Chapter 43
CHAPTER 43
The light from the lamp in the corner spilled across the room, casting shadows across Devon’s face. His lips were curled back, his grin triumphant, as though he’d already won whatever sick game he was playing.
Ethan lay sprawled on the couch, sinking deeper into the cushions as Devon's massive hands clamped around his wrists with brutal force. The larger man’s knees dug into his thighs, forcing his legs apart as every muscle in his body screamed for release.
Without warning, Devon dragged his tongue across Ethan’s cheek in a disgusting, invasive trail that made him recoil violently.
“Get the hell off me!” Ethan bucked, putting every ounce of strength he had into a desperate shove. His shoulders strained as he continued thrashing and twisting, trying to get free from the iron grip that held him down.
It was no use… Devon was a wall of solid muscle, unyielding.
“Relax,” the stronger man purred in a low vibration that slithered into Ethan’s ears like poison. “I should’ve done this yesterday when I had you right where I wanted you.” There was something darker to his tone—something dangerous. “I got greedy, wanting you awake. Dumb move.”
Yesterday? What he said hit like a punch. “You spiked my fucking drink, didn’t you?” His voice trembled, the anger and fear tangling into a tight knot in his chest.
Devon chuckled. “Just to loosen you up a little,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather. “It wasn’t to hurt you but you’re so uptight, I thought it’d help you enjoy it.”
His head tilted with an amused smile that made Ethan want to scream while the casual dismissal sent a fresh wave of anger coursing through his veins.
Ethan turned his head as Devon leaned in, but it wasn’t enough to stop his lips from brushing his.
“Stop this,” he spat, twisting violently and kicking out. His heels struck the edge of the couch with a sharp thud, and one foot connected briefly with Devon’s shin—not enough to do damage, but enough to fuel his desperation.
His phone rang again, then clicked off.
“We’re probably getting spun up,” he blurted out, a frantic attempt to distract. “I need to go.”
It was a lie—and a weak one at that—but it was all he could think of in the moment.
Devon snorted, his grip tightening until Ethan’s wrists burned under the pressure. “Oh, I don’t think so,” he said with a dark laugh. “I served long enough to know how it works.” He leaned back slightly, giving Ethan just enough space to see the smug satisfaction etched across his face. “They come through central command, not Logan calling you personally. No matter how close you are.”
Devon wasn’t done, far from it. He shifted, pressing more weight onto Ethan’s chest until breathing became harder. “Forget about him,” he sneered, his eyes narrowing. “I told you… it’s going nowhere. He won’t cross that line. And even if he does… You’ll soon be looking for a new team because when he’s had what he wants, he’ll cut you off without a thought.”
Ethan tried to keep himself steady even as panic clawed at the edges of his mind like a starving animal. He couldn’t let Devon see how much those words shook him. “He’s not like that,” he said firmly—more to himself than to Devon, as he wrenched his gaze away from those cold, calculating eyes and toward his phone on the table across from him.
It was too far. But maybe if he could get free, he could…
Devon laughed, a sharp bark that was filled with derision. “Don’t kid yourself,” he said coldly as he released one hand from Ethan’s wrist then trailed it down his neck. The touch light but deliberate, a cruel tenderness that made bile rise in Ethan’s throat. His fingers continued over his chest with maddening precision before brushing against a nipple, making Ethan flinch violently.
“You’re wrong,” he shot back, desperate to keep Devon talking—anything to buy himself more time. “Just because he wasn’t like that with you doesn’t mean?—”
Whatever hope of escape he had died when Devon lashed out with a brutal slap. It had enough force that stars exploded behind his eyes.
The pain came first, a sharp, searing heat radiating from the side of his head where Devon’s palm landed. Then came the metallic bitter taste of blood on his tongue as the world tilted slightly around him.
“Told you,” Devon growled as Ethan fell off the couch and onto the floor. “I like it rough.”