Chapter 30

Francesco stormed toward the house, without throwing one look back to see if Karl followed. He could go sleep in a ditch tonight, the fucking moron. The slap hadn’t hurt too bad, and Francesco had gotten worst from Karl, but he didn’t want to let this go. What was he supposed to do? Karl was such a fucking asshole. Francesco couldn’t care less about how he didn’t want to be compared to his dad. They really came from the same gene pool. The scumbag gene pool.

Morgan must have heard their car because he was in front of the guesthouse, hands in his pockets, watching him. “Something happened, Francesco?”

“You could say that,” Francesco spat without stopping. He rushed into the house, climbed the stairs two by two, and headed for one of the spare bedrooms. He was sick of Karl and his sick family for the night. One night in separate beds, and they might feel less inclined to strangle each other. Francesco was counting on that because, otherwise, their family life was about to get extremely complicated.

He turned the key as soon as he was inside and began undressing. Fuck Don. Fuck Karl. And fuck his throbbing dick that didn’t want to go down. Don could lie all he wanted about not spiking their drinks with some hardon inducer; that dick wasn’t hard on its own like that. Francesco threw himself on the bed once he was completely naked and forced himself to fall asleep and forget about the assholes in his life for a change.

He woke up startled while it was still dark outside, and his keen sense of danger let him know he was no longer alone in the room. And someone had turned on the light. Before he could jump to his feet, his body was pressed down by another, and his mouth was covered. “Don’t scream like an idiot.”

The hand moved away from his mouth. “Screw you, Karl. I locked the door for a reason.”

“Whatever. You’re my husband. You’re not supposed to sleep alone. I need to put my dick in you.”

“No shit. What if I say ‘no dice’?”

“Then I’ll fuck you anyway. Since when I’m asking for your permission?”

“Right,” Francesco said wryly. “How is that butt hurt, Karl? Do you still feel my dick?”

He was more itching for a fight than a dicking.

“I told you something,” Karl growled in his ear. “But go ahead, be a bitch.” He didn’t have to use a lot of force to hike Francesco on all fours.

Francesco braced for being fucked dry, but Karl pulled away. And then, suddenly, he grabbed Francesco by the balls and twisted. It was like the air had been knocked out of him; Francesco gasped and tried to get away, but Karl pushed one hand between his shoulder blades and held him down. Then, to his relief, he released his balls. It all lasted a moment; the next, Francesco groaned in pain as Karl slapped his ball sac. Guided by instinct, he kicked blindly, but Karl laughed and caught his ankle. Flooded by sudden fear and adrenaline, Francesco fought but Karl was, as always, superior in both strength and skill, and soon, he was trapped underneath, on his back, his legs parted and the other on top of him.

Karl hushed him while caressing his hair. “I want to be mad at you so much, Cesco. But I can’t. He fucked you in front of me, and I need to flush that cum of his out of you.”

“You kicked me in the balls, you fucker,” Francesco yelled and rained punches on Karl’s back, something that seemed as ineffectual as caresses.

“He doesn’t have the right to make you suffer,” Karl whispered in his ear. “That’s my thing. You’re mine. Now quit fighting.”

“Why? So that you can kick my nuts some more?”

“Stop being an idiot, Cesco. I’ll lick them so that they stop hurting, okay?”

“Screw you. Like I’d let you anywhere near my balls again.”

Karl laughed and pushed his erection against Francesco’s hurting crotch. “I’m close enough. I mean it, Cesco. Stop fighting right now if you believe in me.”

Francesco could hear the pounding of his heart in his ears. Only Karl would ask for trust after slapping a man’s balls. He stopped thrashing. “Alright. Let’s see the miracle. Lick my fucking balls.”

Karl kissed the side of his neck loudly and then moved lower. Francesco hissed as Karl caught his balls and began whimpering. But after that, Karl stuck out his tongue, looked at him and began to lick his balls, one, then the other, caressing them with long strokes. Francesco’s whimpers turned into something else. “You’re nuts,” he whispered. “Why would you do this? You’re not a bitch.”

“Just the words I wanted to hear from you,” Karl said and pushed the entire sac in his mouth, where he used his tongue to tease them until Francesco fell on his back, cursing and panting. “Damn, the taste of your balls, Cesco.”

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You’re so incredibly fucked up.”

Karl climbed over him and held him pinned down, his stare intense and hard to understand.

“What?” Francesco asked, his pulse quickening again. What did Karl have to be such a wild card all the time? When was he going to start figuring out this asshole for real?

Karl shook his head. “You know, at times, I thought that if I had you long along, I’d finally get over you. But I still look at you and see the most beautiful thing in the world.”

“Thing. Okay,” Francesco mumbled.

Karl tsked. “You like splitting hairs too much. You’re the only one that matters to me.”

“You suck at love confessions.”

Karl gave him at crooked smile. “I can suck other things.”

Francesco’s eyes grew wide. “You didn’t just say what I think you said.”

An innocent look was returned. “I have no idea what your dirty mind is thinking about.”

Francesco just closed his eyes and groaned. “You know, I would have thought you would be mighty pissed because I fucked your ass. I thought I was looking at weeks on end without talking to each other and shit.”