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Tears prick my eyes from the force of him holding my hair. Burning, just like the inferno of ire and lust in his eyes. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d think there’s a blaze of fire behind me, reflecting in his mismatched eyes.

“Tell me, little mouse, have you ever been fucked by a man like me?”

“Better,” I hiss, the dormant hate for him reawakening. Something very dark and dangerous shutters over his eyes. He arches that damn brow, and I immediately shrink in on myself.

It was a lie. We both know it.

That’s the first thing I learned when I was put in Catholic school as a child. Good girls don’t lie.

The second lesson is don’t trust the Devil and his influence. But what they forgot to mention is not to piss him off once you’ve been influenced.

Maybe because that’s common fucking sense.

My lip trembles as I berate myself for being so stupid. The bitterness and distrust are still churning beneath the surface. I don't know why I thought I could let him dominate and fuck me without fighting back.

He’ll kill me before I ever fall in love with him.

“Open your fucking mouth, bad girl. Right now, before I suffocate you on my cock.”

This time, I listen. The second my lips part, he’s forcing the tip past my lips and straight to the back of my throat.

He hisses through his teeth, followed by another feral growl. I whimper and then gag when he forces his dick deeper. He’s hardened steel wrapped in silky satin, but the smoothness does little to ease the pain.

He’s too thick and too long for my small mouth.

Tears instantly flood my eyes and spill over as he keeps forcing himself deeper. Instinctively, my hands grip his thick thighs, pushing against him.

As quick as a snake, he snatches both of my hands up and grips them together in one hand, and resuming the hold on my head with the other. He holds my hands up high and against his stomach. It looks like I’m a woman praying on my knees, my hands bound together as I worship the devil himself.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he growls. “Fucking suck it. Now.”

I do as he says, if it means he’ll ease up. I suck hard, hollowing out my cheeks and smoothing my tongue over the thick vein on the underside of his length.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes, finally allowing me to ease back. But in seconds, he’s pulling me back in. Guiding my head back and forth as I continue to suck him. Muttered words of encouragement and deep groans of pleasure fall from his lips while he grows more forceful. With every syllable and moan that leaves his lips, I grow more desperate to please him. To correct my mistake.

“Let’s see. Greyson Parker, he was better, huh?” My eyes widen, confused how he knows him and dreading where this is going. “I almost killed him when he ran from your house naked, so somehow I doubt he was better than me. Who else?” he enunciates the last word by shoving himself deeper into my throat. I choke, and he lets me struggle for a few seconds before easing up.

“Brandon Havatti, Carlos Santonio, Tyler Sanders…” he continues to list off every man I’ve been with. Which admittedly isn’t that many, but it’s a lot when you’ve just put their life in danger.

He jerks my head back sharply, allowing me a single breath as he says, “I’ll enjoy killing each and every one of them, little mouse.”

Before I can muster a response, let alone another breath of precious air, he’s back to choking me on his cock again.

My vision darkens around the edges from how deeply he’s plunging into my throat. It doesn’t matter how much I gag and fight against him, he only grows impossibly harder.

“You want me to come in your mouth, don’t you? You’ve been thinking about sucking my cock since you worshipped me on your knees with a belt wrapped around that pretty little neck of yours.”

I glare up at him, hate burning brighter than lust for just a moment. He smiles—or rather bares his teeth—when he sees the anger reflecting from my brown eyes.

“You want it, but you’re not going to fucking get it. You haven’t earned that privilege yet.”

Without warning, he jerks my head back hard, his cock popping free.

He lifts me up by my hair until I’m on the tip of my toes.

“Zade, please,” I whimper, my vi

sion blurred from the tears and chest tight due to lack of oxygen. I’m not even sure what I’m begging for—my life or the innocent men I’ve just put on death row.