Body Tox (The Bodies duet #1)

Chapter 18

T he attic of the church was surprising. Who knew there would be little toys back here? Old-school torture devices were stored against the walls. There were even notches where chains could anchor something.

Historical reasons?

I didn’t exactly know why there were torture devices here, but I still didn’t have shit to wear but these ugly ass robes. I had to make due.

“Asher Ballard,” I said, breathing hard from pulling his unconscious body up onto the slab.

His lean muscle was fucking toned. My cheeks heated as I pulled the layers of clothes from his body, leaving him only in his boxers.

How does it feel to be the naked one asshole?

Up close, I could finally see his tattoos. There were so many designs, and each one told its own story. What was Asher’s story? I only had one piece of information.

A name.

Despite my search engine and social media searches, the name was a complete ghost. Asher Ballard didn’t exist. Eira Svenson didn’t technically exist either, but yet here I was.

My father’s company had swiped my name from existence, and Echo was born. I didn’t even know who the fuck Eira was. That girl died the day she saw her mother slaughtered by monsters.

Eira. It means merciful in Norwegian, and Echo was anything but….

“Agh…wha?”

I smiled, shaking myself from my thoughts and the people who didn’t exist to go back to my Pretty Boy.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I sang, admiring my intricate chain setup.

There was a bar overhead, and I clipped the carabiners through the embedded iron loops on the back of the wall. These bible humpers were so gracious to leave these special treats for me.

These archaic ass castles had metal loops all over the place, probably used to place torches or some other medieval crap. It worked well enough to loop the chains over the bar and onto those hooks.

If my handsome little prisoner pulled forward, he would feel every ounce of his weight on his wrists, and that would make him think twice before yanking on his new bracelets.

I giggled, the gorgeous setup being the perfect ‘finders-keepers’ moment.

All that was missing was my dagger.

A tear slipped free, the emptiness of my hand with its golden weight leaving a hole in my heart. My jewelry box was god knows where, and I had to make do with the pliers, hammers, and other construction tools left up here.

According to the internet, the torture tools up here were going to be fun. I ran my fingers against the rows of needles. Pretty Boy was about to look like a porcupine.

“It’s a shame, really, since you are so pretty.”

He was blinking, groaning, and studying the bright light aimed at his face. The aches of the angle and his wrists above his head had to be registering.

“More than what meets the eye, Little Wraith?” he mused, testing the shackles around his arms.

“Why does someone want you dead?” I said, getting right to the point.

He laughed, attempting to shrug, his shackles rattling on the slab.

“I piss a lot of people off. Bound to have one or two wishing for my untimely demise.”

I pondered that. He was definitely fucking annoying, but getting a hit out on you meant one of two things. They were hiding something the person knew, or they were sending a message to someone.

“Message?” I said, pacing in front of him. “Or did you stick that little nose where it doesn’t belong?”

His cocky grin appeared, his eyes lazy, and his dangerous tongue sliding over his lips.

“I like exploring forbidden places.”

Why did everything he said have some sexual hidden message?

“Awe, and here I am, thinking I was the only person whose business you were snooping into.” He didn’t respond, but his smile was unmistakable.

I looked at the row of needles. This asshat was too smug. If I wanted answers, maybe he would be more talkative with a few finely placed needles in painful nerve endings.

“Who did you piss off this time? What information did you find that you shouldn’t have?”

He watched me sterilize the needle set, bringing it over to the slab of stone he was lying on. I drew invisible lines on his naked skin with my fingernail. The slight pressure made him hiss. The median nerve would get this man talking.

“Ready for your acupuncture session?” I giggled, not waiting for his answer.

His snort turned to a grunt when I stuck the long, thin needle into the nerve in his neck. A tiny bead of blood ran down his flesh. I caught it with my fingernails, bringing it to my lips and teasing him as I swiped it up with my tongue.

“Savor that taste, Little Wraith,” he said, a deep threat in his tone. “I’ll be devouring you soon enough.”

I gritted my teeth. Clearly, this man had withstood torture before. Fine. No more teasing. I stepped onto the stone altar, dust and little plumes of stone breaking off with my weight.

Crawling up his body slowly, I watched his face as I used my finger to push the needle deeper.

“Twenty-eight, eighteen, and sixteen,” I said, reveling in his grunted confusion. “You are clearly familiar with all the nerve endings in the major parts of the body.”

His tight muscles felt delicious under me.

Clearly, he was thinking of the statistics, the intricate patterns of the body, and all the fun places mapped in his mind. I gripped his boxer band, pulling the hem down slowly.

“Are you a masochist?” I said, his massive dick popping free when the material was pulled fully away.

He looked at me like I was stupid for asking, which made me mad. I stared silently, waiting, his bobbing dick giving off a heat that felt…warm to me.

“I am a man.” It was all he said.

I realized I was still straddling him, and the cream color of my skin was visible through the slit of the robe while in this position.

“Awe, I’m flattered,” I cooed, petting his bobbing cock.

The emasculating action should have made him soft as a noodle, but my touch made him hiss. His foreskin was bunched up, having slid down his glistening head from the force of pulling off his underwear.

His tan skin rolled under my gaze, growing longer and thicker. Geez-us, when I thought this man was big, he just got bigger.

Could a man be a ‘grower and a shower?’ Apparently, this man could.

“Ten to twenty thousand,” I whispered, my body leaning down involuntarily, seeking the heat that this man gave off.

His chocolatey green eyes grew wide as saucers. Those statistics were finally clicking into place.

“I thought circumcisions were standard practice?”

His glare grew in intensity, that heat rolling off his body in waves now.

“Somehow, I never got the appeal of mutilating my fucking dick,” he spat, and I laughed, the vibration of the action making us both intake a deep breath.

I needed to get off him, god my body was betraying me. I knew he could feel how wet I was under this damn robe.

“I can fix that,” I offered.

Gripping his cock in my hand, flashing my teeth and running my tongue over the pointy little canines I had since childhood.

“If you put your mouth on me, Little Wraith,” he warned. “I will fucking drown you.”

I swallowed, a bit nervous at the size of him. His threat…well, it was a possible truth, very possible. But I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t choke me to death if I tried.

“Fine.” I shrugged. “I didn’t want you in my mouth anyway.”

He knocked his knee up, and I flew forward, landing on his chest and right in his face.

I saw his intense gaze, felt his heavy breathing, and the hardness of his pulse on my stomach.

“Touching me is a privilege you haven’t earned, baby.”

I couldn’t explain why that pissed me off so much. I didn’t even want to touch him, so why were my hands itching to do just that? More torture—I was itching to use my hands to cause pain, not pleasure. But then…maybe feeling pain did create pleasure for him.

What the hell would this man find terrifying?

He returned to his lazy smile, enjoying the fact that he had shaken me.

“Let’s get this over with. I need a good nap. Are you going for nails now? We’re in a church, after all.”

He wiggled his fingers, the metal around his wrists tinkling on the granite slab. I glared at him, my anger rising because he was enjoying this. I looked at my nails and fingers, and my smile became one of pure evil.

“Well,” I said, rising up in feigned surrender with my hands above my chest. “I guess you win, Asher Ballard.”

“Glad you see it my way, Little Wraith,” he said. “But why are you showcasing that beautiful smile of yours?”

I couldn’t stop, and his words split my face into that grin.

“You don’t respond to pain. Hell, I am pretty sure you would try to teach me how to hurt you. So, I am not going to.”

The hesitation in his words made me laugh out loud.

“What are you…?”

I cracked my knuckles and laid back down on the delicious fucking man. If I were being honest with myself, this would feel amazing for me, too.

“Little Wraith…” he warned, staring at me cautiously.

“Yes, Pretty Boy?” I said sweetly, pulling myself more and more onto his body, his cock so deliciously poised and standing tall for me.

I slipped my mouth over the head, my lips enveloping the softness. His body jerked under me and relaxed into the stone as my tongue explored. He tasted good.

Damn…

“My Little Wraith,” he rasped breathlessly. “Fuuuck…you can’t…don’t…” His words were moans of denial, but his body was a pool of warmth, and precome filled my mouth. I tried to hold in my moans but finally got a grip on what I was trying to accomplish.

Bringing my hand down, I groped his balls, my tongue ring sliding around the rim as my mouth twisted up and down his shaft. To think I wanted to maul this tasty skin. Ugh never.

“Echo.” He panted, craning his neck off the slab to look at me. “You are horrible at torturing someone.”

I laughed around his dick, my mouth vibrating his member, and he gasped, his insult cut off with a whimper that made his toes curl.

“Who says this isn’t torture?” I said, licking up and down the pulsing veins.

He raised his eyebrow, and I took the confused moment to strike, sliding my hand under his balls and pushing my finger deep into his ass.