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Skylar jerks at his bindings, reminding me he’s still here. I underestimated the man’s ability to get loose, and I’m a fucking stupid sentimental fool for thinking of his comfort and choosing his favorite rope to tie him with.

Heat floods my face. I don’t even know if it’s from being so damn angry that he almost escaped or if it’s because I’m embarrassed.

Embarrassed and aroused.

As soon as his free hand reaches over to his bound wrist, he starts yanking. I lunge into motion. “You idiot. You’re going to dislocate your thumb,” I shout.

“Why the fuck do you care?” He yanks harder as I crawl over him, my large body practically smothering his lean frame to try to keep him still. He gasps, pupils dilating.

I grasp his bound hand and slam it back down onto the bed. “Trust me, dislocating your thumb is painful. Stop moving!”

“It’s better than being held against my will,” he hisses.

I press my body harder against his. To my shock, Skylar’s muscular thighs wrap around my waist, tugging me closer. With purpose. Like a fucking Venus flytrap, ready to ensnare me. I should’ve tied his ankles too. I’m such a fool.

Skylar takes advantage of my hesitation and punches me hard on the side of my head.

“Damnit! Hold still,” I snarl, yanking at his free hand and trying to pin that one to the bed as well. It must be all the damn porn shoots he does, because he’s so much stronger than I ever realized.

The next thing I know, we’re wrestling and thrashing around.

Then I feel it.

His cock. He’s as hard as I am. I freeze.

Despite everything, I’m willing to bet he’s not aroused. It’s probably just all the adrenaline pumping through his system. Me, on the other hand? All this manhandling has me desperate to fuck someone rough and hard into the mattress. No, not just someone. Skylar. The only man I’ve wanted in years. I’ve put Skylar on such a high pedestal that I could probably come in my pants like a damn teenager, then go for round two and three immediately after.

If I don’t do something quick, the little minx is going to squirm his way out of his bindings. I snake a hand between us and cup his thick erection. He sucks in a sharp breath and stills.

“Wha-what are you doing?” he asks, voice rough with lust. His eyes are so dark, I can’t even see the pretty brown I’ve grown addicted to. Unable to help myself, I grip his cock through his pants and stroke.

A sensual, deep moan I’ve never heard him make in any of his videos tumbles from his lips. Holy fuck. My cock throbs at the sound. I pump his length again, chasing that delicious noise. This time, he whimpers, arching into my touch. “What’s your name?” he asks, voice hushed.

I graze my nose against his sharp jaw. “Jericho,” I whisper.

His eyes are closed, neck and throat exposed. Skylar’s plush lips part open, forming the shape of a beautiful, perfect O. I can’t take my eyes off them. I’m so tempted to take a little nibble and suck. To make love to those perfect lips. It’s only then that I remember he isn’t here for me. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t be anywhere near me. And seriously, fuck him for making me feel this way. For making me desperate for his kiss. One that he’ll never give to me freely.

He’s still arching against me when I wrap a rope around his free wrist.

Skylar’s eyes snap open when he realizes what I did. He claws at me like a feral animal. I tighten the ropes around his wrists. If I’m eventually going to let him go, the last thing I need is my DNA under his fingernails.

“You asshole.” His voice deepens into a nasty threat, but I love the way his cheeks flush a pretty red. That’s also something I’ve never seen in his videos. Once the ropes are tight around both of his wrists, I climb off his body.

His dress shirt is completely torn now, abs on full display. There’s a fine sheen of sweat all over his chest and face, and his brown hair is even messier than before. But the thing that has me questioning absolutely everything is the thick bulge of his cock. He’s so hard, he looks like he’s going to burst through the damn zipper.

“Fuck me,” I whisper, palming my cock and willing my erection to calm the hell down. Almost against my will, I take a step forward. Skylar tries to kick me. I’m barely able to catch his ankle before he kicks me in the face. If only I had more rope on me.

Tossing his ankle back down onto my bed, I turn, giving him my back. I need to get the fuck out of here before I do something else stupid.

“The Director was expecting you,” he says.

Impossible. “Expecting me? How?”

“You’re the mafia’s dog, aren’t you?” His tone is dark and filled with anger. “Their little bitch to command?” A predatory grin carves its way across his features. He’s taunting me.

A cold, sharp bitterness takes root in my chest. Fuck this. I don’t need this shit right now. I continue making my way toward the door. When he doesn’t say anything else, I get all the confirmation I need. The Director wasn’t expecting anyone. Skylar is just talking out of his ass, probably trying to rile me up or provoke me to stay.

It occurs to me then. Skylar isn’t scared. He’s been nothing but a brave, mouthy little shit. All bite and bark. It’s such a fucking turn on. But why the fuck isn’t he scared?