Page 17 of Trick of the Flesh
His head tilts, mask catching moonlight, blank and merciless. He presses closer, the heat of his body suffocating me, stealing what’s left of my air. My hip catches against his thigh. Too intimate, too obvious.
Like I’m seeking the friction.
Desperate for it.
“I can smell it on you,” he murmurs. His breath, ghosts hot against my ear, filtered through the mask. “Fear. Sweat. And under it… something so much sweeter.” His hand drags lower, not touching yet, but threatening to. “God, I want to touch you. Still hard for me, Caleb?”
“No!” My denial comes too fast, too panicked. It betrays me.
He laughs, deep and sharp. “Liar.”
He’s right, I am a liar because my cock has never been so hard. It only gets like this when I’m around him.
The sound rattles in my chest, vibrating through the bark at my back. I want to tell him to stop, to let me go, to go to hell. Instead, I’m frozen, caught between the thrum of terror and the sick, crawling heat low in my abdomen.
His knee nudges between my legs, casual, testing. My breath stills.
Miguel doesn’t miss it.He never misses anything when it comes to me.
“There it is,” he whispers, triumphant. “Your body doesn’t lie, Caleb. No matter how much your pretty little mouth tries to.”
I shake my head hard, shame burning hot across my face. “Fuck you.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His words slash, cruel and hungry. “On your knees. On your back. On top of me, riding my cock like the desperate little slut you are. Doesn’t matter. You’d take me any way I gave it. Tell me, baby brother, do you let all the guys at school bend you over and pump you full of cum? Or—” He leans in and whispers. “Did you save that pretty little hole just for me?”
My stomach twists in knots. The worst part is the flicker in me that doesn’t recoil. The flicker that ignites at the sound of him saying all these filthy things to me.
“Mmm, something tells me it’s the latter.”
I try to twist, but he’s immovable. His hand finally moves—lower, pressing just enough against the waistband of my shorts to make my whole body jolt.
“You’re trembling,” he says. “Not just from fear. Is my sweet little brother a virgin?”
“I’m not—” My protest cuts off with a broken sound as his palm skims my hipbone. My head thuds back against the tree. I hate myself for the heat surging through me.
“Tell me you’re hard and that it’s because of me.” His voice is a command, sharp and dark. “Say it, or I’ll keep you here all night until you choke on the truth. That truth being my cock shoved in your mouth and my cum sliding down that pretty fucking throat of yours.”
I clench my teeth, refusing. My fists curl uselessly at my sides.
He leans in, mask nearly touching my cheek. “Say it.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. The night presses heavily around us, my pulse frantic.
Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
I repeat over and over in my mind, fighting every singlepart of me that wants to scream,“Yes… I’m hard because of you. I get off on the humiliation and the dirty talk.”
He lingers a moment longer, so close I can feel his heart steady against my erratic one. Then—suddenly—he steps back.
The absence of him is a gut punch. I sag against the tree, knees weak, chest heaving.
Miguel laughs softly, cruel amusement wrapping the sound. “What a stubborn little thing you are. That’s fine.” He tilts his head, the mask glowing faintly. “You’ll break for me soon enough.”
And then he’s gone, slipping into the shadows, leaving me crumpled against the bark, trembling with fear, rage, and the sick pulse of arousal I can’t deny.
I don’t want to deny it.
I slidedown the tree until I’m crouched low, arms wrapped tight around myself. My lungs still haven’t caught up. Every inhale scrapes my throat raw—every exhale tastes like dirt and shame. The woods are too quiet without him in them.That’s the worst part.The silence. No snapping branches, no measured footsteps.
