Page 61 of Kiss, Kill, Thrill Me, Daddy

I blink at him. “Your words are stupid, and so is this entire interaction. Abi? The bar. Now.”

Without another word, Abi carts me away. I’m more than a little annoyed when he doesn’t stop at the bar, choosing instead to push past the bartender and walk toward a door that clearly saysEmployees Only.The bartender opens his mouth to object, but Abi’s got him beat, growling, “Nyet. The little one needs a moment to compose himself,” before walking us through the door.

He takes me to a small kitchen, though I’m not entirely sure why the bar even needs one. They don’t serve food here, just dust-dry pretzels and the occasional bag of expired potato chips. I whine a little when he sets me down, but Abi squeezes my ass reassuringly before pointing at something off to the side. I have no idea what he’s pointing at, but what’s worse is I can’t bring myself to look away from him. I’m lost in him. Drunk on him. Fucking consumed by Abi Kincaid.

He corners me, moving in close until I can’t even breathewithout our chests touching. And if I’m breathing a little heavier just so I can touch him, he can fucking cope.

“You’ve been teasing me all night, Tatum. I looked past your bad behavior when you stroked my cock beneath your family’s dinner table. I did not say a word when you entered the bathroom while I was showering, pulled back the curtain, and ejaculated onto my ankle?—”

“I told you—” I answer, only to be cut off.

“Yes, love. It was a prank. You wanted me to be the victim of a drive-by shooting.” He steps even closer, wrapping a hand around my throat and squeezing. It isn’t a tight squeeze. He means me no harm, but that knowledge doesn’t stop my heart from racing faster.

“It was a drive-by fruiting, actually,” I point out, my breath hitching as he tightens his grip. “I heard it in a movie once and thought it sounded fun.”

“Normally, I would not disagree. As a matter of fact, going forward, you’re welcome to sneak up and shoot your load on me any time you see fit, but not today.”

“Why not today?”

He cocks his head to the side and smirks. “Because, as I told you earlier, I have a surprise for you.” He reaches down and cups my balls in his hand. “It’s a surprise that requires all the cum these little guys can make. That’s what I told you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I say, grinding against his palm. “All my cum. It’s yours. You can have every drop.” When his hand wraps around my shaft, I think for a moment he’s about to provide me relief. Instead, he grips my cock roughly and glares.

“Naughty boy.” Moving closer, he captures my mouth with his, his tongue spearing inside, dominating me completely. When the kiss is over, he pulls back, and all of that nastiness is gone. There’s no more anger on his face. Just his goofy, golden-retriever-like smile. “Do you know what happens to naughty boys?”

I lick my lips in anticipation. “They get punished?”

He nods before taking a step back and pointing at an unnecessarily large wooden cake. I’m not entirely sure what its purpose is, but I don’t really care.

“Strip,” he says.

“What?”

“Strip, then get in the cake.”

“Why would I—” Before I can finish, Abi grabs the top of my shirt with both hands and rips the fabric in two like some busted-up superhero. I have no idea how this man has so much strength, but I’m not complaining.

Actually, yes, I am complaining, because that was my favorite fucking shirt. “I spent seventy dollars on that shirt, you big Russian bastard.”

“I will buy you another. Now, get in the cake.”

“Would you please stop speaking in vague commands and tell me why the hell you want me to get in the cake? Honestly, Abi, you’re unhinged.”

“Da,” he agrees. “Unhinged for you.” With my shirt ripped off and my shorts in just as tattered a condition, I’m standing in front of him wearing only a magenta jockstrap. On the other side of the wall, life roars on, and knowing the only thing hiding me from prying eyes is a strip of sheetrock and a layer of poly-cotton blend, my dick swells to life. It’s something Abi notices instantly, because a smirk rises in the corners of his mouth. “See? You’re enjoying this. Now, in the cake.”

I quickly realize resistance will get me nowhere. Once the son of a bitch gets an idea in his head, there’s no talking him out of it. “Fine,” I say, flinging my hands in the air. “But you’re coming with me. I’m not going in there by myself. There could be a snake.”

His eyebrow rises. “Why a snake?”

I shrug. “Fuck if I know. I haven’t had a chance to inspect it, have I? Yet you just expect me to climb in blindly—oh my Goddess, Abi, put me down!” The motherfucker’s picked me upand is carrying me toward the cake like I weigh nothing. I mean, in fairness, compared to him, it’s probably true. Still, it’s a bit unsettling to love a man who could easily pick you up with one hand and yeet you across a football field with all the effort it takes to stir creamer into your coffee.

When we reach the cake, he lifts me even higher before delicately placing me inside. The four-tier cake is almost as tall as I am, but not tall enough to hide the top of my head, so I crouch down. It’s rather spacious inside, but that space is invaded when Abi climbs in after me and crouches. He reaches over his head and pulls the lid closed, drenching us in darkness. I’m a little claustrophobic, and Abi must realize it, because his hand presses against my chest.

“Give me a second, sweetheart, I have this,” he says. There’s the sound of fabric rustling, and then the enclosure lights up when he powers on his phone screen. The only thing I see is a picture of me bending over, my ass fully visible. Even my hole. Part of me loves that he has my exposed body for anyone to see, should he turn it on in front of them.

“Would you mind telling me why the hell we’re in here, asshole?” I hiss.

“We’re coming to the stripper portion of the evening,” he says, as if that explains anything. “As Scotty said, Fiona was placed in charge of attaining a man of loose virtue. Fiona wanted to spend some one-on-one time with your mother, so I offered to hold auditions myself.”

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