled before any of them had a chance to speak,

  "You can thank that cunt MacGregor for wasting your time. Just fuck off home." He picked up his keys and walked out to his car as he knew if anyone made the slightest grumble about the situation there would a real risk that he would shoot the poor sod.

  Only one person deserved to be shot.

  He then quickly changed his mind on that.

  Shooting was too good for him.

  Once inside the car, Fergus rested his hand lightly on the steering wheel for a moment before he took out his phone again. He pressed his first speed dial number then waited.

  "Hey, it's Fergus. He didn't turn up." He sighed as the voice at the other end of the line rose a fraction and his ear was filled with a string of expletives. "Well I can't fucking drag him here can I? He'll get suspicious!"

  He paused and listened for a moment. "I'm sorry...leave it with me."

  * * *

  Anyone who saw Mikhail Majewski would presume that he was a man very used to the finer things in life. That was something that all people could agree on.

  His dress sense, however, was really a matter for some debate.

  Some may have found the fingers adorned with gold and pale jewelled rings pleasing to the eye. Some may have found the interesting assortment of bracelets on his slim wrists fetching and even, one might say, stylish. The pearl and gold necklaces that lay against the tan smoothness of his chest could have been an indication of an eye for the chic.

  Others, on the contrary, would probably see a man with a lot of money who lived so isolated in the world that he created for the satisfaction of others that he did realise how tacky he appeared.

  Fergus was captivated from the moment that he first saw Mikhail, and being in the former group of people, the ones who found all of the accessories an indication of style, he had put on a new suit bought especially from a reliable fence just for the occasion. He sat in the back of the fine limousine as he waited for the driver to escort Mikhail down the stone steps, shielding that beautifully coiffed hair from the rain with a large black golfing umbrella.

  The driver held the car door open with one hand and the umbrella with the other, and Mikhail slipped gracefully into the back seat next to Fergus.

  "May I say that you are looking beautiful?"

  Fergus smiled as Mikhail arranged the folds of his long coat around his legs so that it did not get crushed in the confines of the back seat of the car and Mikhail replied in a soft, amused voice.

  "You may. And I may be flattered."

  Mikhail turned and offered a smile and his eyes seemed to twinkle a little, reflecting the street lamps as the car made its way to towards their destination. "It was very kind of you to invite me, Mr Campbell."

  Fergus grinned and leaned a little closer to him, catching the aroma of the sweet perfume Mikhail wore that was in no way even pretending to be masculine.

  "Well technically, you invited me. And do please call me Fergus. You are not from here are you? I noticed you have a slight accent. Russian?"

  "No." Mikhail shook his head, the blond curls barely moving at all, and Fergus knew that they were probably held to perfection like that with the aid of hairspray. This was such an amazing thought and he longed to see those curls messed and fanned out against a pillow. "I am Polish but am living here since a few years now. How fortunate that you could free up some time in your schedule for me."

  "Well of course I just rearranged a few things..." That was actually a bit of a lie as Judas not turning up for the meeting was the real reason for the gap in his diary. But it had been no bad thing that he could fill it in such a hopefully productive way.

  "I don't get out very often, so I am rather looking forward to this evening." He spoke quietly and Fergus smiled, taking what he had just said as further evidence that Mikhail was interested him, not just excited at the prospect of a free meal.

  When their eyes met he was sure he felt heat between them, something intangible that nevertheless showed the attraction was not all one sided.

  Mikhail leaned to look at something out of the window on the opposite side, and it was all Fergus could do not to kiss him as their lips were so close. Once more his nostrils filled with the heavenly scent of Mikhail.

  "You did enjoy your night with Sacha?"

  There was definitely a mischievous glint in Mikhail's eye as he leaned back in his seat.

  Fergus chuckled. "He is very nice, but maybe he told you how things went?" He raised his eyebrows with a smirk hoping it was not a blush that he could feel slipping over his cheeks.

  Mikhail laughed softly. "Discretion is valued very highly amongst my boys, but he did confide in me that he was a little disappointed you did not find him attractive. Sacha can be somewhat vain."

  "You can tell him from me, I did think he was attractive, just...well...he was not really my type. Beautiful, but just a little young for me."

  Mikhail looked playfully outraged placing a hand on his chest. "Oh but all of my boys are of a respectable age! Sacha is twenty-one, and the youngest we have are nineteen! I am most careful in matters such as this."

  Fergus looked a little wide eyed and he protested quickly in case Mikhail was under the impression that he was implying some kind of underage thing was going on at the brothel. He shook his head fervently, now pretty certain it was actually a blush that he was helplessly cultivating.

  "God, no! I never meant to imply...God, I mean
, I wasn't suggesting..." He could have kicked himself for saying something so stupid but then Mikhail let his head fall back a little and he laughed in such a warm way as his eyes once more looked into Fergus's eyes.

  "You must not worry. I know you didn't mean anything. You just prefer the company of an older man?"

  Fergus laughed with relief and gazed at him as he was sure the look was carrying a little hope with it. "I'm not falling into that trap..." He grinned, feeling a sudden rush of excitement, "then you will say that I am calling you old."

  Reluctantly he tore his gaze away lest he fell into gawping at Mikhail again. He looked out of the window instead to see if they were close to his club. Fergus had opened The Flying Garter not long before he was sent to prison, and intended it to be a showcase for quality burlesque. Also it would serve as a convenient place for a bit of money laundering. But in his absence, Judas MacGregor had turned the place into little more than a low rate strip joint. Most people in their line of work ran legitimate businesses to get rid of the sometimes vast amounts of cash that would come through their hands, and Judas had had the idea of opening a topless barber shop where bare-breasted women would wash and cut hair at inflated prices. Fergus had put his foot down. Who on earth would want to come to a place like that other than sad old men, nutcases and of course Judas himself? No, it needed to be something a bit more respectable than that, so The Flying Garter was born. Adverts were placed in the best dance facilities in the area to recruit only the finest acts. Now it seemed that Judas had managed to destroy the classy establishment Fergus had envisioned and filled it full of poorly trained pole dancers who were a risk to themselves and patrons alike as they spun unsteadily like half cut naked harpies.

  Watching them was more nerve racking than nerve tingling, and you had the feeling that most used the pole for support more than anything else.

  Things would change now that Fergus was back. This was an upmarket bit of town that deserved better, and he saw from the window the familiar row of expensive restaurants and turned his attention once more to the charming man next to him.

  "We are going to have supper at my club.

  It is a little more...intimate than a restaurant."

  Of course his club really was intimate.

  Fergus had arranged for them to use the private room at the back that had originally been intended for high class V.I.P patrons to be entertained with a little more discretion than in the main bar. But the real reason he was taking his guest here was that he could hardly bring him to his home with Hugo there. If he took Mikhail out somewhere else he also ran the risk of them being seen together and the news finding its way back to that possessive little darling alcoholic of his.

  Marry in haste, repent at leisure.

  The driver stopped the car at the rear door to the club and once more held the door open with one hand and the umbrella with the other so that Fergus and Mikhail could walk into the club dry and partially shielded from any prying eyes. Once inside, Mikhail looked around with interest at the red walls that lined the small hallway and the occasional erotic painting that hung there.

  "What a lovely ambience!" He was being polite. Fergus knew that right away, but somehow that attracted him to Mikhail even more. Fergus walked attentively close to him then reached instinctively as Mikhail removed his coat.

  "Do allow me," Fergus smiled and took Mikhail's coat. He hung it up and then hastily returned to pull out a chair for him.

  Mikhail sat down just as gracefully as he did everything else, and he spoke once more in those cultured tones. "You really seem to know how to spoil someone. This all looks so wonderful." A silver domed cover had been keeping the food warm on his plate, and Mikhail lifted it with an expression of delight. Fergus caught himself gazing at him again. "Oh, and this looks simply delicious!"

  "Well." Fergus knew there had to be a time to get this over and done with. Maybe now was the time. "Most things seem delicious to me. I just got out of prison."

  He lifted his eyes and waited to see if a look of horror would creep across those striking features.

  Maybe even Mikhail would throw down his napkin and be furious at being duped into coming to dinner with an ex con, but he never even flinched. He just seemed to look if anything a trifle amused. "I can imagine that the food there was not of the finest sort." He lifted his cutlery and began to eat, cutting the food into small pieces first with care as though eating dinner was a practiced art form.

  Fergus tried to eat in the same manner.

  The knife and fork looked clumsy in his hands by comparison to the slim fingers of his charming companion. "That doesn't shock you though?" Fergus smiled helplessly feeling somewhat relieved.

  "You served your time." Mikhail looked up through the long dark lashes "That makes it even, whatever it was that you did. Unless...you did not murder a brothel keeper by any chance?"

  "No." Fergus laughed and looked at him with amusement, so taken by his simple humour and by everything else about him that he knew it must be obvious.

  "Ah, that is okay then." Mikhail flashed a beautiful smile. "I am in safe hands."

  * * *

  As Hugo reached across to once more lift the bottle and refill his wine glass, his devoted dog licked at his fingers appearing to know that he needed comfort.

  He patted the white mop of hair on its head clumsily then sighed and looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was only five minutes later than the last time that he had looked, but he let out an enormous sigh and lifted his mobile phone, writing a text that he had to rewrite a few times before managing to put down anything legible.

  It was strange. Of course he had become used to being alone and never really felt lonely at all when Fergus was in prison, but somehow now that Fergus was free, the house seemed bare without him.

  Having him back had not turned out the way that Hugo had expected at all. He had envisioned them spending night after night screwing each other's brains out and never feeling the need to leave for anything, only stopping to maybe eat or have a shower, but it hadn't been like that at all. They'd had what he would loosely term as "sex"

  only a few times, and it was quick and passionless and more like a chore than a thing of pleasure. Hugo always initiated these unsatisfying couplings. For once he would like to feel desired and desirable, not just something to fuck to get it over with.

  He emptied his glass and once more reached for a refill.

  * * *

  Fergus excused himself and looked at the text Hugo had just sent him. The mere sight of his spouse's name on the screen sent a wave of annoyance through him.

  The words seemed to shout from the screen.

  When will you be home, darling?

  Not anytime soon if I can help it, sugar lump, he thought with little mirth. As he was snapping the phone closed again he noticed the band of gold that we wore on his wedding finger. He glanced back at the sofa furtively, where Mikhail had moved to be more comfortable, taking his drink with him. Seeing that Mikhail was apparently engrossed in looking at some magazine that had been placed on the side table, Fergus slipped off the ring and put it into his jacket pocket. He wasn't sure if it would worry Mikhail that he was married, but he really didn't plan on taking any risks. From the smouldering way Mikhail had looked at him the other day at the brothel and then latterly at the table, he knew that he was in with a pretty good chance with him. The thought thrilled him.

  Not because of what Judas had so crudely said about him probably being skilled but because men as beautiful as Mikhail came along once in a lifetime if you were lucky and Fergus didn't want to push that luck.

  Mikhail looked up at him with a smile as Fergus came over and joined him on the sofa, not bothering to bring his drink. He had no interest in that for now.

  "Is it too bold to ask how someone like yourself got into such a business? You seem so..." Fergus laughed a little and paused as Mikhail was once more looking amused, "...well mannered."

  "It is a family business." Mikhail
crossed his legs and then sipped his drink. "I took it up after finishing my academic degree."

  His eyes narrowed slightly and then he spoke again with a hint of mischief to his tone. "Why? Do you think that I am stuck up? Too snooty for this line of work?"

  Fergus

  looked

  at

  him

  awkwardly,

  searching his face closely for any sign that he had offended him, but it was obvious from Mikhail's expression that he hadn't.

  "No! God no, I didn't mean that, I..."

  Fergus tried to continue, to explain what it was that he had actually meant, but he stopped and glanced down.

  Mikhail's hand had slipped gently onto his thigh. "You look almost cute when you are shocked." Mikhail smiled.

  Fergus lifted his gaze from the hand on his thigh to Mikhail's face and he couldn't help himself. He leaned closer and whispered, "You really do know how to endear yourself to me." He watched the colour rise in the other man's cheeks and for a moment they gazed openly at each other. "And you have a charming smile,"

  he added, a bit breathless now. Chat up lines had never been a strong point but he did actually mean what he said.

  Mikhail began to move his thumb gently against the fabric of Fergus's trousers and inched

  a

  fraction

  closer

  to

  him,

  whispering a little huskily into his ear, "You make me smile."

  The feeling of the material as it brushed against Fergus's thigh sent a tingle of pleasure through his skin, and he had an uncomfortably tight feeling in his crotch.

  His growing erection pressed urgently against his zip as though it begged to be freed. "You could charm the pants off anyone," he breathed.

  "Would you like that?" Mikhail's voice was just as smooth now as the continuing movements of his thumb.