Page 32 of Kiss, Kill, Thrill Me, Daddy

“What game plan?” he asks, moving his hand to the top of my head, his fingers massaging my scalp.

I kiss his nipple and allow my tongue to flick out, eliciting a moan from my Russian captor. His hand holds me in place, but there’s no place I’d rather be. I lick a strip across his nipple, living for the way his entire body shakes at the contact I’ve provided. Lowering my hand, I tiptoe my fingers toward his cloth-covered cock.

“Call him,” I repeat.

He’s staring at me with a question half-formed on his lips, but nothing comes out. It’s like I’m some ancient, recently unearthed tome that holds all the secrets of the universe, and he’s trying to study each and every one of them.

“Why?” he finally asks, and all I can do is shoot him a pleading look. Answering him means admitting to my deviancy. My darkest desire—being watched and sexually humiliated byevery man I’ve ever met—isn’t something to be proud of. It’s shameful. Depraved. “You want them to watch, don’t you?” Heat spreads across my face, and when I don’t respond, he flashes a smile, giving me a quick nod. “Alright.”

As he reaches for his phone on the bedside table, I lower myself between his legs and pull the blanket over my head. In darkness, I can be anyone I want to be. Shrouded by a hot-pink quilt with stitched-on Barbie logos from my youth, I can allow myself to be the man he needs. The man Abi Kincaid deserves.

On the other side of this cover, there’s the sound of a phone ringing, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except what’s in front of me. I lay my head against his leg, nuzzling my nose into the crevice between his thigh and his cock. He smells the way you might expect him to smell. The sweat of the night before, dried and musky and fucking irresistable. Whiff after whiff, it’s like the aroma is ripping the resistance out of me. Abi Kincaid’s musk is an aphrodisiac. It should be bottled and sold for mass consumption. My hand is on his knee, but when I hear Scotty’s voice come through Abi’s speaker, it’s like my entire body is on fire, the same way it was when Abi asked me to come for him during the Hands on a Hard-On contest. The same heat that spread through me like wildfire when he made me come in front of Scotty, Brody, and Fee in our cabin. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I have an exhibitionist kink.

My hand slides beneath his boxers and inches closer toward glory. When I come into contact with his balls, it feels like something has exploded within me. All resistance leaves me, because I’m touching a place that’s sacred. One he saves just for me, in hopes I might take what’s rightfully mine. So, that’s exactly what I do. I take his balls in my hand and softly stroke the hairy skin, enjoying the way his hand tightens around my shoulder.

“Fuck,” I hear him moan. Scotty says something in the background, but I can’t make out the words. There’s something hard pressing against my forehead, and it doesn’t take me long to realize what it is. The cloth covering it is damp, and it’s gettingdamper by the second. I’m kind of in awe that I’ve got him leaking like faulty residential plumbing just from touching his balls. Letting go of his heavy sack, I inch my fingers closer to his cock, gasping softly when I come into contact with it. “Jesus Christ, Tatum.”

My cock throbs in my jockstrap at the appreciation in his voice. As I wrap one hand around his shaft, I place the other on top of my bulge, giving it a few good strokes. Cool air rushes across my face, and when I open my eyes, the blanket is gone. There’s no darkness left to hide my actions. No means of plausible deniability. Only the truth. My hand around his cock. His unnecessarily massive slab of meat.

Rinna, mother of God, it’s like a third leg. My fingertips barely even touch, it’s that thick.

“Scotty? I think I need to call you back.”

“You literally just called me. We’ve been on the phone for less than a minute. We need to plan for the big day. Focus, please.” His voice is heavy with disdain, but when I peek up at Abi, his eyes are locked on me, and he looks more serious than I’ve ever seen him.

“Scotty,” he says, his voice firm. “My husband is about to stroke my cock.”

Oh, my fucking Goddess.

Husband.

The word alone almost makes me unload in my jock. Thankfully, the overwhelming rush of pleasure eases, and I don’t prematurely blow a load on his thigh.

Abi reaches down and strokes my head. “You can either hang up or things can get uncomfortable.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Scotty says, sounding exasperated. “I don’t care what Tatum’s doing right now. We have to get this sorted. Put him on. Let me talk to him.”

My eyes bulge, because I didn’t think Abi would call me out like this. What I’m giving is just for him, no one else. It’s a fact that seems to be lost on Abi, because he turns the phone towardme. On screen, Scotty is sitting crisscross applesauce on the bed at his apartment. Brody’s behind him, staring angrily into the phone’s camera, not blinking.

“Hi, Tater Tot,” Scotty says as if the sight of me with a cock in my hand is some normal, everyday occurrence. “Sorry about yesterday, what with the whole arranging a double wedding behind your back. Alright. Apologies are out of the way. Now, listen. Brody and I will be over in an hour and a half, and we’re going to go pick out our outfits for the wedding.”

My cock twitches at the mention of our impending wedding. Just the thought of walking down the aisle toward Abi has blood pumping in places it has no right pumping. Part of me wonders if Fee will be behind me, a gun to my back, forcing me to go along with it. The idea of being forced to marry this man should fill me with panic and dread, but it doesn’t. It gets me hard as a fucking rock. My imagination lingers on the scenario as I slowly stroke Abi’s shaft. Mental pictures of Abi with a needle in his hand, waiting for his captive husband to be presented on a silver platter, ready to drug me into marrying him against my will.

I slide my free hand beneath my jockstrap and stroke myself slowly. Looking up, I catch his gaze, and he’s breathing just as heavily as me. Fire courses through our eyes, and the longer we stare, the harder it is for me to see sense. Social decorum is out the window.

“Hang up,” I say in a voice I barely recognize. My eyes are glued to his twitching shaft. The motherfucker is massive. I’m pretty sure it would split me in two if I tried to sit on it.

Abi turns the phone and gives them a polite smile. “Your presence is no longer needed. As Tatum might say; hope you cry, hope you die, toodaloo, bye bye.”

“Don’t you fuckingdarehang up on me after spitting out a ridiculous freestyle, Kincaid. This is the most important day of our lives and I refuse to allow your unwelcome erection to spoil it for us. Tatum?”

Abi turns the screen to face me, and I must have a ridiculous,love-drunk look on my face, judging by Scotty’s annoyed expression. “Hey, Scotty.” My body is rocked with dopamine, and it feels like I’m going to crawl out of my skin.

Scotty rolls his eyes. “Listen,” he says, sounding exasperated. “We’ve got stuff to go over. I don’t care what you’re doing to him. Suck him. Fuck him. I honestly don’t give a shit, but we need to discuss the plans, so pay attention.”

My eyes lock on Abi, and there’s a smirk curled up in the corner of his mouth. He flexes, making his cock bounce, slapping me right in the mouth. The action leaves a small puddle of pre-cum on my lips, and without thinking, I lick them clean, moaning when I taste his flavor for the first time. It’s sweetness with hints of tang. Honey with a peppering of cream. I want more. Ineedmore. Scotty could be droning on about anything right now, and I wouldn’t know. Not when Abi is staring at me like I’m the only thing that matters in this world. He reaches for me, placing his hand on top of mine. For a second, I worry he might pull my hand away. Instead, he slowly guides me up the shaft, then down again.

“Good boy,” he croons. His voice is warm and welcoming, like coming home after a long day at work. “Go on, Tatum. Stroke my cock.” His hand falls away from mine, but I don’t stop my movement. I stroke him slowly, my eyes caught on his smiling face. He has his phone propped against a lamp on my bedside table, giving anyone on the other end a delightful view. When I glance over, Scotty’s smirking like the cat who got the cream, but Brody is right behind him, staring directly at me. I cock an eyebrow at him and his cheeks burn red.

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