Page 86 of King of Hollywood

“If you killed me, I would think it kind of rude if you didn’t.”

“Fuck.” Felix laughed, head tossed back, his eyes dancing. “You’re adorable.”

I was not adorable. Maybe he was blind.

“Do you kill everyone you sleep with?” I had not thought of this, obviously. Perhaps that was Felix’s MO. I couldn’t blame him. I had one of my own. My kills were repetitive. Ritualistic. I followed the same formula every time. Perhaps he was the same? I killed bullies. Bullies that reminded me of the man who had tormented my sister.

While my kills had never involved sex, I could see the appeal.

I wouldn’t have been able to before—but after meeting Felix, after helping him clean up after his own murders, I’d thought many times how lovely it would be to fuck him while adrenaline was still high. We’d both be buzzing. Maybe there’d be blood. And god, he’d taste so good—vicious and gorgeous and terrifying.

Was I willing to die if it meant sleeping with Felix?

If it meant having him?

I knew then that I was crazy. Because the answer was—without a doubt in my mind—yes.

“That’s also not a hard limit for me,” I added, breaking the awkward resulting silence.

“Oh, Marshall.” Felix melted, falling forward into another, longer, greedy kiss. This time it was his tongue that was in my mouth, flicking along mine, teasing, teasing, teasing. He coaxed me and I followed—a helpless dog chasing his master for scraps of attention.

Felix hadn’t answered my question—but I didn’t care. Whether he killed me or not at the end of this, it would be worth it. I slid my hand lower, mirroring the movement with my other hand, so that both of them finally—blissfully—fanned around Felix’s ass.

It was perfect. Perky. Bouncy.

Better than I’d imagined.

I gave it a squeeze and Felix groaned, sucking ravenously on my tongue, his sharp teeth pricking my lip. They pressed hard—hard enough they split a little and blood spurted between our lips.

I was about to pull back—to apologize, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong—but there was apparently no need. Felix whined, a needy sound as he sucked greedily at the blood, his fingers scrabbling at my body, nails digging into my shoulders.

I’d be bruised. I could already tell.

Was it odd that I liked that?

It seemed I’d finally broken Felix. Because there was no more pausing, no more waiting, no more games. His monster had finally been drawn to the surface. He pushed his ass back into my hands, fingers scraping over my chest as his hard cock pushed against my belly.

Fuck.

Yes.

I understood now why everyone seemed to be obsessed with sex.

If this was sex—if all I’d needed was to wait for the right person to share it with—then I was sold. S-O-L-D sold. Felix was a ravenous, greedy little thing. He scratched and sucked, licking, biting, pressing into me like a beast in heat.

It was like the dam had broken.

All his control evaporated the second he drew blood.

God, I loved him.

I kneaded his ass possessively, squeezing and rubbing, listening to his gasping little whines as his cock pushed into my abs. I flexed to give him something hard to fuck against, urging his hips in a steady, swiveling grind as my own dick shoved against the space behind his balls.

This was heaven.

I’d thought that about Felix’s smile before—and I’d been right then too.

But now I was…oh fuck.