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Excerpt

The bedroom door that opened to the patio was unlocked. Darkness surrounded me, and I watched in fascination as Chris dropped to his knees and nuzzled his wife’s mound through her underwear. Kamirah’s hard nipples were visible through the thin camisole she wore, her legs spread as a near-naked Chris licked her pussy. I watched as he palmed himself and lifted his free hand to slide it between her legs. Her head fell back, and she threaded her fingers through his hair, gripping it tight. She arched into him, riding his fingers and mouth.

I licked my lips and flicked on the mask, the red lights bright in the darkness.

Then I opened the door.

Kamirah’s eyes flew open, and she screamed, the sound echoing around the bure. She stumbled back but gained her footing quickly. The woman was anything but a damsel in distress waiting for her man to save her. She reacted in an instant, reaching for the unopened bottle of champagne chilling in the ice bucket and lifting it like she was wielding a baseball bat.

Chris spun on the balls of his feet and stood up in one fluid motion. The muscles in his legs bunched. His cockhead poking out of his boxer briefs was red and shiny with precum. But it slipped back inside them as he lunged forward, charging at me.

He was a brawler, throwing a haymaker as soon as he got close enough.

I grinned behind the mask and raised my left arm, easily blocking the punch with my forearm. I wrapped my right arm around his throat and hooked my foot behind his leg, then twisted. With his momentum carrying him forward, I had him arched back with one foot off the floor in a split second.

He may have been intent on protecting his wife, but I was an experienced fighter. I stared at him through the mask and breathed him in. He smelled like temptation and sex, his lips still glistening from his wife’s juices. My cock bucked in my jeans, and I ground my erection against his hip. He thrashed in my arms, trying to break free of my hold. But he was powerless. All I had to do was let go, and he’d end up on his arse.

“Relax,” I crooned. “I won’t hurt you. Unless you want me to.”

“Get out,” Kamirah ground out.

“I don’t think so,” I drawled. I couldn’t reveal my true identity—it had to remain a secret—and my first instinct was to go with an accent. But Vigilante’s painful history didn’t belong in this room either. He was from Detroit, his accent unmistakable. The words that came out of my mouth sounded distinctly Canadian.

“Feisty. I like you,” I looked her over and watched the way her chest rose and fell rapidly. She pressed her thighs together and her pupils dilated. “I think I’ll fuck you first. Hmm?”

She inhaled sharply, and her grip on the bottle faltered. She lowered it just a touch before she caught herself. I knew I had her interested.

“Fuck off,” Chris gritted out, his grip on my arm tightening as he tried to pull away from me.

Kamirah couldn’t see my eyes, but they were locked on the gorgeous woman in front of me. “You’re going to put that bottle down, come here, strip off those clothes, lie back, and spread those sexy legs for me. Then I’m going to make you scream my name.”

“No,” Chris hissed, bucking hard again.

I ground my erection against his hip again and bit back a moan at the thought of watching my dick slide between his thick arse cheeks and into him.

“You're going to watch me fuck your wife until she comes on my dick. Then you're going to bend over like a good boy and take my cock until you're spent and my cum is dripping out of your hole.”

From the corner of my eye, I watched Chris’s dick twitch through his underwear. The man’s body liked the sound of what I was offering even if his head hadn’t caught on yet. He ground his teeth and gritted out another defiant, “Fuck off.”

“It's a one-time offer. Vigilante comes in here, takes the decisions away from you. Faceless, nameless fucking. No responsibility, no consequences, only orgasms.”

Chris’s grip loosened, and he stopped struggling. But he wasn’t entirely relaxed. He bit his lip and leaned his head back, resting it on my forearm. I didn’t think he was aware he’d even done it. “I don't bottom,” he said defiantly.

I chuckled, the sound raspy even to my own ears. “You do if I catch you.” I righted him and gripped him through his briefs, giving him a tight pump. His breath whooshed out of his lungs, and I ordered, “Run.”

I let him go and stepped back, clearing the path for them to get to the door. Chris only hesitated for a second, then reached for his wife’s hand. She dropped the bottle of champagne, and the dull thud as it landed on the thick rug echoed around the room.

They tore out the door, dashing into the darkness.

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