Chapter 25

The brutal intimacy of Carlos’s touch was a violation, a claiming, and a paradox that shattered Edward’s world. His bound body went rigid, a statue of outrage, as Carlos’s finger delved into the humid, hidden crevice of his body. The friction was a rough, shocking invasion against his most private flesh.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” Edward snarled, the words a low, venomous threat that sounded hollow and pathetic in the thick, sex-heavy air.

Carlos just chuckled, a dark, amused sound right by his ear. His finger didn’t retreat; instead, it pressed more firmly, a slow, circular massage that explored the tight, clenched ring of muscle. “So tense, Doc. All that rage, all that control ... it’s all stored right here, isn’t it?”

Edward’s breath hitched. He tried to thrash, to throw the smaller man off, but the ropes held fast, and Carlos’s body was a solid, unyielding weight against his back. The struggle only served to grind him harder against Carlos’s prominent erection, a horrifying mockery of an embrace.

Then Carlos withdrew his finger. He brought it to his own face, inhaling deeply with a theatrical, ecstatic flutter of his eyelids. “Mmm ... that potent, masculine musk. All man.” He then forced his hand around, pressing his damp fingertip against Edward’s lips. Edward clenched his jaw shut, turning his head away in disgust.

“Smell it,” Carlos commanded, his voice dropping from a taunt to a guttural order. He gripped Edward’s jaw, his fingers like steel, and forced his head back. “Smell what you are. Smell what your son gets intoxicated by.” The pressure was immense, irresistible. With a final, helpless gasp, Edward’s lips parted.

The scent hit him first. His own scent, yes, but amplified, animalistic, and utterly primal. It was the essence of his own body, something he never acknowledged, now weaponized against him. The taste followed, a faint, salty tang on his lip.

“He can’t help it, your boy,” Carlos purred, releasing his jaw and sliding both hands down to Edward’s hips, holding him in place to witness Miller finally pulling out of Adam’s spent, trembling body. “He’s a slut for the real thing. For a man who smells like a man, not some sanitized, country club phantom.”

Carlos’s hands moved to the waistband of Edward’s sweatpants. With a brutal yank, he pulled them and the boxers beneath down to Edward’s knees, exposing him completely to the cold room and the watching eyes of Jacob and a recovering Miller. Edward’s proud, thick cock, already half-hard from the adrenaline and the brutal, unwanted proximity, sprang free.