His Taste by B. B. Hamel

I got one taste of him and now I can’t stop.
I know I should stay away from Case Hammett. First, there are the rumors: killer, thief, bastard. Then, there’s the fact that he’s a player and an a**hole.
He’s notorious for a reason: handsome face, muscular body, enough money to own the entire town. The confident and cocky bastard is totally all-wrong for me, and I should be very afraid.
But I take a job cleaning his house to help support my sick mother against my better judgement. And I was right to be nervous: he loves getting me down on all fours to scrub his floor. He’s always teasing, his hands on my skin, his cocky grin pushing my limits.
Things seem fine on the surface, but there’s a darkness in his house that I can’t escape.
I’m starting to think the rumors are true.
But when his hands brush against my skin, I don’t care about anything else. I just need more of his taste, more of his body.
He corners me in his bedroom and asks a simple question: Do you want me to take care of you?
I’m terrified, but I think the answer is yes. If I can’t escape, I might not leave this house ever again.