Page 17 of Bite Me

Mark’s lips crashed into mine, the aggression in his kiss something I could taste as my tongue swept his mouth. Like blood, like metal, like ash. I kept him pinned, one hand fisting his tunic, the other at his shoulder. He fought back with tongue and teeth, hands scrambling for a grip and landing somewhere on my shoulder before digging in. I bit his lip, devouring himand making him gasp, chased his tongue and sucked it until sparks popped behind my eyes.

Mark’s breathing went ragged, chest heaving underneath faux leather.

Tension shuddered out of him, and I decided I was going to pull that tunic up and fuck him right where we stood.

As I went for more, the nimble bastard twisted, slipping through my hands and disappearing through a gap in the black plastic sheeting. I narrowed my eyes and fought my way through it, tailing him.

I hoofed it through a fake graveyard and had just swung a hard left when I caught a blur of motion from the corner of my eye. Too late.

Mark hit me from behind, arms coming around me and locking over my chest. In front of me, a massive mannequin in a butcher’s apron hulked over a steel table covered in fake blood.

“Payback time, Pynch.” Against my back, I felt every inch of Mark’s erection, hard and hungry between my cheeks while his breath dragged hot and filthy across my ear. “I’m tempted to bend you over that table, spread you open, and fuck you into oblivion,” he growled.

“Think you got me, huh?” I wanted it so badly my head spun. My cock throbbed with the same need, wet and aching, and I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me as my hips arched back into him. I lost myself in the edge of his teeth at my throat.

“You tell me.” Mark yanked my arms behind my back demonstratively, pinning my wrists with one hand and sliding the other down the front of my toga. Palming my cock, he squeezed it firmly before shoving his hand inside the waistband of my briefs. Pleasure exploded through me at the first touch to my bare shaft, and I jerked against him as he swiped his thumb over my slit. “You’re so fucked,” he hissed in my ear. His fistwas too tight around me, and it was definitely on purpose. “You wanna beg yet?

“Not a chance,” I stuttered, pushing harder into his grip. Even if it felt like a vice, I’d take it however he wanted to deliver it, if only he’d start fucking moving and quit taunting me.

Finally, he did. Two strong passes that provided just enough friction to make my head loll back. He kept at it, slow and then fast, keeping me guessing. I bucked into his hand, chasing every stroke.

For a long moment, we stayed like that, Mark rutting against my ass and me nearly losing my shit with every thrust.

But no matter how much I wanted to just give in and give myself over to him, to let him fuck me right there, I wasn’t gonna make it that easy for him. The bastard had left me high and dry less than five minutes ago, after all.

Time for a little payback. “I think you forgot how this was supposed to go.” I threw an elbow into his gut, the way I used to when we scrapped for a rebound, and used the split-second reprieve to duck out of his grip, pivot out of his reach, and jet forward.

“Fuck!”

I tossed a glance over my shoulder and grinned as Mark stumbled and then caught himself on the edge of the butcher’s table.

Payback delivered. Now to see if he could do any better.

7

MARK

One second Chet was pressed against me, the wanton roll of his hips practically begging me to bury my dick inside him, and the next he was gone. Fucking tease. It was maddening, made me desperate with frustration and desire that twined around each other as I sprinted after him. Again.

I was on his heels, or thought I was. Since I helped build the damn maze, you’d think it’d be easy for me to track him down and corner him, but the strobe lights were disorienting as fuck, and it didn’t help that the throb of my libido seemed to be in sync with them.

I turned corner after corner, retraced my steps, looped back, and still kept missing him somehow.

I knew he was close, though, and it was feeling less like we were playing around and more like we were truly hunting each other. I didn’t hate it, but I was also horny as hell and quickly losing any sense of self-control.

“You little shit,” Chet growled from behind me, and I started to sprint forward before he clamped down on my shoulder. “Not this time, Farrow. That ass is mine now.”

He was done with games. I could hear it in his voice, feel it in the way his grip tightened on my shoulders as he jerked me back. I threw an elbow out blindly, grinning when he dead-legged me in return and then spun me around. Our eyes met, a savage light in his that I was certain was reflected in mine. And then we were on each other, wrestling for dominance. He shoved forward, and momentum slung us both into the plastic sheeting. We punched right through to the other side, knocking into a life-sized skeleton on wheels and sending it toppling over. I realized I was right back where I’d started: my little hiding spot. Convenient.

Chet scrambled for balance and manhandled me against the back cinder-block wall of the basement. “No more running.” He pinned my wrists above my head and ground against me. I tried to twist loose, just to test his resolve, but he only tightened his hold. I wasn’t mad about it either. “What was that you said about bending me over that table?” The unforgiving weight of him against me caught the head of my dick and made my vision go white for a second, too rough and somehow perfect at the same time.

“Maybe I was hoping it’d go like this.” It was shameless honesty and turned him on more judging by the way his eyes darkened. I didn’t really care who pinned who down as long as we both got off. “Maybe I was counting on pissing you off enough that you’d wreck me just like this.”

Chet let go of my wrists long enough to flip me around, chest to the cold block, and then caged my arms again, trapping me against the wall.

I braced my cheek against the wall, sucking in lungfuls of air as he shoved my tunic up around my waist and ripped my briefs down. I soaked in the contrast of the cool cinderblock with the heat of his hands roughing me up.

“Good. I’m about to give you exactly what you wanted, then,” Chet promised, and slid a hand between my thighs. Fingers wet with spit, he slicked my hole.