HIDE: A DANGEROUS AFFAIR

FOURTEEN

Wilson flung his shirt across the room, along with his tie. Brandon stood, observing him, as he had ordered him not to leave. “Come over here, Brandon,” he commanded.

Rolling his eyes, “you do know that this is not. . .”

Sneering, “Brandon, come f*****g over here,” he repeated, impatient radiating all over his body. His veins strained so much against his soft body that they were now visible.

Brandon swallowed hard, his stomach twisting. If he wanted Wilson to know that they were partners rather than a slave to his master, he had to put his foot down at this initial stage. It was barely forty-eight hours of staying together, and he was already acting this way. Did he want this life? Would loving Wilson from afar make things better? He was as confused as a lost puppy.

“You know what, Wilson? Go f**k yourself,” he spat, storming out of the room and banging the door so loud behind him that it rattled the hinges. Brandon preferred to be anywhere but around Wilson, he began to walk down the spiral staircase that connected. He had so much anger in his system, his face red, that all the maids who saw him, bowed and got out of his way. He didn't speak to any, neither did he give them a second look.

Getting to the bottom of the stairs, he stopped when he noticed a door wide ajar, brightly lit. It was best to find out what the room held. Maybe even have that tour now, since he wanted to distract himself. He took a glance around himself and saw a maid walking past him in a hurry.

“Excuse me?” he called out.

“Yes, sir?” the maid said, her voice giving off that she was uneasy.

“Just call me Brandon,” he corrected. “What is this room for?”

“It's the sitting room and also occasionally Mr. Edward's conference room when he has to take virtual meetings.”

Brandon smiled at the maid. “Thank you,” he greeted, walking straight inside.

The room was big with sofas in soft-red, and three sculptures at three ends of the room; a lion, a heart vase, and the most unique of them all, a mother and child. The mother and child sculpture looked so sad and in pain. There was something else that caught Brandon's eyes, a huge piano in the middle of the room next to the large windows.

Music had always been his solace. He used to play the piano sometimes when he had the time and when he wasn't doing that, he was busy creating a new meal or attending to Wilson. Thinking about Wilson, his heart sank. There was no way he was going back to him for now. He better realize that they equal outside work. His boyfriend and not a boss commanding one of his guards.

The only way that Brandon could block the feeling of his hurt was by losing himself in music. The rhythm. The soft and gentle sounds came through the keys. He didn't expect to meet a source of happiness. Since he had, there was no pain in taking it up until he felt better.

As he got closer to the piano, his heart relaxed and a smile overwhelmed him. He stopped in front of the bench and leaned forward, pressing down the keys. His fingers were itching to play and since he didn't play often, he couldn't hold himself not to. He took a seat and rhythmically began to play a love tempo. The sound vibrated throughout the entire house and directed Wilson to where he was.

“Tell Dowen to get everyone out of the main building. I don't need any other thing for the night and if I do, I'll relate it through Dowen,” Wilson instructed his headmaid as he approached the doors of the sitting room in nothing else but his flannel.

“Yes, sir.”

He quietly opened the door, leaning against it with arms crossed on his chest, keenly watching Brandon sway his head from side to side, flexing his shoulders as his fingers worked magic. The more he stared at the stubborn, handsome hottie in front of him, the more he fell in love with him. His anger had gone down, but he still had the itch to punish him for disobeying and walking out on him. Oh, he was going to do.

With a heavy sigh, Brandon ended his song and got applauded by Wilson which startled him, making him jump up with a shriek escaping his mouth.

“You're afraid of a clap but not of me?” Wilson questioned as he took powerful steps towards Brandon. “Are you done disobeying me, Brandon Daniels?”

“Are you done being a jerk who thinks I am his puppy?”

He got closer to Brandon, cupped his face, and said, “you're my puppy.”

Removing himself from Wilson's touch, “then I'm not done disobeying you.”

“I didn't know you knew how to play.”

“The same way, I didn't know that you could kill a man without flinching.”

Rubbing his forehead, “is this what this is all about?” Wilson leaned on the piano's table. “Brandon, I'm sorry you had to witness that. But, that's another side of me. When necessary, I have to. How else do you think I was able to rescue you? Dance my way out of my enemy's territory. You have to wake up to reality and know that sometimes, you just have to give up your good side.” Moving over to Brandon, he grabbed him by the waist and placed him in between his thighs so that Brandon was straddling him. “Next time, when we see an enemy, I'll allow you to talk our way out as they point their guns at us. If it works, I promise not to kill anyone else,” he teased.

“ Really?” he asked, his voice happy.

“Of course not,” Wilson scoffed. “By the time you can make a sensible conversation, we will be dead.”

Brandon's fave fell back to disappointment. He knew that Wilson wasn't wrong. At some point, he would have to kill, especially if he had a recurrence of his experience. Yet, he feared that Wilson would lose himself if the satisfying taste of seeing his enemies end consumed him. Maybe he was indirectly mad at himself for being weak. Or, he was scared that he would be worse than Wilson once he took that road.

“Are we okay now?” Wilson asked. “I hate fighting with you.” Wilson brought his mouth to Brando's neck, kissing and sucking on it. He gently bit a spot over and over, forming a hickey on Brandon's neck.

Brandon's breathing quickened, and he began to grind on Wilson, using his palm to twitch Wilson's n*****s. Wilson sucked in a breath and bent him over, using the bench as a support. With ease, he undid Brandon's trousers, pulling down his briefs. “This is for walking out on me.” He smacked Brandon's ass.

Jerking, “ouch!” Brandon voiced.

“Keep still,” he growled, smacking again. He repeated four smacks on each ass cheek until they were red. He kissed them and massaged them. “You don't disobey me. You don't walk out on me or stay away from me. And, if you decide to run, I'll look for you until the end of time and find you wherever you go. Finally, you don't stay mad at me. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy.”

Wilson took Brandon by the hand and led him towards the transparent, large windows. Slamming him against the glass, he got him out of his trousers completely, leaving him in just his shirt and placing his hands against the windows for support. He lowered his trousers, pulling out his rock-hard d**k.

“Babe,” Wilson moaned. “Everyone will see us. The windows are transparent. I can see the guards,” he complained.

Chuckling, “baby, is that what you think of me? That I would share you with anyone else or even allow them to see you?” he questioned. “Not at all. The windows are tinted. You can see them, but they can't see us. I have always wanted to f**k you this way.” Finishing his sentence, he slammed hard into Brandon after using a bit of his saliva to wet his already dripping d**k. “You're mine forever, Brandon Daniel. I love you and everything about you.”