Chapter 20 #2
“Now put those hands back on your knees; you aren’t allowed to touch,” I whispered, nipping softly at his neck as I stroked his cock.
He was getting wet already from the little stimulation I was allowing him.
My other hand smoothed over his chest, then his waistband.
A hard object was tucked away from reach.
He turned his head to look at what I was touching but I bit his lip, letting out a playful moan. “What did I say about staying still?”
He couldn’t take his eyes off my lips.
I kissed him, locking our lips as I stroked his length, eliciting a whimper from him. The sound alone made me smirk. The coat against my skin was reminiscent of his body heat.
He kissed me back, but the tension in his shoulders made it clear how badly he wanted to touch.
Not today, Creature.
I seized the hard object tucked into his waistband, a hunter’s knife. The blade sank through his band and into his thigh.
He bared his fangs at me, distracted by the piece of metal pinning his limbs together. He tried to get up, but the blade twisted in his leg.
I retreated, pulling his coat closer over my shoulders.
I ran, taking off for the clearing by the house.
My heart was beating so fast, I could hear it in my ears, feel it through my limbs.
I hadn’t had a kick of adrenaline like that in some time, and I had even gotten a new coat as a result.
The branches of shrubs and leafless saplings whipped at my legs and arms as the tree line came in sight.
Closer and closer, until I could almost throw myself into the wide-open clearing.
Just as I could touch freedom, it was ripped from me.
Silas scruffed me by the collar of the coat, like I was a misbehaving pet.
Throwing me to the ground wasn’t enough to keep me still. He placed his shoe on my pelvis to keep me down. He held the bloodied knife, inspecting it carefully. “Look what you’ve done now.” His tone was one of disappointment.
“You beast!” I screamed at him, grabbing a handful of snow and hurling it at him.
He lazily dropped the knife in the snow.
My hand snapped to grab it, only for it to be just out of reach.
He put more pressure down as I reached, the track of his shoe rubbing against all the sensitive places. “Keep going,” he taunted, “your limbs would sooner freeze than break free from me.”
“If it means you won’t have me, so be it,” I huffed, gathering the coat closed over my chest, panting from a sudden wave of exhaustion.
“Is that so?” He removed his shoe, bending his knee down in the snow in front of me.
I took advantage of the change in position to lunge for the knife, and he yanked me back by my legs, but it was too late; the knife was pointed directly at him.
“Oh? I was going to suggest a safe word, but I suppose this works, too,” he laughed, amused at the knife gleaming at him. “You won’t use it.”
“Try me.”
He crawled closer, both of us covered in dustings of snow. His leather-clad hand reached forward, and I placed the tip of the knife against his neck. Even then, he didn’t stop, but he was extremely aware of its position.
His finger skimmed against my chest, the cold, smooth leather brushing across my nipple. They were cold, and his touches made me painfully aware of how stiff they’d become. It was beginning to hurt, the chill hard to ignore.
My posture straightened, but I did not remove my weapon.
“Are you cold?” he taunted, leaning into the knife, but I found myself holding it just above his skin, not letting it plunge inside him.
I refused to answer.
He was over me now, the proximity reminding me that while he was the coldest man I knew, he was a warm body.
He took my hesitance to impale him as his answer and leaned down.
He cupped my breasts, squeezing gently before his breath tickled the skin, teasing the warmth that it didn’t have.
He glanced up at me, and I clenched my eyes shut.
Lips against my skin, sucking gently on the skin of my breast. Then, his lips trailed to my nipple, teasing it gently with his bottom lip, waiting for my reactions. Only when my breathing calmed did he lave his hot tongue over the taut bud.
The audible gasp that came from me made him laugh, his hands gripping me tighter as he pressed his hips between my legs.
My eyes flashed open as I slashed his cheek with the knife, the thin line slowly turning black.
“Hear me, creature, don’t displease me now,” I warned.
“If only you’d let me pleasure you.”
“You have only displeasured me,” I spat.
He caught me, hoisting me up before slamming my back into the thick bark of a tree.
My arms flew over his shoulders for stability, but I held the knife securely to the back of his neck.
He pressed his hips against me, holding my legs around his hips.
“You are not a good liar, Alina,” he purred in my ear. “If you hate it so much, tell me to stop,” he dared, his grip tight.
“You disgust me.”
He smirked, his face lingering in my neck, as if that was some sort of positive answer. “I think you like it,” he whispered.
“I do not.” I pressed the knife harder against his skin.
“At least your body is honest.” He kissed my skin, I wasn’t sure if the heat was from the cold environment or because I was sensitive.
I couldn’t see his face, but I could feel everything. I didn’t have to see his expression to know what he was waiting for. I stole a second for myself, tipping my head back against the tree. The coat was draped off my shoulders, the bark scraping my shoulders as I made up my mind.
Slowly, with my legs around his waist, I shifted against the bulge of his trousers. Even with this sort of positive encouragement, I still had the knife secure.
“You’ve always had a nice scent to you,” he said, slowly grinding against me. It sounded like he suppressed a groan, like he was holding something back. “But I can’t help but want to smother you with my own.”
“That’s what dogs do, I suppose.” I turned my head to him, and he finally met my eyes before grinding against me.
The bark scraped my back, the warmth deep in my core involuntarily pulsing.
“S—”
His hand clamped over my mouth.
“Not another word from you,” he breathed, resting his hips between my thighs. I had to squeeze my legs around him, pressing the knife flush against the nape of his neck.
Even with his threatening words, I could feel the hair standing on the back of his neck like hackles, well aware of the blade threatening to scalp him with one wrong move.
His grip was firm, his breathing light, fluttering as if he didn’t have time to take a proper inhale.
He ground against me at a painfully slow pace.
It was either to savor or to torture me; I would never know with a man like him.
A soft sound against his palm, the roughness on my back preventing me from enjoying the friction of his clothing too much. My free hand pressed flat on his chest. As I began to shiver, his chest pressed closer to mine. Every breath, every sound, I could hear it all.
Silas’s lips brushed against my numb ear, his breath tickling as the blood rushed to the warmth. Then it lingered by my neck, a kiss as soft as a flake of snow.
Heat flared inside. At this rate, I might not need external sources of warmth. His coat slipped down my shoulders, and he took advantage by placing love bites where he could.
Before, his words were, no doubt, violent. His actions were aggressive, but never deadly. Even now, even when he pretended to hate me, and I him, he was so gentle when he finally caught me.
He took his hand away from my mouth, holding my waist firmly as he ground against me, my hips knocking into the wood of the tree. Then he began to pull at his belt.
“Silas, stop.” The words were barely a breath.
“Do you say that because you want me to stop”—he lingered by my ear—“or because you don’t want to admit how this makes you feel.”
“I . . .” I shook my head, the knife trembling in my hand. “I want to stop.”
To my surprise, his body was still. We were still. He pulled away just enough to look at me, but his eyes didn’t lift to mine until a beat later, like there was something he didn’t want me to see.
“Please,” I whispered. “Can we . . . can we stop?” I dropped the knife, and it landed in the snow behind us. I revealed my palm to him to bear proof of my disarmament. It wasn’t until I saw his expression change that I realized my face was hot. And wet. “I want to stop,” I rephrased.
He dropped me, withdrawing completely.
My back scraped down the bark as I landed in the snow at his feet. He rolled his shoulders, as if it was some annoyance being a terror to me. With an air of nonchalance, he dressed. Buttoned his trousers closed and tucked his shirt in.
He checked his trouser pockets, patting several of them before looking down at me and holding his hand out.
I brought my hand up to his, and he swatted it away.
I stared in confusion before he cocked his brow, pointing. “Cigarettes.”
I reached inside the coat pocket, pulling out his silver cigarette holder before it was snatched out of my hands, and then I was staring at his backside.
“Keep the coat; I can buy another,” he jeered over his shoulder as he retreated down the path, leaving me under the fir tree, humiliated, used.
Bastard.