Kiss The Villain: A Dark MM Enemies to Lovers Romance

I’ve spent the past however many hours smoking.

Whole packs.

I’m almost out of cigarettes, but the nicotine rush did nothing to expel the agitation gnawing at my goddamn sanity.

The cold air bites into my skin as I stand on the balcony in nothing but pajama bottoms. But it’s not cold enough, not uncomfortable enough. Nothing is enough to make me loathe what I did a few hours ago.

Maybe I should ask Julian to inject me with his drug again.

Not that it worked the last time.

Nothing is working.

I crush the cigarette in the ashtray and, like a hopeless addict, step back into the room. The night air clings to my skin as I close the door behind me.

The reason for my sleeplessness—and pending life crisis—is sprawled across the bed.

My bed.

Gareth is on his stomach, hugging a pillow, the duvet slipped down to reveal the smooth curve of his back and the purple hickeys I left all over his skin.

My marks.

My touch.

Mine.

His blond hair spills across the pillow, messy and disheveled from how I yanked and pulled at those golden strands while I owned him.

Claimed him.

Made him all mine.

The thought that I’m the only one who can fuck him, touch him like that, sends a rush of blinding possessiveness through me.

I sit on the edge of the bed, unable to stop watching him.

There’s something ethereal about him, like he’s not quite real. Like if I reached out to trace the contours of his body, he’d vanish beneath my fingers, fading into nothing.

I’ve seen plenty of beautiful people, but I’ve never given it a second thought. His beauty, though, is the kind that hurts to look at. And now, asleep, with all his maliciousness gone, he looks so vulnerable and soft, I could strangle him.

I should’ve done that the first time I touched him and liked it.

I should have shot him.

But I wanted another taste.

And another.

And another.

I thought the urge would fade once I fucked him and staked a claim, but it’s only gotten worse.noveldrama

One taste isn’t enough. Hell, two won’t be either.

Not even a dozen.

Because right now, I want to shield him from the entire world so he’s only mine.

Just replaying the way he moaned, the noises he made, the way this proud, goddamn major pain in the ass of a little monster submitted to me⁠—

It makes me delirious.

My cock is filling up just watching him, and that’s not ideal.

It’s disastrous, to be honest, because he’s not supposed to have this effect on me.

And yet I can’t look away, even as the ache in my chest deepens.

I reach out and trace my knuckles over his face—the curve of his jaw, the slope of his cheek, the pout of his pillowy lips. My fingers pause at the tiny freckles dotting his straight nose. Up close, they look like stardust, otherworldly.

The desire building inside me feels suffocating, a weight lodged in my throat, because I know I shouldn’t touch him.

Want him.

Feel this…obsessed with him.

But he nuzzles into my hand, and it’s like a jolt of electricity shoots through me. My heart pounds so loudly, I hear it in my ears as I yank my arm away.

What the fuck was that about?

I shift and lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, refusing to look at him. But it’s harder than I thought.

A literal struggle.

The urge to fuck him again, to do something, anything, to relieve this mounting aggression is unbearable.

Maybe I should go for a swim⁠—

My thoughts scatter when a warm body presses against my side, his forehead nuzzling the crook of my neck.

He throws an arm over my chest, right where the snake’s fangs are inked. I don’t like that—illogical, I know—and I clutch his wrist, absently rubbing the faint rope marks, then slide his arm up to rest near my shoulder.

His soft breaths land like a curse against my throat.

I close my eyes, letting the pull of sleep take over. But just as I’m drifting, I realize his wrist is still in my hand.

For some reason, I don’t let go.

“Have you forgotten me?”

Those words dragged me out of a nightmare.

Her words.

Her shriek as she shot Gareth in the face.

I can still feel the warmth of his blood on my skin—my face, my chest, everywhere.

I swam until my muscles screamed, but I can still feel the fucking blood.

It’s around six in the morning when I step back into the apartment. I head straight to the safe hidden behind an obscure French artist’s painting and toss in the knife and Taser I picked up earlier.

They join the others I’ve confiscated before. He keeps finding new ones, so it’s not making much of a difference, but I’m trying to stop him from rushing headfirst into violence every time something doesn’t go his way.

In some ways, he’s grounded and shows impressive self-control, but when he indulges his impulses, they’re destructive.

I need to train him to manage those instincts before he lands himself in a situation he can’t get out of.

Not that I should care what happens to him.

I slam the safe shut and return the painting to its rightful place.

When I step into the bedroom, I expect to see him asleep. He’s a deep sleeper and barely moves, even when I’m up pacing or leaving early in the morning. He always looks peaceful, his Adonis-like face completely at ease.

I suppose that’s what it’s like to have no empathy—sleeping like an actual baby.

My steps falter at the doorway.

He’s not there.

The images from my nightmare seize me, wrapping tight around my throat. I claw at my collar, trying to loosen its suffocating grip.

Jethro’s and Simone’s warnings replay in my mind on an endless loop: They will find him. It’s only a matter of time.

I used to be one of the ‘they’ Jethro and Simone—the closest people to me—talked about. Hell, I was at the top of the list.

But now, every fiber of my being rebels against that thought.

My pulse steadies slightly when I hear the sound of the shower running.

The fact that my ears were ringing so loudly I missed it should set off alarms, but I don’t care. I need to see him—to confirm that the little menace is breathing and intact. That he’s not the disfigured version from my nightmare.

I step into the bathroom and stop dead.

Gareth stands behind the glass door, and I have a perfect side view of his lethal body.

The sound of water hitting the tiles fills the room as steam swirls in the air, curling around the edges of his glistening chest. Rivulets of water trace the lines of his muscles, accentuating skin I’ve started to memorize.

His body looks to be carved from marble, the curve of his spine the most perfect fucking thing I’ve ever seen.

My cock throbs at the sight of the purple and red marks on his back—most of them on his ass. Traces of my teeth, handprints, fingers.

And I want to add more.

I want to mark him so completely that no one will dare come near him again.

Not Morgan, not Cherry.

Not anyone.

He tips his head back slightly, droplets catching in his shimmering blond hair as he reaches two fingers to his ass. His eyes close, a faint frown appearing between his thick brows as he bites his lower lip.

Fuck this.

All remnants of my control snap.

I make quick work of pulling off my shirt, sweatpants, and boxers before striding toward the shower.

Gareth is so focused, he doesn’t even notice me opening the glass door.

I step in behind him, the water soaking me instantly as I press my chest against his back and wrap my hand around his wrist. “You’re struggling to get my cum out, baby? Let me help.”

He jerks his head in my direction, and his eyes are so green, so bright, it’s almost blinding to look at him.

“G-get out!” he snaps, but he also stutters. He’s always been a pool of contradictions, my little monster.

“I said I’ll help with my pussy.” I tug his hand free and then push him against the glass door.

We’re right across from the mirror, so I can see his cock bulging against the glass, the ridges of his muscles pressing against the fogged-up surface.

He wasn’t this hard when I was watching him earlier, so his cock is performing a standing ovation for me.

I like that.

“Mmm.” I jam my knees between his thighs and thrust my index and middle fingers inside him.

He grunts, the sound like music to my ears.

“My cunt is so full of cum, we need to remove that nice and slow.”

“Just shut up. Why does everything need a commentary, asshole?”

“Because it makes you shudder beneath me.” I nibble on his ear and slide my cock up and down his ass cheek as I curl my fingers inside. “It turns your face red and I love that color on you.”

“You damn—” His words end with a moan when I scrape his sweet little spot with my fingers. “What are you doing…fuck…”

“Removing the cum.”

“You’re not…stop messing with me, Kayde.”

“I can’t.”

And I mean that shit. I’m physically unable to stay the fuck away from him. I see him and I’m bursting with the need to fuck and hurt and claim and bite and mark him everywhere.

Is it an obsession?

A damnation?

A fucking curse?

I bite his lower lip hard and he groans, then pulls away and drops his forehead on the glass, both his hands holding on to the surface, curling with every thrust.

“Does it feel good?” I ask, thrusting my tongue in his ear.

He shudders beneath me, the water sliding down his hair, his neck and back, and I bite his nape. Like a goddamn animal marking his territory.

“Yeah…” He sucks in a harsh breath, his voice wavering. “That feels good…”

“How good?”

“Good…”

“Better than when you fuck?”

He tenses, his fingers curling against the glass.

“Answer me.” I stop, pulling out slightly, caging him until he’s shivering.

“Maybe…”

“Maybe isn’t an answer. Tell me how you truly feel.”

“It’s better,” he whimpers, grinding against my fingers.

“So much better?”

“Mmm.” He grunts, his cock so hard now. “I want to come…”

“Already?” I chuckle against his earlobe. “But I’m only helping you, baby.”

He whips his head in my direction and grabs me by the throat, his fingers tightening. “Just…”

“Just?”

Red creeps up his cheeks and my cock throbs, lighting the fuck up at his aggression, and I’m sure he feels it against his ass. Maybe that’s why he swallows, his Adam’s apple working up and down as droplets of water cascade down his lashes.

A piece of fucking art.

“Just do it.”

“Do what?” I pause the thrusts, and he rubs his ass against my cock.

I’m sure he doesn’t even know he’s doing it, and that makes all the blood rush to my groin. He’s such a menace, it’s adorable to see him be a bit clueless and lost, slowly leaning into his sexuality and quitting the denial game.

We’ll get to the point where he’s more comfortable admitting what he wants without me pushing.

Little by little.

It should be frightening that I’m accepting my sexuality so easily, but it’s not.

Wanting Gareth was the most natural fucking thing that’s happened to me.

He squeezes his fingers around my throat, nearly cutting off my air supply, then whispers, the slightest noise, “F-fuck me.”

My chest expands in a harsh breath as a primal feeling grips my balls, but I manage to sound normal when I say, “Want to feel my cock inside you again, baby?”

“I’m just horny. Hurry up.” He releases me and looks away again.

I chuckle as I pull out my fingers. “If you’re just horny, you could’ve asked for a handjob. But no, you can’t get enough of my cock, can you?”

He freezes, his gulp audible in the midst of the water. “That’s not…”

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. I can’t get enough of my cunt either.” I reach for a black tube I kept here especially for this. I’ve filled my house the fuck up with lube since that time he broke in. Water- or silicone-based in the bedroom and living room. Oil-based in the shower.

Maybe I wanted to fuck him long before I finally admitted it to myself.

He looks back at me with blown-up pupils and parted lips. “Why do you even have that here?”

“Because I plan to fuck you everywhere.”

“What a massive pervert,” he lets out in a huff, but dimples crease his cheeks as he fights a smile.

I nibble and kiss his ear as I knee his legs farther, part his ass cheeks, and squeeze the lube around his hole.

I was never really an ass man, but this? This is the best fucking hole I’ve ever been in, and that should disturb me. Considering her.

Gareth grunts, probably because I’m gripping his bruised skin tightly, and even though his cock hardens, I make a mental note to give him more ointment later. I suspect he’ll let me apply it to him like when he was asleep last night.

I’ll eventually make him get used to that, too, but baby steps.

He leans more into his animal instincts when cornered or uncomfortable, so I can’t spook him.

I circle my finger around his rim over and over until he whines, planting his hands and forehead on the glass. “Just do it.”

“Can’t wait to have my cock inside you, baby?”

“Stop talking and fuck me already.”

My balls tighten and I’m honestly concerned I’ll come the moment I feel his walls clench around me again. “Give me your hand.”

“Why?”

“Don’t question me. Give it.”

He looks back at me as he hesitantly stretches out his right hand. I take it in mine, then squeeze lube onto it and wrap it around my cock. “Make me nice and wet so I can fuck you.”

I expect him to resist or throw a distasteful comment a la Gareth, but he simply jerks me up and down.

The position is awkward, but he strains to look at how his hand struggles to close around me, his lips parting, seeming utterly fascinated. His pace is slow at first, but then it turns rougher as he squeezes, going from base to top, flicking his thumb over the crown.

It takes all my goddamn control not to come, my cock leaking precum all over his fingers.

“I love your hand. I love how you’re working me up so good.”

“You do?”

“Mmm. Can’t you feel how I’m becoming rock hard?”

“Yeah. You’re sort of…pulsing in my hand. Your veins…uh…your cock does do that a lot. Pulsing, I mean.”

Fuck, he looks so flustered and turned on, it’s a sight to behold. He’s so goddamn adorable for a little psycho.

“Baby, much as I love your hand, I need to blow my load inside you.”

He stops and releases me, seeming unsure as he bites the corner of his lip. So I lick that lip as I position myself behind him and give a shove of my hips.

My muscles wind up when his walls clench around me and he cries out against my lips.

God damn.

God fucking damn.

I fucked him for the first time last night and it already feels as if I’ve been here my entire life.

Like this is the only place I belong.

He relaxes even as his ragged breaths fill the shower, and just like last night, he forces his body not to fight, allowing me in.

And I know he’s allowing it, because Gareth is deadly when he wants.

But right now, as he slightly sinks his teeth in my lip, letting me go all the way in, I can feel his muscles loosening, his breaths stuttering.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” I speak close to his lips, licking the water off him. “My cunt is swallowing my cock like goddamn crazy.”

He gulps, his throat working up and down, water clinging to his Adam’s apple, but my view is constricted when he turns away, dropping his head on the glass as he grabs onto it.

Jerking my hips, I slam into him, bottoming out, and he cries out, the hoarse voice echoing with the sound of the splashing water. “Fuck.”

“That’s it. Take me. All of me.”

I wrap my arm around his groin and squeeze his weeping cock. His back vibrates against my chest as I fuck him harder and harder.

“I’ve been thinking about being inside your ass nonstop, baby.”

“We just…did it yesterday.” His words are spoken in a moan.

“Doesn’t matter. I can live here, just watching my cock slipping in and out of my pussy, knowing how much you love it.”

His noises go up and up in volume until they fill my ears. Until they’re all I can hear.

My eyes focus on him in the mirror, where we’re visible up to his cock. He’s smaller than me and I look like a fucking animal behind him.

It’s the look in my eyes. I’m unhinged, out of control, filled with a primal need to claim him.

But he has his head down, looking at the floor or his cock in my hand, I don’t know.

“Don’t hide.” I grab his jaw from behind and lift it up so he’s looking at the mirror. “Look at who owns you.”

Despite the steam, his eyes meet mine, and his are droopy, his lips parted. He doesn’t look away as I fuck him deeper, so deep, he can’t shut up.

He’s grunting and moaning and clenching and being my fucking undoing.

All the while looking at us.

“The scene is making you harder, baby.” Thrust. Bottom out. “You love looking at me fucking you, don’t you?”

“Mmmfff…”

“I love looking at me fucking you, too. You’re a goddamn masterpiece, baby.”

“Kayde…”

“Baby?”

“I…”

“Talk to me.”

“T-tell me I’m beautiful,” he whispers with an edge of uncertainty, and it’s so fucking cute.

He’s so damn adorable today, I can’t take it.

I turn his head so he’s looking at me, and murmur against his mouth, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

And I mean that.

Fuck. I mean that?

My bewilderment is short-lived as he wraps his hand around my neck, wet fingers digging into my nape, and presses his lips to mine.

His kiss is urgent and almost frantic, as if he never kissed with such fire before. It’s a sharp contrast to the way he usually reacts to me. Right now, he kisses me with raw, hungry heat as he comes in my hand.

While I fuck him.

He groans and grunts, but his lips never leave mine, like he wants to possess me, to kill me with his lips.

To suck my soul through my mouth.

I fall into the taste of him, the desperation in his kiss, my pace as frantic and urgent as his.

“Come…” he mumbles against my lips. “Come with me…Kayde…please.”

The fact that he’s like this—wanting me, needing me, losing all his goddam control for me—shoves me over the edge.

I come in long spurts, so deep inside his ass, we’ll need some time to get that out.

But he doesn’t stop kissing me, or me him, sucking my face, keeping me absolutely tethered to him with invisible strings.

There’s no biting or breaking skin or blood.

Just raw, hungry, and entirely passionate kissing.

I don’t think I’ve ever kissed anyone the way I kiss Gareth.

And fuck, since when did I start to call him by his first name in my head?

As we stand there, under the water, while he kisses me, I’m hit with an uncomfortable realization.

I might be the one who fucks Gareth, but he’s the one who’s owning me inch by agonizing inch.

Because I like kissing him more than I’ve liked kissing anyone.

My wife included.