Page 42 of Kiss the Villain

“Just?” He jerks himself, not as powerfully as he did to me, but the view only adds to my agony.

I pull at the ropes, groaning in frustration. “You know what.”

“Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“Let me come,” I whisper between clenched teeth.

“Louder.” He taps his crown against mine, and it’s as if being touched by electricity.

“Let me come,” I say in a clearer voice, the last word ending with a moan.

“Now, beg me to make this beautiful cock weep.” He slides his dick against mine and glides his length up and down. We’re almost the same length, but he’s bigger in girth with larger angry veins lining his dick.

My mouth waters at the memory of him inside it, against my tongue and slamming into the back of my throat.

And he’s still rubbing us together, firmly, with a rhythmic friction that drives me insane.

No, it’s the drugs, actually.

That’s what’s making me writhe against the pillow, thrusting up and down against another fuckingcock.

Then it stops—the rubbing, and the mind-blowing pleasure—because he wraps both his hands around our cocks, bringing the friction to a halt.

“This motherfucking…” I glare at him.

He only smiles, the motion never reaching his empty eyes. Though they’re not so empty anymore. An unfamiliar dark and entirely vicious emotion shines through the lustful haze.

“I said. Beg.”

My breaths leave in long, fractured spurts. I’d do anything to come right now. I’m de facto debasing myself to the subhuman hormonal fools I look down upon.

“Please,” I let the word fall in a whisper.

“Please what?”

“Fuck…just—” I swallow, breathing deeply. “Please let me come.”

“Say it again.” He jerks us up and down roughly, adding painful friction, and a renewed jolt rushes through me.

It feels so good.

Whydoes it feel good?

Kayden rubbing our cocks together in that firm rhythm shouldn’t feel like it’s the best erotic touch I’ve ever had.

I don’t even like jerking off, like it’s really hard for me to reach orgasm with handjobs, or oral in general, which is why I rarely masturbate.

And yet, right now, his large, rough hand and throbbing veiny cock are sliding me to an unfamiliar edge.

My senses are full of him, the woodsy smell, the striking eyes, the menacing snake. Our scents mixing into a hazy erotic fog.

All male.

Completely fucking male.

No flowery perfume, no soft touch, and no tits.

Just hard muscles and powerful, painful, and entirely controlled touches.

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