25
Amara
M ark’s body lay cooling beside us, but I wasn’t thinking about him anymore. I was thinking about him—the man who ended my ex’s miserable existence and claimed me as his prize.
Nude and trembling, my skin soaked with the blood of my past, my thighs were wet with something far more depraved.
And Enzo was still inside me.
His movements were languid as he let me recover from my climax, and when the last tremors left my body, he renewed his efforts.
Enzo’s mouth trailed along my ear, nipping at the soft flesh, sending a bolt of sensation through me to my core. He dragged his lips along my neck, sucking and biting the skin, dotting my flesh with hickeys. Then he dragged his mustache along my jaw, and his teeth grazed my collarbone.
I arched my back, shoving my breasts in his face, and he chuckled. His teeth clamped around a nipple, sucking, drawing out a long, low moan. He nipped at the sensitive nub, drawing it into his mouth, taking long pulls as he sucked the blood smeared on them. He bit down, and I jumped, moaning under the harsh, unfiltered feelings of bliss.
He switched, moving his mouth to my other nipple, torturing it with his mouth, and my pussy clenched around his thick cock. Then he went between my breasts, licking a hot, possessive trail, licking the blood clean from my skin.
He was erasing every trace of my ex, imprinting me with his own, marking me as his territory.
A thrill shivered up my spine at the realization, his cock inflicting punishing, harsh strokes, healing my broken soul, dragging the pieces back together. The fire in me blazed an unextinguishable inferno, burning brightly just for him.
He lifted my breasts, nipping at my ribs, licking under them, the thin skin tingling, prickling with delight.
“You feel damn divine, baby,” he groaned, pinching and rolling my clit between his fingers. “Like my personal fucking paradise .”
I cried out as I shook, stars bursting behind my eyes as I obliterated, my pussy fluttering around Enzo’s cock. It hit me like a truck, running me over with pure rapture, blinding everything else as it consumed me. For the first time in my life, I felt myself squirt, the rapture squeezing my pussy so tightly I thought it would clamp shut forever. He maintained a bruising, overwhelming pace, drawing out my intense, white-hot orgasm.
He was moving slowly and deliberately, dragging out every ripple of sensation. It was as if he were imprinting himself inside me, reshaping me from the inside out.
My fingers dug into his shoulders, nails raking at his flesh. I needed to hold onto something, needed an anchor because my mind was unraveling, untethering from what I used to be. Who I used to be.
Enzo smiled against my throat, inhaling deep, drinking in the scent of copper, sweat, and ruin.
“There’s nothing left of you, is there?” he whispered, his warm breath ghosting against my skin. “No past, no home, no self.”
My chest rose and fell in shallow, erratic breaths. He was right. I’d spent years fighting, resisting, trying to pretend that I had control. But now? I was nothing but a vessel for his will.
And I didn’t want it any other way.
A strangled sound let my throat—not quite a sob, not quite a moan. Enzo caught it between his teeth, biting into my lip until I tasted the metallic sweetness of my own blood.
His tongue licked away the crimson drops, savoring me like his last meal.
“Say it,” he murmured, grinding deeper, forcing me to feel every inch of his ownership.
I gasped, teetering on the edge of bliss and oblivion.
“Say. It.” He groaned, his words punctuated with each thrust.
“I belong to you,” I choked out.
His hands shot up, fisting my hair, yanking my head back. His smile was savage. “You don’t just belong to me,” he growled, his grip tightening, making my scalp prickle with pain. “You are me now.”
My breath hitched. He released my hair, his fingers moving lower, trailing down my throat, pressing lightly at my pulse.
“Your heart beats because I allow it,” he continued, trailing his nails lower, over my collarbone, between my breasts. “Your breath exists because I permit it.”
His touch reached my stomach, fingers pressing possessively over my womb. “If I want you swollen with my child, you’ll take it,” his voice was silky yet solid like steel.
“I’m on birth control,” I informed him.
His grin was cruel and calculating. “Are you? When was your last shot?”
He was right; it’d been months, and my periods were regular again. A thrill shot through me at the thought that I could get pregnant with his child and that he was so desperate to possess me that he took that choice from me.
“If I want to carve you open and see what’s inside, you’ll let me.”
My stomach tightened at the horror and thrill of it because he wasn’t wrong. I’d let him; I’d let him do anything.
His weight shifted, and for a moment, I thought he was done and that he’d let me rest.
I barely had time to catch my breath before I heard the slick, metallic sound of a knife being unsheathed. But this one wasn’t mine; it was his, the one he used on me before.
A fresh spike of fear laced through my euphoria, twisting pleasure into something sharper.
“Shh,” he commanded, dragging the flat of the blade over my skin, leaving cold trails along the paths his fingers had already claimed. “You trust me?”
I swallowed hard. If he’d asked me weeks ago, I would’ve said no. But after what he’d done for me, the answer came easy. “Yes.”
He hummed in approval, pressing the blade into my skin, a spike of pain shooting through me. The first cut was small and shallow, a thin line just above my hipbone. The pain was sharp but fleeting, giving way to warmth as blood trickled down my side.
“Perfect,” he murmured, watching it bead, fascinated.
He wiped his finger against the blood, swirling the crimson liquid against my skin before pressing it to his tongue.
A shudder wracked his body. His pupils dilated, his breath hitching like he’d just taken a hit of something intoxicating.
I should’ve been horrified. But instead? I was soaked.
He exhaled shakily, staring at me with pure, unfiltered possession. “You taste like you were made for me.”
He turned the blade on himself, pressing it against his chest. My stomach clenched as he dragged it down, cutting deeply enough for blood to trickle freely. He hissed, the pain sharp and real, but it didn’t slow or stop him.
He reached for me, fingers smearing our combined blood together, mixing it, binding it. Then, he pushed two blood-slicked fingers into my mouth.
“Swallow,” he ordered, voice raw with arousal.
I did. The taste of him, of us, flooded my senses. My soul fractured, and my body burned. Something inside me snapped, and I knew that I would never be whole without him again.
He groaned, pushing deeper inside me as if he could crawl into my skin and live there.
“You’re mine,” he rasped, blood dripping on my breasts, painting me like a canvas. His mouth crashed into mine, swallowing every gasp, every moan. The mixture of blood, sweat, and sin melded into something unholy.
A monster, a bride, a dark god, and his sacrifice.
He plucked at my clit, merciless in his quest to bring me over the edge, and I shattered into a million pieces, a liquid inferno burning me from the inside out, a blaze that not even an entire ocean could extinguish. I screamed, Mark’s blood rippling around me as I writhed, bursting.
Enzo stilled inside me, breathless and completely lost, his seed spurting, marking me as his and only his as his hot release flooded me.
Then he pressed his lips against mine, consuming me.