13. Thirteen
13
THIRTEEN
MILA
I couldn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was him.
Archer King.
His face was burned into my mind.
He had infiltrated my physical world, and now my subconscious—like a cancerous growth that refused to be excised.
I could feel him everywhere—watching me, whispering to me, his voice like a siren's song.
My body quaked as I tossed and turned in my bed, trying to escape the power of his gaze.
His green eyes were hypnotic, and his chiseled jaw was full of menace. He haunted my thoughts, reminding me of everything I could have.
The way he moved.
The way he spoke.
He captured my attention with each word he uttered.
He was darkness.
Fear and danger followed him like a desolate shadow, churning inside of me until it threatened to consume me whole.
I knew that if I opened myself up to him, I'd be walking into an abyss of doom, but still, something about him called to me from the depths of my soul.
He warned me not to get close. He said I wasn't meant for his world—a world of darkness and temptation.
Too pure.
Too innocent.
He told me I wouldn't want to pay the price it would take to be a part of his world.
Little did he know I would sell my soul to the devil himself and get on my knees for another taste of him.
Nothing could keep me away now.
The thought of being owned by him aroused something primal inside me, and I would do anything to be devoured by the alluring fire within him.
I knew what I wanted, and I was willing to take it. Archer King was dangerous and dark, but so was I.
I could feel that primal desire coursing through my veins, and I knew that I wouldn't stop until I had him.
I sat up in bed, wiping the sweat from my forehead, and looked around my dimly lit bedroom. The moonlight streaming through the window illuminated the room, casting shadows on the walls. I felt a stirring within me.
An urge to be satisfied.
I rose and walked to my window, peering out into the night sky. The stars were hidden behind the soft clouds, and the moon shone dimly. It was as if the universe knew something dark was awakening inside me, a dangerous fire that threatened to burn everything around me.
I needed to feel his rough hands on my skin.
To taste the darkness on his lips.
I heard a noise downstairs, faint enough that one might assume it was the house settling. But I could feel him in my bones.
I tiptoed out of my bedroom and listened. He thought he could sneak up on me, that he was the predator and I was his prey. But I was ravenous for him.
The darkness seemed to cling to my skin as I slowly made my way into my living room, searching for him. The air came alive with the sound of every creak and moan. Thick shadows twisted and curled in every corner like malicious smoke. My heart pounded in my chest like a hammer, reverberating through my entire body as I stepped farther into the shadows. I felt him watching me, and whispers of his presence teased my ears. A chill ran down my spine, settling between my thighs.
Dark corners and shadows writhed and twisted around me, embracing me with suffocating tendrils of darkness.
Caressing my skin.
"I know you're here," I whispered through gritted teeth, trying desperately to sound brave. I wasn’t sure if I even meant to speak out loud, but I felt him behind me. His dominance filled the room, and I craved this macabre game of cat and mouse we played.
His hot breath whispered in my ear, "Be careful calling out into the dark, Mila. You never know what monsters hide in the darkness, waiting to devour you."
"I'm not afraid of you," I managed to whisper.
"You should be."
His hand wrapped around my neck, squeezing it firmly, pulling my body against his. My breath caught in my throat as the cold metal of a knife slid up my bare thigh, slow and deliberate. I knew I should be terrified, but instead, I felt a rush of excitement, a hunger for his touch.
He pressed the knife deeper into my skin, and I felt the warmth of my blood drip down my leg. The blade continued to move higher until it pressed against my pussy. I stood still, anticipation and fear coursing through my veins. My skin prickled with goosebumps, and a rush of heat flooded through me. I let out a soft moan, and his grip on my neck tightened.
"Please," I gasped.
"You like this, don't you, little rabbit?" he chuckled, his voice rough and dark. "You like it when I make you bleed." His lips brushed against my neck.
I nodded, my body responding to his touch. Even as my mind screamed for me to run, I was unable to speak, and his blade pressed harder against my sensitive flesh. My heart raced, and every nerve in my body was on edge. I was entirely at his mercy, and I loved every moment of it.
He was the hunter, and I was his prey.
"You belong to me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You always have."
I shuddered, feeling a surge of desire wash over me. His touch was electrifying, and I needed more. He released his hold on my neck, but the knife remained, tracing circles on my skin with delicate precision.
I moaned, and he spun me around, his eyes flashing with hunger and desire, and pressed me against the wall. His lips crashed against mine, bruising and possessive.
"I want you."
"Be careful what you're asking for, love," he growled, his hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my neck. He bit down hard, and I cried out as pain flooded through me, sending jolts of pleasure down my body.
"I want all of you."
"Would you bleed for me?"
"Yes," I panted.
The first stab of the knife into my thigh sent a jolt through my body, and my legs buckled. He held me firmly against the wall, keeping me upright. His lips found my neck, and he began to lick and kiss me, making his way down to my shoulders. Tingles of pleasure spread through my body, traveling through the knife and into my core.
"More," I told him.
The blade pressed deeper into my thigh, and then he flipped the knife around, gently sliding the handle into my wet pussy. A soft moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. My warm blood dripped down my thigh, a sharp metallic tang filling the air. Something primal unfurled in the pit of my stomach, and I pressed my thighs together, trapping the blade in place. His eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, I saw something in his gaze, a flash of surprise mixed with appreciation.
"Open your fucking legs."
I knew I shouldn’t be fighting him, but I needed this.
I needed him .
I parted my legs, and he slid his hand underneath my nightgown, coming to rest between my legs. His fingers touched the tiny cuts he had left from the knife, and I winced as he coated them in my blood, the cuts stinging as he dug his fingers into me.
"Has anyone else tasted this delicious pussy, Mila?” he asked, growling in my ear. "Has anyone else made you whimper and squirm?"
"No," I answered, my voice wavering.
"Has anyone else made you feel like this?"
"No," I responded, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Good. Because if they do, I will cut their fingers off and shove them down their throats."
I was trembling now, overwhelmed by his strength and his intensity. I needed him.
"Oh, baby," he said, sliding his fingers between my folds, spreading my wetness with his bloody fingers. "You're so wet."
He moved his fingers faster, plunging two inside of me and curling them up until they brushed my G-spot, while he pressed the knife handle against my clit. I moaned into his mouth, his fingers pushing deeper, drawing soft cries from my lips.
"How does it feel when I touch you, little rabbit? Do you like it when I'm rough with you?"
"Yes," I moaned.
"You're so tight around my fingers," he groaned, his voice low and husky. "And you're so wet for me."
He wedged a third finger inside me, stretching me to the brink of pain. I moaned as he began to thrust his fingers harder, faster. My pussy was on fire, and I could feel the heady rush of an orgasm building in my stomach.
"You're so close," he moaned, his lips trailing down my chest. "Tell me what you want."
"I want you ."
He pulled his fingers out of me. His eyes met mine, dark and dangerous. He brought his fingers to his lips, dark and wet, glistening in the dim light, licking them clean. His eyes never left mine, and I shuddered, my body on fire for him. I had never been so turned on in my life.
With one swift motion, he pushed me down onto the ground, his arms hard on either side of me, holding me in place. His lips brushed against my ear, his breath hot on my skin.
"Beg me," he whispered.
"Please," I begged, his body pinning me to the ground.
"Please, what?" he growled.
"Make me come."
"How do you want me to make you come?" His hand slipped between my legs, his fingers wet with my blood.
"I want you to make me come," I moaned, "with your fingers."
His mouth was on mine, the taste of blood and lust filling my senses. His thumb pressed against my clit, rubbing in slow, tantalizing circles. My back arched off the floor as he shifted his hand, slipping his fingers inside me.
"Faster," I begged, my voice wavering.
He moved his thumb faster, his teeth grazing my shoulder. I felt the pressure building inside me, his fingers thrusting inside me at a fevered pace. I was on the verge of falling over the edge, and he drove me closer, his thumb moving faster, harder, rubbing relentlessly against my clit. My stomach clenched, and my pussy squeezed around his fingers, pulling them deeper into me. Pleasure pooled within me, gathering until I could feel it shuddering through my veins like wildfire.
"Come for me, baby."
My orgasm ripped through me before I could stop it, and I came shouting his name. My muscles quivered, and my legs shook, his fingers still inside me. I struggled to catch my breath, his body pressing against me, trapping me against the floor. I looked up at him, his eyes on fire.
"You're mine, Mila. Say it."
My voice was a whisper in the dark. "I'm yours."