Page 52 of Kiss, Kill, Thrill Me, Daddy

Turning his head, he arches an eyebrow at me. I grab my phone from where I tossed it on the bed earlier and bring up my camera, snapping a quick photo of his ass.

“For later,” I explain, locking my phone and placing it beside me on the bed.

He just stands there, laughing to himself as he grabs his discarded pants with his toes and kicks them into the air, catching them with ease. As he slips into them, he lets the waist linger beneath his cheeks, giving me an unobstructed view of the promised land. “If you would like to take more photographs to add to your collection, I’m happy to pose.”

My lips curl into a grin as I fall back into my default setting ofsassy son of a bitch. “I’ve seen enough of your big hairy ass to last me a lifetime, thank you very much.”

“Perhaps,” he says, and for reasons I don’t quite understand, he bends over, exposing every inch of himself. Mother of all that is holy, his hole is perfection. A dark dusting of fur that swirls around his pink pucker. Part of me wants to dive off the bed and press my lips against it, offering it a goodnight kiss. Obviously, I resist that urge, because I’m not a wild animal incapable of rational behavior. It’s a well-fought battle, though. “Collect your things and get dressed. We will destroy what’s upstairs, and then I will fuck you on their bed.”

My eyes bulge at the suggestion. “I think I’m going to need a little time to ...” The words die on my tongue when he turns around, showing me his still-throbbing erection. I’m pretty sure my heart just stopped beating entirely. “... recover.”

He strokes himself slowly—motherfucking obscenely—as he cocks his head to the side and smiles innocently. “You told me anytime I want, earlier, did you not?”

“Yes, well,” I huff, forcing an eye roll when really I want to roll my tongue around his cock. “I was in the midst of a viciousbuggering. You can’t believe a word that comes out of my mouth when I’m being fucked.”

He looks pained for a moment, and it takes a second for me to realize he may think I’m alluding to the way I declared my love for him while in the throes of passion. He opens his mouth like he’s going to ask for clarification, only to snap it shut and give me a nod.

I could reassure him. I could put him at ease by saying those three words again, but I don’t. And, with each second that passes, the silence seeps through the room like a fog, hiding and hoarding the admission I made earlier.

There’s hurt on his face, and I’m the one who put it there. The worst part is, no matter how much I want to take his hurt away, I just sit here, letting the silence spread around us.

“I would like to fuck you again, if you’ll allow it,” he finally says. I look at him, surprised to find him smiling. “Will you let me?”

I can’t give him the admission he deserves, but Icangive him this. So, I nod. “Yeah. You can fuck me again.”

Five minutes later, after we’re both dressed, Abi picks me up, places me on his hip, and carries me toward the stairs. My hands cling desperately to him as I suck his neck, wanting to leave my mark. Tomorrow, I want our friends and family to see the purple and blue marks left on his porcelain skin. He can wear it as his scarlet letter, and maybe if I ask nicely, he’ll give me one to wear as well.

I continue sucking as he reaches the landing and pauses in front of Benito’s bedroom. With a scream that could rival a slasher flick victim, he lifts his leg and kicks the door off its hinges, the same way he did downstairs.

I don’t stop sucking his skin. Not when he sucks in a quick breath, not when I hear him mumble something in Russian, and not when I hear another voice whimpering in the corner of the room.

“Please don’t hurt me,” the voice says, and it’s one I recognize,but can’t quite place. Reluctantly, I pry my lips away from Abi’s neck long enough to look over my shoulder, and what I see makes my blood run cold. “Tater Tot?”

There, in the corner of the room, is my ex-boyfriend, Benjamin. My Benji. For reasons I don’t understand, he’s inside a large metal cage, his arms wrapped around his legs, holding them to his chest, his body shaking with nerves.

Is he in a fucking dog crate?

“Benji?” As soon as I get the name out, it’s like someone’s flipped a switch inside his head. He lets go of his legs and lunges forward.

“Tatum!” He reaches through the bars of his cage, sticking one hand out for me, flailing it desperately. I don’t understand what the hell is going on, but the facts don’t matter right now—Benji does. I rush over, falling to my knees when I reach him, grabbing his hand and holding on for dear life. Benji’s got a sleepy smile on his face, and he’s staring at me like my presence is the greatest gift he’s ever been given. He uses his other hand to grip my wrist, and I have to fight back a wince as his nails dig into my skin. “Where have you been? I looked everywhere!” He pulls my hand inside the cage and holds it against the side of his face just staring at me with his big blue eyes. His hair is longer than when I left. Usually, he keeps it short on the sides with a little fluff of blond hair at the top. Now, it’s frizzy all over, and it looks like it hasn’t seen a hairbrush in months.

I search for the latch, but my stomach twists into knots when I find it’s padlocked. “Benji? Babes, where’s the key?”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. I’ve only been here a couple of days. When Nito gets home, he’s gonna let me out. He promised.”

I clench the hand not holding Benji into a fist, trying my best to bite my tongue. “A couple of days? He’s kept you in here the whole time he’s been gone?”

Benji’s smile radiates pride. “I told him I could be his good boy again. This is my way of proving it.” He bites his lip andlooks away, staring at the wall. When I turn to see what he’s staring at, I notice a large dry erase board secured to the wall where a picture of the Bens, Austin, and myself once hung. On the board, Benji and Bennet’s names are written in large, hastily scrawled letters. There’s another name scribbled at the bottom, but I can’t make out the handwriting. Green checkmarks and red frowny-face emojis fill the small boxes next to their names. Benji’s are mostly sad faces and red slashes. Bennet’s column has a little less red and a bit more green, though not by much. The third name has pink hearts scattered all over the place, making it look like a poorly constructed Valentine’s Day card.

“What the hell is that?” I ask.

“That’s our scoreboard. Nito put it up a few days after you left. He said he needed to monitor us so we don’t end up like you and Austin.” He darts his eyes away from me and stares at the floor. “I’ve been a bad boy, Tate. I try and try to do better, but I just keep messing up.” He sniffles, and it’s a sound that cracks my ice-cold heart in two. “Nito said you left because of me, so I’ve been trying to be good so Bennet doesn’t leave me, too. That’s why Daddy put me in here—so I could think about how bad I’ve been and what I can do to fix it.” He forces a smile—the same forced smile I used to wear when I would sit in the chair, waiting for them to finish so I could go to sleep—but it’s only now that I notice the tear stains on his cheeks. “He’s gonna be so proud of me when he gets home. I just know it.”

The trip to Guadalajara was supposed to last a week. That son of a bitch planned to leave Benji in a goddessdamned cage for seven days. It’s a revelation that makes me want to burn this fucking townhouse to the ground.

“Where’s the key?” I ask, fiddling with the padlock.

“Nito wears it on a chain around his neck. He’s gonna open it up as soon as he gets home, though. He said so.”

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