“Guess you finally get your reward now,” I tell him before burying my cock inside of him again. I thrust in deep, over and over, until tingles race up my spine and warmth pools in my belly. I can’t hold my orgasm back any longer. “Swallow it all, E-”
His whole name doesn’t leave my mouth before I’m wracked with pleasure. My body bows over his as I unleash ropes of cum, straight down his throat. Moving back to sit on my heels, I feel a wet spot under my ass. I have just enough energy to get to my feet, and I look down to find Ethan shaking through his own orgasm, soiling his pants in the process.
“Guess you enjoyed being face-fucked,” I state, because I don’t need an answer.
If I was capable of guilt, I might feel bad for using the boy after kidnapping him. Based on his reaction, I only feel satisfaction.
Ethan Miller is a problem I have to solve, but I don’t regret taking a brief moment of pleasure from the situation.
Chapter five
Ethan
Inmyhazefromthe thorough face-fucking and mind-numbing orgasm, I don’t even think to say a word as we leave the plane and go through security at the Hollywood Burbank airport.
In short, I’m a fool.
MacKenzie has a driver who I could signal to about my current predicament, but all my celebrity crush has to do is raise a brow above his glasses and I keep my mouth shut. Usually, this isn’t a skill I possess.
Years of being told to be quiet and mind my business, from my father and teachers alike, and the one time I should be shouting for help, I’m silent.
While I haven’t spent much time in Los Angeles, I recognize the signs for Hollywood and Glenwood as we pass them in the dark and make our way uphill to a neighborhood called Verdugo Viejo. The driver stops in the round driveway of a Spanish-style house with a tiled roof and white, stucco walls, illuminated by tasteful lighting.
MacKenzie’s driver opens the back door and he gets out. In the brief minute I’m thinking of what to say as the driver opens my door,My captor is there to grip me by the shoulder, while he holds his garment bag over the other arm.
“Thank you,” he tells the driver dismissively before marching me up to the door. It opens with a code, and I’m marched straight through open rooms with white walls and dark wood details, lights coming on automatically as we move through the spaces. “What to do with you,” he mutters to himself.
“Mr. MacKenzie, I’m just happy to be alive,” I reply, but I can only see his jaw ticking. So, being unalived is still on the table.
We exit out a set of French doors, which he leaves open as he marches me across a patio, past an infinity edge pool with a view reaching to Downtown LA. I run into his side when he stops abruptly at a casita set into the hill, in the same style as the main house.
Another code is entered into a solid wood door, and I’m marched inside. “I’m staying in your guest house?” I ask, though the kitchenette and small living space answer my question.
MacKenzie doesn’t respond, leading me to the only door and a cozy bedroom. There looks to be an en-suite bathroom, but I don’t get to look as he pushes me back on the bed. My traitorous dick perks up, thinking there will be a round two.
“Hands up,” he instructs, and I do what he says without thinking. Reaching into the side table, MacKenzie pulls out handcuffs, where I spot a few other kinky toys.
Barking out a laugh, I can’t help but ask, “This where you bring all the boys who blow you after witnessing you commit murder?”
MacKenzie’s eyes snap to mine at the same time the first cuff snaps into place. “You would be the first.”
“To blow you?” I blurt in disbelief. Though I’ve never heard a whisper of him not being straight.
“First person to see me commit murder and live to talk about it,” he clarifies with a warning in his tone, clicking the second cuff in place. I’m in shock he actually admitted it out loud without an ounce of hesitation.
He starts to move away, and I can’t stand the thought of being alone. Why do I want to be around the serial killer? Fuck, I’m a mess.
“Wait!” I scramble for an excuse. I find one in the fact that we didn’t clean up after I came in my pants. “I have to go pee. And I need a shower.”
MacKenzie narrows his eyes, assessing me before leaning down to unlock one cuff with a key before pulling me from the bed. “Fine, but make it fast. And know I have cameras covering every inch of this property.”
“Yes, Sir,” I quip, moving to the bathroom and hoping there are no cameras in there. Much like the main house, the casita has dark wood floors and furniture, while the walls and countertops are stark white. When he stays standing behind me as I unzip my pants, I look over my shoulder. “What are you going to hold it for me, too?”
In a flash, MacKenzie has one hand gripping my neck while the other squeezes my junk. “If I want you to walk around like a dog on a leash, you will.”
Yep, I’m fucked in the head. Because that sounds fucking hot.
Licking my lips, I swallow hard. “Yes, Sir.”