Page 54 of Psycho Pack

His teeth graze my ear. "Good boy."

The words send a shiver down my spine. I want to punch him. Want to throw him down and fuck him raw. But his hand is moving on my cock with maddening precision, and I can't think straight.

He strips me with ruthless efficiency, shoving my pants down around my ankles. The cold cave air hits my skin, but I barelynotice. All I can focus on is his hands on me, the heat of his body pressed against mine.

"Turn around."

"Fuck you."

His grip tightens on my throat. "Now."

I bare my teeth but comply, bracing my hands against the rough stone. His body molds against my back, cock pressing against my ass. One hand slides up my chest while the other wraps around my cock again.

"This isn't the way it's gonna go," I say through my teeth.

"Still want to fight me?" he purrs, giving me a slow stroke that makes my knees buckle.

"Always," I growl, but it comes out more like a moan.

His chuckle is dark, dangerous.

Nothing like his usual clinical detachment.

This is something else.

Something that makes my cock throb in his grip.

I surge back against him, twisting in his grip. He tries to maintain control but I use my bulk to my advantage, spinning us around and pinning him face-first against the cold stone again.

"Still think you're in charge, Doc?" I growl against his ear, grinding my cock against his ass. My hand wraps around his throat, mimicking his earlier hold on me.

He lets out a low laugh that makes me shudder. "I'm letting you think you are."

"That so?" I tighten my grip, not enough to cut off his air but enough to remind him who's bigger. Who's stronger. "Seems to me you're the one pinned against the wall now."

His lean muscles tense against me as he tests my hold. But he's not going anywhere unless I let him.

"I could break free if I wanted," he says, his lean body still pressed between me and the stone. "I'm letting you have control."

"Bullshit." I grind my body against his back and his ass, letting him feel how hard I am. My fingers dig into his throat just enough to make him gasp. "You like being manhandled. Admit it."

His only response is a low laugh that sends electricity down my spine. I release his throat to grab a fistful of his hair instead, yanking his head back. My teeth find his neck, biting down hard enough to leave marks.

"Fuck," he hisses, his hips pushing back against me.

"What was that about being in control?" I growl against his skin.

His hand snakes between us, wrapping around my cock. Even at this awkward angle, his grip is perfect. I bite back a groan as he squeezes it and gives it a hard, strong, deliberate stroke.

"Iamin control," he says, voice steady despite his ragged breathing. "I always am."

I slam his hand against the wall, pinning it there. "Not anymore."

He tries to twist free but I press closer, using my bulk to keep him trapped. My free hand slides down his tense, flat stomach and pushes down the crisp white pants he's still wearing. He's still rock hard, already leaking.

So much for that clinical detachment.

"Look who's eager now," I chuckle in his ear.

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