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The girls efficiently stripped their own clothes, and a gaunt brunette dropped to her knees to start sucking him off. Sucre grinned and widened his stance as the blonde who brought Brick his beer kneeled behind him to start licking his ass. The black girl sprawled out on the bed as the redhead climbed up and dropped her head between her legs.
The girl-on-girl show was for Sucre, but he knew Sucre’s blow job was what he was meant to see. His boss turned a fraction every couple of minutes, to make sure Brick could see his servicing from every angle.
He kept his eyes open, watching Brick watch him.
A classic Sucre power-move to remind him of his place. To remind him he could as easily been the one forced to his knees, and he only sat in this chair because Sucre wanted him there.
It had been years since Sucre had used his body for entertainment, but time didn’t dull the memories. The humiliation burned as hot as it did the first time he’d had a dick shoved to the back of his throat, or even worse, one shoved in his ass. The pain had been sharp, and the physical discomfort lasted for days. But the powerlessness, the desolation, those feelings never went away.
He didn’t peg Sucre as gay—or even bi. It was all about the control, about domination. It didn’t matter if Brick was bigger or stronger. Sucre ruled as the top predator, and anyone would be a fool to forget it.
He was no fool.
So, he sat, and he watched as Sucre ran his hands into the brunette’s hair and grabbed hold. As his hips moved faster, her eyes watered, and her throat gagged. Only at the end did his boss close his eyes, and everyone in the room went still as he came with a harsh groan.
When he raised his lids, the girls grabbed their clothes and scurried out, leaving behind the scent of their flowery, cheap perfume. Sucre reclined naked on the bed, his fingers laced behind his head. “Do I need to worry about Tre turning into a loose cannon?”
“No, sir. I’m watching him.”
“Excellent. Why don’t you take him with you to make house calls tonight?”
House calls. More like shakedowns. “Yes, sir. How many have we got tonight?”
“Only two. I’ve got the names in my coat pocket.”
Brick climbed to his feet and fished the slip of paper from the inside of Sucre’s suit coat.
“Oh, and Brick?”
He stopped at the door and turned toward Sucre’s voice.
“Grab some video of Tre on the job. It always pays to have insurance.”
