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He’s a modern-day Adonis, and though I just had him, he makes me want to drool.
Remove the personality, his taste for nasty revenge and humiliation, and he’s perfect.
I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing Hendrick naked, but I’m betting he’s a different, more elegant brand of perfection.
Oh, fuck. Breathing is hard.
I’m trying to get a handle on what it is I’ve done.
It’s not even fucking two men in the same evening. Sex is sex. It’s who those men are.
Hendrick and Jac are extremely dangerous, and my libido has lost its mind over them.
How the fuck was I meant to know the necklace was fake? How the actual fuck did Hendrick know to put it there? How do I know it’s actually fake?
Right now’s not the time to contemplate it, not when the world’s most decadent and dangerously hedonistic man not only just fucked me within an inch of my life, he’s right over me, and I’m ashamed to say I want more.
Because I think the depths he’s capable of are ones I desperately want to sample.
I try to take a steadying breath. His words about keeping his cum in me while sending me to Hendrick were filthy, yet they made my insides buzz to life. “How are you going to do that?”
He grins slow, slides over me so he can suckle a nipple, chewing with just the right amount of bite that he sets a keening note off in my clit. He starts on the next. When he’s done, I’m writhing and panting, then he says, “Duct tape?”
“A little crude.” I shiver from his touch. These threatening words are a hot form of foreplay that runs rough over my senses.
He slides a finger over my very sensitive nipples then down to play with my clit until a small orgasm jumps me.
“I could,” he says, “shove a dildo up there, but problem is, you’ll leak because I’ll be filling you with so much cum, there’s not gonna be room for anything else.” He starts to finger me, lazily. “You’re fucking tight. And I intend to come in you multiple times before I send you to him.”
“He’s probably sleeping.”
“I never said,” he murmurs as he bites and sucks a trail down over my throat, “that it would be tonight.”
I rock against his hand and reach for his cock. “Planning on keeping me your prisoner?”
“It has its merits, MG.”
There’s a depraved part of me that wants to explore those merits that come with being his prisoner.
“What do you say? You want me to chain you up and fuck you every way I can think of? Force orgasms on you? Deny them? Get other men in? Women? What do you think? Want to be my prisoner, MG?”
He’s capable of all that, but he’s just provoking me with words. Like he tries to provoke me with using MG.
I’m pretty fucking sure if Hendrick can find my name, so can this man, so I’m betting either he couldn’t be bothered reading whatever file he has or thinks not using it will insult me.
He’s not nuanced enough, he’s not Hendrick. He lets his hate and senses and emotions blind him.
Hendrick doesn’t.
Hendrick does hedonism in a different way. And as good as this is, as skilled as this man is, I want to uncover Hendrick’s secrets more.
But damn, do I want to be fucked hard again and again by this man, too. He wasn’t lying about his skillset. And all he did was fuck me hard missionary.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“That it’s going to be hard to do my job if I’m your prisoner.”
He pushes his fingers in hard and then he spreads them, stretching me, and I gasp. “God you’re so fucking easy—”
