His jaw ticks.
If I’m going to die, might as well throw whatever I can at him. "Let me guess, you're just mad because you popped a boner for a guy, huh? How's that fragile masculinity holding up?"
Zach’s eyes darken, and for a split second, I think I might have gotten under his skin. But then his lips curve into something resembling a smile. "I don’t discriminate. I'll fuck any hole."
Not to be outdone, I flash him a wicked grin, even as my stomach does a weird flip. "Any hole? Damn, you must be a real sight to see railing exhaust pipes. Do you slap the trunk while whispering, 'Who's been a naughty Nissan?'"
His eyes narrow slightly—the first real reaction I've gotten—-while his friend barks out a laugh, and for some reason that pisses me off more.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been tied up like a fucking animal, or maybe it’s because this is the first time I’m learning anything about Zach since we first met. And not just some random fucking detail but something as important as his sexuality.
From day one, he made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with me, treating me like an unwanted pest in his space. So, getting to know him was out of the question.
Zach leans closer, and I flinch when he raises his hand. Fuck. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of showing fear, but apparently, my daddy trauma runs deep.
He stills for a brief second, his eyes contracting to slits, then his thumb brushes over my bottom lip, the touch surprisingly gentle, sending tiny bolts of electricity straight to my dick. "That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble."
Narrowing my eyes, I bite down hard on his thumb. I don't let go, just stare at him as I snarl, pissed off my fucking dick liked the way he ran his thumb across my lip. Somehow, it didn’t get the memo that the psychopath has me tied up . . . and not in a fun way.
Zach’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t react.
So, I sink my teeth in deeper, blood coating my tongue when they break skin. Suddenly, my face explodes with pain as someone hits me. The force is strong enough that my head jerks sideways, and I release Zach's thumb, blood still in my mouth. It’s metallic, sharp, and I spit it out, the crimson splattering on the concrete beside me.
I turn back, knowing it was his friend who slapped me, but that’s not what causes me to growl at the attention-seeking fuck.
Nope.
I want to gnaw his hand off at the wrist for the way he's tenderly checking Zach’s thumb.
God, what the actual fuck is wrong with me?
Zach yanks on the chain attached to my collar, and I can't help the whimper that escapes. His eyes drop to my crotch, where my dick is embarrassingly hard against the tight fabric of my leggings.
Fuck my life right now.
"Didn't get enough at the club?"
"Oh, please." I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the heat pooling in my gut. "Your hand job was mediocre at best. I've had better from truck stop glory holes."
“Is that why you were panting and fucking into my fist like a desperate whore?”
The guy in the nun mask snorts. "Maybe you two should just fuck and get it out of your system."
A muscle near Zach’s eye twitches, the tension in the air thickening, and I can't help but push harder.
"What's wrong? Worried you won't measure up? I mean, that Jacob's Ladder is impressive and all, but—"
His hand shoots out, wrapping around my throat above the collar. "If you don't shut that mouth, I'll do it for you."
I open my mouth and stick out my tongue, throwing him a wink.
An evil smirk spreads across his face as he leans close, his breath hot against my ear. "Why would I bother with you when Raiyne can suck it so much better?"
My eyes go wide. "How—"
"Looks like we have a mutual friend." His voice is cold, clinical. "Though, I'm not sure you were ever his friend."
