Angel and the Assassin (16 page)

7“Mmm, you‟ve got a beautiful arse to spank. It fits my hand perfectly.” Kael marveled at the lovely naked boy in his lap. “Come on; let‟s go back to bed. I‟m not done with you yet. I want to fuck you now.” He stood up, holding Angel, who wrapped his legs around Kael‟s waist, allowing himself to be carried.

In the bedroom Angel began to tidy the bed, smoothing the sheet and fluffing the duvet and pillows. Kael watched him as he stripped off his clothes and threw them into the wash basket. “Later you can change the bedding. Get into the habit of changing it every day. There‟s several clean sets in the airing cupboard.”

“Are they all white, Daddy?” Angel grinned cheekily.

“As a matter of fact they are. Come into the bathroom.” They brushed their teeth side by side in the matching sinks, and Kael showered quickly. As Angel dried Kael‟s chest, he giggled and turned his back to the mirror to admire his scarlet buttocks. Kael‟s fingerprints could clearly be seen around the sides.

“I‟m a slave!” Angel shouted and skipped into the bedroom. “I‟m Daddy‟s boy.”

Kael followed him in to find him turning down the bed. He lay down, and the boy covered him, then sat cross-legged beside him.

Angel spoke very seriously. “I want to serve you, Daddy. I want to look after you. Give me your orders, Sir.”

“Get a condom from the drawer and put it on my cock.” Angel took a foil packet from the bedside table and tore it open. He spent a long time smoothing the thin latex over Kael‟s shaft, licking his lips and making slurping sounds while Kael laughed. “Come here, boy; I‟ve waited long enough.” Kael opened his arms, and Angel fell into them, laughing while Kael rolled on top of him. “Open your legs, boy.”

Angel opened his thighs and wrapped his legs tightly around Kael‟s waist.

Kael positioned his cock and began to stab at the boy‟s anus, looking down into the beautiful silver-gray eyes. The condom was lubricated, and his cock began to slide in slowly. When he was in up to the hilt, he rested on his elbows. Angel gazed up at him and squeezed the muscles of his rectum hard.

Kael dropped his head and moaned as the pressure sent thick tendrils of pleasure shooting up his cock and into his hard belly.

“Was that good, Daddy?” Angel asked.

“Yes.” The word came out in a long breath. Angel squeezed again, a long, slow squeeze, building up the pressure by tiny degrees over five seconds or so. “Oh God, how do you do that, boy?”

Kael did not expect an answer nor could he focus on one. The pressure built to unbearable heights, then stopped and began to decrease. Kael remained immobile, resting on his elbows, his eyes half-closed, the sensation taking over his entire body.

His mind went elsewhere; he could think of nothing. He could only experience the all-encompassing, slowly building orgasm. For what seemed an eternity but was probably five minutes at most, Kael remained rigidly in position. Angel‟s legs gripped him like a vise, his hips moving upward when he squeezed and dropping slightly as he released the pressure.

Angel squeezed over and over until a raging orgasm wracked Kael‟s body. The moan he released filled the room. He collapsed on top of Angel and rolled onto his back, bringing the boy with him onto his belly. Angel rested his head on Kael‟s shoulder and sighed. “Was that good, Daddy?” he asked almost smugly. “Did I make you happy?”

“Yes, yes.” Kael could hardly speak. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“I don‟t know, Daddy. I just figured it out.”

“Let me rest for a while, and you can do that again. That will make Daddy very happy.”

Stephen Conran had spent the last couple of days in negotiation with the Americans and had found out two things. Angel Button‟s mother, Samantha Andresen, knew nothing of her dead husband‟s activities with Bosnian arms dealers. And she wanted nothing more to do with her son. In her own words, “
He
can damn well look after himself. I’m sick of kids
.” Obviously the boy did not know the extent of his mother‟s abandonment because he had asked the maid in his e-mail to contact his mother and tell her he was safe.

The e-mail was easy to trace. It had come from a Starbucks within half an hour‟s walk of Kael Saunders‟s flat. That had been the catalyst for him ordering the laborious and time-consuming checks of the CCTV footage at Logan International Airport and again at Heathrow Airport, which had informed him that a slender young man had accompanied Saunders to London.

If Kael Saunders was anything at all, he was stunningly intelligent and utterly ruthless. It would not surprise him in the slightest if Saunders had fancied the boy for a change from his usual type and had taken him along for fun, planning to kill him in a few days or weeks.

Or did he have another plan?

Was it possible he had gone rogue and decided to hand the boy over to the Bosnians for a fee so they could use him as a pawn to negotiate for their guns?

MI6 and the Americans had been working for half a year to get rid of Andresen, seize his arms shipments, and infiltrate the Bosnian terrorist cell that was determined to reignite the war in the former Yugoslavia. The shipment was due to go through in a week. Andresen was supposed to be dead, and a doppelgänger operative was to meet the Bosnians, specifically a man named Beganovic, and go back to their headquarters, which was nothing more than a farm in the hill country of Bosnia. From there the GPS would lead in the SWAT team in order to take out the terrorists. He knew now that the three who were shot in the gay club were part of the group, and he knew Saunders had killed them, but why?

He could not blame Saunders for the balls-up by cleanup, but he had never known the man to be so stupid as to take a witness home with him. That boy must know what had happened. He had to have seen the kill.

The operative rarely if ever knew the details of why they had to take out a target. Conran had no one to blame but himself after that humiliating conversation in his office. He had always been impossibly attracted to Saunders despite hating him. He had wanted to keep him there longer, hoping something would happen between them. If Saunders planned to use the boy as a pawn, he had got the information from him. Nobody must find that out.

The boy had to be eliminated, and Saunders needed to be brought in for assessment.

“What are we going to do today, Daddy?”

Kael watched Angel standing at the sink naked, washing the coffee cups and the plate from his fruit salad. Steam from the rushing hot water rose up, making his face damp.

“Daddy, are we going to buy some groceries so I can cook for you? I‟m your houseboy now, right? Can we get some real food in? I‟m sick of fruit and ordered-in roast chicken and smoked salmon. I want macaroni and cheese. I want mashed potatoes.” When he got no answer, Angel pressed the tap, cutting off the hiss of the water.

Kael sat on a stool at the kitchen counter in his jeans, bare-chested and barefoot, watching Angel.

“Daddy? What‟s that silly grin for?”

Kael‟s grin widened. As mad as it would have seemed to him just a few weeks ago, he liked being called Daddy. In the past his only responsibility to a sub was to leave no long-term damage and make sure the boy had a good time, or at least got what he wanted. But Angel needed much more: protection, guidance, and affection.

He didn‟t know whether to feel flattered at the boy‟s trust or angry at the responsibility, which he had never anticipated and did not ask for.

“You never shut up. Look at you standing there washing dishes with your bare arse.” He leaned both elbows on the counter, shaking his head, laughing.

“Do I look stupid?” Angel looked down at his pale, slender body, his hairless chest, and the golden pubic hair around his cock. He was lovely, but he didn‟t seem to know how lovely he was, which made him all the more appealing. Kael hated subs who thought they were God‟s gift because they were attractive. “I‟ll grow big like you. I could start working out when I‟m allowed to leave the apartment.” Kael continued to watch him. “Daddy, do I look stupid?” Angel repeated.

Avoiding Kael‟s eyes, he snatched the tea towel off the counter, wrapping it around his narrow hips, fumbling to tie the corners. He dropped it and stooped to grab it, trying again to cover himself.

“Put that down,” Kael ordered. He had embarrassed the boy when he hadn‟t meant to. “Put it on the counter, now!” Angel met his eyes as color rose up his slender neck and smooth cheeks. “Put it down!”

Angel obeyed, throwing the tea towel at the counter without looking. It landed in the sink, soaking up the hot water. He blinked rapidly; he was ready to cry, and Kael desperately wanted to rescue the situation without being too soft. Kael grew angry, with himself mostly, but with Angel as well for thinking he would make fun of him. Playful teasing was one thing, but cruelty he reserved for Conran. Angel was an inexperienced boy who wanted only to please him. He was the easiest kind of sub for a man to abuse.

“Hands behind your back.” Kael spoke firmly, keeping his tone neutral. “Chin up, eyes lowered. Square your shoulders. Come on; you know how to stand. You have excellent posture. What are you drooping for? You look embarrassed.”

“I am. You‟re laughing at me, and I feel like an idiot.” Angel‟s chin began to tremble.

“Look at me,” Kael said.

Angel looked past him across the kitchen, then down at the floor. Finally, unable to put it off any longer, he met Kael‟s eyes.

“Correct your posture,” Kael said firmly.

Angel stood to attention, his shoulders squared, feet slightly apart. He tucked his hands behind his back and lowered his gaze. A single tear trickled down one cheek. Kael watched him, feeling like a piece of shite.

“I‟m not laughing at you. You‟re a beautiful boy. You‟re just too cute for your own good.” Angel blinked away another tear. “Come here, sweetheart.” Kael held out his arms.

“Daddy.” It came out as a whimper. Angel ran to him in a couple of gazellelike leaps and flung himself into Kael‟s arms.

Kael‟s height meant that even sitting on a bar stool, he and Angel were face-to-face as the boy leaned heavily on him. Angel wound his slender arms about Kael‟s neck, and wrapped one leg around Kael‟s waist, then drew up the other until he sat in his lap, his legs wrapped as tightly as his arms. Kael spread his feet wider to steady himself and balance Angel‟s weight.

“Daddy, were you making fun of me?”

“No. I wanted to look at you, which is my right as your master, and you got all girlie and shy on me. You‟re a beautiful boy, and you‟ll grow into a handsome man.

You‟ll get taller and more confident. You‟ll get to know yourself, so you won‟t burst into tears when your Dom makes you stand naked so he can look at you.”

“But I feel so skinny and stupid when you‟re looking at me like that.”

“You were fine until I drew your attention to how goofy you looked washing dishes in the nude.” Kael laughed, kissing his cheek. “As a slave you must learn to carry yourself proudly. If you look all scared and shy, you won‟t attract a master or a daddy. He wants a boy who‟s sure of himself. A boy who knows what he wants and carries out his duties with confidence. You have to decide what kind of man you want to be and then become it.”

Angel leaned back to look into Kael‟s eyes, his face so open and trusting. “I don‟t need to attract a daddy. I‟ve got you. You‟re all I‟ll ever want. I‟m going to 8learn to be the best slave in the world. You can teach me everything I need to know to please you.”

“Right then, let‟s start with the cleaning. Houseslaves have to clean the house, so that‟s what you‟re going to do today. I‟m going to instruct you on how to clean to my satisfaction.”

“I know how to clean, Daddy,” Angel said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

“Take it from one who saw your bedroom.” Kael paused for effect. “You need some help.”

“Yes, Sir.” Angel hung his head in mock shame, then laughed, hugging Kael again. “My Daddy,” he whispered close to Kael‟s ear.

Kael wished he wouldn‟t do that. What if he couldn‟t work out how to keep Angel safe? What if he had to send him away to keep him safe?

“Come on; we‟ll start in the living room. I‟ll show you how to do things, and after that I expect you to keep everything perfect. I want everything cleaned within an inch of its life.”

“Yes, Sir. But what about the cleaning lady? Won‟t she be coming back?”

“No, I got rid of her,” Kael said.

“I‟ll get my jeans on,” Angel said.

“No, you won‟t. I want to watch your tight little arse wiggle while you hoover the living room. Slaves should always be naked in the house unless they are wearing a little leather G-string. Now get off.”

Angel unwrapped his legs from Kael‟s waist and dropped his feet to the floor.

For the next couple of hours, Kael watched his boy polishing the furniture and cleaning the floors. He marveled at Angel‟s grace when he moved. The determination on Angel‟s face as he tackled each job was comical. A duster in one hand and a can of Pledge in the other, he went after the coffee table and sideboard, his brow creased in concentration. When he started vacuuming the living room floor, he looked to see if Kael was watching him, then turned his back quite deliberately and wiggled his hips. Looking over his shoulder at Kael, he yelled, “Like this, Daddy?”

Kael burst out laughing. “Yeah, just like that, do it again.” Seeming happy that he had pleased him, Angel played his part to the hilt, wiggling his way around the living room as he worked, and Kael felt relieved and happy to see him confident in his body again.