Knox is a killer hired to catch a thief, but what happens when the thief catches the assassin instead, and chains him up? Nothing good. Nothing … sane.
Knox Calvin has spent his life repressing his sexuality. When Mick Lannon picks at his carefully constructed mental cage with a knife, he isn’t prepared for the fallout. Unfortunately, Knox isn’t the kind of man who can be bound for long, and Mick has his own demons to wrestle into submission. When Mick’s vendetta against his aunt’s killer spirals into all out war, Knox escapes to watch the carnage from a distance.
Mick likes his sex casual, his partners breathing, and doesn’t much care about anything else. Knox wasn’t interested in sex at all until Mick shackled him to a wall. What happens when one moment’s slip into darkness wakes up the monster in both men?
Be Warned: m/m sex, BDSM, knife play, blood play, breath play
Mick suddenly climbed on the bed, straddling Knox.
“Oh, Jesus Christ.” The words fell out of Knox’s mouth before he could stop them. Mick’s weight pressed right onto his dick, hard and painful and fucking perfect.
Mick licked his lips. “Well, well. Clearly you didn’t see that coming.” He shimmied down a bit more, slotting Knox’s erection right between his legs. The fucker looked like he was getting off on this shit.
“Fuck you.” Knox refused to let his hips buck up into the bastard’s heat. He was not gay. He wasn’t anything at all. He wanted to twist Lannon around and crack his spine into pieces, but he didn’t have the leverage. Not anymore. Not with the bastard on top of me, but the moment he moves…
“That can definitely be arranged.”
Knox shuddered.
Mick ground down, sliding his knife up Knox’s arm like a deadly snake. “I like blood.” He pressed in with the tip, just enough to sting. Blood trickled down Knox’s arm, circling the tattoo inked into the crook of his elbow.
“What the hell are you doing?” Knox couldn’t seem to stop running off at the mouth. “What did you dose me with?” There had to be some reason his body was so hot to trot right now, after years of indifference to pretty much anything or anyone. Drugs were a likely culprit.
“BDSM baby.” Mick laughed. “I chained you up. That’s it.” He leaned down and kissed the blood on Knox’s skin. “And you like it. Who knew? I certainly didn’t. They call you Fort Knox, you know. ‘He’s stone cold,’ they said, when I got the file on you.” He kissed the edge of Knox’s biceps. “Such lies.” His lips tickled against Knox’s skin. “You’re not cold at all, are you?”
“Whatever you pumped into my veins is doing this.” Knox bit back a groan. The scent of chocolate swept over him. “Fucking get off me.”
Mick licked up his arm, ignoring his pleas. “You are an unexpected treasure, Knox Calvin.”
Knox pressed his lips together so tightly the skin went numb. “You’re a fucking cocksucker.”
Mick sat back up again, pushing Knox’s erection flat. It hurt like hell. “Sometimes, yeah.” He licked his lips. “And obviously,” he punctuated his words with a roll of his hips. “So are you.”
Knox growled, beyond pissed and heading straight into rage. “Motherfucker.”
“Mmm. Look at you.” Mick’s eyes traveled along Knox’s torso. “You had no idea you could feel this way, did you?” The thief grinned. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy this.”
“Fuck you.” Knox felt like there wasn’t enough air going into his lungs. Fucking drugs.
“You’re repeating yourself.” Mick slid his knife into the opening of Knox’s t-shirt, and with a swift, sure jerk, split the fabric right down the middle. “Well, would you look at that?” He put his palm dead center on Knox’s chest. The heat from his hand burned. “You have a picture of a cage inked into your skin, Mr. Calvin.”
That’s it. He’s fucking close enough. Knox twisted, lifting up and using his legs to trap Mick. Using his chains as leverage, he tenses his shoulders and flipped them both over, pinning the bastard underneath his body. The mattress squeaked like an old whore, but he ignored it, trusting the steel bedframe to keep them off the floor. He shoved an arm over Mick throat, metal rattling.
“Where’s the key?” Knox shifted the chains, digging the shackle’s cuff into Mick’s shoulder. I should just kill him and get it over with, he thought, but he didn’t press harder. Something about this guy made him want to let the situation play out. What would the thief do next? And it’s not like I have anything else to do right now.
Mick narrowed his eyes. “I have a knife at your jugular, Knox.” He leaned the tip into Knox’s skin.
“I don’t fucking care.” Knox pressed harder. The sting at his neck felt like hardly anything.
Mick’s gaze went flat. “I really don’t want to kill you.”
“The feeling’s mutual. This is business.” Knox frowned. “Give me the key.”
The blade at his throat sank in unexpectedly. This time the pain wasn’t small. Wasn’t good. Warmth blossomed over his shoulder, wet and strange. Knox blinked, trying to think, and then Mick flipped them back over. He threw his blade to the side and slapped a hand over Knox’s throat. “You stupid fuck.”
Vaguely, Knox realized that his hard-on had finally subsided.
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