Authors: Geoffrey Knight

Tags: #Mystery, #Suspense, #Adventure, #Gay

The Curse of the Dragon God (8 page)

BOOK: The Curse of the Dragon God

2.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads

Then—

“They’ve stopped!” Gladys yelled.

“Where?”

“The bridge!” she gasped. “I think they’ve stopped right in the middle of the bridge!”

The motor home skirted the Presidio as signs to the bridge passed overhead.

And up ahead they saw that Gladys was indeed right. Dead in the center of the Golden Gate Bridge, to a chorus of blaring horns, the black van had pulled over to one side.

As cars swerved dangerously to avoid hitting it, the van’s side door slid open and the two remaining black-clad diamond thieves jumped out, barking orders in Chinese through their masks, dragging Sen and the Professor out of the vehicle. With guns jammed into the back of their skulls, the two elderly men were forced to the side of the bridge and held at the railing. Through the fierce winds the men barked orders at Sen and the Professor.

“My God,” Sen cried in fear to the Professor. “They want us to climb. I think they’re going to throw us off the bridge!”

At the south end of the bridge, the whirring, beaten RV veered from one lane to another, overtaking as many cars as it could, racing toward the middle of the bridge, where Will could see the abandoned van.

As the diamond thieves dragged Sen and the Professor to the top of the bridge railing, one of the black-clad kidnappers pulled a small remote device from his pocket, turned back to the van, and pressed a button.

Through the cracked windshield of the RV, Will and Gladys watched as the van suddenly exploded in a ball of flames, bursting outward from the van’s windows and sending the roof of the vehicle flying high into the air. A bright orange plume of flame rolled upward, and every driver on the bridge slammed on his brakes, the cars spinning and smashing into one another.

Will stood on the brakes of the RV as hard as he could, skidding out of control, watching the pileup getting closer and closer until eventually the RV became part of it. The second the motor home slammed into the car in front, Will unsnapped his safety belt and grabbed Gladys.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, stunned and breathless, but lucid enough to hand Will’s watch back. “Here, I think you’ll be needing this.”

“Thanks.” Will gave Gladys a peck on the cheek that made her eyelids flutter once more, then leapt from the RV to the sound of an angry roar from Howard.

“Shut up, Howard!” he heard Gladys say.

As the ball of fire swept into the black sky, people began to stumble out of their cars, panicked and confused. Will jumped onto the crippled hood of a sedan and looked quickly toward the blast zone. Across the pile of smashed vehicles, he saw four figures standing high on the edge of the bridge railing, facing outward, as if to jump.

“Oh, God!” Will whispered, then sprang as fast as he could into action, avoiding the wave of fearful motorists hurrying away from the burning van by leapfrogging from one car roof to the next, sliding across hoods, bounding and bouncing until he managed to jump clear onto the bridge walkway and bolt toward the figures on the railing.

He didn’t take his eyes off them. He saw one of the black-clad figures strap Sen to the front of him, while the other did the same with the Professor. He saw both diamond thieves unzipping parts of their outfits.

Will poured on one last burst of speed.

He was almost there. He had a chance. But then—

“Professor!!”

As Will hit the railing, the two black-clad figures jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge, taking Sen and the Professor with them.

Will gasped in horror, pulled himself up on the railing, and stared down toward the water. The van fire lit up the night, enough for Will to see the black-clad figures freefalling, plunging toward certain death until—

Foomp! Foomp!

Parachutes opened, turning their fall into a swift glide as they spiraled toward the waters below, where a large cruiser awaited them, its well-lit back deck forming a landing pad.

Amazed, relieved, helpless, Will looked on as the kidnappers touched down on the boat, the sound of the cruiser’s motor revving into high gear and moving swiftly out to sea.

Back at the Zhang Diamond Tower, Jake had burst through the balcony doors and stopped, his heart pounding in his throat. For a moment he tried to convince himself this was all a bad dream.

But the blood spreading out from under Eden’s body was real.

Jake fell to his knees beside the still body, the trousers of his tuxedo soaking in blood.

“Eden?” he whispered, praying for a response.

But none came.

With a slow, trembling hand, Jake placed his fingers against the side of Eden’s neck, feeling for a pulse, all the while thinking,
It was supposed to be me. Why wasn’t it me?
A tear spilled from his eye, and for a moment Jake realized he had just lost the one thing he thought we would never find.

Then, ever so faintly, he felt it.

pum-pum…

III

Krakow, Poland

THE BILLOWING BIG TOP TENT TOOK UP ALMOST THE entire area of Krakow’s Market Square, between the Cloth Hall and the Palac Pod Baranami, where Krakow’s famous cabaret had been running since 1956. The Cirque des Trompettes—a multinational circus troupe formed in the late 1960s—was renowned for gathering the most talented performers from all corners of the earth and had been touring the globe for decades. But there was no city in the world that loved the Cirque des Trompettes as much as the city of Krakow.

Surrounding the big top, forming a tiny mazelike city within a city, were the dozens of caravans and trailers that housed the circus crew and countless performers.

Thousands of Krakow’s citizens flooded through the intricate network of trailers to behold the big top. There were children sitting on the shoulders of men, with balloons in one hand and red-and-white-striped candy in the other. There were dozens of brightly lit sideshow stalls blaring carnival music, their stall keepers shouting at the crowd in Polish and German, inviting showgoers to test their skills and win prizes. Men and women on stilts stepped through the crowd like giant insects. Mimes, jugglers, trumpeters, drummers, and clowns of all kinds were everywhere.

There were so many clowns that Luca didn’t know where to begin looking.

“Don’t you want to see the show?”

Luca turned and saw a handsome, young blond man standing behind him. He had a flaming torch in each hand. He wore nothing but a pair of red tights with an orange flame motif leaping up each leg. His torso was tanned and well muscled, the body of a circus performer, someone who had spent his life pitching tents and training hard.

“That’s what most people come to see.” His accent was northern European. “The show, I mean. Out here, we are just the first act, a prelude to the main event to spark your sense of adventure.”

As if to prove his point, he tilted his head back, lifted one of the flaming torches to his lips, then blew a giant ball of fire high into the air. He gave Luca a large white smile.

“I am Tomas, the fire-eater from Iceland. Here to ignite your imagination.”

By the time Tomas was done, nothing had been left to the imagination.

The eye contact between Luca and Tomas had led swiftly to a much more intimate exchange in the tiny trailer Tomas called home. The second Tomas shut the door, their lips met.

“I’m looking for someone,” Luca said, pushing the words from his lips as they smothered Tomas’s.

“You found me instead,” Tomas breathed.

“I’m somehow glad I did. But I have to ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Does it burn? Does the fire burn your throat?”

Tomas pulled away and grinned. Luca could tell right away he was the kind of guy who lived every day as it came. Tomas laughed a little. “Not if you do it right. But it doesn’t hurt to follow it with something soft and soothing.”

The young Icelander stood back and Luca’s eyes fell upon the bulge in his tights, the orange flames on the legs pointing up toward his throbbing, growing crotch.

Luca pulled off his jacket, unbuttoned his shirt, and let Tomas peel it away from his broad, muscled shoulders.

Tomas let the shirt drop to the floor, then placed both hands on Luca’s chest, palms flat against the mounds of his firm, sparsely haired pectorals. He looked directly into Luca.

“My mother was a gypsy,” Tomas said, holding his hands in place on Luca’s chest. “A magical woman. A wise woman. She taught me that touch is everything. What you feel, inside and out, even just the nearness of it, is everything. I feel the heat of the flame, and I have to trust my instincts. When to breathe in—”

Luca unwittingly inhaled deeply.

“—and when to breathe out.”

Luca exhaled.

Tomas closed his eyes, as though drawing energy from the simple rise and fall of Luca’s chest. When he opened them again, his brow was creased in sympathy. “You don’t know who you are, do you.”

It wasn’t a question, and if it had been, Luca didn’t have the answer. Instead he leaned forward to stop the Icelander from delving deeper, and planted a long, hard kiss on Tomas’s lips.

For several minutes their tongues probed the inside of each other’s mouth. Luca’s hands locked with Tomas’s and their fingers explored each other’s touch. The skin of Tomas’s palms was tough, from pulling ropes and lifting tent poles; likewise, Luca’s hands were rough and ready from too much action and adventure. And yet, both men handled each other with such tenderness, such delicacy, that even their palms and fingers felt soft and inviting.

Luca—who had come in search of answers to his past—was suddenly dizzy with an unexpected sense of longing. And belonging.

He pulled out of the kiss, realizing he hadn’t told Tomas his name, suddenly feeling the need to introduce himself properly. He opened his mouth to speak, but Tomas simply smiled and placed a finger on Luca’s lips. “Shhhh.”

Then, slowly, Tomas lowered himself to his knees.

The young Icelander’s hands were undeniably sure of themselves as they unbuckled Luca’s belt, unzipped his jeans, and pulled them to the floor.

There was no way possible anything but a fully erect cock was going to spring from Luca’s jeans. Sure enough, what Tomas unleashed was thick, huge, and hard, the foreskin already pulled back down the shaft, revealing the head of his cock full and brimming.

Tomas slipped his moist lips around it without hesitation.

His juicy mouth wet the head of Luca’s cock, then his entire penis as Tomas opened his dexterous throat all the way and swallowed him whole.

The young Italian felt the almost crushing pressure on his bulbous head as it was forced down the narrow passage of the Icelander’s throat. It was at once excruciating and exquisite. Luca turned his face upward, his head rolling back on his neck. He opened his mouth and a gush of ecstasy escaped him.

His hands reached forward and found Tomas’s short blond hair. He gripped the head of the Icelander and tried to ease him back, but Tomas resisted. The muscles in Tomas’s throat constricted, and Luca felt an even greater pressure on the head of his cock.

The sound that escaped Luca now was a loud, tortured grunt.

He let go of Tomas’s head, surrendering himself to the young fire-eater.

After years of training, Tomas had complete control over the muscles in his throat. He released the hold on Luca’s cock a little, allowing the slightest relief, before doubling the pressure. Squeeze and release. Squeeze and release. Not letting go. At the same time, Tomas’s tongue began running up and down the thick purple vein on the underside of Luca’s captured cock, tickling and teasing it.

The young Icelander’s hands slid gently up Luca’s stomach, fingers trickling up his torso inch by inch until they found Luca’s nipples and began to twist and roll them, gently at first, then harder.

Luca flinched and groaned again, but he was unable to move a muscle, frozen in a state of agony and ecstasy. This was like nothing he’d ever experienced before; it was a blow job, but instead of friction and motion, it was all about muscle manipulation. All about—

“Ooohhh! God!”

Squeeze and release.

Squeeze.

Squeeze harder.

Release and squeeze even harder.

Luca’s head fell forward on his neck, his eyes watering, his brow creased in pain, and his mouth gasping for air—for relief—as he breathed, “I’m going to come. I’m going to—”

Suddenly Tomas’s throat released the head of Luca’s cock.

He pulled back slightly.

Luca moaned with relief but it was too late—he could feel the gush inside his balls.

His cock slid back into the cavern of Tomas’s warm, wet mouth, and there he felt the surge of his semen erupt, filling Tomas’s mouth with cum.

BOOK: The Curse of the Dragon God

2.19Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads