“I think breaking him is going to be a lot of fun,” she says, her voice full of dark promise.
I pull her closer. “I couldn't agree more, baby.”
19
TEDDY
Istare at the metal walls of this trailer, naked and sticky with the evidence of what just happened, trying to make sense of the wreckage of everything I thought I knew about myself.
My wrists ache where the zip ties cut into them. My ass still burns from Silas's fingers, that strange fullness I'd never experienced before. The image of them sharing my release is burned into my brain, and Christ—the memory alone makes my spent cock twitch.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I've been straight my entire life, surrounded by men, working alongside them, never once feeling anything beyond professional camaraderie. I've dated women. Had girlfriends. Normal, healthy relationships with the opposite sex.
But having Silas work me open while Nova's mouth tortured my cock... The way he commanded both of us, the heat in his eyes when he made me beg. I've never wanted anything more in my life.
And Nova. Damn it, Nova. The way she looked at me, like I was something to be devoured, her green eyes bright with cruelfascination. When she touched me, when she took me in her mouth…
I'm getting hard again just thinking about it.
This is insane. I'm a federal agent. I came here to investigate them, to gather evidence, to build a case. Instead, I let them strip me naked and fuck with my head in ways that make me question everything.
The smart thing would be to focus on escape. Test these restraints, look for weaknesses, formulate a plan. That's what my training says to do.
But all I can think about is the way Silas's fingers felt inside me, hitting spots that made me see stars. The way Nova's tongue worked my shaft while she hummed her appreciation. The promise in both their voices when they said this was just the beginning.
I want more. God help me, I want them to come back and finish what they started.
Hours pass—I can't tell how many in this windowless metal box. My thoughts chase themselves in circles, shame and arousal warring for dominance. Every time I think I've gotten myself under control, I remember the heat of Nova's mouth or the careful way Silas prepared me, and my treacherous body responds.
The door opens with a screech of hinges, and my pulse jumps. But it's not the performers here to finish me off.
It's just Nova, carrying a tray of food and wearing an expression I can't read.
She sets the tray on a small table I hadn't noticed before, then approaches with measured steps.
“Hungry?” she asks, settling onto a crate across from me.
My stomach chooses that moment to growl audibly, reminding me I haven't eaten since what's probably now yesterday. “Depends on the terms.”
“No terms.” She picks up what looks like a sandwich, tearing off a piece. “You need to eat. I need information.”
“I thought you said you didn't want information.”
“I lied.” Her smile is sharp, unapologetic.
She brings the sandwich to my mouth, and after a moment's hesitation, I take the bite she offers. It's good—turkey and swiss on fresh bread that makes my stomach clench with hunger.
“Better?” she asks, preparing another bite.
I nod, studying her face. Without the haze of sex, I can see her more clearly. The freckles scattered across her nose, the way her auburn hair catches the light. She's beautiful in a fierce, untouchable way that makes me understand why Silas looks at her like she's worth killing for.
“You're FBI,” she says, feeding me another bite. “But you're here on your own.”
The question catches me off guard. “What makes you say that?”
“No backup, no surveillance team, no check-ins.”
