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Suddenly, he spins me around, shoving the front of my body against the wall. I barely have time to use my palms to catch myself. My nipples pebble against the cold wall, adding to my confused and aroused state. Before I can register what the fuck is even happening, rope that seemingly came out of nowhere is being wrapped around my wrists. The subtle vanilla aroma of Jericho intensifies, enveloping my senses.

It seems like Jericho has done his homework; the ropes don’t feel as stiff. He’s singed the rough edges and treated them with the correct oils. It seems like my brute wanted to make a good impression, because the ropes are also fragranced with a natural vanilla oil. It’s why that delicious scent is stronger now.

Once my arms are bound tight, he pulls my body away from the wall, wrapping the rope around my chest in a simple yet effective Shibari technique, creating a back arm harness that will be impossible for me to escape on my own.

“Look at you, little minx. So submissive for me, like a pretty little toy wrapped in a bow. I can tell you’re hovering right near that edge of subspace, aren’t you?”

A tiny gasp leaves my lips. He’s right, I’m practically floating… just like I was in the alley.

“You haven’t even struggled once. Not like last time I tied you up.”

I open my mouth to quip back; instead, a helpless whimper tumbles from my throat. The sound causes Jericho to freeze. With careful hands, he slowly turns me around. There’s a curious, confused look on his face. He’s studying me, brow creased, pupils still blown wide.

“Fucking hell,” he whispers. “You love this, don’t you?”

I nod eagerly. “Yes.”

“Such a good little minx for me. My sweet, naughty little angel wants to be tied up by a killer.”

Another needy whimper leaves me. Oh god, what’s wrong with me? A few simple words that make my head all floaty and have my cock throbbing.

Jericho shoves me to my knees, and I collapse like a puppet, eager and ready. I blink up at him, hoping my eyes are large and seductive. They must be because he groans before palming his hard dick through his pants.

“Please,” I whine, wanting to taste him again. I open my mouth and stick out my tongue, praying he’ll use my body, have his way, then maybe if I’m lucky, take me to his bed.

When was the last time someone wanted to hold me after sex?

“Such a horny little thing. You have no idea what I want to do to you, Sky,” he says, caressing my jaw with his fingertips. Obediently, I keep my lips parted for him and settle back into my kneeling position. It’s surprisingly comfortable, especially with the harness embracing me just right.

Jericho curses, finally snapping and losing control. He whips his hard cock out, and I gasp. In the light, it’s so fucking beautiful. I only have a quick moment to appreciate the tempting veins that throb along his length before he’s shoving it into my mouth.

Just like in the alley, I eagerly suck and drool. I gag each time he hits the back of my throat. All the while, Jericho never breaks eye contact, while I silently tell him how much I crave this. Crave him. It doesn’t take him long before he’s spilling down my throat, and I swallow over and over, chasing every drop.

Before he’s even finished, he yanks his cock out of my mouth, spilling everywhere: on my face, the floor, my chest. “Fuck,” he whispers, grabbing the rope and jerking me to my feet. He presses me back against the wall, unbuttons my pants, and roughly rips them down my thighs. My cock is hard and leaking when it springs out. He gasps, staring at it like it’s a damn miracle.

“Angel.” His voice is fucking wrecked when his blue eyes meet mine. He removes some of the cum from my face and chest, and I almost laugh because it’s a lot. But then, he’s coating our cocks with it. He’s so fucking tall that, of course, his cock is on top of mine when he begins the hottest frotting session of my life.

Jericho strokes and thrusts like an animal in rut. It’s too fucking much; the tight harness around my chest, my nipples hard and pebbled, cold against the cool air, and his gorgeous cock thrusting against mine, like silk on silk. My whole body is shaking like a damn leaf. I can’t even control the pathetic little whimpers that leave my lips as I beg Jericho to ‘not stop,’ and to ‘keep me and use me.’

My balls draw up tight. “Please, please, please,” I gasp. “Never let go. Please, Jericho.” I’m whining and begging, not sure what the fuck I’m saying or why.

When I come, the white, hot ropes of my release coat us both. My legs give out from under me, and the last thing I remember is Jericho catching me by the harness before scooping me up into his arms.

Sometime later, I wake up, unbound and clean. He took care of me when I slept. I blink sleepily and smile when I realize he’s here next to me. Holding me.

If I thought I was obsessed before, he has no idea what kind of possessive monster he just set free. “Thank you, Jericho,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his chest. But what I really mean by that is: ‘You’re fucking mine, brute.’

Chapter fifteen

Jericho

“Let’s try this again,” I tell him, gripping the punching bag as Skylar shows off his strength and skill for me. The rubber mats of my basement training floor are the only thing separating us from the cold concrete, but the air between us is thick enough to cut with a fucking knife. The chemistry we share has only continued to climb since the night we killed Charlie.

Unfortunately, we’re so damn buried in planning our next moves against Franko that there’s no room for anything else. Every spare second goes to preparing his downfall, leaving zero time to actually explore each other the way I’m dying to. It’s maddening, having my pretty little porn star right here while we map out an execution. So far, it’s been all about rushed blow jobs and quick frotting sessions. Not that I’m really complaining, because I swear the minx is trying to suck my soul out through my dick.

But even so, I can’t help but wonder if we’re truly compatible. He’s known for only topping in his videos, and I have yet to share my own preferences—aside from the brief ramblings in the heat of passion. I don’t want to pop this blissful little bubble between us.

“Again?” Skylar pants. “You can’t be serious.”