Page 6 of To Curse A Knight

Not bloody likely.

I chose peace instead of violence.

“Sure, big guy. Ask away. I’m an open book. Practically the Bible, really, with all the—”

A large hand gripped my bare thigh, the rough calluses catching on the soft layer of hair there. The squeeze was firm but gentle—a warning.

“Why did you follow Hillary tonight?”

“No secrets—already told you that one. Had a taste of her already, and now I’m taken with the woman. Was hoping for another taste. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would ya?”

A blind man could have seen how the mafia man looked at my Blondie. Broody and protective, his attention never straying from her for longer than a few seconds. A man in love, or at least a man as obsessed as me.

“Don’t talk about her that way,” he spat. Bingo—man in love, no question.

“Talk about her like what? Like she didn’t give me the best fuck of my life? Sorry, Conan, our ‘7 Seconds in Heaven’ shower fuck was good, but I’m gonna need a whole lot more than that, if you want to measure up to Blondie.”

The grip on my skin tightened, the heat of his palm branding my frozen skin. That was the extent of it, though – I was impressed with his control. It would be even more satisfying to make him lose it.

“Why are you here?”

“In a feckin’ basement?” I feigned confusion. “Some pervert drugged me and brought me here.”

The blunt nails of his hand might have punctured my skin with the vise-like hold, but I was on a roll. Kellan’s weakness was the need to tame an insolent brat—and here I was, at his disposal.

“Why. Are. You. Here?”

“Stop asking questions you know the answers to.” I shot back, goading him. “Work in tech, remember? Infiltrating Alvarez’s tech company. Gonna bring the baddies down. Weren’t you in the room when we had this conversation? Wait—what’s your IQ?—not related, just curious.”

To my disappointment, he removed his hand, and I heard the shuffle of his feet against the pavement floor moving away. A jolt of electricity shot into both of my nipples. My back arched off the chair and I howled. The handcuffs pulled painfully at my wrists from the spasm.

Jesus, fuck, that hurt. But my dick disagreed, because my shorts were fully tented, dick loud and proud, ready for more.

Fucking masochist, my dick.

A dark chuckle reverberated off the walls and deft hands unlatched the leather eye covering from the harness.

Blinking rapidly, my eyes adjusted to my dim surroundings. We were in what looked like a workshop; a collection of saws, hammers, and screwdrivers on a pin board in front of me. Unease settled into the pit of my stomach.

Did Kellan make children’s toys, or were those meant for torture? Definitely the latter. I just hoped he wouldn’t touch my face. I really liked my face.

Rough pads of his hands landed on my shoulders from behind, sliding down the front of my chest to tweak the nipple clamps. My body twitched again from the sensation, but my dick practically leaped out of my boxers.

Traitor.

“You’ve got a tracker under there.” Kellan casually slapped the fleshy part of my shoulder from behind, a dull ache settling deep into the muscle tissue. “Ankle monitors can be too easy to manipulate. I made sure that one was deep, so you won’t be able to tamper with it. Since you work in ‘tech’.”

Didn’t need to see him to catch the air quotes on that one. But fuck, internal hardware hadnot beenpart of the plan.

“You’re not just a cocky little shit,” he mused, his hands moving from my arm to slide excruciatingly slowly over the planes of my chest. “You’re trained for interrogation.”

Coarse hair tickled my cheek when he lowered his mouth to my ear. Warm, soft lips gently traced the shell before a hot tongue laved down to the lobe and he sucked it gently between his teeth.

I squirmed in the hard seat. With nowhere to go, if this was how Kellan wanted to test me into spilling my secrets, I’d at least spill my load in the process.

Bristles of his beard brushed against my neck as his mouth moved southward, pressing bruising kisses along the taut muscle.

Fuck it. I melted into the seat, rolling my head to the side to give him better access. I could be a pliant subbie with the right motivation.

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