My Bloody Valentine

16. Adrian

16

ADRIAN

I adjust my white skull mask, ensuring it fits perfectly against my face. The black lines trace ancient patterns across the bone-white surface. My fingers trail over the smooth material as I watch Maya’s sleeping form on the bed.

There are three minutes and twenty seconds left until the sedative wears off. I’ve perfected the timing through careful experimentation and knowing Maya’s weight from the medical records I found.

The mask represents everything I no longer need to hide. No more careful smiles or measured responses. No more pretending to be the polite chocolatier who caters to Chicago’s elite. I can finally show Maya my true nature in this space, locked away from prying eyes.

Her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. The silk sheets drape over her curves, and I imagine how her skin will flush when she opens her eyes to find me transformed. Will she scream? Or will something deeper stir within her.

I settle into the leather chair beside the bed, crossing one leg over the other. My fingers drum against the armrest as I count down the seconds. Maya’s eyelids flutter—right on schedule. The sedative is releasing its hold.

“Welcome back,” I say, my voice different behind the mask. Deeper, raspier. “I hope you’re eager to delve into those fantasies you’ve been suppressing.”

She blinks, trying to focus. When her gaze lands on my mask, her pupils dilate. Fear? Arousal? Both feed the same innate response. I lean forward, letting the light catch the mask’s angular planes.

“You’ve been hiding from yourself. But I see it. I sense it in every reaction to my chocolates. Tonight, we’ll unlock those fantasies you’re too afraid to acknowledge.”

Her breath catches. I can practically taste her confusion, her terror, and underneath it all, that delicious thread of anticipation.

I trail my knife along Maya’s inner thigh, drinking in the way her muscles tense beneath the cold steel. Her wrists strain against the silk bonds, but I’ve secured them perfectly—tight enough to hold, loose enough not to mark her delicate skin.

“Shhh, little critic. I won’t cut you.” The blade glides up her stomach, catching the light. Her chest heaves with each rapid breath. “Your fear is exquisite, but I have no interest in damaging such a rare specimen.”

A whimper escapes her lips as I trace the knife’s tip between her breasts. Her nipples harden, and I can’t help but smile behind my mask. Even terrified, her body responds to my touch.

“Please,” she whispers, voice trembling.

I press the flat of the blade against her throat. Not enough pressure to hurt, but just enough to remind her of her vulnerability. “Please, what, Maya? Please stop? Please more? Your body seems confused about what it wants.”

Her pulse races visibly in her neck. I lean down, my mask inches from her face. “I can practically taste your fear in the air. It’s exhilarating. But do you know what’s even better?” I drag the knife down her side, watching goosebumps rise in its wake. “Knowing that this fear is unnecessary. That you’re safe in your terror.”

Maya’s eyes lock onto mine through the mask’s holes. In them, I see understanding dawn—the realization that despite her helplessness, despite the knife, she will emerge unharmed. Her fear is a gift she’s giving me, not something I take by force.

“Good girl. You’re beginning to understand.” With deliberate care, I set the knife on the nightstand, my fingers lingering on its handle. “We’ll explore that particular pleasure later.”

My cock strains against my slacks as I drink in Maya’s bound form. Seven days. Seven endless days since I first buried myself inside her. The memory of her tight heat has haunted my every waking moment, disrupting my focus in the kitchen and leaving my latest creations lacking their usual finesse.

I shed my clothes, my hands trembling with need. The mask stays on—it’s part of tonight’s ritual. Maya’s eyes follow my movements.

“I can’t wait any longer.” I position myself between her spread thighs, running my hands up her sides. “Do you know what you do to me? How you’ve invaded my thoughts?”

She bucks against me, her eyes flashing fire. “You’re insane, Adrian. You can’t just tie me up and fuck me because you feel like it! I’m not some doll you can play with!”

Her words slice like a thousand knives, each one a challenge to my control.

She wants to unleash the beast—the part of me that revels in her fear and terror. It stirs, urging me to push her further, to show her just how little control she has.

I slam my hands against the mattress, leaning close until my mask nearly touches her nose. Through gritted teeth, I snarl, “I can do whatever I want with you, Maya. You’re mine. My creation. My little critic, remember?”

Her eyes glitter with fury, but I sense her craving for me lurking beneath the surface. She wants to be claimed and surrender to me.

With a swift move, I unfasten her wrists, relishing the momentary panic that crosses her features. Before she can react, I flip her onto her stomach and press her face into the pillows.

Her hips arch as she tries to wriggle free, but I hold her firmly in place, my body a cage around hers. “You want to fight? Then let’s fight.”

I grab her wrists and pin them behind her back with one hand, her thrashing form pinned beneath me. I yank her hair back with my free hand, baring her neck. “Who’s in control now?”

“You...are,” she gasps.

“Louder,” I growl. “I want to hear you say it.”

“You are!”

My hands tighten on her wrists, and she whimpers. “Good. Now, say you’re mine.”

Her body goes still as she realizes what I’m demanding.

I nip at her neck, knowing the mark I’ll leave there will be hard to hide. “Say it. Surrender to me.”

I need to feel her now. The waiting, the tease—it’s torture. Despite her defiance, her body betrays her, softening beneath me.

Maya resists, but I’m relentless. I drive into her, claiming what is mine. She gasps into the pillows. “Say it.”

Silence.

I push deeper, filling her, owning her. Her moan vibrates against my chest. God, that sound...

My hips flex, withdrawing and then snapping forward. Her body tightens around me, a vise of silk. This time, her moan fills the room. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

The rhythm takes over, animalistic and raw. My hands grip her hips, holding her in place as I thrust with insatiable urgency. She meets my force with her own, starting to thrust back with abandon. No more barriers. No more games, only unwavering surrender.

I pull out, her whimper of protest sending a stab of pleasure through me. Carefully, I reposition her on her back. We’re both breathing hard, our bodies slick with sweat. With a hand tangled in her hair, I tilt her head, forcing her to meet my gaze.

Her dazed eyes search mine through the holes in my mask, and at that moment, I feel something powerful shift between us.

“Look at me, Maya,” I demand, my voice harsh. “I want you to see who owns you.”

Her lips part, and she sucks in a sharp breath as I fill her again. Her eyes widen, and I know she sees the truth in mine. Her body yields to mine, and her surrender fuels my need to possess her completely.

Each stroke is a claiming—a branding of her body with mine. Her nails dig into my shoulders, leaving her marks, but I don’t care. The pain only adds to the intensity, sharpening the pleasure until it’s almost unbearable.

Maya arches against me, her breath coming in short gasps. “Please, Adrian. It’s too much.”

Her words are a plea, but not for mercy. She’s begging for more—for the pinnacle I’ve deliberately withheld.

“Let it break you,” I demand, my restraint shattering. “I’ll piece you back together in my image.”

Her eyes flutter closed as I drive into her again, my body taking over. The world narrows to this moment—to the intoxicating sensation of joining with her. I thrust harder, deeper, searching for my own release.

“Open those eyes,” I demand through clenched teeth. “Show me what my darkness does to you.”

Her lids snap open, the sultry depths of her gaze locking with mine. I trace her jaw with my fingertips. “Fall apart, Maya. Fall apart for me.”

On that command, her body shudders, her inner walls clenching around me. Her cry of release echoes in the room, spurring me on as I thrust through her orgasm, chasing my own peak.

With a final, ragged groan, I spill myself into her, the force of it stealing my breath. For a moment, there’s only the rapid rise and fall of our chests and the throb of pleasure throughout my body.

Slowly, I lower myself onto her, careful not to crush her small frame. My masked forehead rests against hers, our sweat-dampened skin fused together.

I trace my fingers along Maya’s collarbone, watching her chest rise and fall as she catches her breath. The mask still sits heavy on my face, a reminder of the line I’ve crossed tonight. She didn’t explicitly consent to this—to being tied up, to the knife play, to my dominance. Yet her body responded with such raw need.

A twinge of something flickers in my chest—not quite guilt. I’m beyond that now, but I acknowledge that I’ve pushed her boundaries further than intended. The beastly part of me purrs with satisfaction, drowning out any whisper of remorse.

Her skin feels electric under my touch, still sensitized from our coupling. I can’t bring myself to regret what just happened. The way she surrendered, fought, and then yielded was perfection. Her fear and desire are an intoxicating cocktail that rivals my finest creations.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Maya mumbles, her voice hoarse.

I smile behind the mask. Even now, she reads me too well. “Rest, little critic. You’ll need your strength.”

She shifts, wincing slightly, and I feel pride at having marked her so thoroughly. The rational part of my mind knows I should feel shame for taking it without asking, but I can’t summon an ounce of regret. She’s mine now, claimed in every way that matters.

I pull her closer, possessively wrapping my arm around her waist. The line between consent and coercion blurs, but I’ve never claimed to be a good man. My fingers find the pulse point in her neck, steady and strong, just like her will and her spirit. They’re both bent but not broken by what transpired.