Page 44 of Kiss the Villain

My sore nipples and bitten chest hurt when he crawls over my body, but I don’t have the capacity to focus on that when he slides one cum-filled hand into my hair, then grabs my jaw with the other one.

Maybe because I’m spent and can’t resist him or because he squeezes my cheeks hard, I have no choice but for my lips to part.

Kayden leans down and spits cum right inside my mouth.

He spits my own cum—and his—in my mouth.

His eyes darken until they’re almost black. Theyhaveblack flecks, I realize, as his face hovers so close to mine.

Amidst the gray, there are tiny, curious black patches that match his thick brows and hair.

And those flecks are overtaking the gray in a vicious invasion as he watches our cum pooling on my tongue, his grip not allowing me to swallow.

Then he thrusts two fingers in and pounds them to the back of my throat. “Swallow every last drop. I want to watch that throat stuffed full of cum.”

As I do, I accidentally swallow around his fingers. His groan drops on my skin like a fucked-up caress.

The taste is different from when it was only his cum the last time. It feels more fucked up, too.

Sick.

As someone who hates other people’s touch and fluids, I can’t seem to conjure a sense of disgust at his taste as I gobble everything he gives me the fuck up.

I can’t stop licking and swallowing.

The damn fucking drugs. Ithasto be.

Then all of a sudden, he pulls his fingers from my mouth and stands up.

I keep staring at him through a weird haze, my mouth dry and my body a hot, sweaty, and cum-covered mess as he frees my wrists.

They fall on either side of me, lifeless, with no power whatsoever.

Kayden’s long fingers tap my cheek. “You were a good boy today.”

A strange sensation happens.

It starts low, deep inside, and like wildfire, the smoldering spreads, quickly flooding my chest, my limbs, until I can barely breathe.

I blink as he walks into the bathroom with measured steps.

What the fuck was that feeling…?

My every nerve sparks with heat, my skin tight and flushed with warmth, and my mind is overblown with confusion.

We had the same drug and yet it feels like I’m the only laughingstock around here.

I pull my heavy body up, shaking my head when I stand and the room starts spinning.

Doesn’t matter if I die in a freak accident. I’m simply not staying here to find out what the fuck he’s planning to do next.

This man is more dangerous than his profiling suggests. Not because of his actions per se—though they’re unpredictable and disturbing—but what truly worries me ismyreaction to those actions.

Pulling my jeans and boxers up in one hand, I stumble to the door, grabbing a jacket from the hanger on the way out and putting it on.

Forget about revenge.

I need to stay the fuck away before I get sucked into that disturbing man's orbit.

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