Page 26 of Dysfunctional

“Well, do you realize that to fuck me, there would need to be some sort of preparation?”

He smiles in a way that shows no humor. “Maybe you don’t realize what’s gonna happen here.”

My heart leaps into my throat. I’ve always been excited by fear. I live for it. The thought of getting caught. The act of doing something wrong. But being vulnerable like this really ratchets the fear up to another level. I know I can’t trust him, but there’s part of me that believes he won’t kill me. Not now. Not yet.

I’ve ensnared him. He doesn’t know that everything I’ve done was for him. Every move I’ve made was just a step in his direction. I don’t mind playing a long game. I’ve got him now, though, and I won’t lose him so easily. Whatever he wants to do, I’ll allow, because I know I’m in charge, even when he thinks he is. There’s still something I need to know, and he won’t open up willingly. And there’s still a decision I need to make, but in the meantime, I don’t mind having a little fun.

You can sleep with people you hardly know, people you hate. Hell, even people you want to kill. Sex is nothing but physical pleasure. You don’t need to be in love to do it.

He drops his underwear and climbs onto the bed, straddling my legs. I lick my lips as I take in the sight of him. Good god.

The intensity of his gaze as his eyes rake over me makes heat bloom in my chest. I focus on the set of his mouth, surrounded by his short-trimmed beard and mustache, and wonder if he tastes like the darkness that lives in his eyes.

His bronze body is flawless—the opposite of mine. He holds no tattoos, and besides the scar on his neck, he doesn’t seem to have ever been injured. My skin, while having some color, is still paler than his, and decorated in ink and healed scars. I’m lean with some toned muscle, but he’s cut. My eyes track the veins protruding in his biceps, traveling lower to his forearm where they sprawl out like vines.

I watch him work as he undoes my black slacks, pulling them past my ass, followed by my boxer-briefs. My cock springs free, slapping against my stomach with a smack.

Ezra reaches for his erection, stroking it as he stares at my dick. He doesn’t say anything, but eventually, he reaches out and runs his other palm up my shaft.

“Shit,” I cry, wanting more.

He leans over me, bracing himself on his forearms as his face moves closer to mine. The idea that he’d kiss me is fleeting. His mouth hovers near my ear, his hips rocking slowly, grinding his cock against mine. I yank on the restraints, wanting nothing more than to touch him.

“I’m going to use you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

The hair on my arms stand up as goosebumps travel the length of them.

He sits back up, bringing our cocks together in his hand as he strokes. I bite down on my lip, my chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

“Why did you bring me to that club? The real reason.”

I groan as his hand moves up and down both our erections. “I told you.”

“I said the real reason.” He lets go of my dick and continues to stroke only himself.

“Because I wanted you. My,” I pause, trying to find the best word, “fascination with you was at a boiling point. I thought I would be okay with just being friends, but you’re like a magnet, and I’m iron. When I get too close, you pull me in, even if you don’t mean to. It’s hard to fight the attraction. I needed to be there with you, surrounded by people having sex, hoping it would give you a jumpstart to admitting you wanted me.”

“Wanted,” he says simply. “You said youwantedme.”

“I still do.”

“Why?”

His strokes are languid. He’s not trying to get off, only making sure he stays hard.

“I like the way you look.”

With a swift movement, he grabs the knife and slams it onto my sternum, lying flat.

“I don’t like being lied to.”

My stomach quivers and I shake my head. “I like the darkness in you. Makes me feel normal.”

He takes a second to mull over my words and then his fingers wrap around the handle of the knife and he carefully drags the tip of the blade down the middle of my chest before bringing it to my heart.

He doesn’t look at me, he just watches the knife. My breaths are ragged, fear and excitement mixing together.

“I went a long time trying to be normal. Society’s version of normal, anyway. I thought I was content, even though the thoughts and urges never really went away. I was better at ignoring them, but by suppressing those needs, I changed a lot about who I am.” He places the sharp edge against my skin, between my fourth and fifth ribs. His body vibrates with energy. He wants to do it again. “I miss the warmth of the blood on my fingers. The way life drains from their eyes as blood seeps from their bodies.” He inhales deeply through his nose, his eyes finally landing on mine. “I thought I could be done, until you.”

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