Chapter 14

S team follows me out of the bathroom after my shower. When I walk into the bedroom, Knox has his giant rabbit draped across his lap. I never thought I'd find such a thing sexy, but here we are. His messy hair shakes as he leans over to worship that creature. I can't tell what he's saying, but it's clearly full of the sort of love I haven't felt in a long time.

"He tried to eat your boyfriend," he says, so nonchalantly.

My eyes drop to the bloody mound that hardly bears a resemblance to Sam any longer. The rabbit chewed a hole through his pant leg.

"What do I do with him?" I ask.

"Typically, they take care of cleanup for me."

"Who's they?"

He promised he'd tell me anything I want to know, and he better not go back on that. But men say all types of things when they're blind with lust. It doesn't mean they'll stick to it when the fog clears.

"It's an organization that runs this town," he says. "Maybe even the state. Massively powerful men and women."

I figured as much, and Sam fully believed that from the start.

"What do they call themselves?" I ask, but he shakes his head. "Don't make me get it out of you."

He eases the rabbit off his lap, and the animal hops down and thumps his massive feet on the hardwood floor before scurrying off.

"Get on your knees and let me shove my dick so far in your throat that you feel it in your gut. Then I'll tell you."

He stands up and wraps his hand in my hair as he drags me toward the bed and sits down. Blood paints the sheets, but he isn't fazed. He flicks open his slacks and takes out his cock.

"If you put that in my mouth, I'll bite it off," I say, my eyes narrowing.

"You won't do that. You're desperate for the name of your father's killer. Desperate enough to take me into your mouth."

I crane my neck like I'm going to suck him off, but I bite down on the head instead.

"You really have a vendetta against my dick, don't you?" he hisses through gritted teeth. "Let go!" he screams as I twist. "Exodus! They're called the Exodus! Now get your fucking teeth off my dick."

I release him, and he rips his hips backward, freeing his dick from my mouth.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" he growls, rubbing his hand over the head of his dick. "I have so many other things for you to latch on to, but no, you have to go for my junk. Again."

I wipe my lips. "I think men are more receptive to interrogation when their manhood is at risk."

"If you had kidnapped anyone else, they'd kill you for what you've done."

"But you?"

"I like them a bit unhinged."

I crawl up his body and knock his head onto the bed by grasping his hair. I straddle his face.

"Then be a good boy and make me even crazier." I hover over his mouth as his hands hook around my thighs.

"If you're going to demand something like this, sit on my fucking face. I want to suffocate beneath you while you come."

He grips my thighs and pulls me down, and then I lower my weight into my heels and drop onto his face. His tongue and lips work everything beneath me. I moan as we wrestle for some semblance of control or power. He snatches it away from me before giving it right back.

I ride his face, up and down, back and forth, until I'm skating toward another orgasm. I toy with him, leaning off his mouth so he can take several deep breaths before I suffocate him with my weight. And he lets me.

He shakes his head beneath me like a ravenous animal trying to eat his way out. My eyes roll to the back of my head as his tightening grip—a sign that he's struggling for that next breath—brings me closer.

He taps my thigh and I lift off his mouth. This is the kind of breath play I could get used to.

"You still aren't sitting hard enough. Sit on my fucking face. Soak my mouth, karma. Come all over my chin."

The moment the last syllable leaves his lips, I drop my weight again. I sit deep, feeling the warmth of his nose, tongue, lips, and breath everywhere between my legs. I ride his face harder. He grips my thighs, and I don't let up. He wants me to really sit, so I'm really fucking sitting. I'll let him die beneath me if that's what it takes. I'm going to get mine.

And I do. I come, hard, with his chest surging beneath me for a breath that I refuse to give him. I put my orgasm above his most basic necessity.

I'm an asshole.

I sit up on my knees, and he gasps for air. His mouth and chin glisten with my come.

"My turn," he says as he rolls me off him.

"I'm not sucking your dick," I remind him.

"Your mouth isn't where I want to put my cock."

He climbs off the bed and grabs his mask. He wipes his face on the back of his arm before slipping the plastic over his face. Chills wash across me. There's a fear I didn't expect as he dons that mask. It was different when he was chained up. Now he's free and can be as dangerous as he desires.

I sit up, curling my legs beneath me as I lean over the bed. "Get down on the ground and crawl to me."

"Really?" he asks with a hesitant shake of his head.

"If you want to get inside me, dog, you'll get on the floor and crawl to me."

He blinks at me through the holes in the mask, and I'm not sure he'll do as I asked. Then his knees come out from beneath him, and he lands on them. His hands drop to the floor, and he moves each limb individually as he fucking crawls to me. Hand over hand. Knee over knee.

A low growl vibrates off the mask as he ends up beneath me, his eyes rising to mine as he gets to his feet and wraps his fingers around my throat. His hands roughly spread my legs, and when I reach for the mask, he pins both my wrists above my head. The power dynamic has shifted again, and that familiar fear returns as he crawls over me, putting my back to the mattress.

"Face your fears, karma. The man behind this mask is a monstrosity, but he's not your monster."

He pushes inside me, and a groan follows my frustrated exhale. He looks like a monster, and I don't like losing my power to a wild animal cloaked in human skin as he takes what he wants. But he's also giving me what I want. What I need. It's been so long since I felt such carnal pleasures without harsh words for pillow talk.

So I lean into my fear, wrapping him up in my legs and pulling him closer to me. His hips grind on mine, and I feel so fucking helpless to his onslaught.

"Fuck!" I scream. For some fucked-up reason, this man does something otherworldly to me and my body. Especially those fucking piercings. I've never felt such a thing.

His thrusts slow, as if he's trying to hold out. "You feel so fucking good," he whispers.

I take in the features of his mask before I close my eyes and bask in the movement of his hips. I want to rip the plastic off and make him kiss me, but I'm pinned and helpless beneath him. I've been forced to hand my power to him, and I hate to say that I like the familiarity.

"I'm going to come, karma," he groans, and his hips stutter against mine.

I'm helpless to stop the monster from filling me. But who's more of the monster? The one between my legs or the man I've been living with all along?

Not all masks are plastic.