Jacob
If I didn’t need to get back to the warehouse, I might have stayed and given my wife as many orgasms as she asked for. She confirmed she’s a virgin, but discovering that I’m the first man to make her come makes me want to pound my chest like a goddamn cave man.
The fact that she admitted to masturbating is even more of a turn on. I’d love to see her pleasuring herself in our bed. Those small fingers of hers circling her clit before sliding through her lower lips, gathering her juices as she goes. Imagining her pushing first one, then two of them inside her tight, pink channel. Fuck.
I stand outside our door, adjusting my cock. It would only take a few minutes for me to bring both of us to climax. Several things hold me back though. The main one being that once I have her in my bed, I don’t plan on letting her leave any time soon. But also, because I want her in full control of her faculties when I slide my cock inside her tight pussy. Already I can feel her clamp down on me like a fist. She is going to feel amazing, but I’m going to have to be patient. Not something I’m known for.
And Pierce is waiting for me. Just the thought of who else awaits me swiftly turns my arousal to rage. Especially since my wife had been the topic of discussion before I’d been called away. That had been the fear pushing me. One of the two men locked in our warehouse mentioned my wife, and then I’d been given Gio’s message that he couldn’t find her. Blind panic had clouded my vision.
The drive back doesn’t take long. We pull up to the door and Aurelio stops. He lets me out, and I enter the building through the front door. The interior is completely empty. If someone managed to break past our security they’d be sorely disappointed. My footsteps echo throughout the cavernous building. Light shines in from the fifteen feet tall windows that begin about halfway up the south-facing wall warming the place up.
I reach the office, where there is only a single filing cabinet. Its gunmetal gray exterior is dented and chipped. I open the top drawer and pull out a key. On the opposite wall, entirely hidden, unless one knew where to look, is a small keyhole. I insert the key, and a completely seamless panel in the wall shifts and opens up to a hallway that descends beneath the warehouse. I close the panel behind me.
The farther I walk, the cooler it gets. My leather soles barely make a sound on the concrete beneath my feet. A sharp scream reaches me. It would seem Pierce didn’t wait for my return. I hope he left me with something. The incredible urge to spill blood fills me. I arrive at a door, and just as my fingers touch the knob, another scream of pain comes from inside. The scene that greets me sends satisfaction through my veins.
A bloodied man is tied to a chair near a corner of the room, his head hung down onto a chest that is barely, but still, rising. Next to him is a metal table, covered in white paper, with matching metal instruments and several fingers. The scent of burning flesh permeates my nose. It’s a nifty trick Pierce uses to cauterize wounds so any visitors we have in here don’t bleed out until we wish them to.
In the middle of the room, dangling from a chain in the ceiling, his toes barely touching the floor and his arms stretched taut, is another man. He’s naked and bleeding, the drip, drip of each drop of red liquid hitting the floor like a leak in a faucet. Pierce, holding a knife covered in blood, stands near him. His shirtsleeves are rolled up and are pristine clean. Not a drop of blood covers any inch of him besides his blade-wielding hand.
He looks over at me with a questioning glance. I nod. He’d been worried about Brenna, and with my gesture some of the tension in his shoulders releases.
“How are our friends holding up?” I ask. “I’m a little disappointed you didn’t wait for me.”
The dangling man raises his head and glares at me through his one good eye. The other socket is empty, the flesh around it black and burnt. His smile is twisted and grotesque. “How is that pretty young wife of yours? I hope she is okay.”
I give no outward indication that his taunt bothers me, but my rage is burning out of control. I want nothing more than to rip the knife from Pierce’s hand and shove it straight into the Russian’s other eye. But that doesn’t get me what I want. I stroll casually around him, my hands locked at my lower back, and assess him. He follows my movements until I’m out of his vision and then again as I return to it.
“I was hoping that during my absence you would have plenty of time to think about the answer to my question. Instead, you do nothing but cause yourself more misery.” I pivot and throw all my weight into a punch to his gut. It’s one of the few places not yet covered in blood.
He grunts in pain and gasps for breath, coughing and gagging. It felt good, but it won’t get me answers. It had been more for my own brief anger release than anything. Once the man catches his breath, he sneers at me. “Perhaps you need to remind me of your question. I seem to have forgotten it.”
“For a man in your position, you seem to think you’re the one who has any type of power. That you can play some kind of game.” I step back and Pierce takes my place. While I’m not opposed to making our enemies bleed, my cousin gets perverse pleasure out of it. I’ll let him have his fun for a little while longer.
The silver of the blade flashes and a guttural scream rings in my ears. Blood runs down the drain beneath the man that is for that express purpose. More screams join the first until they turn into whimpers. I close the distance between us and snatch the man’s head back by his hair.
“Pierce is well-skilled with his knife. He knows just how to stop someone from losing too much blood as you may have come to learn. I promise you that he can do this for days on end and soon you will be begging for him to kill you. Except he won’t. The pain will just continue on and on. But you can make it go away. I can make it go away. Just tell me what I want to know.”
“Oleg won’t tell you anything, no matter how much you torture him.”
I release him with a jerk. “Oleg isn’t very smart then,” I say and turn to the other man. “I’m guessing you’re the one with all the brains?”
“I can tell you what you want to know. You must promise to make my death quick and painless, though.”
“It depends whether or not your information is worthy of my mercy.”
“Zakroi svoi yobaniy rot,” Oleg chokes out.
Ignoring the man behind me, I take several paces toward our other prisoner. “I recommend you disregard your friend’s advice to keep your mouth shut. I’m not a man of patience.”
“The men you’re looking for are Sacha and Nestor. You will find them in a back room at Stoyova’s.” He sags in his seat as though speaking took too much effort. Finally answers. Soon, vengeance would be unleashed on those two for the death of Umberto Benetti.
“And the traitor within our organization? Who is working with Mikhail Popov?”
He slowly shakes his head. “I do not know.”
Unsure if I believe him or not, I don’t push. Yet.
“What do you know about my wife?” I ask with far more calm than I feel.
“Only that she is part of the Irish organization and that you married to combine your forces against us. That is all I know.”
I study him a bit longer. He may be lying, but I have enough answers to satisfy me temporarily. In one fluid move, I grant his request and pull out my gun, putting a single bullet through his head. There’s a shout behind me. I return the weapon to its holster and pivot to face Pierce. “Keep that one alive until he begs you to kill him.”
My cousin nods, and I head for the door. It doesn’t yet fully close behind him when Oleg’s screams begin.