Page 85 of The Silencer

I lean over him, the sides of my jacket bracketing him, and I reach down and cup his cock through his pants.

He gasps, his eyes widening, his cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink.

“Anthony,” he moans as I stare down at him, my eyes taking in his pretty face, his lean torso, the way it labors with breath just for me.

“Anthony, how can you…how can you say you’re straight when you keep touching my cock?”

My eyes meet his once more, my hand continuing to squeeze his hard dick.

“Is this what you want to be discussing right now?” I ask, and he bites his plump bottom lip and nods.

My hand falls from him, and I watch as his eyelids flutter.

I want him naked. I want to see every part of him.

“Tell me,” he says as I start to pull his pants off, exposing each inch of him to me, his cock making an appearance, angry, red, and leaking.

I wet my lips as I chuck his pants away and reach out for it again, squeezing the hard, warm length with my fingers.

“It’s simple. I want to own every part of you, Tatum,” I explain, my thumb rubbing across the wet tip of him. And it’s true. I don’t know how much of this is attraction or just pure obsession. Somehow, this smart, sassy guy walked into my life and tipped it sideways. And now I can’t get him off my mind.

It’s an itch that can’t ever be scratched. I need him etched on my skin.

I need to be buried inside his heart.

“I want you to eat, breathe, and sleep…me. My name.”

He moans as my hand leaves his cock and rucks his shirt up, taking it off and tossing it in a corner. He’s completely naked now, his nipples puckering in the cool air, his skin breaking out in goosebumps.

I want to consume him.

I’ve never related to the Big Bad Wolf more in my entire life.

My hands drag down his chest and stop at his hips, lifting him slightly. He’s malleable now, not a brat in sight.

Although, I do like the chase, the hunt.

Perhaps he’ll give that to me once more. So I can find him and tear him apart, piece by piece.

“But first, I want you begging,” I say lowly, and he nods, swallowing loudly. “You should have been in my room, Tatum. This would have all been much more pleasant.”

“I can handle it. This is just fucking fine. If anything, it’s your knees that will give you trouble, old man,” he bites out with a laugh, but it quickly turns to a groan when I fist his cock and start to pump him.

“This old man,” I begin, my wrist twisting, “is going to make you beg.”

I lean over his straining dick and spit onto it, the wetness hitting him right at the tip. He watches it, his eyes intent on my hand working him, almost like he wants to remember this.

Good. He should remember. He needs to.

No one else will touch him. No one but me.

“And for your bratty comment, I’m not letting you come. Not here,” I tell him, and his eyes slam into mine.

“What? Why not?” he asks, his hips starting to arch up into my touch. He’s perfect. Everything about him is perfection.

“Because when I say to do something, I expect you to do it.”

“I’m not some loyal soldier, Anthony. I do what I want. I won’t be your puppet.”

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