I miss his finger as soon as he slides it out. Even his digits are thick. I don’t get time to think much though because this beast of a man leans down, and before I know it, I’m tightening my hold on his neck, because he’s trying topick me upas if I’m some dainty thing, not a sturdy, muscular guy.
“No.”
He exhales deeply, looking straight into my eyes from up close. “No? I won’t drop you.” The cocky smirk is back. “Just thought it’d be romantic. I could carry you to that torture chair bridal-style.”
“This is not about romance. What’s the matter with you?” I snap and give him a gentle shove, to make him let go. His lips twitch, but if I acknowledge that he’s mocking me, I will have to put an end to this, so instead I walk past him, straight for the door to my office.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.
Maybe I should just go on vacation somewhere far away and employ a professional to show me if I really want to be fucked into the mattress, or if it’s only arousing in my secret fantasies?
This big idiot might try to murder me in order to get out.
What if he reveals my secret as his last fuck-you to the Van der Horn family?
What if he humiliates me, so I never forget this lesson?
Doubts are choking me, and I spin around to face him. “On second thought, maybe I should pick one of the other prisoners.”
Chapter 3
Dalton
Iraisemyhandsas cold sweat beads on my back. "Okay, okay!" I say quickly. "No picking up. Got it. You don't want the other guys. They're probably not gay, and will have no idea what to do. I’ve heard one of them belch all night. Do they even have nice dicks? You don't know.I'ma prime deal." I've never had to advertise myself like I'm a Thanksgiving turkey about to go bad, but I've got too much to lose to worry about dignity. At least it's not just me who is naked.
Corvus is so fucking beautiful it's distracting. It's like I'm hypnotized by a cobra and admiring it even though I should worry about the venom already inside me.
I don't want to die. And I like to fuck. Hopefully, I still have a chance to combine those two passions.
Corvus rolls his eyes. I don’t know what he wants from me. I’ve been trying to nudge it out of him, and I definitely felt him tremble when I said suggestive things about him being a needy bottom. He clenched his ass on my finger, and the vein in his neck throbbed like mad against my tongue. He wants it. He wants a big top, and mostguys like him love it when I demonstrate my strength. That’s what they choose me for. It’s perfect foreplay, but here he is, neck stiff as a piece of wood, hands squeezed into fists so tightly it’s making the veins on his forearms bulge, lips turning pale as he presses them together.
What is up with him? His body is groomed as if he were about to star in a new underwear ad, hair neatly trimmed, skin smooth as the finest leather. Surely, he must be doing this kind of thing all the fucking time.
“I need a dick to ride, not a date to my mother’s next wedding,” Corvus says, glancing at the tray of scalpels.
I take another step back, hands still raised, because it’s as if I can read his mind. I’m the prisoner. I believe him about the poison, but I might still try to take him out before I go, and a scalpel would be perfect for a quick slash through the throat.
What he doesn’t know is that since we’re both naked and horny (his dick doesn’t lie), I’d much rather wrestle him to a mat and fuck him with my arm locked around his than kill him. We could really both help each other, because he needs that tension fucked out of him, and I’m the man for the job. I love to make a guy lose it. Love feeling him tremble under me, helpless moans stifled by my fingers, ass clenching around me when he comes…
I lick my lips, fighting the horny thoughts, because my life is on the line here.
“It’s all yours,” I point to my cock. “We can do it your way. I was just trying to make you happy. I know what this is.”
And yet I’m still excited to bury my dick in him. I’m a hopeless case, and he’s hotter than the hell he was born in.
If I’m to be honest, Corvus Van der Horn, the psychopathic torturer and poison specialist, is perfectly within my type with his lean yet muscular physique and deep eyes I wish to see glazing over as I enter him over and over, until he’s on the edge and begging me to finish him. The more walls he puts up, the more I want to break them down. And those lips… how wonderfully they would stretch around my dick.
I don’t want to die, but even if that doesn’t work out, at least I’ll go out with a bang.
Inside this beautiful lizard of a man.
His eyes narrow, lashes casting a shadow on Corvus’s cheekbones as he chews over my words. “You have one chance.”
“That’s all I need,” I say with more confidence than I currently have. “I’m clean as a daisy and ready for you. Where do you want me?”
“Daisies aren’t clean,” he grumbles and presses on the handle of the door behind him. It’s made of polished wood and appears deceptively normal, but as we pass through the threshold and the light reveals the interior, I’m surprised how well it matches the entrance.
Gone are the easy-to-clean tiles, surgical steel, and implements of torture. Just a few steps away from the scary-fucking-chair is a study with shelves full of books, a mahogany desk, and even one of those fancy globe-shaped alcohol trolleys. I glance at the fine rug covering the wooden floor, only to spot the one distortion in this picture-perfect room—a mattress by the radiator.
