If he’s not gonna kill me, what the fuck else is he planning on doing with me? Because from the looks of it, it’s not much.
“Fine, then don’t,” he says, rolling his eyes as he takes off his pants too.
My eyes can’t stop drifting down his chiseled abs toward the incredible bulge that just appeared. I can’t even will them to look away. And I don’t remember Brandon ever looking this yummy way back when …
Am I losing it? Yep. Definitely.
He tried to warn me, and I ignored it. Great.
When my gaze meets his, he’s staring back at me. Is it suddenly hot in here, or is it just me?
He’s wearing a smirk on his face, so I quickly look away as he turns on the shower.
“What am I supposed to do then, huh?” I say, holding out my hands, which are still tied. “Just sit there and wait?”
“I don’t care,” he says, taking the braid out of his long, black hair. “I’m taking a shower.”
“But what about your uncle’s men?” I say.
“I doubt they’ll burst in at any second. And if they do, they’ll find me butt naked and you tied up.”
I make a face and frown. That can’t be his plan. He went through a lot of trouble to get me out of there. He could’ve killed me or taken me to his uncle himself, but he didn’t. Which means he’s up to something.
Instead of telling me, he spins on his heels and takes off his underwear too.
But my eyes don’t just glance at his butt. They’re fixated on his back.
It’s covered in tattoos. Names. Some scorched off partially.
And one of them is mine.
My eyes widen. Holding my breath, I trip on my own feet walking backward, and I tumble down.
When he turns to face me, fully naked, with that same grim look on his face, I feel overpowered. For the first time since we met again, he’s managed to subdue me with just one look.
“Those tattoos …” I mumble, but my gaze can’t help but be drawn down to that giant thing dangling between his legs. Jesus Christ. I never knew he was this big.
Saliva makes me roll my tongue in my mouth.
Stop it, Dixie! Get a hold of yourself, goddammit.
I shouldn’t get distracted. He has names tattooed on his back, and mine is on there too, while others are crossed out. Is it an elimination list?
That’s the only answer that makes sense.
My lungs suddenly feel constricted.
He stands in the door opening, staring me down. For a second, I have no clue what I’m going to do or what he’s going to do. But then he abruptly closes the door and leaves me alone in the room.
So much for an answer to the questions burning on my tongue.
I quickly crawl to my feet and look around, wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to do next. I’m still locked in this motel room, being kept as a prisoner by a man who doesn’t know what he’s going to do with me. And to make matters worse, he’s a past boyfriend and one of the monster responsible for the death of my brothers. I’m stuck with my worst enemy. Just my fucking luck.
I kick the empty trash can across the room, and yell, “Dammit!”
There’s no phone in here either, so I have no way to contact my dad and let him know what’s going on. Meanwhile, Brandon’s uncle is still alive and looking for us.
And what is he doing? Taking a fucking shower.
Why? What did he do to make himself so dirty that he needed to shower right this very moment? What was so important and filthy at the same time?
My feet carry me toward the bathroom door, and before I even realize it, I’ve already opened the door slightly and peeked through the crack.
My jaw drops, and my heart almost comes to a full stop right there and then.
I can’t look away. My eyes are practically glued to the scene in front of me.
Water runs in rivulets down his buff body, his eyes closed, and his muscles thick as he clutches his own length.
He’s jerking off. Fast. Like he’s about to come.
And I can’t stop watching.
Not even when his eyes pop open and stare straight back at me.
Chapter Nineteen
Brandon
After burning that criminal, I had to cool down for a bit. A shower worked but only temporarily. It couldn’t temper the fire inside me. Couldn’t stop thinking about Dixie and her hot body and how I wanted to set it on fire in a different way.
Every goddamn time I punish someone, I feel powerful, masculine, extremely potent, and full of unreleased energy. My only outlet has always been to think of her … and then come. Hard.
I’ve never been able to release it any other way. Not after a killing.
And now that she’s here, the urge has only become stronger.
In fact, all I’ve wanted to do since I came back was jump her and ravage her, right there on that bed. I wanted to rip the clothes from her body and make her feel just what kind of a man I’ve become.
But I can’t. I fucking can’t because I hate her guts too. She’s the sole reason I am who I am; the one who ruined my fucking life. I can’t fucking give in to these needs. Ever.
So I settle for doing it myself. Jerking off in the shower doesn’t even feel good, but I just need to get it out of my system before I do something we’ll both regret.
I can’t unleash the darkness in me. Not when she’s around.
That already happened once, and I won’t let it happen twice.
So I’ll rub one out and let the stress fall off my shoulders as I think of the way her pearly lips would smack around my cock. How she’d suck my balls and push her tits together. I imagine her eyes wide open as she looks at me from her knees, begging for my cum.
A cock would surely silence her. Deep inside her throat where the gargling sounds are the only thing coming from her mouth. No talking, no shouting, no yelling. Just her tongue gleefully sucking my length until I come.
And I do.
So fucking hard, I groan out loud, while imagining my dick buried so far inside her she gags on my cum. Fuck me, I’d give the world to hear that sound. It would teach her a thing or two about not messing with men like me. A punishment fit for a bad girl like her.