Chapter 6
SIX
Cian
“Motherfucker!”
I tore off my boots and socks, then dropped my pants to the ground. My shirt was tossed aside as I sprinted into the water wearing nothing but my boxer briefs. The creek was shockingly cold, stealing my breath for a split second.
Devlin resurfaced near the other bank, about twenty feet away, flailing and sputtering.
The last rays of the sun peeked through the trees overhead, catching the water streaming off him and highlighting his pale skin littered with scars.
He looked at me over his shoulder, flashed a wicked grin, then scrambled up the bank on his hands and knees.
How the fuck can he move like this? He’d been chained in a shed for days.
I tore through the creek and made it to the opposite side before he’d even made it to the top of the bank. He reached the tree line, then took off running downstream. But I was right there with him. He had to know I’d catch him—the little shit.
I reached for his arm, but he dodged me with a cackle that boiled the blood in my veins. He made it another five feet when I lunged again, but this time he misjudged my direction. I tackled him to the ground, and he hit the forest floor with a pained grunt.
“Caught you,” I gritted out. I gripped the back of his neck and ground the side of his face into the dirt.
“Then make me pay,” he rasped, and his breathy voice reached between my legs and squeezed.
A red haze descended over my vision, a vapor of arousal and anger clouding my judgement.
His naked body squirmed beneath me as I wrenched his arms behind him and clasped his wrists together at the small of his back.
I straddled his thighs and pinned them together, digging my knees into the dirt. A stick stabbed into my shin.
With my free hand, I cracked my palm against his ass once. Twice. Red bloomed in its wake—my handprint—and I gripped the pale flesh and squeezed. I pulled one cheek to the side, exposing his soft, pink pucker. A tight hole, begging to be filled.
“Fuck me,” he taunted, wiggling his ass. “Do it. You know you want to.”
This was what he wanted. He wanted to provoke me, and I was fucking falling for it. But I was too far gone to care now.
So, we were going to do this my way instead.
My heart raced as goosebumps erupted all over my skin, and my cock was hard enough to pound nails.
I gave his ass another wet smack, and he moaned in response.
I pulled my wet briefs down below my balls, gripped my shaft, and slapped his red ass with the pierced head, meaty smacks echoing through the trees around us.
I spit into my hand and wet my cock, then I let saliva drip from my mouth, coating his inner thighs.
“You aren’t in control here, devil. I’ll use you how I want to use you,” I growled, sliding my cock into the space between his legs. I tightened my knees, trapping him there. And then I thrust between them. It felt tight and slick and warm, despite our dip in the freezing creek water.
“And you’ll take what I give you. Because I own you.”
I fucked his thighs, too turned on to even consider going slow or drawing this out. All I wanted to do was empty my balls. And show Devlin he didn’t dictate how this went.
Pinned beneath me, he could only lie in the dirt and take it.
He had to be in pain. His cock and balls were grinding into the dirt and debris beneath us as his body rocked with each thrust. He cried out as the blunt head of my cock punched his sack from behind, and I gripped his hip until the skin turned white.
“What a nice little cocksleeve you are,” I snarled, and my voice didn’t sound like mine anymore. “Maybe this is what I’ll do. I’ll keep you tied up naked on that cot so I can use your thighs whenever I want. I’ll come all over this hole, but never inside it.”
He let out a choked gasp, and a shudder racked his spine.
Then, he uttered a barely audible “please” that immediately made my balls draw up tight.
I gripped my shaft as my orgasm rocketed through me, and I coated his inner thighs with my milky release.
My vision blurred and my limbs turned into boiled noodles.
I pitched forward, bracing myself on my hands as I fought to clear my head.
By the time I’d caught my breath, with the sun a distant glow on the horizon, Devlin had twisted onto his back.
He swiped his hand through the mess between his thighs and gripped his shaft, green eyes glowing with lust. Dirt and mud streaked his body, and a few scratches bled bright red.
He stared straight into my eyes as he stroked his cock.
“Tell me.” His voice was absolutely wrecked, every word like gravel. “Tell me I can come.”
I didn’t want to give him permission. I wanted to punish him. But his fist was a blur as he jerked himself underneath me, and the head of his pretty cock was flushed an angry purple. And I wanted to see him shoot. I wanted to see him lose it over how roughly I’d used him.
I fisted a hand in his wet hair and tugged back hard enough to make him gasp. “Come.”
He instantly detonated. His back arched with a cry that sounded almost painful, and his whole body locked up like he’d been shocked as he coated his stomach and chest in thick ropes of cum that seemed to go on forever.
Once his cock had finally given one last weak spurt, Devlin melted into the ground, like his spine had disconnected.
A haphazard pile of bones in a skin suit.
His eyes were half-mast. Every breath hollowed his chest as he struggled to suck in enough oxygen. He looked like he’d just run a marathon and was seconds from passing out. I could relate.
This entire field trip had gone awry. I’d only wanted to erase the evidence that I’d fucked his face, and instead he was covered with dirt, cuts, and… more of my cum.
I was in actual hell with the devil.
I pulled him to his feet, my grip gentler than it should’ve been. With a hand on his wrist, I led him back toward the creek, and he followed like a compliant puppy. That pride I’d felt when he obeyed my order not to come began to twist into something uglier. More intense. Something like possession.
Devlin had proved he could handle me at my roughest. The most primal part of me. And not only did he handle it—he enjoyed it. It brought out a part of me that should never be freed, but that didn’t stop the beast inside me from rattling its cage.
This time, I washed him myself. I scrubbed the bar of camp soap through his hair, removing the dirt and leaves as best I could.
The scratches on his chest were minor, and the blood had already clotted, but I cleaned those too.
I washed between his legs, over his cock, and even his balls.
He stood in the shallows, eyes half-open, limbs slack and unresisting as I manipulated his body to get him clean.
He watched me the entire time, his parted lips curling into a content smile. That fucker.
My jaw was clenched the entire time. I should have made him clean himself. I should have been refusing to touch him at all. But the beast inside me insisted I clean what I owned.
Once I’d finished, I led him from the water and dried him off with a small towel I’d brought.
I rubbed it over his head, then combed the darkened strands of his hair back with my fingers.
He closed his eyes as I did it, that same serene smile on his face.
It should have pissed me off. He was my father’s murderer. He was my captive.
He was supposed to be suffering.
With a frustrated huff, I shoved a set of clean clothes at him—sweatpants, boxer briefs, a T-shirt, and a hoodie, all stolen from Jace.
I’d found them in the back of his closet with the tags still on.
While Devlin dressed, so did I. And when I finished, he was already dressed, all that pale skin now hidden beneath the new clothes.
He had the hood pulled up, and the outfit made him seem smaller, younger.
I cuffed his hands in front of his body again when his gaze dropped to the ground. Before I could tug on the chain to get him moving, he let out a delighted gasp and dropped to a squat, ass nearly in the dirt.
“A frog!” he exclaimed. He picked up a small stick, then gingerly lifted the edge of a fallen leaf to reveal a small frog that could fit in the palm of my hand. I shifted my weight, and he reached out with his bound hands to shove at my calf. “Don’t move! You’ll step on it.”
I went still. Not because Devlin told me to. I just didn’t want to kill an innocent amphibian. And that was the truth.
Devlin tossed the stick, folded his arms over his bent knees, and dropped his chin on top, just staring at the small frog.
“There were always so many frogs in the creek that ran through the corner of our trailer park,” he said quietly, almost like he was talking to himself. “I used to give them names and make up little stories about them.”
I crouched next to him and studied the frog like it held the meaning of life. When I reached out to run a finger down its slimy back, Devlin smacked my hand away. I jerked back in surprise. “What was that for?”
“Don’t touch frogs. They have permeable skin, and even the oils on your hand could kill them,” he spoke earnestly, like it was really important to him.
And I didn’t know how to respond to it—to any of this.
Devlin Walsh… loves frogs? I would’ve thought he’d tortured animals as a kid, like all future crime lords.
“One time, when we were kids, Ben stepped on one of my favorite frogs. It was a baby that still had a little bit of a tadpole tail. It died, and I cried about it for three days, until my dad—” He sucked in a breath and shifted his jaw. His gaze remained on the frog.
And because I couldn’t help myself, I asked, “Your dad what?”
When he spoke again, his voice was deceptively nonchalant. “Until he gave me something else to cry about.” He slid his hand into the sleeve of his hoodie and absently scratched at the scar on his inner forearm.
I bit down until I heard the enamel grind.
I had made every effort to dehumanize Devlin, the man who betrayed my father and shot him in the back.
I’d tried to reduce him to nothing more than a devil in the flesh.
But this man had thwarted me at every turn.
With his damn emerald eyes, his eager mouth, his tempting body…
And now this. A stupid fucking conversation over a stupid fucking frog.
And before I could end this insanity and walk away with enough detachment left to survive it, his gaze lifted to mine. Our eyes locked. Held.
He blinked. “My dad didn’t like crying.”
My lips were already moving before my brain could catch up. “Mine neither.”
His eyes shifted between mine, and I felt an invisible chain wrap around me and tug. My heart pounded. The creek bubbled. A bird chirped. A car revved its engine somewhere in the distance.
Devlin nodded once. I nodded back.
And my world shifted once again.
Back in the shed, I chained Devlin to his cot again. He lay back on the thin blanket, head on the pillow, and watched me move through the yellow light of the single bulb. One bare foot hung off the edge of the cot, the other bent, sole planted flat.
I didn’t know what to say to him. I turned to leave, but my name, said in a rough, tired voice, drew me up short. “Cian.”
I turned back around slowly, not sure a conversation was a good idea at the moment. His head was turned toward me, and his cuffed hands rested on his stomach. He was silent for a moment as he studied me, eyes softer now. Then he began to speak.
“So. About the Bonnams’ route…”
I snatched my phone from my pocket and started typing as he spoke slowly and steadily. My thumbs flew over the keyboard while Devlin spilled his guts.
When he was finished, Devlin gave me one last long look, then turned onto his side to face the wall, knees bent. “Goodnight, Cian.”
I didn’t reply, but I made sure the light was on before leaving the shed. Once outside, I turned and rested my forehead against the locked door, eyes closed. There was a tightness in my chest I couldn’t identify.
“Night, Devlin,” I whispered to myself. And that same invisible chain looped itself around my heart and tugged again.