Metamorphosis Read online

  “Speak English, Jamaica boy.”

  “You want to drive a wedge between you. You want him to confirm all your beliefs.”

  Scott stared into his empty glass. He didn’t say anything for a moment. “I want to fuck.” He stood up. “Come on, take off your clothes.”

  “You do what you want where Ciel is concerned, but I’m not helping you.” Hunter shook his head.

  A look of disbelief came over Scott’s face.

  Hunter swallowed. “I like you, man, but I can’t put the rocks on the boat and wait with you while it sinks to the bottom. I’d rather be your friend than your fuck mate. If you don’t want Ciel anymore, be a man and come out and tell him so.”

  “Fuck off, then,” Scott muttered.

  “Have another drink, Scott. You might even convince yourself of your own bullshit,” Hunter muttered and walked out of the room.

  * * * *

  Amanda walked up the pathway of Jacques’ beautiful big house and rang the bell. She was feeling a little ill at ease, even though she had complete confidence that Jacques knew what he was doing when he left this Liam man in charge. But she would have preferred to deal directly with Jacques, just because it had always been that way.

  The butler answered. Amanda always wanted to laugh when she saw him. He was the stereotype of the uptight butler, sober, courteous, and homely. He led her past the expensively decorated waiting area, through another door, and into the luxurious living room. “Would Madam like something to drink?” the butler inquired with a slight bow, indicating that she should sit down.

  “Red wine,” she said.

  “Very well,” he nodded his head. “Mr. Dunn will be with you shortly.”

  The butler brought the wine, and Amanda stood up and walked around the room, looking at this and that. She was looking out the window onto the huge tennis court when she heard a male voice with an attractive Irish brogue say, “Ms. Martindale?”

  Amanda turned around, prepared to greet the man, but instead she fell mute. Liam Dunn was not at all what she expected. He was a tall man in his mid-thirties with a thick mane of dark brown hair layered back over his ears, settling at his collar. Widely set sea-green eyes illuminated a handsome face with a serious five o’clock shadow and a mouth which seemed as if it wanted to break out into an impish grin at any moment. He was wearing a pair of black dress pants, with an elegant red silk shirt tucked into the waistband; his body was well-muscled and toned. “I’m Liam,” he said, extending his hand to her now.

  Amanda took it in hers, the feel of it jolting her back into reality. “Mr. … ah, Liam … nice to meet you.”

  “I’m sorry that Jacques isn’t available to you tonight,” he said, moving over to a chair and inviting her to sit opposite him. “I will do my best to see to your needs.”

  That sent a little chill up her spine. He’d said it as if he, personally, would see to her needs. “Thank you.”

  “Would you like another glass of wine?”

  “No, thank you. Not at the moment. What part of Ireland are you from, Mr. Dunn?”

  “Liam, please. I’m from Belfast originally.”

  “You must miss it.”

  “No,” he shook his head. “I’ve grown tired of it. I enjoyed living in France actually, but I’m looking forward to retiring here in the United States.”

  “Retiring?” She laughed. “You’re a little young to retire, aren’t you?”

  He smiled.

  “Has Jacques given you some information about…?”

  “Yes, but I’d rather hear it from you.” That impish grin formed on his mouth now.

  “Well, I…” She squirmed a little in her chair. What in hell was wrong with her? She’d never been shy about this stuff before. “I have Hunter with me right now.”

  “Yes. I know Hunter. Interesting young man.”

  “I’m looking … a young man to … ah…”

  He leaned forward, those green eyes looking into hers. “A fuck mate for Hunter.”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes.” She felt his eyes move over her long legs and settle on her breasts.

  “Do you participate, or do you just watch?”

  “Ah, is that important?” Her chin went up.

  He smiled faintly. “If you mean, do I need to know that information, no, but out of curiosity … I find the subject interesting.”

  “Surely you’ve seen it all in your business, Mr. Dunn.” She didn’t quite feel comfortable with calling him Liam. “May I ask why you find this information so … ah … compelling?”

  “Certainly,” he said. “You’re a beautiful woman, and I’m intrigued by what turns you on sexually. Forgive me. I’m being impudent,” he added hastily, but she knew he really wasn’t asking for forgiveness. He didn’t strike her as the kind of man who didn’t think carefully before he spoke.

  She smiled, glancing down at her hands.

  “I can show you some photographs, of course,” he said suddenly. “Or bring some of them downstairs for a closer inspection. There are a few out of the house, of course, but there are several here tonight who may pique your interest.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself too much, Mr. Dunn. It’s only for the night. Maybe I could request several.”

  “At the same time?” He raised an eyebrow.

  She laughed. “No, no, on consecutive nights.”

  “Of course. And just what exactly would you require of the ones you chose?” He was looking at her so intently, Amanda felt herself blushing.

  “Well, as you know, I … I like to watch.”

  “Two men together.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you don’t participate?”

  “No. Not usually.”

  “What about three men?”

  “Three men together? Well, I find it a little complicated and not very romantic.”

  “I mean…” He paused, looking at her again. “—two men making love, and one man personally giving you pleasure?”

  She cleared her throat. “I give myself pleasure at my own pace. I know what my body wants.”

  “The man would be at your command also. You could instruct him.”

  “Mr. Dunn…” She smiled faintly. “—are you a sex therapist?”

  “Not at all.” He laughed deeply. “But I have very good instincts, Ms. Martindale.”

  “I’ll consider your suggestion.”

  “Fair enough,” he said softly, standing up. “Shall we view the pictures first, or would you like to see a few of them close up?”

  “No, bring them down, one at a time, please.”

  “Naked or clothed?”

  She hadn’t considered that. Um. She grinned. “Naked,” she said impetuously.

  “A woman after my own heart,” he said.

  She glanced at him.

  He smiled at her, then winked before leaving the room.

  When he was gone, she found herself taking a deep breath. Her heart was hammering in her chest for some reason, and she felt an unmistakable moistness between her legs. It was probably that Irish accent. God, it was sexy, and he had a way of speaking and looking at her that made her feel as if she was being at that moment stripped, bound, and fucked.

  The stone-faced butler returned with a tray. He set down a decanter of red wine and poured her another glass without asking. She thanked him and raised the glass to her lips. He bowed politely before leaving the room. Amanda drank down a glass and a half before the door opened again and Liam appeared. “I have chosen three. The first one is Hans. Jacques found him in Hamburg. He’s quite a beauty. I’m sure you will … ah…” he paused, “…here he comes.”

  Amanda gripped the stem of the glass in her hand as Liam stood aside to admit Hans. He wasn’t tall, but he was compact, muscular build, round, firm ass, and amply endowed. He was blond and blue-eyed, handsome in a very masculine way. He walked over in front of her, laced his hands behind his head and spread his legs.

  Liam walked over and placed a hand on Hans’s shoul
der. “Forgive him. He was a sex slave before Jacques brought him to us. It is how he was taught to display himself to his master.” Liam’s hand moved down the muscular curve of Hans’s arm. Something about the way he touched him caused Amanda’s nipples to stiffen under her dress. He moved around in back of him now. He wrapped his arms around Hans’s waist and slid his hands up to his nipples. Almost casually he pulled on them, brushing his palms over them. They stiffened seductively. “So much nicer like this,” Liam said.

  Hans licked his lips. His head fell back a little, his eyes closing.

  Amanda could scarcely breathe. She couldn’t remember ever being this turned on. She stifled a moan, pressing her thighs together.

  Liam brushed his cheek against Hans’s hair. He continued to torment his nipples, pulling, now pinching. “Stay quiet,” he told him when Hans began to whimper, his cock lengthening, jutting straight out now.

  Amanda swallowed, licked her lips.

  Liam met her eyes, smiled. “What do you think?”

  “He likes you,” she said softly, lifting the glass to her lips, the liquor causing the sensations to intensify.

  “You think so?” One hand moved down Hans’s belly and took hold of his cock. He lifted it, fondled it in his hand, gently batted at it. His other hand stayed busy with Hans’s tits.

  Amanda could see Hans’s knees tremble. She suddenly pictured Liam removing his shirt. She could see Hans licking his nipples, falling at his feet, sucking his cock. She drained her glass and pushed the image away. “Can you turn him around?”

  “Certainly,” he said. “Hans, show Ms. Martindale your ass.”

  Hans turned around and bent over, displaying himself.

  Liam moved a hand over Hans’s back, gave his ass a light slap, and inserted his index finger between his cheeks. He lightly flirted his finger over his opening. “Hans loves to be fucked. He loves to be opened, dominated, exposed. Hunter would be a good master.”

  Amanda sucked in some breath. Her face flushed, her cunt soaked, she started laughing.

  Liam told Hans to stand up straight. “Did I say something to amuse you?”

  “You’re a good salesman, Liam,” she smirked.

  He bowed his head slightly. “I know desire, Amanda.”

  She swallowed. “I’ll take him. Saturday night.”

  “He could be a little … well … he hasn’t been in America long. He doesn’t understand much English and may need some translation. Would you like me to come with him?”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “That’s unusual, isn’t it?”

  “Not if I want to,” he met her eyes. “No extra charge. I used to be in the business myself, you know.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt of that, Mr. Dunn. Does he talk?”

  “When you want him to…” Liam said. “He speaks mostly German, which suited the clients. As I told you, Hans was a sex slave. He spoke rarely. He’s used to being given orders. He’s obedient.”

  “And what about you, Mr. Dunn?” She couldn’t help notice the silky seductiveness in her voice all of a sudden. “Are you obedient?”

  “I can be, but it’s not in my nature to be naturally obedient. But for pleasure, I can be anything you need.”

  She stood up, her pulses fluttering, horny as hell. “I think I’ve seen enough. Just send the others on as well. I trust your judgment.”

  “Which nights?” He placed a hand in Hans’ hair and stroked it, then gave him a slight shove toward the door. He said something to him in German, and Hans left the room.

  “Saturday night for Hans as planned … Tuesday and Friday for the other two. If there is anything special I should know about the others, you can tell me Saturday. That’s enough for now. I can always come back for more.”

  He came closer, took her arm. His touch sent a little shiver through her body. He walked her to the door.

  “Let me know the cost,” she said. “I will write a check.”

  “Of course, but Saturday night is on the house,” he said, meeting her eyes. “What time would you like us to come?”

  She smiled faintly. “Eight o’clock?”

  “We’ll be there. I have the address. Good evening, Amanda,” he said softly.

  “Good evening, Mr. Dunn,” she replied.

  The driver was waiting for her beside the car. He opened the door for her and shut it behind her. As soon as the limo began to move, she closed the privacy partition and lifted her dress. Her fingers reached down into her panties and found her swollen clit. She bit down on her bottom lip and frantically began to masturbate. Seconds later, her entire body trembled with orgasm. Oh, Mr. Dunn, you’re good for what ails me.

  Chapter Four

  Judge Clive Carmichael was a regular client, a rigid, unadventurous man in his sixties, who reserved Ramsay for every third Friday of each month. The routine never varied. He took him to a discrete gay bar for one drink, then back to his hotel room. There, he’d expect Ramsay to do a slow strip for him, display himself in various poses based on his instructions, masturbate, but not come. Finally, Ramsay would lube himself, get down on all fours, and the judge would fuck him. No kissing. And they had to be finished by midnight.

  Carmichael was not the man who would take him away from all this. He was income. Ramsay was “recreation,” his dirty little secret. The judge called it “stress relief.” Ramsay called it “being in the closet.”

  At the bar now, Clive was going on about his wife and her obnoxious relatives. Ramsay listened patiently, nodding or shaking his head at the appropriate time. Carmichael really didn’t expect Ramsay to say anything. He just wanted to vent. Ramsay was distracted however. He kept glancing at the back of a young man sitting at the bar a few feet away. He was sure it was Ciel. He’d met Ciel at Amanda’s. You didn’t forget seeing a man like that. He was hot. Ramsay wondered what he was doing here all alone, without Scott. “I’m sorry, Clive,” he said suddenly. “I’ve go to go to the can. Hold that thought.”

  “All right,” he said. “But don’t take too long, boy. I’d have to be home before midnight. I’ve got a golf date tomorrow.”

  “Of course.” Ramsay smiled, got up and headed to the bathroom. On the way, he paused to look over at the man in question. He cast a hurried glance back at Clive, then walked over to the bar and tapped him on the shoulder. The man turned around. “It is you,” Ramsay said. “Ciel, hello. Do you remember me?”

  “Ah … of course. Ramsay, right?” He smiled.

  Whoa. “Yes.” If he’d been Scott, he wouldn’t have let this guy out unless he was on a leash. “What are you doing here all alone?”

  “Having a drink. You?”

  “I’m with a client.”

  Ciel raised an eyebrow.

  “My thing with Amanda is up. I’m back at the Agency now.”

  “Oh. How’s that working out?”

  He shrugged. “Fine. How’s Scott?”

  “I don’t know.” He cocked his head.

  Ramsay glanced at the glass of smoky liquor sitting in front of him. He wasn’t drunk, but he’d had a few. “He’s not with you?”

  “He’s with Amanda.”

  Ramsay felt that in his gut. “What’s he doing there?”

  “Why don’t you ask him?” Ciel met his gaze.

  “So, weren’t you guys … I mean, isn’t Scott in therapy?”

  Ciel nodded.

  “It’s none of my business. I’m sorry. So, it’s really over or…?” He knew he should stop asking so many questions, but Hunter had been pretty chummy with that Scott guy when he’d come to stay at Amanda’s that time. “I wouldn’t let him stay there with Hunter,” he blurted, then regretted it when he saw the expression on Ciel’s face change.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, nothing. It’s just that you should go after him. Hunter is a seductive guy, and they got to be friends when Scott was there before. It was probably nothing, but…”

  Suddenly Ramsay felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see Cli
ve. “Are you ready?” he said, glancing at Ciel curiously.

  “Yes, coming. Well, good luck, Ciel,” he said, holding out his hand. Ciel took it briefly. “Hope to see you again soon.”

  * * * *

  Ciel watched Ramsay walk away behind a stout, white-haired gentleman. He picked up his glass and drained it. He’d met Hunter. He was dark and dangerous-looking, great body, sexy, Jamaican accent. Amanda had kept him around apparently; couldn’t say he blamed her. And now, Scott was there, too. How fucking convenient for everyone concerned. He wondered if Hunter would be subjected to Scott’s bad moods after he came back from the shrink? Maybe Hunter could hold him, talk him through all the pain, give him what he, apparently, wasn’t allowed to. Well, that was fine. That was just fine. To hell with him. Ciel pushed away from the bar. This place was dead. It was time to stop depriving himself, all those months he’d gone without sex, thinking this was the sacrifice he needed to make for Scott’s love. Well, he’d made the damn sacrifice, and he was sleeping alone.

  Outside, the rain began to fall, and Ciel closed his eyes. He staggered a bit, having drunk more than he’d intended. On the corner of the street stood Rough Riders, a bar which could provide him with just the diversion he required. And as for Scott, Hunter could have him, along with all his hang ups and his baggage. “Fuck you, Scott!” he called out into the night. He pulled the door open to Rough Riders and was suddenly sucked into its vortex of light and sound.

  * * * *

  When Amanda got home, Scott was dancing by himself out on the patio with the stereo blasting through the outdoor speakers. Amanda switched off the music.

  “Hey, why’d you turn it off?” He had a drink in his hand. His eyes were heavy, his speech slurred. He was loaded.

  “I thought we’d discussed your drinking, and we agreed you wouldn’t abuse it?” She hated to see him this way. She knew he was in pain. She knew him.

  “I said I’d try,” he muttered. “I’m trying.”

  “You don’t seem to be trying very hard.”

  He took a step closer. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growled. “You stand there judging me. You don’t know what it means to love a man the way I love Ciel. You don’t love, not intimately, you sit there on your throne and watch it all go down … you protect your heart, and you throw our hearts to the wolves. This is your fault, Amanda. Your fault.”