Page 14 of Trick of the Flesh
“Fucking open, you piece of shit door.”
“Going somewhere?” I whisper, letting my voice drift down like smoke, low and teasing.
He freezes. Breath catches. “Miggy…”
I step down carefully, letting each footfall echo through the confined space. I can see him now, pressed against the far wall of the narrow hallway that leads deeper into the basement. His chest is heaving. Eyes wide. Hands trembling.
I feel like Sylvester the cat catching his Tweety bird.
“Stop pretending you’re not terrified,” I murmur, leaning closer. My mask is inches from his face. “I can feel it. Your heartbeat.” I press my open palm to his chest and sure enough, it thumps wildly against it. “The tremble in your hands. The way your legs won’t stop shaking.”
He presses back against the wall, trying to disappear into the shadows, trying to make himself smaller. But the hallway is narrow.
He has nowhere to run.
Unless it’s into me.
“You’re hard,” I whisper, dragging a finger along the waistband of his shorts and then down, brushing his cock just lightly enough to make him shiver. “Look at you. Panting, trembling, already leaking for me.”
He jerks, shaking his head. “I’m not…”
I laugh softly, low and sharp. “Don’t lie to me. I can feel it. Ibet you clench just thinking about how good it will feel once I’m inside you.”
He swallows hard as his knees wobble. Breath comes fast, shallow, and uneven. Panic edges his features. The small, tight hallway seems to close in on him, walls pressing like a cage.
“All you are is a hole I get to ruin, pretty boy.” I slide closer, chest almost brushing his. “You want it,” I whisper. “Your body’s screaming for it, begging for it, even if your mouth won’t. Admit it. Tell me how desperate you are for me.”
He shakes his head violently, panic rising, chest heaving harder. “I—I’m not begging.”
Mmmm, I love a brat.
I lean back slightly, letting him catch his breath. Panic is radiating off him. His skin is slick with sweat. His hair sticks to his forehead. His chest rises and falls, rapid and erratic. “Every inch of you is mine to break, Caleb. But I’ll always put you back together, little brother.” I pause, watching him, letting the moment stretch.
He’s perfect like this. Vulnerable. Hungry. Burning.
And he doesn’t even realize it.
“I could take you right here, right now, and leave you a broken mess. Maybe I should.” I reach out, letting a hand brush his shoulder and slide along his arm. He flinches at the touch.
His breath hitches and tremors ripple down his body.
“You’re pathetic,” I murmur, low and rough, my voice sliding into his ear. “Panting and shaking, aching for me, and you won’t even admit it. You’re already mine, little brother. Every inch of you, even if your pride won’t let you say it.”
His jaw tightens. Lips quivering. He steps back against the wall, shaking. I let him. I let him stew in the tension, in the craving, in the humiliation. I let him feel it curl in his gut, to where it’s impossible to ignore.
“You know what you want,” I whisper, voice low, teasing. “Your body knows. It’s leaking for me, craving me, begging for me silently. All you have to do…” I let my fingers graze the waistband again, making him shiver violently. “…is say it.”
He glares, shaking his head again.Won’t.
Can’t.
Pride and panic are fighting inside him. And that only makes the hunger coiling in me tighten. “Every corner you hide in, every breath you take… I’m already inside your head, Caleb. Let me have the rest of what’s mine.”
I pause for a moment, watching him, letting him breathe, letting the panic swell, then subside just slightly. I can see his chest rising and falling, sweat beading on his skin.
Still mine in every way that counts.
“Beg for me,” I murmur, moving closer, letting the shadow of my mask hover over him. “Beg like the little brat you are, and I’ll give you what you’re starving for. Every inch of it. All of it. Only good boys who beg get rewarded.”
