Chapter 2
Corvus
I can’t save myself if he’s determined to break my neck, I know that from his file.
Dalton Cross used to take part in illegal fights, and his reputation earned him a job as a bouncer at one of our clubs.
He’s dangerous, and that fact sends a trickle of electricity down to my cock, even though he’s a trashy guy I have no business being interested in.
He’s here to serve my purpose, like a plough exists to score the soil.
I wouldn’t even be here, if a nightmare hadn’t left me too unsettled to go back to sleep.
The scent of disinfectant always grounds me, so I dressed and wandered the basement of our family’s mansion.
That was when, in the middle of the night, the familiar sound of a Grindr message led me straight to Dalton’s phone inside the box containing the belongings of the men chosen for tomorrow’s hunt.
If it wasn’t for those damn messages, new ones popping up even as I read through the old ones, I wouldn’t have let myself get tempted. No matter how handsome, he’d be just another mark for the hunt.
But the intensity of the desire pouring out of the screen sizzles in my brain and I’m unable to deny myself any longer.
I want sex, of course I do, but a few years ago I came too close to being discovered.
Trying to find a regular hookup to scratch that itch became too risky, so I gave up altogether.
Why would all those anonymous men get to have Dalton while I have to deny myself?
Fury weaved itself through my veins when I read hopeful messages filled with lust, expectation, memories of sex so good it had them craving for that big man rotting in my cell.
Why would they get to be happy when I’m left wanting?
For a couple of minutes, I actually wanted him to die, just so all those men feel abandoned, their assholes never “gloriously wrecked” by Dalton Cross again.
But then I saw his dick pics.
The folder called selfies was right there in his pictures, and curiosity got the best of me.
He’s tan, tattooed up to his neck, muscular, and just the right amount of hairy.
Some of the photos focus on body parts, while others were clearly taken at the gym after a workout.
I swear I could smell those—all fresh, musky sweat, the dampness lingering from the shower, some cheap shower gel marketed to men insecure about their masculinity.
His cock is a thing of beauty, and I don’t want to seem too eager, but I can’t wait to see it in the flesh.
Thick, veiny, some pictures showcasing it in his large hand, gripped by massive fingers, sometimes pink with arousal, sometimes already slick with rivulets of cum…
Could he not satisfy my curiosity before he dies tomorrow?
Heat prickles in my cheeks as I watch Dalton expose his broad, meaty chest and biceps the size of my damn head.
He’s like a bull about to rut, and I see him as just that.
A human animal whose raison d'être is fucking me. I don’t even dislike that his dark brown hair is messy and greasy after his time in the cell.
I won’t tell him, but I might be into that.
I’m not sure. I don’t have enough experience to reach a conclusion.
I’ve never bottomed for anyone, and I can come up with a hundred reasons why, but the truth is that the thought of anyone seeing me so vulnerable and submissive makes my chest constrict, until breathing gets tough.
I am Corvus Van der Horn. People should respect me.
Fear me, and any crack in my steely exterior might lead to my fall.
That’s what my father instilled in me. And he paid the ultimate price the last time I ignored his teachings. I cannot make that mistake again.
This time, however, my life is the only one I’m putting at risk.
Dalton is the perfect subject for my experiment. I keep my word. If he manages to make me happy in bed, I will give him the antidote. He won’t survive tomorrow’s hunt regardless. He’ll be shot dead, ripped apart by wolves, or freeze to death in the snow. But he doesn’t need to know that.
He’s making a deal with the devil, and those always come with a catch.
What matters is that he’s here, about to take a shower, and I’ll get to find out what a real cock feels like. In the fantasies that always get me off, men as tall and meaty as Dalton pin me to the bed, shove apart my legs and drill into me faster and harder than I ever could with my favorite dildo.
They take control of my body and make me come time after time, until my balls are so empty it hurts. To let someone have me like this in real life always felt too invasive. Dangerous. Maybe even a little humiliating. But this man is destined for death. My secrets shall follow him to his grave.
For now though, his heart is still beating, and I will let him mount me. He’ll be on top, but I have his life in my hands, remaining in control. The perfect solution. Like keeping a man in a shock collar, remote always in my hand while he fucks me.
Hm. Maybe something to ponder in the future.
I’m so distracted I’ve barely taken the cross off my tie. It’s impossible to focus when Dalton unzips his dirty jeans and I’m about to see what I’ve already got an eyeful of in his photos.
My mouth dries. My palms get sweaty. My heart beats faster.
But he stalls and… winks at me.
“You wanna help me out?” Dalton steps closer, as if I hadn’t told him to shower.
Is he… flirting? Does he not understand his position, or that we’re here to fuck, not have dinner by candlelight?
“You’ve… been here for two days,” I say, keeping my distance.
He doesn’t smell nearly as badly as I’ve made it sound, but I haven’t spent the past two hours grooming and preparing myself for him to sweep in and fuck me without worrying about basic hygiene, even though there’s something irresistibly primal about the tart saltiness I’m smelling as he comes closer.
He needs to know his place. “There’s a toothbrush by the sink. ”
He sighs and pats his stomach. “Worth a shot. I appreciate the dehydration. Looks hot, right?” Dalton points out his abs.
They’re not rippling like on some guys, but they’re definitely there.
He’s so damn meaty it’s making me salivate.
I wish I wasn’t attracted to his type so much, but I can’t choose these things.
My first crush was my dad’s bodyguard, a guy who liked whiskey a bit too much, and only shaved once a week.
I’m happy when Dalton doesn’t try to argue and brushes his teeth like a good boy.
I take my time admiring a few scars on his tattooed back, and the thick, muscular ass, which shifts as he changes position, moving the firm legs covered with a pelt of dark hair.
But then he’s done, and instead of heading under the shower, he approaches me in just a pair of socks that used to be white.
Oh God, what a cock...
I know comparisons to soda cans are cliché, but it’s not my fault he’s so damn thick!
And he doesn’t need to overcompensate in the length department either, because that beauty is at least eight inches long.
My own dick swells despite trepidation curling in the pit of my stomach.
I couldn’t stand the humiliation of showing him that he hurt me.
If having this gorgeous animal inside me turns out to be painful, will I be able to keep myself from expressing it?
The floor is suddenly pulling at me, the gravity of my need to kneel in front of him increasing, but I steel myself, determined not to let my excitement show beyond the presence of the bulge in my pants.
“Have you forgotten something?” I ask in as steady a voice as I can muster, but I can’t help glancing between his legs. He’s a beast. A fucking beast. He’s not afraid of me enough to stay soft, and his cock swings as he moves.
“Yeah. A kiss,” Dalton says in a teasing voice and leans my way, bringing with him the sharp aroma of cool mint, but I’m quick enough to evade him. Cocky bastard.
He’s like a dog with a bone and enough brain power to only keep one thought in his head at a time.
“Shower,” I remind him.
Dalton groans, but then turns and slips his socks off with his feet as he makes his way under the showerhead.
I’m confused when seeing him act so unselfconsciously makes my cock throb, and I try to distract myself by removing my clothes.
But it’s impossible not to think about the size and strength of Dalton’s body when he’s right there, stretching under the rain shower, with streaks of water cascading over his muscular, inked form.
He is bigger than my toys, but I am not going to let that stop me.
“You a voyeur?” Dalton asks, lazily rubbing the dirty suds off his stomach. “I did once meet a guy who just wanted to watch me from behind my laundry basket.”
For a moment, all I can think about is falling asleep with my face buried in his groin. I’m annoyed by how easily he unsettles me with his sexual confidence. I’m in charge here, so I’ll change the subject whenever I wish.
“Your Grindr. It has a… large portfolio,” I say, pulling my belt out of the loops of my pants.
A shiver goes down my spine at the way his green eyes sharpen instantly. He gets lots of soap and scrubs it all over his body and head, but then gives his cock a few shameless pumps as he watches me undress.
“What can I say?” Dalton shrugs with a little smirk, as if he’s not afraid that his life is on the line. “I’ve got needs, and I get tested often, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not worried. We test you all, in case of an accident during the hunt,” I say, feeling a pleasant ache in my chest when my words make him stall, even if for a brief moment. We’re wrestling for power without touching.
He’s not winning this match. I’ve trained in several martial arts since I was little. I also regularly jog and ride a horse. I am many things, but not undesirable. He should consider himself lucky for getting to have me, regardless of what the conditions are.