My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 4 Poisoned Page 4

  Jagger shot up straight, his face now panicked. “You can’t touch, Thierry, he’s just a boy.”

  I tugged on my underwear then my pants. “He is not a boy anymore, but will be my puttano if you don’t do as I say.” I walked over and placed my face in front of Jagger’s. “Now, bello, you will give me a goodbye kiss to save your brother, so you better make it good.”

  He stared at me for a moment, then grabbed my head and kissed me hard, allowing me access to his mouth. My tongue delved inside, taking full advantage of his acquiescence.

  After a minute, his hands fell from my head. “Good enough?” he said, pulling away.

  “Sì,” I breathed out, almost lost for words, Jagger taking them from my mouth. I looked down at his delicious body, aching to enter it, my cock torturing my mind, because I knew I needed to slow down or I would make him hate me even more.

  “I will see you tomorrow,” I said. “Today you heal.” I glanced at the bathroom and yelled, “I’m leaving,” then grabbed my shirt and exited the room fast, practically running for Matteo’s room, my cock desperately needing release.

  I entered without knocking. Matteo was lying on the bed with a huge smile on his face and nothing on his golden body. He was taller than Jagger, and even more defined, but it wasn’t the body I wanted to fuck, it was just a substitute.

  “Turn around,” I said, preferring not to see his arrogant face.

  He quirked a brow. “You usually like to look at me when we fuck.”

  “Not today, so turn around,” so I can imagine you’re Jagger.

  Matteo turned over, angling his fine ass up for use. I grabbed a condom off the bedside cabinet and slipped it on, then climbed up behind him. “Scream my name,” I said, wanting Jagger to hear me fuck Matteo.

  “I always do, now fuck me hard.”

  I placed my cock at his entrance, the man already prepared, his hole slick for me. I closed my eyes, bringing up Jagger’s face, seeing only him. I grabbed Matteo’s... NO, I grabbed Jagger’s hips, groaning as I plunged deep inside of my bello—the man I would kill for—or was going to kill for: the Padre a temporary inconvenience.

  4

  Bianca

  I headed up the main staircase with a tray of food for Frano. Alberto had phoned me from the House of Whores in a foul mood, barking at me to drug his brother’s lunch. I walked down the passage, wondering whether I could serve Alberto also, giving him the lethal drink instead of Thierry since it would no longer look suspicious. No, Thierry needed to be involved because he knew too much, the boy safer as an accomplice rather than a witness.

  I stopped outside Frano’s room and knocked on the door. “I have your lunch, Frano, may I come in?”

  No answer.

  “Frano!” I called out louder. “It’s Bianca, may I come in? I have minestrone soup for your lunch.”

  Silence again.

  I opened the door and poked my head inside. Frano was lying on the bed with a bandage around his head and a white sheet up to his stomach, the black satin pajamas I had dressed him in strewn across the floor.

  I stepped inside the room and closed the door behind me. “Frano, I have your lunch,” I said, walking towards him.

  He mumbled something then turned on his side. The sheet slipped down, revealing his naked body. My eyes shot away from him, embarrassment heating my cheeks. It was bad enough that I had to dress him when he was unconscious, but at least he had underwear on then, and unlike before, he could wake up now and I most certainly didn’t want him to get mad at me, because a mad Frano was not a pleasant experience.

  I put the tray down on the bedside cabinet then pulled the sheet up, which didn’t last long. My eyes widened as he rolled onto his back, his cock harder than the bedposts and just as thick. Okay, that was an exaggeration, but good Lord the man was even bigger than his brother—and Alberto was a monster. He mumbled a name in his sleep, then his hand went to his cock, my eyes widening even more as he stroked himself. I continued to stare, knowing I should cover him, but I was caught like a deer in headlights, horror and embarrassment as well as the eroticism of what he was doing transfixing me. He moaned, his hand continuing to stoke up and down his hard shaft, the foreskin moving back and forth. I realized I was breathing loudly, almost panting, the room suddenly getting very hot.

  The loud caw of a crow outside made me jolt. With the distraction, and a near fatal heart attack, I came to my senses and I pulled the sheet over him, covering what I should never have seen in the first place.

  “Frano,” I said softly, now afraid to wake him, but knowing Alberto would kick me into tomorrow if I didn’t make sure his brother ate the soup.

  Frano grunted and pushed the sheet down with his feet, his right hand still occupied with his cock. I picked up the sheet again, feeling my face flush even more, because no matter how much of a monster Frano was, he was a gorgeous one.

  He arched his back, his breathing growing heavy, the man looking like he was close to coming. I continued to stare, knowing I shouldn’t and that he would kill me, maybe literally if he woke up and caught me watching, but again I couldn’t make myself move, because his body was a work of art, a Michelangelo begging to be admired.

  I swore in my mind, not wanting to see this, only wanting to see Jagger spread out before me, his body everything I needed and much, much more. I wasn’t cheating on Jagger, because this wasn’t what I wanted, Frano was just putting on an erotic display, a temptation I wouldn’t fall for, because no one was more beautiful than my darling Jagger.

  Frano continued to moan, caught up with whatever he was imagining, although his mumbled words over a Rita pretty much told me that he was dreaming about the female agent I’d seen with Jagger. Just the thought of her angered me, because I should be taking care of Jagger, NOT her. Another loud moan from Frano made me gasp. I thought he was going to wake up, but he didn’t, he just kept on stroking himself, the end of his stiff cock now purple and glistening.

  With my heart in my mouth and tingles running through me, I picked up the tray and tiptoed to the door, looking back as Frano let out yet another loud moan. My mouth dropped open as he came over himself, even hitting his face, the man certainly a shooter. Before he could open his eyes, I quickly left the room, closing the door without a sound, but almost dropping the tray in the process. I steadied the tray, then steadied myself, greatly relieved that the soup wasn’t garnishing the carpet.

  Taking a deep breath in, I knocked on the door, calling out, “Frano, lunch!”

  Swearing came from within.

  I knocked again. “Frano, I have your food.”

  “Un momento.”

  I waited, my heart pounding, what I’d seen not easily wiped from my mind, my face still hot from the encounter.

  An “Enter” finally came. Came. Good Lord, I still couldn’t believe I had seen Frano in the throes of an orgasm, and coming on his own beautiful face. The guilt of seeing it made me want to drop the tray and rush back to Jagger. I would tell him everything, making sure he understood that I didn’t do it on purpose, and that I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He would probably laugh at me, then I would laugh back and all would be forgiven, because I would never have touched Frano, no, no, no, not in a million years, I’d rather put my hand in an open fire than cheat on Jagger. Not that Frano would want me anyway, nor would I want him—

  “Are you coming in?” Frano called out, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  “Sì, sorry.” Balancing the tray carefully, I pushed open the door and entered. Frano was sitting up in bed with the sheet covering his lower half and his face sperm free. I walked over to him and placed the tray on his lap. “Would you like me to feed you?” I asked.

  He grimaced. “I’m not a child.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend, just you have been hurt and I thought…” I flinched at his glare. “I apologize, I thought wrong.”

  Frano continued to glare, basically telling me to get out, which I couldn’t do until he had fi
nished the soup.

  The phone rang.

  “Get that,” he snapped, the man beyond rude, which was even worse considering I’d brought him his lunch. I wasn’t a servant, yet did he appreciate it? No. He was an arrogant, rude ass-hat and a few other unmentionable names. No wonder only the bitches wanted to stay with him.

  I walked over to the phone and picked it up. “Pronto?”

  A heavily-accented Russian voice answered, causing my spine to stiffen.

  “May I speak to Frano?” the Black Russian said, the man the scariest person I’d ever meet. I had thought the Donatelli were bad enough, but this man was chilling, just looking at him made me think of death. I’d heard many horror stories about the Black Russian, from mutilation to cannibalism. Alberto had said they were lies, and that the Black Russian had circulated the horrifying stories to install fear in people, but just looking at the man made me believe the tales, because he observed people like Hannibal Lecter with a bottle of Chianti.

  “I’ll get Frano for you,” I said to the man. I walked over to the bed and handed the phone to my brother-in-law. “It’s the Black Russian,” I whispered to him.

  Grimacing, Frano took the phone, then indicated for me to go away. “Hello,” he said into the receiver. His grimace deepened as I sat down on the chair across from him. He shooed me again, but I shook my head, knowing I had to stay, not only to make sure he ate the soup, but to find out why the Russian was calling.

  “Can you please hold on un momento,” Frano said into the phone, “I need to get an annoying woman out of my room.” He covered the receiver. “Out!” he barked.

  I shook my head again. “Sorry, Frano, but I must make sure you eat everything. Alberto is concerned over you losing weight.”

  “I’ll eat it, so get out.”

  “I cannot, Alberto will beat me if I don’t abide by his instructions.” I touched my bruised cheek gently, pointing out the evidence.

  “Then go into the passage while I’m on the phone, I’ll call for you when I’m finished.”

  “Okay.” I headed out of the room, closing the door behind me, then quickly ran to my bedroom and picked up my phone, dialing the connection that Alberto had told me to use when Frano was taking a call. It went through without a hitch, Frano’s and the Black Russian’s conversation coming over the line—pleasantries and small talk at first, then the Black Russian asked the question that I had been dreading: “Why hasn’t Sasha phoned me?”

  “That is none of my business,” Frano replied. “I’m not his keeper.”

  “In fact, you are. When I loan a slave, the head of the household becomes their master for the duration of their stay.”

  “Sasha’s a slave?” Frano said, sounding surprised.

  “Da.”

  “But ... I thought he was your lover and the head of the guards.”

  “He is.”

  “Sorry for sounding confused, but how can he be a slave and have such authority?”

  “Because he’s ascended to a higher level where only his soul is tethered.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Frano said, the tone of his voice telling me he was rubbing his sore head and thinking that the Russian was a lunatic, which I totally agreed with.

  “It doesn’t matter whether you understand,” the Black Russian said, “I just want to know where my Sasha is?”

  “I will ask Alberto for you.”

  “Why would you have to ask? You are the leader, are you not? You should know everything that happens within your household.”

  “I have been in a coma for the past three days.”

  “What happened?!”

  “I incurred a head injury from falling off my horse, which is why I would have to ask Alberto. But regardless, I will make sure Sasha phones you back.”

  “Spasibo,” the Black Russian thanked Frano. “I have missed him; I don’t like being parted for such a long period of time. If anything, if things have calmed down with the Donatelli I would very much like to have him back. You can keep the other guards for maybe a week longer, minus Yuri; I want him to return too.”

  I swallowed, my heart stopping at the mention of Sasha’s brother, the Donatelli having killed him as well as the other Russian guards, only Sasha surviving the massacre, the poor man no doubt being abused like Jagger.

  “As long as everything goes well tonight with the Donatelli,” Frano said, “your guards can return home tomorrow.”

  “Why? What’s happening?”

  “Jagger is due to be punished for what he did to their priest.”

  “How?!”

  “With ten lashes, but—”

  “You cannot allow that! I loaned you my men so no harm comes to him.”

  “You did not let me finish. He will not be harmed as he’s currently in New York, instead I will take the punishment.”

  “That is very noble of you, Frano, but you will be scarred.”

  “I will get the best treatment, and it’s the only viable solution I can think of. The Donatelli want blood, therefore I will give them mine.”

  “I do not approve of this.”

  Frano’s sigh came down the line. “This is my decision to make, not yours.”

  “Nonsense! Otherwise my men wouldn’t be with you.”

  “Why do you care what happens to my back?”

  “I don’t like true beauty tainted.”

  “I am not beautiful.”

  The Black Russian laughed. “Da, you are, and so is your cousin, you two are aptly named. D’Angelo means from the angel, does it not?”

  “Sì.”

  “And angels should remain untainted.”

  “I am not an angel and I am already tainted.”

  “Not your looks.”

  “This discussion is becoming rather strange.”

  The Black Russian laughed. “I’m a strange man, and by the way, has Jagger considered my new offer?”

  “He is not interested, so you are wasting your time chasing him.”

  “I don’t waste my time; I always get what I want.”

  “You already have a harem of sex slaves. You don’t need Jagger as well.”

  “My needs are great.”

  “Still, you have enough lovers to satisfy a hundred people.”

  “I am never satisfied, which is why I am always seeking new partners.”

  “Well, Jagger is not interested; he has already turned down your offers.”

  “Then I will double the previous one.”

  “You can triple it and it won’t make a difference. He. Does. Not. Like. Men. And no matter how much you offer he will not accept.”

  “Then I will just take.”

  “You will not!”

  “I am growing tired of this courting.”

  “You are not courting; you are trying to buy my cousin.”

  “All I want is one night with him.”

  “You know that is not true, because once he sets foot in your house you will not allow him to leave—like Raphael. You never returned him, and now we are short of trainers.”

  “Raphael stayed of his own volition, his choice not yours. And, Frano, I am not a man who is left wanting, and right now I want Jagger.”

  “Everyone wants Jagger, so stand in the line.”

  “Do you not realize what I can do for you and your family if you allow me this one favor?”

  “I cannot force my cousin to do something he doesn’t wish to do.”

  “I hear you force him to be a trainer. Sasha tells me Jagger does not like his job, so I’m willing to give you ten trainers in exchange for him. I know you are depleted, which is why I am being so generous.”

  “I still cannot accept; he is blood.”

  “I understand, but you won’t get this offer from anyone else, so think it through carefully. You need me and I need Jagger. And if it makes him feel more at ease, I will have women in the room. I know he loves blondes, I have plenty of those. They will make him feel very, very comfortable.”
<
br />   “Why does everyone want Jagger? He is just a man.”

  “A beautiful man.”

  “There are other beautiful men in the world, ones who would jump at your offer, so why do you persist with Jagger?”

  “Obsession. If I want someone I have them, then my obsession is appeased. But I have not been allowed to do that with Jagger, which has started to anger me. So, appease my obsession and I will shower gifts upon your family, cleaning up all of your issues with the Donatelli as well as your business woes.”

  Frano exhaled loudly. “Jagger is a stubborn mule, he won’t listen to anyone.”

  “I like that about him, but I’m sure he will listen to my new offer. Tell him I’ll pay fifteen million, five of which you will get, and a harem of blondes at his disposal.”

  “He will still say no. He has an intense dislike of men touching him.”

  “Just put the offer to him, because every man has a price.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Oh, you certainly do, Frano, it’s just not monetary. Instead, it’s a gun to a loved one’s head. And if I was so inclined to fuck you, which I am, I would put a gun to your ugly brother’s head.”

  “Watch your tongue!”

  “The only time I watch my tongue is when I’m licking a beautiful body, and right now, I’m imagining that body to be yours, so if you want to stay business partners you will get me Jagger to save yourself from getting fucked over. After all, you are only one of a handful of people I allow to contact me, and I plan on finally calling up on that privilege. Also, Frano, I expect to hear from Sasha by the end of the night.”

  The phone went dead on the Russian’s end, the other line filled with Italian curse words, Frano swearing black and blue and everything in between.

  I hung up and ran back to his room, stopping outside the door. His swearing continued, the man having the nastiest tongue, even more so than Alberto.

  I knocked on the door.

  “Come in!” he barked.

  I entered, closing the door behind me. Frano now had his pajama pants on, but his muscular chest was still bare. He sat down on the bed and gestured for me to take a seat. I did, watching as he picked up the tray. I jumped up and grabbed it off him, his hands shaky, the drugs he’d been injected with earlier probably the cause. At a guess, he was coming down, the shaking a side effect. Well, as long as he ate his soup, he would be getting much needed rest, the man a workaholic.