Chapter Two #3
As I worked my way up her legs, cutting and drawing, counting and smearing, my humanity kept falling away.
Stripping me from clothes, shoes, and belongings.
Erasing money and hardship and ego. I reverted to my ancestors who painted their conquests on cave walls.
Celebrating their hunts as they killed their prey and used the blood of their meals to tell stories of their mightiness.
The insides of her knees bled nicely. Giving me thirty combined from both.
Ninety-three.
Panting heavily, swallowing hard against the vicious urges to taste, I reared taller on my knees and clamped my hands on her hips. The slim switchblade kissed her where I held it, the dropper in my other hand.
Her eyes flared wide.
Her breath caught.
My thumbs moved of their own accord, caressing her like I’d done in the past when all we’d had was secrets and whispers.
I did my best to stop, but they kept stroking her delicate, almost translucent skin.
She shifted in her binds.
Her pulse pounded against my fingertips.
Her skittering heartrate revealed the truth.
“Does it hurt, little nightmare? Or will I find you’re secretly wet again?”
Ily looked away, colour scalding her cheeks.
Victor cursed. “Sheath your teeth, you little cunt.”
Peter didn’t reply but a gagging noise sounded as if Victor shoved his jewel’s face deeper onto his cock.
My own cock reached breaking point.
I no longer felt drunk on booze but entirely high on Ily’s ungiven surrender.
Nine drops remaining.
A mere nine little ruby tears to finish this morbid game.
And I knew exactly where I’d bleed her.
Glancing down at my nakedness, I traced my knife along the red, ugly scar above my femoral artery. Or at least, I’d thought that was where it lurked. I’d tried to find it. Tried to slice it. Tried to bleed out all over the goddamn floor.
I’d failed and left myself with a nasty reminder that I couldn’t even kill myself successfully.
For months, that’d gnawed away at me. Shamed me. Destroyed me.
A constant reminder that even though I wanted so fucking badly to be good, that was never an option for me.
But now...I’d reached the bottom of my downfall. Black clouds above me. Midnight fog around me. And I’d never breathed such sweet air, never stretched in such welcoming oblivion.
That scar was now a promise.
A vow that I’d found where I belonged.
I was home.
Looking up, I caught Ily studying my puckered scar.
In a moment of lucidity and ill-advised empathy, she whispered, “What happened?”
I grinned at the softness of her voice, the imploring hope that I’d return to her and be the jackass who thought he’d been falling for her.
I couldn’t wait to teach her that that jackass was now dead.
“I survived.” I ran my thumbs on either side of her pussy, tracing the hypersensitive, ever-so-fragile skin. “And for the first time since that day, I’m glad I did because now...I get to play with you.”
She shuddered.
Her collar clinked against the hook.
Her entire body broke out in goosebumps.
“Please, Henri.”
“Not my name anymore, little nightmare. I told you that.”
“Please—”
“Hush.” Pressing a kiss against her left upper thigh where her flawless skin mocked my scarred one, I poised the tip of my knife. “This one might hurt.”
Not giving her time to tense or slip into whatever subspace she found sanctuary in, I cut.
Not too deep—I wasn’t feeling murderous. Just deep enough to grant her a matching defection, completing our ceremony of blood and belonging.
Scarlet instantly gushed.
Hotter than before.
Redder than before.
I went to press the pipette against her dribbling crimson, but...
I reached my limit.
Stabbing my knife into the carpet by my knee and tossing the dropper over my shoulder, I threw Victor a savage grin. “I’m done playing your game, Vic. I’m going to play my own now.”
Ily jerked as I fell on her.
She cried out as my mouth locked over the bleeding wound.
Life ended.
Death paused.
The world screeched to a stop.
Every sense, every fucking synapse zeroed in on her sweet, sharp decadence.
My heart smoked as that first taste, that first delicious dangerous taste seared onto my tongue.
Fuck.
Me.
Never.
I’d never tasted anything so raw and earthy and...so bitterly carnal.
My cock speared upright with throbbing starvation.
My hands tightened around her hips, dragging her into me.
My tongue licked at her wound, forcing her to give me more, give me everything.
Ily’s cry seeped into my ears.
My mouth stung.
My body vibrated.
Lust ripped violently through me.
Yanking my lips away from her thigh, my eyes locked on her pussy.
So close.
Right there.
The stupid rules I’d made of not tasting what wasn’t mine incinerated.
My laughable boundaries shattered as I shifted on worshipping knees and claimed her.
My lips locked over her clit in one smooth domination.
“No,” she screamed. “Don’t.”
I licked her. Hard.
“No, uhhhh—” Her refusals ended with a moan that set my hair on end. The same sort of moan I’d heard in her sleep. A wanting moan. A desperate moan.
I didn’t hesitate.
My tongue slipped deeper, past her clit, hunting for that wet, dark heat.
Unlike our pantomimes and the moment when she’d writhed on my hand at dinner, she wasn’t wet.
This game hadn’t scrambled her right and wrong or made her lust.
But I didn’t care.
I’d taken her lifeforce.
She existed within me now.
We were one.
And I wanted all of her.
I wanted her weeping and writhing.
Shattering and begging.
I want in.
With both hands clamped on her hips, I ate her, devoured her.
I plunged my tongue inside and suffered a second fucking reckoning.
Her blood was sharp and stannic. Full of iron and minerals.
Her pussy was silky and sweet. Full of pleasure and promise.
The two flavours blended and turned me into an animal.
I didn’t hold back.
I fucked her with my tongue without any worries of being too hard or too vicious. I gave her brutal. I gave her cruel.
Her entire body twisted and thrashed in her binds. The insides of her thighs quivered to get away from me. The buckles held her spread. My nose nuzzled her clit as I inhaled deeply, soaking my lungs with her perfect scent.
She struggled to speak.
Her whimpers turned me the fuck on.
And when her body gave in to my attack and surrendered?
Yeah, it was all fucking over.
My hands moved without permission, my left soaring up her body to fist her breast and my right dipping between her legs to penetrate two fingers inside her.
She burst into flames.
Her skin heated to a thousand degrees.
Her head tipped back as I finger-fucked and tongued her. Licking her clit all while my fingers plunged deep.
This was for me.
Everything I claimed, I wanted.
Yet I couldn’t deny the thrill of making her come apart.
Of taking away her control and turning her entire body against her.
The first ripple of her pussy around my fingers made me grunt with approval. The gush of wetness made my entry slick and smooth.
I kept going.
Kept pushing, breaking, claiming.
It didn’t take long.
Unfortunately for her, I was a fast learner.
She’d taught me what she liked when I dry-humped her to completion in my room.
I might not know her last name, but I knew she liked it hard.
So...I gave her hard.
Motherfucking ruthless.
And she came.
Wake after quaking wake.
Pulse after shuddering pulse.
Her body milked my fingers.
I couldn’t help myself.
Withdrawing my hand, I plunged my tongue back inside her, needing to feel the quivering sensation in my mouth—to taste her release, drink down her unwanted orgasm, and prove to her that she might hate me but her body fucking loved me.
My chin and five o’clock shadow were drenched as her fierce climax faded almost as quickly as it’d pounced.
Her cuffs jingled as she trembled. Her chest flushed. Skin sweaty.
She’d fallen down the other side of a craggy, blissful mountain.
I wanted to fall too.
Fumbling with the buckle around her ankle, I unthreaded the loop and let her go.
Just one.
A single leg.
The one I’d cut to match mine.
With blurry eyes and horror on her beautiful face, Ily cringed away from me as I swooped to standing and grabbed her knee. Hoisting her leg as far up my thigh as possible, I spread her at my mercy.
Our eyes locked.
Our panting matched.
I expected her to tell me no.
To scream or beg as I fisted my erection and guided it to where it needed to go.
But she didn’t.
Her mouth merely fell wide as I breached her.
I didn’t look away as I sank deep, deep inside her.
Her head tipped forward almost crashing against the base of my throat as I shifted her higher and forced her body to accept all of me. Her wetness helped me glide. Her residual pleasure-pulses threatened to make me come.
And when I slotted all the way in, we both groaned.
I rocked my hips, feeding her my throbbing length.
Her eyes snapped closed as her body clenched around me.
Right there was our first moment.
This was sex.
Not those other pathetic moments where I’d been too shit terrified to enjoy being inside her. Terrified at losing control.
Those had been pretend. Make-believe. Survival.
This...
This was real.
This was mine.
She was mine.
I thrust.
All.
...and thrust.
Fucking.
...and thrust.
Mine.
Victor’s grunt echoed behind me as he reached his own climax, no doubt spilling down Peter’s throat. I didn’t look over my shoulder. No one else existed apart from this jewel that’d bled for me, this gorgeous temptress I’d conquered and enslaved.
I withdrew and drove back in, shuddering as her body welcomed with such tight condemnation.
All the barriers and chains I’d wrapped myself in detonated.
Ily might have unlocked my cage with her ill-advised kick, but sinking inside her was the final strike to the bomb that’d been waiting to explode ever since I was born.
My insides shattered.
My heart imploded.
Shrapnel fell around my feet, confetti made of morals and scruples and ridiculous, useless integrity.
I’d been born alone; I would die alone.
There was no need to try to be a man deserving of a wife and life.
All that fucking pressure.