Celebration (11 page)

Maybe the system needed service, or replacement. It would be someone else’s problem soon enough.

He headed back to the living room, feeling vaguely annoyed and unsettled.

A champagne cork popped just before he got to the doorway, followed by the unmistakable sound of champagne frothing into a glass.

The Count knew he was alone in the house.

Or had been.

He grabbed a candlestick from the hall table, the closest thing to a weapon within range, and crept toward the living room door. He raised the candlestick before revealing himself, but a smooth voice made him pause.

“Don’t bother,” Rex said quietly. “You’re outnumbered anyway.”

The Count lowered the candlestick as he stepped into the doorway. Rex sat on the couch opposite the one he’d occupied until a moment ago, looking sleek, relaxed and confident. The other man actually smiled as he took a sip of the Count’s champagne.

The Count simmered. Rex probably didn’t even know how good it was.

A flick of movement drew the Count’s gaze to the corner at his right. A man wearing a leather hood waved at him with a cheerfulness that seemed inappropriate.

“You look like a guard in the Plume’s Dungeon,” the Count said, his tone wary.

“The road not taken,” the man said. He smiled. “But then, that means I never learned all of Rex’s rules.”

“I don’t care about Rex’s rules.”

The man’s smile widened. “Me neither. So glad we have that in common.”

The Count didn’t like the menace in that smile, so turned back to Rex. “You can’t drink that,” he said, seizing upon the least of Rex’s crimes.

Rex drained the glass, his gaze locked with the Count’s, showing a shocking lack of respect for the quality of the champagne. He poured another glass, then leaned back and put his booted feet on the coffee table. “I think you owe me more than this,” Rex said quietly before the Count could protest.

The hooded man stepped behind him and shut the door to the foyer, turning the lock. He smiled when the Count spun to look, then stood barricading the door, arms folded across his chest.

That was when the Count realized that this visit was a reckoning, a retribution for his framing Rex for the Plume being revealed.

He doubted it would end well for him.

“You have to understand,” he said, talking quickly. “I was upset. I made an impulsive choice. I didn’t think the Plume would be destroyed.” He made his appeal, even though he was pretty sure it wouldn’t work. He could feel his heart beating more quickly and a bit of perspiration sliding down his spine.

What were they going to do to him?

The hooded man scoffed. “No, you thought the city would build a parking lot and sell daily admissions, like a theme park. Kids get into the Plume for half price.” He shook his head. “Please. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Which was?”

“Taking Rex and Athena down.” The hooded man shook his head. “That wasn’t very nice, even before you framed Rex for the call-in.”

The Count spun back to face Rex. “I made a mistake!”

That man considered the glass of champagne, as if oblivious to the Count’s words. “This is pretty good. Maybe I should buy some, too.” He turned the bottle to read the label as the Count panicked.

“Triple glazed windows?” the hooded man asked. “Extra soundproofing?”

“Yes, but that’s irrelevant.”

The man smiled again. “Not really. I hate gagging men.”

The Count caught his breath. He strode across the room and sat down opposite Rex. “All right. I was wrong. What do you want?”

Rex’s gaze was cool. “Insurance.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t know anything about insurance, but I’ll give you whatever you want. Do you want this house? Money? Tell me!”

Rex shook his head. “Do you really think you can negotiate with me?”

“Yes. Of course.” The Count tried to project more confidence than he felt. He was well aware that the hooded man had moved to lean on the back of the opposite couch.

“There’s something wrong with your security system,” that man said.

“And you, of course, know nothing about that,” the Count snapped.

The man laughed. “I disabled it, but that isn’t the best part.”

“I don’t understand.” The Count looked between the pair of them, distrusting those smiles. The hooded man shed his jacket, tossing it on the end of the couch.

Did he intend to stay?

For how long?

Rex finished his champagne and set down the empty glass. “I see two options,” he said. “The first is that we leave right now.”

The Count’s heart was fluttering, but he tried to sound tough. “Why am I thinking there must be a catch?”

“Oh, there is. Two glasses of champagne isn’t nearly enough compensation for what you’ve taken from me. The Plume took a decade to plan and build, and was a source of pride, revenue and pleasure. It was irreplaceable.” Rex shook his head. “If I leave now, I’ll spend the rest of my life hunting you down and taking away what’s most important to you. Over and over and over again.” He glanced up and the Count saw the resolve in his eyes. He swallowed as Rex continued. “You’ll spend your whole life looking over your shoulder and waiting for me to act.”

“I doubt I’ll like the other choice any better,” the Count said.

“Option number two is that we solve this now.”

“Why would you offer that choice?”

“Because I have better things to do than avenge myself on you for the rest of my life. It’s tidier. It’ll be done. We can each go our separate ways and never cross paths again.”

“But there’s a condition.”

Rex’s eyes shone as he leaned forward. “You agree to play a game with my partner here. If you win, I leave satisfied and all is resolved between us.”

“And if I lose?”

Rex shrugged. “Then the game will go on.”

The Count had a very bad feeling. “Until I win.” He looked between them again, assessing the size of the other man. “What kind of game?” he asked, although he had a very good idea.

The hooded man kicked off his boots and shed his jeans. He had a large erection, which confirmed the Count’s theory. It was when Rex pulled the jar of lubricant from his jacket and put it on the table that the Count was positive he understood the game.

“I’m not anyone’s butt boy,” he said, getting to his feet. He hoped he had a choice.

“If you win, you don’t have to be,” Rex said. “Your choice.”

The Count looked between them, assessing his chances. The hooded man was younger and muscled, but the Count was wiry and stronger than he looked. They probably had underestimated him. Plus he found the idea of having this resolved immediately very appealing. He wanted his connection with Rex to be done.

The fact that he’d been cornered and targeted in his own home made him very angry. He didn’t care why Rex had done this. The Count wanted to pound the shit out of somebody.

And the hooded guy would do very well.

Maybe Rex would find out what it was like to be someone’s butt boy.

The Count carefully hid his anger. He peeled off his jacket and hung it up in the hall, then shed his shoes and trousers. He might have been undressing after a long day, completely at ease, not winding himself up for the fight of his life.

When he walked back into the living room, naked, he got his first surprise. The hooded man was wearing only a hood now and his skin shone. He offered the open jar of petroleum jelly to the Count.

“Grease up,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “It adds to the sport of it all.”

“It’s disgusting.”

“One of the rules,” Rex said.

“You and your fucking rules,” the Count said through his gritted teeth.

Rex laughed. “These are fucking rules, actually.” He offered each of them a condom and lubricating jelly.

The Count sighed. He took the petroleum jelly and smoothed it all over his body, ensuring that it was thickly spread over his shoulders and hips, the two places his opponent was most likely to grab him. He found himself sneaking glances at his opponent. He hadn’t played a rough game like this in a long time, and shouldn’t have been surprised to find himself becoming aroused.

He was dominant by nature, and this man would learn that soon enough.

“I knew we were two of a kind,” the hooded man said, gesturing to the Count’s erection. “It’s great that neither of us like rules.”

The Count had been warned. He bowed slightly, as if they were meeting at a cocktail party. The hooded guy nodded.

The Count leapt at him before he had lifted his head, striking fast and early. The impact of his blow sent them falling backward in a wrestler’s embrace. The Count couldn’t get a grip on his opponent with the grease although he tried. The other twisted away.

“Aha! No rules!” he cried and slammed the Count’s head into an ottoman.

The Count punched him in the gut, but fell, tripping over an end table and sending a lamp crashing to the floor. The damage infuriated him and had him bounding to his feet.

Rage and lust rose within him, boiling with a need for justice. They were wrong. He’d bang them both senseless. He’d teach them who made the rules.

The Count charged his opponent and slammed him into the wall hard. That man laughed even when he was trapped in a tight grip. He wriggled one hand free and reached around the Count, sliding his thumb into the Count’s anus.

“Nice and tight,” he said. “Just the way I like it.”

The Count kicked him between the legs, driving his knee up into his balls. The other man’s knees buckled. The Count decked him and they fell together again.

It was like trying to grab an eel and they rolled across the floor, kicking and biting and punching each other. Rex moved out of the way when they approached him, watching the fight with interest while he drank the Count’s champagne. Pictures fell from the wall. More lamps were smashed. Furniture crashed to the floor, and the couch ended up with grease stains all over it.

The Count was incredibly excited. He couldn’t make any sense of it. He liked little delicate woman, young women who needed to be treated with both care and discipline. Fighting a man was different. He could use all of his strength, and he needed to in order to have any chance.

He remembered the street fights of his youth and how he’d been unable to sleep after one. The adrenaline pumped and he attacked his opponent again, punching him in the gut and flinging him on to the couch. He didn’t care if the grease marked the damask, not anymore.

He’d take this one first, then Rex. He’d bang them until they begged for mercy.

No, until they bled.

The Count leapt after his fallen adversary with an uncharacteristic roar, landing on top of him. He felt like a wild animal and didn’t hold back—his own survival was at stake. The other man struggled and twisted, anticipating the Count’s move.

“You’re mine,” the Count whispered into his ear. He grabbed a fistful of the other man’s hair, pulling his head back and jamming a cushion into his mouth. His opponent roared and the Count thrilled at the sound of his helplessness. He had the other man on his stomach, he had him pinned down. He caught his pelvis, kicked apart his knees and made to slam home.

But the other man suddenly bucked and the Count lost his grip in the petroleum jelly. The Count lost his balance and tumbled to the floor. He knew by the way the other man came after him that he’d just lost. Fear hit him like a jolt of lightning. The Count scrambled to get away but the other man punched him in the face, startling him with the sudden blow.

By the time he opened his eyes, the Count was on his knees, being bent over the coffee table. He fought but it was too late. He felt the other man’s huge dick sliding into him and stretching him wide. He shouted in outrage and fury as he was claimed. The other man held him down, pumping and working it far longer than was really necessary.

Reveling in his conquest.

The bastard. The Count would catch him after he came. The game would continue and the Count would get even. His cock was so hard it hurt and he schemed his vengeance even as he was used.

To his surprise, the other man reached around him and started to give him a hand job. The Count couldn’t pull away and then he didn’t want to. The hooded man worked the Count at the same pace as he drove inside him and the crescendo of pleasure rose with dizzying speed. The Count leaned back, no longer fighting as he surrendered, and moaned as the release began to rip through his body.

The light of a camera flash burned through the Count’s closed eyelids, but even that wasn’t enough to stop him from coming. He gasped and struggled but Rex kept taking pictures and that hooded bastard kept pumping away. When he finally came with a roar of contentment, the Count flung off his weight and headed for Rex.

“What the hell are you doing?” the Count demanded.

“Getting the insurance I wanted,” Rex said with a smile. “Do you think the little girls you like will find it consistent with your image to see you like this?”

“Give that to me!” The Count lunged for Rex but the other man evaded him.