2.

TWO

Dominic

I watch Rafael from across the gym. He’s circuit training like a fucking psycho. No wonder he’s so damn cut. I assumed it was strictly vanity, but watching him now I think he’s hyperactive.

This is the first time I’ve watched him here, even though I got a membership a month ago because I knew he had one. I’ve been trying to resist the urge to stalk him.

Besides, I’ve been busy.

The Capelli fortune is a thin veneer of legitimacy over a whole lot of dirty, illegal shit. It requires intensive management. My father always said it would collapse with me, but I’m determined to prove him wrong.

I know he’d sneer at me now. Hell, he’d do more than sneer. And if he’d seen me last night at Lush? He might have cut off my cock like he threatened to do if he ever caught me “acting gay” again.

I did fuck men while he was still living, but it was always rushed, always in secret. I always paid and never let them look at me. One man I had to kill because he wouldn’t stop trying to catch a glimpse of my face. I’m sure he was a plant.

I try to shut all of that out of my head as I pound out the miles on the treadmill. I hate cardio, but the treadmills offer the best view and I’m less likely to be noticed here. Rafael hasn’t looked this way once. He’s too fixated on his insane workout. Jesus, he’s like a goddamn Border Collie.

He’s sweaty as hell. His dark, wavy hair is scraped back, and his white tank top is soaked. His black warmups hang low on his lean hips.

The annoying thing is, he still looks hot as fuck.

It didn’t surprise me last night. I know what Rafael looks like. He looks like a high-end model, dresses like he’s ready for a photoshoot at any fucking moment, and moves with a powerful, fluid, sexual elegance.

It didn’t bother me (much) that I got hard watching him at Lush, but it did bother me that he brought attention to it.

I want to punish him for that.

But I also want to watch him.

Eventually, however, I hit my limit on the treadmill. I’m not built for endless running.

Lifting weights is out of the question. It would put me too close to him. I decide to go take a shower. I can catch up my weight training at the gym in my building.

Besides, I need to get to work. One of the legit businesses I now run is a construction company. When you have bodies to dispose of, you need something like that. We’ve got a few projects going, and I have to time the pouring of foundations with the cleaning up I need to do of certain crews. I have to weed out any men not fully loyal to me. When my father died, a few cracks started to show.

An upscale gym like this has fully private showers with lockable doors, so I’m pretty relaxed as the warm water rains down on me. I’m semi-hard because my mind is kicking up images of Rafael’s workout. Sometimes, my thoughts wander back to the corset vest he was wearing last night and how I wanted to take my knife and slit the lacing where it pulled tight over his spine.

That’s not the only thing I wanted to cut. He asked what I was imagining for his death. I was imagining him in those intricate ropes with a thousand artful cuts and a beautiful pattern of blood dripping onto the floor. I was imagining my cock deep in his ass through the whole process.

When the door, which I know I locked, clicks and opens, it startles the shit out of me. I hate getting startled. My father used to do it all the time, trying to catch me doing something gay. I’m pretty good at covering my surprise, so I doubt it shows much, but it still pisses me the hell off. Especially with my cock half hard.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I demand as Rafael closes and locks the door behind him.

When the hell did he spot me?

He drops his towel in the entry space, and steps into the shower. Bare, his body is everything I expected—well proportioned, beautifully lean and muscled. Tattoos climb over his shoulders from his back, slashing geometric designs interwoven with roses.

Last night, I could see that his chest was waxed or lasered or whatever, and now I see he’s bare everywhere. He’s clean tan skin over defined muscle all the way down his abdomen, even past the twisting, geometric tattoo on his lower abs, clear to his bare, hard cock.

Saliva pools under my tongue at the sight of that thick, stiff length. His tip is flared and flushed. Under the base, against his muscled thighs, his balls hang heavy and full.

I want to keep looking. In the two months since my father died, I’ve fucked one man, but habit made me stick to my old rules. Always from behind. No looking. No lingering.

This is actually the first time in my life that I’ve gotten to really look at another aroused man except on a screen. A man I wanted to look at, I mean.

But I can’t let Rafael see how hungry I am for him. No one gets to have that kind of power over me. So I lift my eyes to his face.

We stare at each other. There’s confidence in his stance—he couldn’t have walked in here without it—but no cockiness. Last night, there was plenty of cockiness, but right now his expression is one only of desire, as though he doesn’t mind me knowing that he wants me. His pupils are so dilated they nearly swallow the light gray of his irises. His throat is bruised where I choked him.

My own cock is now hard as fuck, and I have two choices. I can beat the shit out him, or …

“On your knees, bitch, if you want my dick so much.”

His body rocks at my words. His cock twitches upward. Fuck, I like that.

Rafael closes the distance. Without a word, he drops to his knees in front of me.

His head tilts back as he looks up. My body blocks most of the spray, but it still dews on his face. His hair is slicked back, baring every gorgeous inch. I touch his bruised throat.

“Purple looks good on you too.”

At that, the crazy asshole smiles. Then he opens his mouth and swallows me. My eyes roll back.

He definitely knows how to suck a cock. His cheeks hollow as he pulls back to the tip, his tongue playing with me the whole time, flicking against the underside, sucking at my slit. For a moment, I just ride the waves of pleasure, then I start fucking his mouth.

I put my hands on his head and pump hard, hitting the back of his throat. He grips my thighs, moaning as I brutalize him with punishing thrusts.

He angles himself to let me deeper into his throat like he wants me there. Tears are streaming from his eyes, blending with the water.

I once blindfolded a man and had him suck me, but it was nothing like this. Rafael looks beautifully filthy with his lips stretched around my cock. He can’t help choking as my dick pushes into his throat, but he takes nearly all of my brutal length.

“You like that, bitch?” I snarl, pounding harder, wanting to get those last inches inside him.

He can’t answer, of course, and I’m sure I’m hurting him, but he doesn’t show it. Then his hand cups my heavy, aching balls, and I fucking lose it.

I grunt and snarl as I fuck his mouth. My anger flares to rage as my body tightens. Rafael is moaning and choking on my cock. My hips snap forward as I explode down his throat. Rafael swallows the hot spurts of cum as my cock pulses inside his throat.

I want to keep holding his face against me, but his hands are pushing against my thighs. He’s starting to shake.

When I reluctantly pull out, still half hard, Rafael chokes in air. Coughing, he pitches forward. I still have hold of his hair, so I force his head down. It has me leaning over him, gazing past the tattoos on his back, a continuation of the geometric pattern blended with thorns and roses and other shit, all the way to the firm, round globes of his ass. When I slap him there, his body jerks, twisting enough that I spot the end of the plug inside him. I can’t hear it over the shower, but I can see its vibration.

It’s so fucking hot that I slap him again—and he comes. He’s not touching his cock. His hands are splayed on the tiles. But his body convulses as his cock shoots out creamy strands that swirl with the water.

He’s still spasming when I let him go. I rinse off quickly then step over him. He gets onto his knees, settling on his heels. Water streams over him, running down his body to his plump cock.

He still doesn’t say a word. He simply watches me as I dry off then wrap a towel around my waist. I leave.

Five minutes later, I’m finishing getting dressed when Rafael walks out of the shower, his towel around his waist.

I watch from the corner of my eye as he goes to his locker. We’re not the only ones in here, but he doesn’t seem to care. He drops his towel and bends over to put on his underwear, flashing the base of the plug still stuffed inside him.

My cock stirs to life again. My anger rekindles too. Why is he showing that to everyone?

He tugs on a pair of dark gray briefs. I snag my bag. On my way to the door, I detour toward him. He’s got his pants on but not yet zipped.

I clamp a hand on his shoulder and push down. He yields to me, sitting on the bench with a thump. He grunts as the impact jars the plug inside him.

I look down, first admiring the bulge of his covered cock in the opening of his pants. Then I take in his face, remembering those pretty lips stretched around my dick.

I know I have to kill him, but maybe not just yet.