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“You’ll find out. As soon as you make your choice.”
“Whatever I choose, I’ll hate myself for it.” Tears sting my eyes as my whole body heats up. I want his cock all the way up my pussy, pumping me in front of this bastard.
“I would hate to take the choice away from you, but I will, if you want me to.”
I swallow hard, and he smiles, nodding. “Oh, I get it. You don’t want to get your hands dirty, or be responsible for your own–” He snaps his fingers, looking around in mock-search of the right word. “Oh yes.” His gaze meets mine, and it’s full of danger. “Degradation.” He pauses, probably for effect. “But that’s not what would be happening, you know. I would only be pleasuring you in front of him.” He gives the restrained Timothy a sharp look. Any closer, and it would slice through his skin. “Make sure the piece of shit understands you’re completely mine, and if he ever touches anything other than the ground you walk on with his filthy lips, I’ll fucking cut his cock off.”
His eyes meet mine again. There’s a glint of madness in them that gives me the creeps–and turns me on. Fuck, what is wrong with me?
“Should I do that, my beautiful?” He takes a strand of my hair, letting it slide like silk between his fingers. “Do you want me to cut off that cock he threatened to take your ass with?” That dashing smile appears on his face, only this time, it’s tinged with the same madness as what I see in his eyes. I melt at the sight of it, as deranged as he is. “One word from you, and I would do it. Then, I would use his own cock to gag his mouth.”
Timothy’s muffled screams and the rattling of his restraints pierce through the charged air between Declan and me, but it doesn’t break the focus between us.
“You didn’t seem so possessive when you bent me over the banister last time,” I bite out, vitriol on my voice. “When you had my tits dangle over an entire crowd.”
He smirks, rubbing his nose against mine while pressing the blade to my cheek. “Oh, but no one did, did they? And even if they had, it was that night that changed everything for me. You see, I didn’t completely understand the nature of my attraction to you until then.” His voice drops. “Until our first kiss in this very room. But this I can tell you–I wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you. And it enraged the fuck out of me.”
He crushes his mouth against mine, and my body starts to writhe, seeking the closeness of his. Desperately wishing he would press himself to me. I try to move my hands, splay them on his chest again, but his hold is tight as a vise on my wrists. I whimper with need when he breaks the kiss only to move behind me, pull the jacket off my arms and then snap a pair of cuffs around my wrists.
I hiss out a curse, my head whipping around as I jerk my arms against the handcuffs.
Declan steps in front of me again, his gaze slipping down my frame. His eyes are as dark as the clouds breaking outside. Thunder cracks through the room, his blade flashing in the light.
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper.
“Because you entered my veins like a disease, Mia Rogers. Now, last chance. What’s it going to be? You and I fucking right in front of him, or him getting what he deserves right before your eyes?”
My throat works. How the hell am I supposed to answer that? Declan steps close, ripping my top off of me, the fabric giving in as if it were made of nothing but cobwebs. Within seconds, he’s got the buttons of my skinny jeans undone, and peeled them off my legs. Before I know it, I’m standing in front of him in nothing but my bra and panties. My socks went off along with my sneakers, and now here I am, tied to the bedpost by my neck, my wrists restrained in handcuffs behind it, exposed to this deranged bastard.
And to Timothy Meyer. Being as much a prisoner as I am, maybe even more so, tied as he is to the bed by his wrists and ankles in an X shape, his mouth duct-taped.
“Last call, Mia Rogers. Who will it be? You, or your longtime nemesis, Timothy Meyer.”
I wish I could answer, say anything. At this point, pretty much any words leaving my mouth would make a difference, any difference. But they don’t come. I’m a coward.
Declan nods, making me shudder as I think of the incentive he might use to force a decision out of me. Knife still in hand, he walks along the side of the bed to Timothy’s head, each and every one of his sleek movements making a point. Timothy writhes like crazy against his restraints, but it doesn’t change anything. Declan throws the sheet off of a bulk of machinery right next to the bed that I had failed to recognize.
I would slap myself, if I only could. It’s a lump of machinery that turns out to be the workstation of a tattoo artist. It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to understand what Declan is doing with it when he turns on the buzzing tattoo gun. He prepares the ink and loads it into the gun, while Timothy wrestles wildly against his restraints that don’t give in a single inch, despite the heavy iron bed starting to rattle.
Declan slowly directs the gun to the man’s crotch, flipping the sheet covering Timothy’s dick to the side. My heart jumps into my throat, my pulse going wild.
“Are you crazy?” I call, the leather biting into my neck when I shoot forward.
Declan cocks an eyebrow at me as if he doesn’t quite understand my upset.
“Oh, don’t worry, my beautiful. I’m going to make him really sorry for the way he treated you. He’ll regret every single time he offended you.” Lightning flashes over a deranged, if completely mesmerizing grin. “And I’m gonna make him your whore.”
He adjusts the needle depth as he speaks. My throat works like I’ve just swallowed lemon as Declan pulls the stool over and sits down, bringing the buzzing gun closer to Timothy’s dick while the latter struggles like there’s no tomorrow, desperation audible in his muffled screams.
“Chill,” Declan says with the calm of a psycho. “Struggling is just gonna make things more painful.”
I wish the buzzing could drown the sound of Timothy’s heart-wrenching lamentations. I know they’re gonna stay with me for an entire lifetime. Hell, they might even chase me into the afterlife, but I can’t look away. It’s not his pain and anguish that compel me to keep staring, but his raging erection. My body stills against the bedpost. How is it possible for a man to be this turned on in the face of imminent pain, humiliation, when his very life is probably in danger.
“It’s actually quite common,” Declan says calmly as his needle starts carving ink along Timothy’s dick. The man stills for a second before he breaks out into jitters as if he were being electrocuted. “For men to get boners when met with extreme danger or imminent death. Those that survive often remember it as the weirdest hard-on of their lives.” He pauses the tattooing work he’s doing and laughs, throwing his head back.
I tilt mine, taking in the sight of him. How can a deranged criminal be so damn beautiful? Or maybe that’s exactly why I was into him in the first place. The edges of his face, they’re sharply cut, compellingly attractive but also dangerous. It’s what you’d expect a vampire to look like, or an anime hitman. Someone whose looks are as much a weapon as his skills.
And Declan Santori obviously has skills.
