Content advisory: m/f sex
This is a new on-going serial about a love triangle and blackmail surrounding a war criminal.
Kyler stopped dead in his tracks. The long hidden and almost forgotten photo album lay wide open on his desk. He approached the heavy piece of furniture as if he suspected a rattle snake might be coiled beneath it. His hand shook as he reached for the thick book. It had not been there twenty minutes ago when he’d gone into the shower.Someone had been in his apartment, but that wasn’t what had his heart sitting at the base of his throat where it had lodged in a choking lump. He flipped through the pages until he came to the center of the book. The large photo that should have been on the right hand page was missing.
He tried to swallow past the blockage in his throat without success. The photo of his great grandfather, Wieland Heiden, dressed impeccably in his Nazi uniform was gone.
His family skeleton had been liberated from the closet. Someone knew. Had known before they found the book. And had, without a doubt, come specifically for the photo. Because any thief who had half a clue would not have left without taking the violin case sitting beside the sofa. The photo was worth nothing, monetarily whereas the violin had appraised at thirty thousand dollars.
Every family had secrets. But they usually weren’t centered around a Nazi war criminal your mother and father harbored in their home. At ninety-three, the elderly Heiden was no longer a danger to anyone. But his past, littered with murder and atrocities against his fellow human beings, was a humiliation and horror Kyler never wanted to face. He’d always feared someone would discover the truth and it had happened.
He should have burned the damn photograph but for some sick reason, he’d kept it. The book had been given to him by his father. Family photographs from four generations stuffed the pages, and he’d been loath to destroy any of them. But now he wished with all his heart that he’d take the photo, torn it into shreds, and done the Watusi on the remains.
Who the hell had found out? And now what?
The mantle clock chimed six. There was no time to debate the situation. He had to get his ass to the symphony, though if the tremors in his hands didn’t stop, his playing wouldn’t be up to par for a member of the first violins section.
***
An hour and a half later, Kyler sat beside his stand-partner and warmed up. His hands shook and the bow articulated each waver loud and clear. Kyler fervently wished he had a fifty dollar piece of shit no one would hear instead of an instrument suitable for orchestra solo performance.
His stand partner glanced at him with raised eyebrows. Three chairs over, Amber shot him a look of questioning concern. His playing was going to suck. Which he couldn’t afford. With his sights on the soon to be vacant concertmaster chair, he absolutely needed to play at his best.
Two chairs beyond Amber, David smirked at him. Everyone in the first violins section was excellent, but David and Amber were his toughest competition for the concertmaster chair. If he had to lose, it had to be to Amber. Even if she did him wrong, he loved her. Amber was everything he’d ever sought in a woman. Unfortunately, David seemed to feel the same way about her.
Worse. Kyler was almost positive Amber was having sex with David as frequently as she was screwing him.
“Mr. Heiden?” a voice thundered above the various instruments.
Kyler’s gaze shot to the glaring conductor, Remiel Heber. “I’m sorry,” Kyler said and swallowed hard. Heat prickled his face. “Been a bad day.” It wasn’t an excuse and it also wasn’t acceptable.
“See that your performance is worthy of this fine orchestra. If you cannot play tonight, I suggest you remove yourself.” Heber’s glare intensified.
“I’ll be okay,” Kyler said.
“See to it.” Heber focused his glacier stare on an oboe player.
Jesus, it was going to be a bad night.
***
Kyler’s unfortunate prediction had turned out to be not only true but an underestimate. Deeply shamed, having suffered repeated dirty looks from Heber, Kyler wanted to slink from the concert hall, go home, and lick his wounds.
“What the hell was that all about?” David asked as he sidled up beside him.
“Just drop it,” Kyler said.
“If you can’t get yourself together and do better than that, perhaps you should step down.” David smirked at him again.
“Drop dead. And keep your fucking hands off Amber.”
“I don’t think so. I know she’s screwing you, but sooner or later, she’s going to figure out that you have no viable future. Your performance tonight is a prime example.
“You’ll never have her,” Kyler spat. His hand curled into a death-grip on the violin case’s handle.
“I’ve already had her. You can’t be so dumb that you didn’t know.” David spun on his heel and left Kyler with his mouth hanging open. He clapped it shut and stormed out of the venue.
The mid-July heat closed around him and stole his breath. His dress clothes made the oppressive temperature even worse. He hurried to his car and slid behind the wheel for a moment before keying the powerful motor to life and pulling into L.A. traffic.
***
An hour later, after another shower, Kyler sprawled on the sofa and considered the day’s events. Someone knew about the old man, that someone had broken into what was supposed to be a secure apartment, and David Jordan was fucking his woman.
Realistically, his first concern should be that someone had been in his apartment. But he didn’t think they’d be back. Whoever had broke in had been there specifically to take the photo.
Who knew outside of family? No one. And his family would be no more inclined to want that cat sneaking out of the bag than he did. And they sure as hell didn’t need to steal a photo. They all had pictures of the old coot.
Who then? Who had found out, and how?
The doorbell shrilled and Kyler jumped, torn from his reverie.
He didn’t want company. He needed to think things through, but he went to the door. No point in pretending he wasn’t home.
Amber stood in the immaculate hallway. She had a bag from Wong’s, his favorite Chinese takeout. “I wanted to see you tonight. I was worried about you.”
He held the door for her to come in, though a barb of jealous anger burrowed into his gut. “I’m fine,” he lied. After the performance he’d given, no wonder she was concerned. “I had a shitty day and I’m afraid it showed.”
She sashayed to his sofa and plunked the bag on the coffee table.
He fetched a couple cans of Coke and handed her one.
She pulled a container from the bag and passed it to him before taking one for herself. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Besides you fucking around on me? He should end it with her. He’d never put up with anything half as rotten as a woman cheating but he needed her. The idea of letting her go made a horrible day worse. “Nothing you can help with. I don’t really want to go into it.”
“Well, I hope it gets better fast.”
“Why?” Now he grinned even though he didn’t want to. “If I fuck up enough, you’re a sure thing for the concertmaster chair.”
“I don’t know about that. David might be better than either of us.”
“How long have you been fucking him?” There it was. He hadn’t planned to stir up that nest of bees, but it had just come out.
She looked him right in the eyes. “Two months.”
The words jabbed slivers of ice through his heart. “Are you dumping me for him?”
“No. I love you. But I have deep feelings for him, too.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His chest hurt.
“It means I want both of you. And unless you dump me, I’m going to have both of you.”
He looked at his bare feet and waited for the sick feeling in his stomach to ease a little. He wanted to dump her for hurting him so badly. He set the carton of vegetables and noodles on the coffee table and pushed it away. “I should,” he said. “But you know I won’t.” His day had now plummeted to rock bottom. At least nothing worse could happen before morning.
“You two are so different and yet, so much alike. You are my beautiful, blond, German god. David is my beautiful, dark, Jewish warrior. Is it so terrible that I care for both of you?”
“Yes,” he said, hating the sadness in his voice.
“I’m sorry.” She put her food down and moved close enough to press her soft body against his. Despite the turmoil roiling inside him, the contact sent his cock into a half-erect state.
Her warm hand caressed his cheek, gently urging him to face her. When he did, she pressed her soft lips to his in a lingering kiss. Her fingers tangled in his hair and without breaking the kiss, she maneuvered around until she sat in his lap, straddling him.
Her honeysuckle scent burned through him, enthralling him. Her warmth transferred to him, and he deepened the kiss, taking the lead in a somewhat aggressive, angry move. Her arms slid around him and she seated herself closer with her crotch pressed up against his now rock-hard cock. He grasped her ass with both hands and ground himself into her, rubbing hard against her crotch.
His breath quickened with the strokes of his tongue dancing along hers in a sensual tango. She moaned into his mouth. Encouraged, his tongue darted in an out in an imitation of what his cock would soon be doing in her hot pussy. He stopped stroking and sucked her tongue. He wanted to push her down on the sofa and fuck her senseless.
Like him, she had changed from her formal clothing and now wore casual sweats. He kept one hand on her ass while the other went exploring down the front of her pants. His questing fingers slipped under the elastic of her panties and traveled on through the short curls to her center where he dipped into soaking heat. He touched swollen flesh and she moaned. She wiggled her ass in an effort to get his hand into the best contact point.
He pinched her hard little bud a bit more forcefully than he normally would have done. She cried out, but didn’t seem to want him to stop applying pressure. He moved his hand and a long moan slipped from her. Repositioning, he pushed his index and middle fingers inside her pussy and pumped vigorously. Her moisture slicked his digits and palm as he worked her core.
His gaze fastened on her full breasts beneath a low cut, pink t-shirt. The little peaks were pebbled and taut. He wanted to draw them into his mouth and nibble on the succulent little buds. He thrust harder into her pussy.
Her hands slid down onto his arms and clung to his biceps. She bounced in counterpoint to the pumping motions of his hand, pleasuring herself on his digits. She tossed her head and her gorgeous red hair spilled down her back in a thick cloud. A low wail came out of her and she ground herself on his fingers. When she slowed and then stopped humping his hand, he pulled free of her clenching pussy and grasped her with his hands under her ass.
With her in his arms, he stood and strode down the short hall to his bedroom where he deposited her beside his bed. “Strip,” he demanded and divested himself of his own clothing. As she removed her clothes, he yanked back the comforter and blankets.
Anger still burned through him at her betrayal. When she was nude, she came to him and fitted herself against his body, trapping his hard cock between them. She reached around and burrowed her hand into his hair. “I love your beautiful hair,” she said and ran her fingers through the long strands.
She traced down to his belly and wedged her hand between them. With a smirk, she stepped back slightly and grasped his shaft. Her hand slid slowly up and down, working the skin over the hard core. He groaned and dropped his head until his forehead rested on her shoulder. Why did he have to love her? Or why couldn’t she love him enough to be content with him alone? His heart ached even as desire and heat pushed everything else aside.
He picked her up and laid her in the middle of the bed. He climbed in with her and gathered her close. He kissed her hard, rough. She moaned and opened her mouth for him. His tongue speared into her as he repositioned and fitted himself on top of her.
He moved down her body then leaned over to capture one pert nipple in his teeth. He nipped, then drew the delectable bud into his sucking mouth. He laved the peak with his tongue until she arched off the bed. He moved to the other firm globe while his hand massaged the peak he’d abandoned. He nibbled and sucked until she reached down for his cock and vigorously worked him.
Finally, he caught her hand and removed it from his dick. With a growl of possession, he moved up over her. He’d pleasured her well, now he wanted his own enjoyment. He sat on his knees and grasped her ankles then hauled her legs up over his shoulders. With her legs spread wide and open, he guided his engorged head to her opening and rammed inside her, filling her with one hard thrust.
She moaned and tilted her hips to take every bit of his length. Driven by anger and hurt, he slammed into her, fucking her hard. No longer caring if she had another orgasm, he worked solely for his own release, though he couldn’t resist playing with her nub, stroking and rubbing until she writhed under him. She wailed and bucked and her cream coated his cock while he continued pounding her, pushing into her soaked heat, battering her pussy.
He grasped his balls and massaged them. Picking up his pace, he felt the warning that he was going to explode. He slammed into her and erupted, shooting his load deep inside her. He kept pumping until he stopped spurting into her and his cock began softening.
He pulled from her and crawled up beside her, drawing her hot, damp body in against him. “Stay the night,” he said and locked his arm around her in a gesture of possession. She sighed and snuggled in close. She felt so good and so right in his arms. And he loved her, damn him for being the weak bastard he was. Why did he have to love a woman who wouldn’t be true to him? Jealousy burned through him like acid.
How had his life become so fucked up in such a short span of time? At least it couldn’t get much worse.
His cell phone burst to life in a rendition of Pachelbel’s Canon. Fuck that, he wasn’t answering the damn phone. He was going to cuddle with Amber and go to sleep and fuck everything else. Maybe things would look better in the morning.
After a while, Amber’s breathing slowed. She had gone to sleep. Curiosity got the better of him and he reached for the phone. He checked missed calls and didn’t recognize the number of the call he hadn’t answered.
He retrieved his voice mail and listened for a message.
He didn’t recognize the voice, but he had no trouble interpreting the words. The message was short and got right to the point.
“If you don’t want everyone knowing about your heritage and that criminal your parents are harboring, you’ll want to keep me happy. You can start by leaving ten thousand dollars in a briefcase. Leave it in the maintenance closet at the symphony after the next performance. If I see you or anyone else watching the closet, next time it will cost double. Got it pretty boy? See you soon.”
Kyler’s stomach had twisted into a hard knot. The son of a bitch wanted ten grand. How was he going to pay it? He didn’t have that kind of money. Panic dug its claws deep into him.
If people found out, his great grandfather would go to prison where he would die. His parents would be disgraced and maybe go to prison for adding and abetting a criminal. And his career would be history. No one would want anything to do with him even though he was innocent of any crime and despised what his great grandfather had done.
What in the hell was he going to do?
~ Nickie Asher ~
Copyright © 2011 Nickie Asher
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.
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