“You’re going to piss out the door but your hands aren’t getting untied,” I tell him simply.
“How am I going to get my dick out?” he snaps and his body seems to grow stronger by the second.
I lift my chin and meet the devil’s glare head on. Unafraid. “I guess I’ll have to pull your dick out and help you.” Quirking up an eyebrow, I smirk. “Unless you’re shy. Not like I haven’t seen it before.”
He rolls his eyes but I still see them working out a plan. Slinging open a drawer, I locate a steak knife and point it at his cock. “If you try and run away, I’ll stab you. If you try and hurt me, I’ll cut your dick off,” I tell him in an even voice.
His eyes widen and he smiles. “My sweet girl is something of a badass. Sure you don’t want a quick fuck before Captain America gets out of the shower? You know I’m the only one that makes you purr like a goddamned kitten. The way my tongue knows just how to taste you so you’re coming all over my face. God, I miss your sweet honey dripping down my chin. Would go great with those chicken strips.”
I grab a fistful of his shirt and guide him to the backdoor, ignoring his vulgarity. I’m sickened to discover he’s hard through his jeans. Rat bastard. With a huff, I unbutton his pants and unzip them. His giant dick practically attacks me as it falls out.
“Oh, sweetheart, just like that,” he faux moans as I tug him free.
I roll my eyes. “Just piss already.”
He wasn’t lying about needing to pee because he wastes no time. Once he’s done, I push him back into his pants and redress him. As soon as I shut the door, he throws his body at me. The knife drops from my grip and clatters to the floor. My heart thrums in my chest as he pushes his shoulder into my back and shoves me into the wall. Even hungry and tied up, he’s still stronger than me.
“Listen to me,” he hisses and brings his hot breath to my ear as he grinds his hard cock into my back. “That boy is fucked up in the head. More fucked than me. Trust me. You think I’m crazy? He hides his crazy, which makes him much more dangerous.”
I still my body, surprised at his words, and stop trying to fight him. “W-What?”
He grumbles and kisses me just below my ear. “I love you, sweet girl,” he murmurs. “I know you think I’m a monster but I love you so fucking much. And that pussy boy in there, he’s gone mental. He’ll hurt you.”
I gasp when he sucks my earlobe into his mouth. “You hurt me!”
His hips rock against me before he speaks. “And I’m sorry, okay? But don’t you see he’s different? Fucking hear what I’m saying, baby.”
My mind flits back to the way he’s been acting today. The awkward way in which he practically mauled me in the cemetery. All of his lies. Gabe’s previous words about asking Brandon where my father was.
“What did you mean anyway when you told me to ask Brandon where Dad is? He said he went to San Francisco. Is that the truth? Do you think he knows something he’s not telling me?”
His body relaxes behind me and his voice becomes a low growl. “I’m sure he knows a lot more than something, baby. That boy isn’t right.”
“Brandon is a good person,” I argue in his defense.
“He’ll lie and hurt people,” he replies gruffly, as if I should see this as clearly as he apparently does. “Anything to keep you as his girl.”
I shiver at his words. “He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
His laugh is dark and humorless. “Little girl, he already has.”
“What? You’re lying,” I snap.
He kisses me again and another shudder wracks through me. “Just get the hell out of here. Leave his crazy ass here. I can deal with him. But you, my love,” he says in an admonishing whisper, “need to get the fuck away from him.”
Heavy footsteps thunder into the kitchen and I hear the cocking of a gun. “Get the ever loving fuck away from my girl or I’ll pump your head with every goddamn bullet in this gun.”
Gabe presses another kiss to my neck before pulling away. Brandon charges forward, gun raised like he might hit him again, but I intervene.
“Enough, Brandon!” I huff and gesture to Gabe, “Just tie him back to the chair.”
Brandon curses but slams the gun onto the counter so he can wrangle Gabe back to the chair. Once he finishes, I regard my longtime friend who looks so different from the boy I once knew. He’s still every bit as ripped as the last time I saw him. But now, as he dons only a pair of jeans and no shirt on his chest, I can see some things have changed. His once pure flesh has been inked up in a gigantic dragon tattoo that covers his shoulder and part of one pec. Fire pours from its mouth surrounding where his heart is. Inside the fire is a name.