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25. Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

I fight against the restraints, rocking the chair and hoping to break it. The damn thing doesn't even budge. Sev leans against the desk, watching me and laughing like I'm putting on a circus performance.

"I told you the game is over! Let me go."

"And I told you I don't care. This is my game. It's been my game since the first day I took you. Why do you think you're in charge?"

"We don't need to do this anymore. I'll leave you alone, and you'll leave me alone."

He narrows his eyes and steps forward. "Why?" he growls.

"Because the bounty is done!" I shout.

When Stone met me at my house the day after Reginald was there to talk to me, I told him yes. I'd be stupid not to take the deal. Of course, I won't tell Sev any of those details, because he doesn't need to know them. All he needs to know is I'm not trying to kill him anymore.

I also made sure to tell Stone about the Boston thing, to which he assured me he'd pass the info along. I can't believe I agreed to take out Remington Bellanca, head of the Bellanca family for twenty million dollars.

"Why?" Sev growls, storming toward me the rest of the way.

"Because I found a better gig," I bite out. "One with someone who's less psychotic!"

Not sure that's true. Between the two of them, I don't know who is worse.

Remington or Sev. They've both got a screw loose. Maybe many.

"The bounty on me doesn't dictate this game. I do. And you've still got a few letters left."

He's pissed. Actually angry, and I can't figure out why. Shouldn't he be happy that I no longer want to kill him?

"Fuck off, Sev!" I shout.

He grins, leaning down to get eye level. "I love the way you say my name when you're pissed." His tone is low, seductive almost. I clench my hands around the arms of the wooden chair and jerk my body, hoping to get loose. Because yeah, he tied me up differently today. My hands aren't bound behind my back. They're tied to the arms of the chair at my sides. "You're enjoying this game, Justin. You know it, and I know it."

"No, I'm not! Why in the world would I like being drugged and tied up like this? Why—"

"Then why didn't you kill me when you had the gun to my face?" he spits out.

I say the first thing that comes to mind.

"Because killing you there would have been too messy."

It's the lie I've been telling myself.

"Bullshit," he seethes, getting even closer. "You didn't kill me because you didn't want to."

"Trust me, I want to."

"Yeah? How about I let you out and see how badly you want to kill me?" he mocks.

Something rumbles in my chest. I'm panting. My jaw aches.

"Let. Me. Out," I say through gritted teeth.

"Mm, I love when you're angry." He straightens and looks down on me. "You want to play this way? Fine by me. You'll realize soon enough that you don't want me dead. And when you do?" He makes a sound of satisfaction that I have to ignore because it's so… enticing.

He moves behind me and fiddles with the ropes. Once I feel them loosen around my chest, I tighten my muscles and tug to get them all loose. Sev walks back to the desk, leaning against it like he always does. He watches me with humor. It takes only a few seconds for the rope to be loose enough for me to get up. I'm free. I jump to my feet, rush him, and shove him in the chest so hard he falls over the desk slightly, but manages to get right back up. He laughs, so I shove him again. He laughs harder, letting me do it. So this time I punch him, getting him right in the jaw. And this crazy, sadistic mother fucker has the audacity to laugh. Harder. I swear I see red. My body vibrates with anger, with so many fucking things I can't even explain. I go in for another punch, but he catches me by the throat, standing at his full height and walking me backwards. The look on his face is different. I can't do anything but stare at him. At his dark, angry gaze. He's like a whole new person. Like a switch was flipped.

And I wonder if I fucked up.

Did I push him too far?

Fear niggles at the base of my neck. He somehow seems so much bigger than I've ever seen him before. Like he's transformed into some kind of evil monster. I was always confident I could hold my own in a fight with him, but now? I'm not so sure.

I think I'm fucked.

I was so close to ending this all, and I had to push him. I had to get too cocky.

"What's wrong, Justin?" he asks in a gravelly tone. "Can't handle it when I fight back?" He keeps walking us until my legs hit something and we can't go any further. It's soft, so I assume it's the bed. It felt like he was walking me for much longer than the few feet to the bed, but this switch in his demeanor has thrown me off guard. "Worried I may actually hurt you? That this psychopath is going to show you his true colors?"

His hand tightens around my throat. I can't breathe. My head is getting heavy. He knows just the right spot to choke me out. I grip his wrist, trying to pry it off, but it does nothing. I dig my nails into him, but he doesn't even flinch. He moves closer to me and our noses touch.

"I already told you what is going to happen here. If only you'd listen," he says.

I press my hands to his chest and shove him, but the lack of oxygen is making me weak. He breathes heavily, his eyes burning into mine as I fight to get out of his grip. His fingers grip tighter, and I swear he's about to crush my esophagus. He's going to kill me. I really did go too far this time. But then he gives me a good shove and I land on the bed, gasping for air. For only a second though, just enough for the blurriness in my eyes to go away. Once I see straight, I hop to my feet and get right back in his face.

Fuck, I'm an idiot.

We're both panting, staring at one another. I hate this guy. He makes me so fucking angry. Furious. Rage like I've never felt before. He burst into my life and ruined everything. He fucked up my routines, my plans, all of it. He needs to get the fuck away from me, for good.

Sev is looking at me the exact way I feel. For the first time, he's looking at me like he hates me too. Like he wishes I weren't here. Like I'd never been born.

I feel your pain, asshole.

But then something shifts. I can't explain it. It's not something I can put into words, just something I feel between us. Like an electric charge. It's there for just a second, but it's long enough to notice.

I don't know who moves first. Maybe we both move at the same time, but suddenly his mouth is on mine and we're tearing at each other's clothes. Our shirts are off and his firm chest is against mine, his mouth on my neck, biting me. I growl a pained sound, digging my nails into his back hoping to draw blood. He frantically works at the button on my jeans and shoves his hand inside to grasp my dick, giving me a firm hard stroke. I hiss as he moves to the other side of my neck and bites down, sucking hard on my skin.

"Fuck!" I growl out, gripping on to him to breathe through the pain. I reach for his pants, undoing them and pulling out his dick to stroke while he works me over. His mouth finds mine, his free hand holding the back of my neck. He steps closer, slapping my hand away from his dick and grabs both our cocks in his large hand, stroking us together. The warm solid feel of his dick against mine is like nothing I've ever felt before. Pure fucking perfection.

The way his mouth greedily ravages mine, the way he isn't easy with me, just taking what he wants without worry it's… fucking relieving. I can breathe like this. I feel fucking free.

The image of him bending me over the bed and forcing his dick inside me has my stomach swirling with lust. I've never wanted someone to fuck me before, but for some reason, the thought of him fucking me has me wild. Absolutely wild.

He growls into my mouth, then shoves me on the bed and crawls over me. He ruts me, his cock rubbing mine, his mouth on my neck again. Biting and sucking. He reaches into his pocket for something, and I hear the flip of his blade, which instead of annoying me like it normally does, has my stomach doing somersaults.

I want more pain. I want a lot more of it. Whatever he will give me. It's relieving, and it's fucking welcomed. He could carve up my whole body right now and I think I'd thank him afterward.

He shifts off me, sliding his hand around my throat. "Give me your hand," he rasps into my ear. I raise it toward him as best I can in this position. He spits into it, and says, "Make yourself come while I give you the next letter of my name."

He kneels on the side of me, his hand still on my throat. He isn't cutting off my air supply, but the pressure is enough to get the point across. He's pinning me down. He could stop me from breathing at any second.

I bring my spit-filled hand to my dick and stroke furiously. I don't think I've ever been so hard before. The first slice into my skin I'm hissing in air, pressing my head back into the mattress, stroking faster. Fuck, that feels good.

"One of these days, you will remember who the fuck you belong to," he says.

The second slice of his knife has my balls drawing up tight, and already I feel like I'm going to come.

"That's it," he says. "Just like that, baby. Keep going."

Another slice and there's no turning back.

"Oh, fuck," I choke out, his fingers applying a small amount of pressure on my throat.

My eyes fall shut and the orgasm hits me just as his last slice to my skin burns me. I come so fucking hard, my release coating my stomach. I'm panting when I open my eyes and see Sev gathering my cum and lathering it on his dick. He jerks off over me, coming seconds later, his release landing on my chest and stomach, and fuck the look on his face as pleasure goes through him is sexier than anything I've ever seen in my life. My dick is still half hard and if he wanted to go again, I totally could. Fuck, I want to. I'm about to tell him as much when he gets to his feet, running his clean hand through his hair to get it out of his face. His chest heaves with breath. Same way as mine. He looks down at me with a look I don't like. The same one that was on his face in the club bathroom before he stormed out.

As if he's disappointed, which makes no sense.

He's the one doing all this shit. Why the fuck is he looking at me like he's disgusted with himself when I should be the one feeling that way? I'm the one being stupid here. I'm giving in to things I shouldn't. Falling for a man who—No. Not falling. Absolutely fucking not. It'll be a cold day in hell before I have feelings for this man.

Sev fixes his pants and barges out of the room without a word.

I lie in bed for a few moments, catching my breath, trying to figure out what put him in such a pissy mood and why the regret hasn't settled in yet.

This man is a fucking nut case who is clearly obsessed with me. Unhinged. He stalks me. Carves his name into me. I don't know a damn thing about him, other than the fact he goes feral for my dick or when I touch him, which I love. I hate that I love it, but I do. I've never had someone physically able to manhandle me the way he does. Never thought I'd be into it. But this… fucking hell. I can't like this.

I fucking can't like this.

Everything about this is bad. Wrong. Dangerous.

I get up and use his shirt to clean my chest of cum and dab at the blood dripping down my ribs. Another crooked S is permanently in my skin.

S-E-V-A-S

Five minutes later, after running through my usual routine of cleaning myself up, I'm making my way home.

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