Page 82 of Kiss the Villain

Something that I’d never experienced before.

So goddamn random.

I’m not supposed to likeanythingcoming out of this man’s mouth.

And yet here I am, dragging him to his bedroom, where he has all the ropes and lube and weird devices. I know because I snooped into his drawer of nightmares, hoping to find something, but, instead, ended up with visual assault.

Anyway, his skin is hot and a bit tingly due to the electrocution. Thanks to one of Niko's guards, I got one of those strong black-market ones. The dude specifically said it can’t be used on anyone weighing less than a hundred eighty pounds or with any health issues. And that it can black out certain people, even if they’re over the weight limit and have no health concerns.

My dear professor is slabs of muscle, so he’s over two hundred pounds and he looks as healthy as Satan to me, so we’re good on that front.

Unfortunately, he didn’t black out, though, and keeps shaking his head.

I’m disappointed he didn’t scream or even grunt when he took the hit. He would’ve looked hot.

Not that I think he’shot.

I mean heis, but that’s beyond the point.

Once we’re close to the bed, I try to lift him up and his entire weight falls on my shoulder, nearly knocking me over.

Jesus fuck.

The man is a truck. Or like this goddamn steel wall that’s always hell-bent on crushing me.

“You’ll be punished for this, you little fucker.” His speech is a bit slurred.

“Language, Professor.” I grin as I throw him on the bed.

He falls on his back at the edge, his cock forming a tent in his silky pants, apparently not fazed by the electricity. I have to adjust mine, because why the fuck is that view so tantalizing?

Starting to think asking these questions is a total waste of time because my dick has a mind of his own now. Guess I should stop overthinking these awkward boners around Kayden.

They happen. End of story.

Maybe tonight will be the end of it, once and for all.

I peel off my jeans and hoodie on autopilot, down to just my boxer briefs. When I look up, his dark stare is locked on me—rage or arousal, hard to tell.

With him, they’re pretty much the same thing anyway.

I have a great body and even better posture, I know I do.Years of disciplined workouts and relentless archery training have made sure of that. Enough muscle to show off abs and look defined without being bulky.

I yank the knife from the holster strapped to my calf and leap onto him, straddling his waist. My gaze flickers to his chest, broader than mine, shoulders sculpted, and, seriously, eight abs? The snake tattoo coils across his torso, making him look like a dragon.

And that dragon is now at my mercy.

I spot a tiny lily tucked under the serpent’s scales on his side, oddly out of place with the rest of the ink. Asking about it would scream interest, and I’m not about to go there. So I shift my focus to his face.

He stays perfectly still, his breaths shallow yet deep, breathing like he’s wrestling with some invisible force. Electricity? Sure, let’s go with that.

"Don’t give me that look." I let the tip of my knife flirt with his chest, skimming close but never breaking skin. “You’re the genius who said I could fuck you if I got on top. Didn’t say I couldn’t cheat, so I did. I kind of have to with assholes like you. Survival of the smartest, right?”

His cock presses against my ass, just the thin barrier of my boxer briefs and his pants between us, but I stay stubbornly upright, refusing to give him the satisfaction of even a millimeter of friction. Sure, I said I wanted to fuck him, but let’s be real—I wouldn’t know where to start. And if I’m being brutally honest, screwing a guy isn’t exactly on my bucket list.

But being his bitch? Yeah, that’s not in the cards either. The very idea makes my teeth itch.

Still, keeping my ass from giving in and grinding against him is becoming a full-time job, and my cock is not helping, stretching and aching like it’s about to file an official complaint.

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