Chapter 10

A fter drugging him again, I retreated to my bedroom to compose myself. A white stuffed rabbit sits on the bed. One of its eyeballs hangs by a literal thread, and its coat is dirty and ragged, but it's soothed me to sleep more times than I can count. It was a gift from my father.

I stare at myself in the mirror as I swipe concealer across my cheek and around my eye. The bruises disappear beneath the thick cover-up. My hand crawls over the bruises I've hidden beneath my clothes.

I can't believe that guy noticed the mark on my face. And how dare he ask about it. It's not his business. It's no one's business but mine and Sam's.

I shake my head because we made it his business when we fought in public. Sam very much made it his business when he went to punch me again. It's the first time the abuse has been witnessed by someone else, which means it's escalating. Sam doesn't care who sees him hit me now.

Brushing over my skin once more, I force my weakness aside. Knox shouldn't have looked at me with some kind of pity, especially when he couldn't spare a drop of it for that dying man. He's clearly hardened to suffering, so he shouldn't look at me like I need anyone's help.

I don't need help from anyone, least of all him. Sam has always taken out his frustrations on me, though it's never been this bad. When he hits me, I want to leave him, but then the Sam I know comes back and rocks me to sleep and tells me he's sorry and that he'll never do it again. Rinse and repeat.

I wouldn't have gotten Knox chained up in the guest bedroom without him, though. I'm desperate to get the information I need out of him, and this is my only chance.

I twist my hair into a bun and head into the guest room. An overturned mug sits beside him, spilling a little bit of the liquid onto the wooden floorboards. My eyes crawl over his naked body. Hardened muscles ripple under his skin, and his limp dick rests against his leg. Even flaccid, it's impressive, especially once I notice two sets of black metal balls about three-fourths of the way down his shaft. I've never seen a man with a pierced cock in real life, let alone two piercings.

I grab the jug Sam gave him to pee in and empty it out in the bathroom, then set it down beside him. After plucking the hammer and nails off the dresser, I kneel in front of him. His head hangs low, full lips set in a relaxed expression. Dark hair falls over his face, and haunting gray eyes hide behind his closed eyelids.

My hand moves without my permission and reaches for his dick. I graze the warm skin resting against his leg. He feels like velvet.

I rip my hand away when he hardens beneath my touch. I didn't expect the movement. The tightening skin. The beast that it transformed into. My jaw loosens, letting my lower lip fall.

Then I remember what sits before me. These people are monsters, and I shouldn't even be looking at his erection, but there's something oddly vindicating about holding an unconscious man's dick in my hand.

I look back at the doorway, expecting to see Sam standing there, but he's walled himself up in our bedroom. He's sick of me today, and that's fine. I'll find other ways to occupy my time.

I crawl across the floor, grab the plastic wolf mask, and bring it over to him. Fisting his hair, I raise his head and straddle his lap to slip the mask over his face. He looks so malevolent behind the plastic. So different, like he's a part of something I desperately need to know about.

Warmth radiates from his lap to my bare thighs with a stoney heat that caresses my skin in a way I haven't felt in a long time. I throb with an ache I haven't felt in even longer. Maybe since I was a teenager watching movies I shouldn't have watched. I wanted that passion. That feral draw to another person. But I ended up with Sam, who loves to remind me that he was there to shove my broken pieces together.

I sit on my heels, lowering myself on his lap and resting my pussy on his cock, the thin panties the only thing between us. Heat radiates from his skin. I tilt my hips, lifting my pelvis and dragging myself along the length of his dick. I rub over the ridges the bars make beneath the thin skin.

Holy hell. The pleasure immediately hits differently than when fingers or hands prod me. Even a tongue feels different from this. I draw my hips back, raking my clit against his dick through my panties. This dude is fucking ribbed for my pleasure.

"Oh god," I whisper, gripping his shoulders. This action is so raw and immature, yet it sends electricity coursing through my body.

I ride his length, dry-humping him until I soak his skin through my panties. I play with the tempo and pressure until my eyes roll into the back of my head as I chase my pleasure.

Mine and only mine.

I grip the sides of his mask, pressing my forehead against the plastic barrier shielding me from evil. My fingers dig into it, crinkling it a bit as I feel my approaching orgasm barrel down on me.

I bite my lip as hard as I can to keep the sounds from escaping. Pleasure takes me in a chokehold and doesn't release me until I feel like I might faint. My hips jerk, and I nearly split the mask in two as I scream in my head.

When I'm finished, I climb off him and put my hand over my mouth. The heavy weight of guilt crushes me until I can't breathe. Even though I didn't kiss him or do anything but take advantage of what was lying beneath me, I'm pretty sure I just cheated on Sam.

Knox's mask stares back at me as his head leans against the wall. No one can know I came on his dick. I can't ever?—

His eyes open and seek out mine.

Oh god. What does he remember? Was he aware of what I did to him? If he knows, I can't keep him alive.