Chapter 42 #2
She opens her legs wider. The handle is smooth, warm from my grip, and slick with my blood. I push it inside her slowly, watching every micro-expression on her face. A whimper leaves her lips, and her hands are clenching the sheets.
“Eyes open.” Her glossy eyes find me. “Look at me.”
She watches my bleeding hand wrapped around the blade. Blood is spreading on my wrist, dripping onto her inner thighs. Every time I move the handle inside her, the blade shifts against my palm, cutting deeper. Every thrust costs me something, but I owe her more than blood.
“How does it feel?” My words vibrate against her clit.
“Like you’re trying to make a point.”
“Am I making it?”
“You’re making a mess.”
“That’s not a no.”
“It’s not a yes either. It’s — Killian — it’s —” A broken moan rips through her. “Harder.”
I thrust the handle deeper. Her orgasm builds slow and she fights it, trying to hold back, just to prove her own point.
“Let go.”
“No.”
“Ivy. Let go.”
The moment I start sucking her clit she breaks. Her whole body seizes and the sound that comes from her is somewhere between a cry and a scream, like her chest has been torn open. I hold the knife handle steady inside her through every wave before sliding it out of her.
I bring my bleeding hand to her face, tracing my fingers across her face. When I reach her lips she parts them, and takes two fingers into her mouth, sucking them clean.
My mouth returns to her, slow and deliberate, tasting her until she’s cursing and squirming.
“Please.” She’s sobbing. “I swear to God if you don’t —”
“Don’t what?”
“I hate you.”
“You dragged me back here. Try again.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“You had a knife and a gun. Try again.”
“Please.”
“There it is.”
She comes without permission — her body is shuddering and clenching around nothing.
“I didn’t give you permission.”
“You don’t get to decide what I do with my body.”
“I didn’t say I was deciding. I said there would be consequences.” I unbuckle my belt one-handed. The sound of leather makes her breath hitch. “Give me your hands.”
“Make me.”
I catch her wrists. She fights — genuine resistance, because submission doesn’t suit her, especially today, but her blisters make her flinch when she grips and I wrap the belt through the headboard.
She pulls, testing it. “I can get out of this if I dislocate my thumb.”
“I know. But you won’t.”
“Why not?”
“You want to see what happens next.”
She stops pulling and I put my mouth back on her. She’s still shaking, still sensitive. She pulls against the belt, the leather creaking.
“Too much —”
“You can. And you will, Ivy.”
Another orgasm crashes into her, almost immediately. She screams my name. I stay with my mouth on her until her hands go limp and her breathing is wrecked.
I pull back and a smirk spreads on my lips. “Consequences.”
“I’m going to fucking destroy you, Killian.”
“You already did.”
The mattress shifts. Her kick catches my hip, and we go off the edge in a tangle of limbs and blood. The floor is slippery against her oiled back.
She rips one hand free from the loosened belt, grabs my throat and pulls me down. “Floor works.” Her voice is desperate.
Her nails dig into my skin hard enough to draw blood. She doesn’t want gentle. Every thrust pushes her across the floor and she braces her foot against the wall to push back.
My teeth find her throat. “You’re a disease. I had a mission. I had a plan. And you ruined me.”
Her nails go deeper. “You’re my curse. I was surviving before you.”
“You were dead, Little Moth. Same as me.”
“Then we’re both dead. And this is hell. And I’m not leaving.”
“You’re not leaving, Ivy.”
“Neither are you. Ever again. Say it.”
“I’m not leaving. I’m not —” I bury myself so deep she gasps. My hand wraps around her throat. “Ivy, I’m not capable of leaving. I got hundreds of miles away from you and your voice was still louder than every survival instinct I have.”
“Good.” She sinks her teeth into my shoulder. “I want to be louder than everything.”
“You are the only sound left.”
She surrenders by wrapping herself around me. Her lips find my ear. “You’re never leaving this body. You’re never leaving me, Killian. I will follow you into every hell you build and drag you back every time.”
Everything about her — her body, her words, her surrender — wrecks me. I come with her name torn from my mouth and bury myself so deep she gasps. My forehead finds hers and when our eyes lock, something inside my chest breaks open.
Her tiny, bloody hands find the back of my neck. She holds me through every wave. Her eyes never leave mine.
I stay inside her, not wanting to separate. My hand traces her oil-slick body, mapping the blood and sweat imprinted on her skin. My fingers trail behind her and she tenses for a second. She reads the question in my eyes before I can find the words.
She grabs my face with both hands, pulling me inches from her lips. “I want you in every part of me. I want you so deep inside me I can’t tell where I end and where you start. Stop asking and start taking, Killian. I didn’t drive through the desert to get half of you.”
I chuckle. “You’re out of your mind.”
“I’ve been out of my mind since you zip-tied my wrists in that mansion. Now are you going to keep asking stupid questions?”
I push one finger inside her slowly, the oil making it easier. She gasps. “Okay?”
“If you ask me that again, I’ll make you bleed somewhere you shouldn’t get stitches.”
I smirk and work her patiently. I notice everything. The tension in her shoulders, the way her breathing hitches, and the exact second she relaxes. I add a second finger, making her back arch. Her hand grabs my forearm to anchor herself.
Her eyes are glossy, fixed on mine. “More.”
“Not yet.”
“I said —”
“I heard you, Ivy. You can threaten me all you want, but I’m not hurting you. Not like this.”
She softens. Just for a second. Underneath all the teeth and threats, she’s still there. Trusting me.
I enter her slowly. So slowly that it’s torture for both of us. The sound she makes isn’t a scream or a moan — it’s something between a prayer and a curse, breathed between her lips. Her cheek presses against the cold floor. Her fists clench.
“Relax, Ivy. Take a deep breath for me.”
She obeys and I let her body adjust, moving with a patience I haven’t shown her all night. When she pushes back into me, I start moving faster. My hand reaches around her, finding her clit, syncing my thrusts with my fingers.
Her release builds deep — from somewhere she didn’t know existed.
Her mouth opens but nothing comes out. Her body locks rigid, then releases in a wave that rolls from her spine to her fingertips to her curled toes.
I feel it from inside her — the rhythmic contractions pulling me over with her.
I come with my mouth against her shoulder blade, my teeth sinking into her skin.
This one isn’t anger or punishment or performance. This one is a vow.
I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving.
I mouth the words into her skin. Into the blood. She reaches back, searching for my destroyed hand, and laces our fingers together.
We stay on the floor for what feels like eternity. My hand is still bleeding. Her body is a map of my mouth and hands. We’re covered in blood and oil and sweat, everything drying, pulling tight on the skin.
“You’re an addiction I should have quit.” Her voice is wrecked.
“Should have. But didn’t.”
“Can’t. Can’t quit. I tried. I couldn’t breathe until I saw your car, Killian.”
I turn my head and stare at her profile.
“You terrify me.” My voice is quiet. “Not because of the ways you want to kill me. I had a death wish for twenty years. You made me want to live. And I don’t know how to do that.”
She turns, meeting my eyes.
“You stay. That’s how. If the world needs burning, we burn it together.”
She squeezes my hand.
“Together,” I say.