Page 39 of The Villain

His face was flushed deep pink with shame, and his emerald eyes were glassy. He looked so damn fuckable right now that my cock was ready to punch through my fly. I was sick. Seeing him like this only made me want him more.

I eased my grip on his throat, and his Adam’s apple bobbed beneath my palm. My hand slid up to his jaw, where I brushed my thumb over his bottom lip.

“We’ve been over this. I’ll do whatever I want, devil.”

I pressed down until his lips parted, then I slipped my thumb inside. I ran it along the ridge of his bottom teeth before sliding it over his tongue. I pressed even farther back, until he choked around the digit.

“You’re mine to play with. Mine to take apart.” I pulled my thumb back, resting it on his bottom lip. “Mine to destroy.”

“How far?” His eyes glowed in the yellow light of the bathroom.

“How far what?”

He swallowed, blinking slowly. “How far will you go?”

Didn’t he get it yet? “All the way, devil. All the way.”

Alarm flashed in his eyes as he tossed his head to dislodge my thumb, and I returned my hand to his throat. “Don’t do this. Just use me then fucking kill me.” His breath came in ragged bursts, bordering on panic. “Cian.Please.”

Hack’s research was fresh in my mind. I couldn’t let any of this go. I had Devlin in my sights now, and the desire to possess him was overriding whatever sense I had left.

I leaned closer and bared my teeth. “Don’t worry. I will. But first, I want it all, devil. And you’re going to give it to me.”

We left the bar through the back entrance—I didn’t want anyone to see Devlin this wrecked. He stumbled along behind me like he’d been drugged. I didn’t bother with my bike this time, and crossed the road to our gate with Devlin at my heels.

By the time I shut the door to my apartment, Devlin was in full flight mode. His eyes darted around like a trapped animal, and I was half-convinced he would’ve jumped from my window if he’d been small enough to squeeze through.

His chest heaved. Sweat slicked the hair at his temples. But the beast inside me roared in victory when I realized he washard. His cock strained against his pants, and a damp spot darkened the fabric. My mouth watered at the sight. I hadn’t tasted Devlin yet, but I would soon. I couldn’t wait to devour him.

“Take your clothes off, devil.” I kept my distance because I didn’t trust myself to touch him yet.

He held out a hand, trying to stave off the inevitable. “Cian?—”

“Now,” I barked.

Devlin let out a shaky exhale and slowly removed his clothes.

I knew what he was doing. He wanted this, but he didn’t want me to see just how much. Not while he was this vulnerable. Devlin was more comfortable wearing chains and a smirk. He liked when I shoved his mouth so full of dick he didn’t have to admit to anything.

I’d never forget watching the blood drain from Devlin’s face when Jeremy held up that keychain. He’d never been more transparent, and I’d seen each emotion play across his face like a movie. Relief because Jeremy was safe. Pain because of how thin and dirty he was. But most of all, I saw guilt. Guilt because he believed he could have done more.

I didn’t want to be grateful to Devlin. I didn’t want to see him as anything other than a monster. But I kept getting glimpses of the man beneath the devil.

And that was a part of him he didn’t want anyone to see, because The Detroit Devil was the armor he relied on.

It only made me want to tear away his protection even more. I’d claw through every layer he’d ever built around himself to find the very real, very vulnerable Devlin Walsh underneath.

He stood before me now, wearing nothing but the shock collar, and I took my time studying his body: pale, freckled skin, a mole on his right hip, a scar along his left ribs. His throat was red from the collar and the pressure of my hand.

He clasped his hands behind his back like the obedient little devil he was and waited.

I pushed myself away from the door and removed my flannel shirt. When I moved behind him, he kept staring straight ahead. He was trembling slightly. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Goosebumps mixed with the freckles on his shoulders, and his ears burned a deep red. It might have been embarrassment, arousal, or both. With Devlin, desire was rarely separate from fear or shame.

I palmed his ass, and he released a harsh breath, swaying forward before catching himself. Then I squeezed, and a shiver ran down his spine. I adjusted myself in my jeans, forcing my cock to wait. I intended to torture Devlin before I let myself have any relief.

My hand drifted up his lower back, along the knobs of his spine. I removed the shock collar and tossed it aside.

I leaned down next to his ear and growled, “Stay.”