5. Chapter 3

When we found out the Serpents were staying at the same hotel, the temptation to fuck with Blackwell was too much. It was a bonus finding his teammate with him. Until freaky Peter Pan banked left and charged Connor, throwing his body at our captain's knees. Then he came out of the move like a goddamn panther and started running.

The other four took off after the piece of shit. But I stayed on Blackwell, chasing him into the woods.

Not the best move. A tree root can take us out just as easily being there's zero fucking light right now.

But it makes it more fun, and damn it, I'm hard as hell. No idea why. Maybe it's the chase. Or the promise of a good fight.

Who cares?

I'm amped the fuck up.

Ahead of me, Killian weaves between tree trunks. He's fast, a tad stronger than me if I'm being honest, but I'm more agile. It's the reason I evade most of his hits.

One on one, we're evenly matched. Same height, same build, probably same weight. It's why our fans love to watch us fight. The winner usually pulls some dick move or takes advantage of a miscalculation or slip in focus.

Like right now.

The golden blond-haired shithead looks over his shoulder, twisting a bit too much that he slows down a fraction, so I double my efforts and run full speed into him. He hits the tree trunk, and a roaring groan cuts through the night as he falls to the ground in a heap.

"Thought you could get away, dipshit?"

Before I can reach down and punch his golden boy face, something hits the back of my legs below my calves and I'm airborne until I hit the ground with a resounding thud.

"Fuck you, Reed." He launches himself at me and straddles my chest, knees pressed into my underarms.

Dammit.

Can't buck him off.

"What's the matter?" He looks like one pissed off tiger, especially with the blood trail running from the corner of his mouth to his clean, sharp jawline. "Look at you, trapped like a rabbit in a snare."

I move to dig my elbows into his inner thighs, but he grabs my wrists pinning them with one hand above my head. My dick throbs and twitches, my hips giving a little buck.

Killian slaps me. Hard. The sting and heat radiate outward. "Couldn't leave it for the ice. Couldn't let me have a nice fucking dinner with my friend. Why are you such a goddamn cunt?"

"You're the pussy who ran. At least your friend put up a fight." I twist and bite into his forearm, trying as hard as I can to break the skin beneath his shirt.

"Stupid fuck." He releases my hands but wraps his fingers around my throat, squeezing, his other arm cocked and ready to swing. "I'm going to rearrange your face so even God won't recognize you."

I glare up at him and smirk. "I'm an atheist. Fire away, motherfucker."

And he does. Once. Twice. And a third time.

"God, you're making my dick hard." It's not a lie. I'm harder than I've ever been. Even the orgy I took part in last month didn't get me this worked up.

He freezes, loosening his grip on my wrist.

Bad move, dumbass.

Only when I go to move, my eyes fall on the very defined outline of his erection. "Well, look at that. Color me intrigued."

Killian's honey-brown eyes follow my gaze down to his groin, then instantly he scrambles off me, tripping over his feet. "I'll color you in your own blood."

His threat has no real bite to it. Not for me, especially as he stands there, posture stiff, his broad chest expanding and contracting rapidly, breath fogging the air. I can't tell if it"s from the chase or me pointing out he's hard.

But stumbling over his feet . . .The fucker's frazzled. My money's on the fact it"s from the boner he's got going on.

My eyes drop again. "And here I thought I was the welcoming party."

"Shut up." Blackwell backs up, raking his hand through his mop of thick hair. "I'm not gay."

I laugh, loudly, throwing my head back and making it a spectacle. "You're not straight either. Your dick's practically trying to punch its way out of your pants. But hey . . . label yourself whatever you want."

"What's your excuse motherfucker? I'm not the only one sporting wood."

My dick twitches, most likely from the acknowledgement he's looking at it. So, I push my hips out a bit more, if only to fuck with him. "Like what you see?"

He snarls and steps back, creating more distance between us. "Go to hell, Reed. Find someone who actually likes cock and leave me the fuck alone."

He turns and runs off.

I spit blood on the muddy ground, wiping my face with the back of my wrist as I stare at that bubble ass of his. No sense in chasing him, not when I know where he's going.

Reaching down, I give my dick a squeeze to relieve some of the pressure. Never been so worked up in my life, and definitely not by a man.

But fuck, Killian Blackwell has me steeled and on the verge of coming in my pants.