Free Sabotage: Beginnings by LS Silverii Page A

pretty thin.
    Ben’s pulse quickened as he spied on Justice. The man was so big—bigger than a big man, he was fucking huge and it drove him wild. Ben noticed his erection pulsing beneath the loose fitting tunic. He couldn’t watch one more second of Justice’s body gracefully traversing the horrific scene. Damn that beast was sexy.
    Ben tried jerking himself off through his pants but the tunic material limited his movements. He pressed the waistband down with one knee while he tried to continue his surveillance over the village. He gripped his dick with his right hand and squeezed until the head turned purple. Masturbation for Ben was no longer about sexual gratification. It was about power and control—even if it meant just controlling his own cock.
    Grunts escaped Ben’s open mouth. His tongue rested against his bottom lip as he beat his dick in a steady rhythm of heavy-handed strokes. Both eyelids fluttered as his breathing grew deep and sluggish. Thoughts twirled through his mind in a concoction of fantasy and guilt. He dropped the scope and fell forward onto both knees. He bit his bottom lip to stop the sounds as he drew near orgasm. He needed one more glance at Justice to help him over the hurdle.
    His left hand scoured across the sand for the scope. His muscles ached and contracted as he leaned against a jagged boulder. Finally he found it, and pressed the lens to his eye.
    “Where is Justice?” he whispered.
    Ben caught sight of taillights disappearing over the horizon. His erection fell flaccid but semen dripped into his pants and onto the toe of his combat boots.
    “Fuck,” Ben said. “I missed out.” It would’ve been a monumental orgasm.
    “Follow him, idiot,” he demanded.
    “I’m not an idiot.” Ben pulled his moist pants back around his waist and straightened his day coat.
    Who am I talking to?
    “I bet Justice has teamed up with the local security militia to capture you,” Ben said.
    “Capture us you mean,” Ben replied.
    “We better keep an eye on him.”
    “Agreed. Lets move out.”
    Ben cranked the old vehicle he’d commandeered earlier. He jumped as the satellite phone began to buzz. He grabbed the phone and sneered to see his CIA handler’s assigned desk number flash across the screen. His gut twisted at the attempted contact, but he knew what it was about—Justice’s video feed.
    “I’ll show him. Maybe it is time to kill Justice Boudreaux.”
    Ben laughed out loud as he shoved the phone back into the nylon pouch. “Let’s roll. You take Justice and I get the girl. She looks yummy.”
    Ben shook his head violently. “That’s enough of that shit.”
    An expert in stalking, Ben remained a safe distance from the caravan. The line of old clunkers and new military surplus vehicles from the U.S. rambled around narrow goat paths and zipped past huts and stone houses until arriving at a provincial outpost.
    Ben kept his distance and pounded his thigh as he watched everyone exit their rides. He was pissed that Justice would team up with the local police to hunt him down. That totally violated all SOG protocols while operating in a covert environment. Ben didn’t mind the fair fight of one-on-one, but enlisting the locals made him reconsider his position towards the man he’d once admired.
    He felt around for his long-range scope but wasn’t able to locate it before the group entered the building. He stretched his thin frame across the hood but wasn’t able to make out much within the shadows beneath the mud and cement structure.
    Wild thoughts slammed around in his head as he cursed and kicked the dirt beneath him. His pulse spiked as he imagined what they were all saying inside that shitty building. Did they know where he was?
    He winced as he dropped and his body crashed against the dirt. Ben rolled under the vehicle—had they dispatched a drone to blast him—it’d serve him right. Sweat meandered across his face and into his eyes as he lay as still as the dead beneath