Chapter Sixteen #2
“Not really. My brain doesn’t work like that. I don’t like choices. Never have. I just do what I want without thought to anyone else. But right now, I want to make you happy because that makes me happy. I’m only serving my own gain, really.”
“Real poetic, Byron.”
“But, if I’m not something you want then all you have to do is ask. I don’t think you realise how much power you have over me.”
“Would you really walk away from me if I asked you to?” The thought felt uncomfortable and made my stomach churn.
“Yes,” he replied earnestly. “I’d probably stalk you until you changed your mind, but yes. If you need space from me, if I’m too much, then I’ll leave.”
I grabbed his hand and placed it on my chest. “No, Byron. I don’t want you to leave, but I do want you to give me a choice. At least once in a while.”
“Okay. I can do that. I understand enough about feelings to consider yours.” He paused and licked his lips. “Occasionally.”
I’d take it. It was probably as much as I was going to get Byron to concede to and frankly, I had other things I wanted to do.
Namely Byron.
“Now we’ve had an adult conversation, do you want to stick your dick in my—”
I didn’t even finish my sentence. Byron grabbed my hips and rolled me under him before slamming his mouth down on mine.
His tongue plundered my mouth, tasting every inch of it.
His kiss was aggressive, passionate and almost painful.
His teeth bit my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, and his hands sank into my hips hard enough to bruise.
“Jesus, fuck,” I hissed when he travelled his mouth to my ear and bit down.
“Did you mean it? Can I fuck you?” He said, his face popping back into view above me. “You can fuck me if you want. I don’t normally like it both ways, but I wouldn’t mind trying your dick in my ass.”
Holy shit. Damn. I couldn’t think. The thought of pinning Byron down had me harder than a fucking rock. “Maybe later. I want to feel like you’ve broken me.”
Byron dropped his head on my sternum. “Fucking hell, baby.”
I sank my fingers into his jet black hair and tugged his head up until he was looking at me. “Help me get out of my head. Make it hurt, kitten.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Fuck, no.”
He chuckled. It was a sound of amusement by there was something under it that sound like he was being indulgent. “That seems a bit mean, but it is smart. You can trust me, baby. I’ll only hurt you a little.”
“Okay,” I said on a breathy exhale.
His smile was absolutely salacious as he knelt back on his heels. “Strip.”
I peeled all the blankets away and removed my clothes while he watched, his eyes devouring every inch of me. He didn’t look away once. My skin flushed under his watchful gaze and my cock throbbed. God, it was so hard it was almost painful.
When I removed the last item of clothing, he reached for me.
His hands grabbed my hips, and he flipped me over, straddling my hips.
The coarse material of his combat trousers rasped against my skin and a shudder ran up my spine at the picture we must make.
I wish I could see it. Him fully clothed sat on me whilst I was completely naked.
“Hands,” Byron ordered, his voice throaty and raw. He sounded seconds away from losing control and Jesus, fuck, I wanted to experience that.
I gave him my hands, and he wrapped something around one of my wrists. “What is that?”
“Cable tie.”
“Of course it is,” I said with a chuckle. I wasn’t surprised. There was most likely all sorts in his trouser pockets.
Byron secured my wrists to the bedframe, humming when he’d finished and dragging his hands down the backs of my arms. My body felt alive.
I could hear him rustling around behind me and then something cool pressed against my skin. “Is that… is it..?”
His tongue licked up my spine and between my shoulder blades. “Mm-hmm, this is my favourite knife.”
Tension radiated through me. I pulled the restraints, my instinct to survive coming to the surface. They barely moved and the edge of the bands dug into my skin.
Byron placed the sharp tip of the blade against the soft spot between my spine and my shoulder blade. It wasn’t hard enough to break the skin, but it was hard enough that it had my heart pounding in my chest.
“You look so beautiful like this, baby,” Byron purred as he swirled the cool metal of the knife against my heated skin.
I couldn’t move. My entire body froze, but it wasn’t in fear.
Or not entirely.
Something about the way he called me ‘baby’ sent a bolt of lust straight to my dick.
It always did. I wanted to preen and beg and moan for him, but this was Byron.
The guy I used to hate. The one who always used to irritate the hell out of me but here I was, surrendering all my control to a damn psychopath.
“Such a good boy for me,” he said as he ran his fingers through my hair. He slid the tip of the knife further down my spine, dipping it into the top of my crack before removing it from my skin entirely.
Maybe I was crazier than I thought. My dick was still hard, despite the fear running riot.
I wanted to roll my hips to seek some friction, but something held me back.
I wanted to be a good boy for him, and I didn’t want him to stop.
That’s where the fear really came from. From some desperate twisted need for him to stay and carry on.
Byron sat on my ass, his erection digging into me, idly tracing patterns on my skin with the knife. I knew, even if I still wasn’t quite ready to admit it to myself, that I’d let him do whatever he wanted to me. I was his, just as much as he was mine.
“Do what you want.”
His hands stilled. “What?”
“You can do what you want with me.” Something inside me cracked with those words.
Maybe it was my sanity—because I’d have to be crazy to put my life in his hands—or maybe it was finally one of those walls I’d built in order to survive.
Was I finally ready to give into whatever this twisted dynamic between us was?
He paused, the tip of the knife digging into the soft spot below my shoulder blade. “Are you sure?”
Byron sounded like he was holding onto the edge of his restraint. Something in me liked that. That he was just keeping it together to check in with me and make sure this was what I wanted.
My sweet little psychopath was considering my feelings, and I fell hard.
“Yes. Let go, Byron. Let me experience all of you.”
He hissed in a deep breath and sank the fingers of his free hand into my hair. Then he gripped the strands and pulled my head up. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
My insides warmed at his words. I was probably more on the lines of ‘fucking crazy’ but if he thought I was perfect, I was going to bask in it.
He pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth and then let my head drop. Anticipation flooded my veins as I lay there, just waiting for what he’d do next. I didn’t like the fact that I couldn’t see him, and no way of predicting what would happen next.
Byron explored the expanse of my back with the blunt edge of his knife.
Occasionally, he’d dig it into my skin, still not hard enough to leave a mark, but the constant shift in pressure had my body wound tighter than a coil.
Over and over he’d torment me, never touching the same place twice, never letting me get comfortable, always balancing me on the edge.
My spine went rigid as I felt the sharp tip ghost against my perineum.
I had to resist the urge to fight. Losing my balls wasn’t something that I wanted to happen. There was the slightest hint of pressure and I gasped at the illicit thrill that had me wanting to thrust my hips into the mattress.
“Such a good boy for me,” he muttered.
Why did I like that so much? Why did that make me want to earn his praise even more? He could have just been mocking me, but the hint of pride in his voice made me think otherwise.
“I wonder,” he mused with a curiosity that had me instantly on edge, “whether your blood tastes as sweet as the rest of you.”
Before my brain could catch up to what he’d just said, there was a sharp sting as he drew the blade across my skin.
My entire body bucked beneath him, but it was futile.
I was pinned to the bed, he was still sat on top of me and some twisted part of me was enjoying the pain.
It hadn’t hurt as my as I thought it did, but I was still very much aware of the fact that he’d just marked me.
A thought that sent a surge of heat straight to my cock.
A sharp intake of breath caught my attention.
“Magnificent,” Byron said with reverence.
He dipped his finger into the pool of blood that I could feel forming and traced lines and swirls on my lower back.
I shuddered at the wet sensation, at the feel of him painting me with my own blood.
Then he lowered himself toward me until I felt his tongue tracing the cut he’d made against the column of my spine.
And why wasn’t I running away? Why was I letting Byron do what he wanted?
The truth was, that everything he did turned me on.
The more torturous it was, the more I enjoyed it.
Seemed like I was admitting a few home truths to myself where Byron was concerned. But with it came a sense of relief. I wasn’t lying to myself anymore. I was all in because he was all I wanted.
Which was fucking madness, but maybe that’s what it took to be with a psychopath.
“Fuck, you taste good,” he said with a moan.
“Weirdo.” I tried to look over my shoulder at him, but I couldn’t see him. I wanted to know what he looked like when he tasted me.
He reached beneath me and cupped my aching cock. “You don’t seem to mind. In fact, I think you rather like it.”
I had no response. How could I? I had no idea why I liked it, other than it was him. I liked everything about him, but I especially loved the dark, twisted parts. They were in harmony with my own.