Chapter 25
I thought about fighting back, about telling Cameo to fuck off and leave my apartment.
But, free use had been one of the major stipulations in the contract.
And... I wanted it.
My skin felt so hot under the weight of the alpha’s body that I thought I was going to combust, the cool metal of the blade tucked against my side the only thing stopping me from grinding back against him again.
"Green."
“Who are you getting so dressed up for?” Cameo asked, almost conversationally as he pulled the knife away.
I'd almost forgotten about my date entirely with the way my heart was hammering. “I’m going out with Marcus.”
“Aw, how sweet.”
Though the mask was a huge turn on, it had its disadvantages.
Cameo was hard to read at the best of times, and without his expression to help me along—I had absolutely no idea what Cameo was thinking.
He could be the most miserable man to have walked the earth or having the time of his life, and other than the press of his rigid length against my ass, I would have no way of knowing.
But… This was Cameo. A furious boner wasn't hard to picture.
I knew that the alpha wouldn’t do anything to actually hurt me, not if he was hoping that I'd be carrying his child soon. But the mask, the all black—which I guess wasn’t any real deviation from the norm—and the knife made him feel so... dangerous.
Like a real home intruder.
The thought made me so wet, I could hardly stand it.
I tried to catch his eyes, but it was difficult between the mask and the low light of the room, the black holes staring back at me only adding to my excitement. The drip of blood from the holes was jarring against the white plastic material, drawing my gaze and holding it there.
Would Cameo actually cut me? Would my blood look like that? Crimson against a sea of milky white.
I should've been afraid. I should've been saying no.
But I didn't want to, if anything, all I wanted was to pull Cameo in. To kiss him while he covered me in cuts that claimed me as his.
The cool bite of the blade touched my neck, making me gasp and instinctually pull away.
“Don’t move,” he snapped quickly, voice low and dangerous. “If you do, you could get hurt. Do you understand?”
I went to nod, before I remembered that was exactly what I was warned against.
“Yes," I whispered, the unmistakable tremble of arousal in the word.
He didn’t move. “Do you trust me?”
“I do.” I wasn’t sure why I did. Any normal person would've likely said no, given he'd broken into my apartment, in a mask with a knife.
But some unspoken part of me knew that he wouldn't hurt me. Not more than I liked.
He hummed in approval.
The blade drew across the side of my neck, and I squeezed my eyes shut, sure I was going to get cut, until I realized nothing was happening. No pain. No blood. Just... cool metal.
I realized, with something that felt a little bit too much like disappointment for me to be comfortable, that it must've been the blunt side.
“Just checking,” Cameo said with an air of cheeky teasing that was downright playful. I could almost picture him smiling behind the mask.
He pulled the blade away, lifting himself off of me with a chuckle to collect my discarded dress. "Roll over."
I was quick to comply, rolling to sit on the edge of the bed with my nipples hardening in the cool air of the room. I looked up at the alpha towering over me, the knife glinting in his hand with excitement pulsing through my center.
"Good girl," the alpha purred, using his booted foot to kick my legs wide.
My knees spread, and his foot pressed against my cunt. Wetness had already soaked my panties, and the cool leather of his shoe touching against me was so sensitive that I couldn't hold back the pathetic moan that followed the rough treatment.
"Fuck..."
“You act like you’re scared, but your pheromones tell me exactly how you actually feel, tesoro."
His foot flexed, pushing the tip of his shoe against my clit, and it took every scrap of self control that I had to stop myself from grinding into his boot right there.
I looked up at him, whimpering and moaning as I waited for him to tell me what he wanted.
But my alpha possessed a level of patience that I didn't. For a while he didn’t say anything, just continued to apply pressure, soft enough that it wasn't any real relief.
"Put this on," he ordered, the dress landing beside my hand on the mattress.
I scrambled to listen, unzipping the side and pulling it over my head to let it fall bunched at my waist.
Cameo helped me with the zipper, even his soft domestic touches feeling like a demand.
The alpha’s cock twitched against the front of his black pants as I adjusted my chest, making sure they were sitting correctly in the low cut top, his sizable length drawing my eyes as often as the knife or the mask.
To say I wanted him was an understatement. Cameo was a bit like the devil. A promise for freedom tied into the knowledge that he was decidedly wrong—dark.
And I craved to fall right into the depths of hell with him.
“You look nice, all dressed up for Marcus,” he praised, a hand coming to stroke my hair down the length of one of my pigtails, curling the ends around his finger. “He’s a lucky guy.”
There could've been a giant purple flamingo breaking in through my window and it wouldn't have pulled my eyes away, chancing a grind against his boot.
The alpha’s hand latched onto my hair, giving a sharp tug that warned me against moving anymore.
"Or am I the lucky one, getting to unwrap you instead?" he mused, loosening his hold as he drug the blunt edge of the knife along my thigh. “I bet I could make you come just like this. You're already so desperate, cumslut. I've got your slick little pussy begging for scraps against my boot."
There was no arguing with him. He was right, the moan that escaped me as he ground his toe against my clit only serving to prove Cameo's point.
“Needy slut,” he cooed, a definitive note of approval in his tone.
"Yours," I breathed, feeling the familiar tightening at my core. "Please, Cameo—"
I was going to come, I just needed a bit more. My hips moved to meet his pace, chasing my finish.
And—fuck, I realized my mistake too late.
“Enough," Cameo ordered, so close to an alpha bark that it made my ears prick.
A whisper of his sweet, smoky scent breaking through the acrid chemicals of the hairspray at last like a fucking reward as he pulled his foot away, sinking to his knees between my thighs.
"If it wasn't fucking obvious, you come when I say so. Not a second before."
I nodded, the haze of arousal so strong that my lips felt numb with it. "Y-yes, of course, Sir!"
After that first night, I’d dreamed of getting back in this position. I just didn’t expect Cameo to be the first.
The knife was nowhere to be seen as his hands made their way up my body, the pale, circular surface of the mask looming from between my thighs.
His touches were surprisingly soft and practiced—entirely at odds with the intensity of the moment.
The constant threat of when the first sting would bite into my skin only making it harder to relax into him now.
“As much as I want to mark every inch of you, I wouldn’t want to ruin your outfit for your date.
” Cameo murmured, really punching in the word ‘date’ in a way that almost made me feel like he was jealous.
His hands massaged and kneaded at my breasts, rolling my hardened nipples in his fingers until I was whimpering his name.
I wanted nothing more than to see his face right now, but it was all a mystery to me.
"Tell me you want it."
"W-what?" I barely managed to gasp, arching into another hard pinch against my breast.
"My marks, beg me to cut you."
"I—" I let out a shaky breath, my neglected clit practically pulsing with the need to be touched. "Cut me, Cameo. Please."
The knife was in his hand in a flash, the sharp edge pressing into my throat making me pant at its bite. Cameo's other hand slipped between my thighs, pressing against my panties with a hiss.
It was like a scene from a horror movie, a killer lurking in the dark shadows of a closet, lying in wait to turn the hapless heroine into their next victim.
Except, when it came to Cameo, I was far from unwilling. The desire to be his pulsing through me in dizzying waves.
"Filthy little whore," he mused, the knife making a slow line down my chest without breaking skin, stopping just before the hem of my dress. "I'm going to turn you into my personal pincushion. Put you on display in a glass case."
I didn't dare move. Didn't dare breathe too deeply as he twisted his hand to bring the blunt edge down my front, until he reached my thighs, teasing along the sensitive skin there with the tip of the blade.
Something that became more and more difficult as Cameo worked me over, my moans and shuddered breaths undercutting the upbeat pop music from my getting ready mix.
Even through the mask I could tell his eyes were honed in on where he was touching me, his fingers falling away to be replaced with the blade.
I froze, a mix of fear and excitement skittering through me so powerful that it knocked the air from my lungs, leaving me breathing in tiny stilted gasps.
"C-c-cam—"
"Don't worry, I won't ruin your dress for Marcus," the alpha purred. "I will be taking these, though." He cut through one side of my thong with a snap, repeating the movement on the other side to pull the slick-soaked material away from my glossy cunt.
With one rough tug, he pulled the fabric free, shoving them into his back pocket.
"You're going to look so fucking—"
Cameo started, and it took me a moment to even register the pain. The knife barely slicing through the skin on the top of my thigh, hardly deeper than a cat scratch.
"—pretty with my marks on your skin, tesoro."
I gasped, but there was a strange mix of pleasure with the pain.