Chapter 39
AMELIA
I back up on the bed, gasping for air, my chest heaving as I stare at him. He doesn’t say a word. Then again, he doesn’t need to because his steel blue-grey eyes do all the talking for him. They’re dark, almost predatory as he looks at me. I’d do anything to get a glimpse of what’s inside his head right now.
He’s been like this for an hour . Fucking me ruthlessly, senselessly, like an animal starved of food. Only, I’m the meal and he’s never full. He’s came two times already. Going back and forth between fucking me and fingering me, using vibrators on me, his tongue on my clit. Sometimes spanking me in between. But never letting me come. The edging is unbearable, and he shows no signs of stopping anytime soon.
He doesn’t care that I need a break, a break I’ve been asking for the past twenty minutes. My body is a confused mess of both wanting and resisting. He grabs me by the ankle and yanks me back down to the edge of the bed.
“Please,” I rasp, my voice hoarse from screaming.
He slaps my pussy, hard. “You wanted this, remember? It’s why you did that whole big show downstairs to piss me off, so I’d react like this.” His voice is rough. “So shut the fuck up and take it.”
He sinks into me, pounding away, ignoring my pleas yet again, digging deep like he’s aiming for my damn stomach.
The strokes are hard .
Fast.
Relentless .
It feels like he’s going to break me in half—or worse, shatter my damn cervix. I can barely take it, but he’s making me. And that’s what’s driving me to a whole new level of pleasure. I’ve never felt so in tune with my body, so in control of it—and it’s crazy that it takes him taking control for me to learn it in ways I never imagined. Before he came along, I couldn’t even make myself come. Now, I can’t stop the orgasms when he touches me.
He picks up speed, I don’t know how because it seemed like he was already going a hundred miles per hour. I didn’t know it was possible to be fucked this fast and hard.
Every time I get right to the edge, he stops. Only to start up again a minute later when my building orgasm goes away. I’m so embarrassingly wet and throbbing and burning with need , I’m afraid if I move and accidentally rub my clit on the bed, I’ll come right here and now.
The overstimulation mixed with the edging is too much . God, it’s too much.
I’m sore—my pussy, my clit, my nipples, my whole body. Has all been used and abused for the past hour.
He bends my legs back at an uncomfortable angle, gripping my thighs tightly and using them as an anchor to hold me still. I cry out. Meanwhile, he hasn’t made a sound. Not a grunt or a groan like usual. Like he’s not present right now and can’t even feel the sex, just a robot letting all of his anger out.
“W-hy… are you doing thi-is?” His thrusts break up my speech.
His hand tightens around my neck. Hard enough to remind me that each breath I’m taking right now is because he’s allowing it. “You know how much I need you. And you still left. You left me .” His last words are snarled through clenched teeth, and he pounds harder, seeming to get angry all over again after reminding himself that I left.
“I didn’t know you wo-uld be—”
He picks me up and flips me onto my stomach. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he yanks my head back and plunges into me again. His other hand grips my hip as our bodies slam together at his relentless pounding. “Well, now you know. That I’d rather be torn apart, limb by limb, than to breathe even a second without you.”
He leans in, his breath hot against my ear as he whispers, never slowing his pace. “If you leave me again, I’ll kill you. I mean it, Amelia. I won’t be able to stop myself.” His deep voice vibrating in my ear sends a shiver through me, and I clench onto him, pulling a grunt from his lips for the first time.
The confession should terrify me, should send me running for the hills. He’s threatening to end my life if I leave him, and I have no doubt he’s not joking. But instead, it makes me wetter. Sends a strange warmth coursing through me.
I’ve never had someone love me so deeply that he’s losing his mind because of it. So fiercely that he’s willing to kill for me, without a second thought. So completely that he’s not whole anymore when I’m gone.
He angles himself juuuust right and it hits the exact spot I need it to.
“Aiden!” I scream out, arching my back. I punch the bed, frustrated. It’s just too damn much. I need to come, but he’s not letting me.
“Unh, Unh. Right now it’s Blade to you,” he growls. He smacks me on the ass, hard, and I know that one mere smack will leave a burning handprint. “Say it!”
“B-Blade… please.” I push my ass back on him. “I’ll beg, please. Whatever you want.” I’m not above begging, God, I’m not above it at all. If he told me to mop the ocean floor for even a chance to get to come right now, I would.
“Look at you, like a dog in heat, so needy and pathetic.”
My body starts trembling, and he doesn’t pull out to stop. My chest beams with a fiery hope that I’ll finally get to come. “Oh God, Yes!” I’m almost there. Almost there. But before I can, he thrusts extra hard, pushing me with his hips, and I fall forward on the bed, without him inside me anymore.
He picks me up by my hair and whispers low in my ear again, “I told you, it’s Blade to you, so why the fuck are you screaming out God’s name?” An electric current runs down my spine, and he flips me over to my back. I lay out like a starfish, barely able to move.
“No, Please,” I whine when I hear the buzzing sound of a vibrator. Fuck, fuck. I can’t take this.
Every touch to any of my private parts hurt because they’re so sensitive and throbbing from the back-and-forth edging. Especially my clit.
“Sit up,” he demands. I don’t listen at first, too consumed, so he uses a rougher tone. “ Sit. Up .”
As soon as I do, he spreads my legs apart and brings his head down between my thighs, with a dick-shaped vibrator in his hand.
He bites down hard. On my thigh. Then my clit. I arch my back, instinctively trying to move away, but his grip tightens on my legs, holding me still and maintaining the bite.
Fuck.
This is torture like I’ve never been tortured before.
Speaking of torture, I hope he doesn’t do anything overboard to Arden, like kill or torture him. Now that I’m thinking about it, I shouldn’t have kissed him, because he’s definitely going to hurt—oh!
His tongue swirls on my clit as he pushes the vibrator inside me at the highest setting, or what I imagine is the highest because the speed is insane. He sucks on my clit like it’s a straw and he’s trying to get the last drop of water after being stranded in a desert. My thighs involuntarily squeeze together over his head, my legs shaking, basically putting him in a headlock as I squirm around.
“I’m about to—”
“If you come without my permission, I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll bleed.”
I’m going over the edge, I can’t stop it. Oh my God.
“Please—”
“Come.”
One magic word that he mumbles against my clit, still nibbling on it. Finally .
I open my mouth, throw my head back, and the God awful unintelligible noises that fall from me probably sound like I’m dying to the people that I know can hear downstairs. It starts as a yell but then turns into a series of ‘ugnnhs’.
But then he stops.
He stops .
Before I can actually finish, he stops.
He releases the vibrator from me, and I slump my shoulders, a small whine escaping my lips. He pushes me back onto the bed and enters me again.
Chuckling as he grabs my neck, he says, “Did you really think you were gonna get to come after leaving me? So pathetic.”
Jesus Christ, please. I’m so fucking sensitive.
But that doesn’t stop him from using my body like his own personal sex toy. I’m surprised he even still has stamina, but he does as he pounds into me, holding my arms together over my head.
“Arden, please!”
He pauses inside me. My eyes widen when I realize.
Oh, shit. No no no.
I was just thinking about Arden… and Blade torturing him… and what he’d do to him—shit, the name must’ve stayed in my subconscious from my thoughts a few minutes ago.
“I-I didn’t mean–”
“ Shut up .”
He pulls out of me until only the tip is inside, and then slams into me once. When I say slam, I mean slam . It knocks the air out of my chest and makes my eyes roll to the back of my head.
Then, he gets up and seemingly looks for something. And he finds it quickly. His knife.
“Blade, I—”
“Oh, now you know my fucking name,” he grunts.
“I didn’t—” The words are lost in a gasp as he enters me with a particularly hard thrust. All of them following the first one are hard too. All I can feel is him, consuming me, filling me, stretching me, overwhelming me.
He pauses to place the blade against my neck, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of my skin. My pulse quickens, and the blade presses more into my neck. “Say his name again, I dare you .”
I shake my head no, and the knife grazes my throat.
“I could slit your fucking throat right now and nobody would ever even find the body.”
Thrust.
“You are so fucking lucky I can’t live without you. Or else I’d do it, I’d do it right now.”
Thrust.
I scream and arch my back high in the air when the knife pierces me right under my right breast. He cuts deeper than he ever has before, actually breaking through skin. I’m writhing in pain and screaming, struggling underneath him, but it’s like he doesn’t hear me. Or he just doesn’t care.
“I won’t ever talk to him again, I promise!” I clench my teeth as tears blur my vision.
He smiles wickedly and pauses. “That won’t be happening anyway because he won’t be back.”
“Will—will you hurt him?” My voice is meek from all the yelling, and it cracks. My entire midsection hurts .
His expression hardens, and in an instant he’s on me, his hand grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. His face looms just inches from mine, his eyes filled with an intense darkness that freezes me into place. “You seem really fucking worried about his wellbeing.” His grip tightens. “You’re fucking my head up, you know that? I wasn’t always like this with anyone else. But I don’t even want you talking to another guy, it sets off a fire in my mind.”
I shake my head with the little leeway I have as my scalp burns. “I don’t—”
“Shut up.”
He releases my hair, picks up the knife again, and continues carving me. I let out a piercing shriek that I’m sure echoes throughout the whole house. Each line he makes sears into my skin with a sickening agony.
After he cuts what feels like an E he drops the blade on the bed. I don’t even have to look to know he spelled his name into my skin.
Marking me.
Claiming me.
“Now you’ll always remember,” he murmurs. “Who you belong to.” He peppers a series of gentle kisses over the wound, each touch causing a hint of pain and I involuntarily wince. A soft whimper escapes my lips.
“Shh… I’m gonna make you feel better now, angel.” He grips his cock and rubs it up and down.
“Please let me come. I’m sore.”
He looks up at me, but he’s not really looking at me. There’s nothing behind his eyes. They’re dead. “Good. I want to hurt you like no other man has ever hurt you. Now shut up and take it.”
“Please—”
He strides to his dresser before I can even wrap my head around it, yanking open drawers and rummaging through them. After making a mess and throwing things on the floor, he seems to find what he’s looking for. My eyes widen when I recognize the object, and I start backing up on the bed.
Duct tape.
I shake my head so hard I feel like it might dislodge my brain from its place, but he ignores me and rips a piece off with his teeth, placing it over my mouth. Then another piece. He takes a piece of what I figure is gauze and loosely attaches it to the carving with the duct tape. He flips me over to my stomach, and more pieces rip off, but these ones are for my legs, attaching them to the bedposts and leaving me spread wide open.
I’m now bound, gagged and entirely at his mercy. And for the first time, I truly understand the depths of his control, his obsession, his possessiveness. For some reason, this makes me the wettest I have ever been in my life.
Every rough thrust sends jolts of pain and pleasure through my already tender body.
“If you let another man fuck you, I’ll kill him.” Thrust. “Then I’ll fuck you in his blood.” Thrust. “Then I’ll kill you.” Thrust. “So I can make sure–” Thrust . “—I’m the last man you ever fuck.”
My head is swimming in the clouds, I can’t even take in the words he’s saying. My cries and screams are muffled by the duct tape, reducing them to muted whimpers.
He pushes my face down into the bed with a harsh grip on my hair and holds me there.
I shouldn’t be getting off on this brutal treatment, but I am. Each sharp sting of pain only heightens the illicit thrill that pulses within me.
He grabs my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh harshly as he increases his pace, pounding my body into the mattress. Every hard thrust is his way of reminding me that I’m his, and the way my pussy clenches around him, my body agrees.
He leans down, biting into my neck hard. I whimper against the duct tape. I don’t think my neck will ever be free of marks from him.
His deep grunts vibrate against my skin, getting louder and mixing with the slapping sounds of our flesh.
I get closer and closer to the edge.
But the duct tape leaves me unable to ask for the permission I so desperately need to release the building climax. My body teeters on the brink, caught between ecstasy and frustration.
So I pound my fist into the bed to ask to come.
“You don’t have to punch the bed. You don’t think I don’t know you’re about to orgasm? I can feel you c-clenching on my—oh fuck.” He draws in a sharp breath, slowing down. “But too bad, pretty girl.”
He releases from me, tears the duct tape away, and flips me over.
He plunges back inside me, this time with the knife lined up to my throat. Every touch of the metal is electric, igniting sparks, making it hard to think, to breathe.
“Ah!” My body betrays me, and I can’t help but cry out. Since the blade is so close to my neck, the bobbing of my throat to scream mixed with his hard thrusts makes it cut me.
His pupils blow and a slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face at the sight of the blood on my neck. Now I understand what John meant. He leans down to kiss me, everywhere. My cheeks, my lips, my eyelids, my neck over the cut, his name he carved into me, my collarbone.
“You look fucking beautiful bleeding for me, baby. Just me. No one else gets to make you bleed.”
This is our reality, a tangled web of pain, pleasure, fear, excitement, obsession, and deadly possessiveness.
And I realize that I’m falling into a dangerous abyss of loving a monster, with no way to claw my way back out. Not that he would let me, even if I could.
His name is now marked on my skin forever.