Celebration by Ella Ardent Page A

liked little delicate woman, young women who needed to be treated with both care and discipline. Fighting a man was different. He could use all of his strength, and he needed to in order to have any chance.
    He remembered the street fights of his youth and how he’d been unable to sleep after one. The adrenaline pumped and he attacked his opponent again, punching him in the gut and flinging him on to the couch. He didn’t care if the grease marked the damask, not anymore.
    He’d take this one first, then Rex. He’d bang them until they begged for mercy.
    No, until they bled.
    The Count leapt after his fallen adversary with an uncharacteristic roar, landing on top of him. He felt like a wild animal and didn’t hold back—his own survival was at stake. The other man struggled and twisted, anticipating the Count’s move.
    “You’re mine,” the Count whispered into his ear. He grabbed a fistful of the other man’s hair, pulling his head back and jamming a cushion into his mouth. His opponent roared and the Count thrilled at the sound of his helplessness. He had the other man on his stomach, he had him pinned down. He caught his pelvis, kicked apart his knees and made to slam home.
    But the other man suddenly bucked and the Count lost his grip in the petroleum jelly. The Count lost his balance and tumbled to the floor. He knew by the way the other man came after him that he’d just lost. Fear hit him like a jolt of lightning. The Count scrambled to get away but the other man punched him in the face, startling him with the sudden blow.
    By the time he opened his eyes, the Count was on his knees, being bent over the coffee table. He fought but it was too late. He felt the other man’s huge dick sliding into him and stretching him wide. He shouted in outrage and fury as he was claimed. The other man held him down, pumping and working it far longer than was really necessary.
    Reveling in his conquest.
    The bastard. The Count would catch him after he came. The game would continue and the Count would get even. His cock was so hard it hurt and he schemed his vengeance even as he was used.
    To his surprise, the other man reached around him and started to give him a hand job. The Count couldn’t pull away and then he didn’t want to. The hooded man worked the Count at the same pace as he drove inside him and the crescendo of pleasure rose with dizzying speed. The Count leaned back, no longer fighting as he surrendered, and moaned as the release began to rip through his body.
    The light of a camera flash burned through the Count’s closed eyelids, but even that wasn’t enough to stop him from coming. He gasped and struggled but Rex kept taking pictures and that hooded bastard kept pumping away. When he finally came with a roar of contentment, the Count flung off his weight and headed for Rex.
    “What the hell are you doing?” the Count demanded.
    “Getting the insurance I wanted,” Rex said with a smile. “Do you think the little girls you like will find it consistent with your image to see you like this?”
    “Give that to me!” The Count lunged for Rex but the other man evaded him.
    And the hooded man seized the Count around the knees, taking him down hard. “One more time, baby,” he whispered even as the Count tried to break free.
    Rex came closer and looked down at them, his smile cold. “Come near me, touch anything I own, touch anyone I want, and the whole world will get to see these pictures. They’re quite good shots of you, actually. Anyone would recognize you.”
    “No!” the Count roared. “You can’t do this!”
    This time he was the one to have a cushion stuffed into his mouth.
    “We just did.” The hooded man handcuffed the Count, then threw him on the couch.
    The Count struggled to sit upright. Were they going to take turns at him? Bang him again when he was handcuffed? The Count couldn’t even imagine being so used twice in rapid succession.
    Rex smiled, obviously guessing his thoughts.