“Use. Your. Words,” I demanded, breaking the fabric and letting his cock pop out of the constraints right into my face. “What do you need, baby?”
Randall bucked his body, grinding his cock into my lips, but I didn’t open my mouth. “Words,” I said again, breathing hot air onto his leaking cock.
“Fuck. I can’t. Judas. Please. I can’t say that.”
I popped the brute on the nose and shook my head at him before dropping back to the ground. “One day, you will admit you want me, straight boy. Until then, I’m gonna let you suffer.”
Randall groaned and bucked harder. “Fuck you, Masters!” I smiled and looked up at him. “Is that a request?”
My sadist bit his lip so hard it busted, and the blood leaked down his chin and soaked into his shirt.
“Is torture worth missing out on the pleasure? You asked what is in my head. But the real question is what’s in yours.”
Randall was panting, actually panting like a sexy dog when the softest whisper escaped his broken lips.
“You.”
My eyes snapped to his glazed expression, and I lost it. My chest did the weird flip that made me nauseous.
Fuck. What is this feeling? Meh. Probably gas.
No.
He told me. His thoughts are about me? Why do I feel so warm?
“Randall King,” I said, but it didn’t sound like my voice.
Maybe with the demons so quiet, it was weird hearing myself speak. The silence that made me truly hear my own words for the first time.
Larry never stopped the voices. He was the cause. “Yes, Little Chip.”
I couldn’t stop myself. I hoisted my ass up on the ropes like a fucking monkey, climbing up to reach his mouth.
I was all but sitting on him, but he wasn’t bucking me off. His arms were roped away from him, a cute little Statue of Liberty moment for him. Very patriotic.
His chest being opened, I did something my seven-foot ass never dared attempt.
I…cuddled him. Curled my ass like a fat cat on his chest and stuck my fingers through the ropes to pull his head toward mine.
There was a slight hesitation, but he let me.
“This is wrong, Little Chip. That damn bastard will be back any minute, and there’s a passed-out girl on the ground…”
Every excuse in the world didn’t fucking matter to me right now. Just him.
My Liebling and his goddamning lips.
I didn’t kiss people. Sex was easier without it, but with Randall, I kissed him twice.
The first time he knocked me out back in the asylum, but it was worth it. The second was in the forest and now…
“Can I kiss you?”
I felt shy asking like a damn girl, and a blush even coated my fucking cheeks, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted permission. I needed him to want to kiss me.
He hesitated again, pain, fear, and desire lacing his expression so vividly it was like a slide show flipping over and over.
“Let me show you what’s in my mind, Liebling. Let me give you a taste of my thoughts.”
