Page 13 of Vicious Like Me

I should say something menacing like, ‘There’s nothing you can say that will convince me to spare your life.’ Maybe a death threat will smack some fucking sense into him. But I don’t, I just keep walking, ready to leave my bedroom and get as far away from the tempting man as possible.

“You should have let me kill him.”

I freeze.

What the fuck did he just say? I spin back around to face him.

There’s no way this tempting, beautiful man can kill a goddamn soul. I eye him carefully, but this time he seems to be speaking truthfully. Those large brown eyes are filled with nothing but a terrifying coldness. I wonder what the hell The Director did to garner Skylar’s hatred. Does he actually want to hurt Franko, or is he fucking with me still?

Technically, Skylar is in the same adult film industry as Franko, so it’s very possible The Director did something to him. Franko has a horrible reputation, after all.

Disgusting images of that asshole laying his hands on Skylar make me sick. I swear, my blood boils, and I see red. The urge to turn around and gather him into my arms is strong. What would it feel like to have such a dominant man submit to me? What would it feel like to make Skylar mine? Because that’s why he’s here, right? That’s the real reason why I took him against his will. To make him mine.

I’ve never been in a situation like this before. Never felt so many contradicting emotions rush through me in such a short period of time. Never botched a job before. And all of it is because of this man tied to my bed.

When I look at him again, there’s a harsh snarl on his face. Even like this, he’s beautiful. There’s so much anger radiating from Skylar. Only, I don’t think it’s directed at me.

I imagine this striking man taking my gun and shooting Franko in the head. You should have let me kill him. I imagine him taking a large knife out and stabbing The Director in the heart, blood spurting in the air as he yanks the blade out of the vile man’s chest.

I remember the fury all over Skylar’s face when I shot Franko. Fury so potent it’s as if he were angry at me for missing. Or maybe angry that he didn’t get to do it himself.

Unable to stop myself, I stride forward, my boots eating up the distance between us. He tries to sit up as much as his restraints will let him, but I slam him back down with a firm hand on his chest. I use my whole body to press him into the mattress, my hard cock dragging against his through our clothes. He moans loudly, just as he did earlier. A tempting sound that I swear only I can pull from his lips.

Leaning in, I inhale right near his collarbone. He smells expensive. Like amber wood, cedar, and something sweet. I trace that spot with my teeth until he’s trembling with need. Then, I bite him. Hard.

Skylar is panting; harsh, deep breaths in between desperate little whimpers. His thick cock is thrusting against me. Making me wish there wasn’t any clothing between us. Slowly, I pop the button of his pants open and drag the zipper down. His brown eyes meet mine, hooded and soft. Skylar King is no longer wrath personified. He’s something much more dangerous and tempting. He’s my perfect little image of submission and trust.

Fuck. I need him like this every night. For the rest of my life. I shake the impossible image away and climb off his body. I pull out my phone and take a photo.

“What the hell are you doing?” His words are soft.

“Remembering you like this. With my mark.” Capturing this beautiful moment in time. A pretty lie that could never be true.

“You asshole,” he whispers softly, making my chest ache. “Delete it.”

“Never.” A sly smile tips my face. “For someone who films himself on a daily basis and gets thousands of views per video, you sure are shy.”

A heated, hungry light flickers in his eyes. “Ah, I knew it. You’re a fan of mine.”

My face flames with embarrassment. “That’s not what I said.”

“You didn’t have to.” He laughs, arching his back against my sheets, teasing me with his body. “You knew my name. Earlier, when you took me, you called me Skylar. You knew exactly who I was.”

I don’t say a word. I’m not confirming shit.

“Is that why I’m here, Jericho?” My name leaving his mouth causes me to shudder. He moves his hips, still squirming in his bindings.

He knows exactly what he does to me. ‘Fuck him,’ I think half-heartedly, unable to pull my gaze away.

“Is this a big fantasy of yours? Tie up your favorite porn star and have your wicked way with him?” He grins wickedly. “Mark me up so everyone can see?”

I swallow hard.

“Is that what you want, Jericho? Do you want me to bear your marks? Want me to tattoo this bite mark into my skin so the whole fucking world knows I’m yours?”

It’s like he’s tapping into my brain and plucking out my naughtiest desires. He’s telling me everything I want to hear, but I know the truth. “I might be a big fan of yours,” I reply. “But we aren’t even compatible.” Fucking hell, why am I admitting this out loud? It’s none of his fucking business. And yet, the words continue to tumble out of my mouth. “You only top… and I don’t bottom for anyone. Not even the famous Skylar King.”

That stunning, wide smile returns. He grins like he has a secret. Like he knows something critical that I don’t.