39. Camilla
The cold bench against my back is a direct contrast to my skin that’s on fire with every touch.
Kaos’s huge body looms over mine, his bare chest covered in blood and tattoos, a combination I never thought I would find so fucking hot, but here we are.
There are a lot of things I never thought I’d like until I met these men, so I guess a blood kink shouldn’t come as a total surprise.
Kaos chuckles, his dark gaze full of heat and amusement. “Like what you see, Princess?”
I nod, my breath catching in my throat when his huge palms wrap around my waist and drag me to the edge of the counter. The way these men can just put me wherever they want me should probably be concerning, but instead I love it. I love that when I’m outside these walls, I’ll have to be a ruthless queen. Within them, I can hand my power over and allow them to give me everything I don’t even know I need.
I catch my bottom lip between my teeth as I watch Kaos’s hands move over my body, leaving a trail of blood in their wake. His huge handprints cover my stomach, my ribs, and my thighs, and when he grasps my tits in his hands, he leaves behind a crimson handprint that makes me moan just as much as the sensation of his touch does.
“You know what I think, Camilla?” My name falls from his mouth like a dirty word, and I’m fucking hooked on the sound. “I think you’re just as much of a deviant as we are. I think you’ve hidden behind your virginity all these years, and now that Bishop’s taken your pretty little cunt, you’re finally allowing your true self out to play.”
I bite down on my lip to stop from moaning, but I can’t help but wonder if he’s right. I spent so many years focused on nothing but learning the family business, that I truly believed I just wasn’t that interested in sex or anything that came along with it.
But it’s pretty fucking evident that’s not the case.
Because every time they touch me, my entire body yearns for more.
I’m like an addict after my first fix. Now that I know how good it can be, I don’t know how I’d ever live without it.
Kaos catches me with an intense look. “You are to remain completely still,” he orders. “Do not make me punish you, because from what I hear, your perky ass got quite the beating for running off.”
The reminder should be like a bucket of ice water, but instead it seems to stoke the flames higher. I’m still aching from my run-in with Bishop, my pussy desperate for release, and maybe if I do as I’m told, Kaos will ease that ache for me.
I nod and watch intently as he lifts each of my legs up until my heels are perched on the edge of the counter, and my skin heats. He can see everything, and from the look of desperate lust in his eyes, he likes what he sees.
“Jesus Christ, Camilla. Your pussy is so fucking pretty.” He dips his head between my thighs, and a moment later, his tongue drags up my sensitive folds, tearing a cry from my throat. He groans as he leans in for another swipe with his sinful tongue. “And you taste even better.”
His mouth continues its assault on my senses, and I desperately try to remain still, to do as he ordered in fear he’ll steal my release away the same way Bishop did earlier.
Every swipe of his tongue makes me cry out, and every time he drags my clit between his teeth, I see stars at the sensations that shoot through my entire body.
“Kaos, please,” I sob.
“What do you need, Princess? Tell me what you need and I might give it to you.”
“I need to come,” I cry out. “Please, Kaos, please.” I should probably feel self-conscious about the way I’m begging like a wanton slut, but right now, I don’t care. All I care about is the release that’s barreling toward me.
His chuckle is muffled against my aching pussy. “Such a needy little whore for me, Princess.”
The degrading name should make me angry, but it doesn’t. It only serves to drag me closer to the edge. I’m about to start begging again when I notice him reaching for something, and I realize too late what it is.
The knife.
“Kaos,” I warn, my body trembling for another reason. I thought we were finally getting past this. I thought we were beginning to understand one another. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part.
“Don’t move, Camilla,” he reminds me, his dark eyes glistening with mischief as he drags the knife up my thigh, not hard enough to cut into my skin but enough for me to feel every scrape of the blade as he brings it closer to my sex.
I swallow my whine, but I can’t tear my eyes off him. He looks downright sinful, kneeling between my thighs, covered in his own blood, and wielding the knife I stabbed him with.
He turns the knife around until it’s the handle he’s dragging along my blood-soaked skin, and somehow that doesn’t seem any better than the blade.
What the hell is he doing?
I’m not left wondering for long when the handle nudges at my entrance, and a startled yelp escapes my throat.
“You’re going to come all over the knife you stabbed me with, Princess, and then I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be feeling me for a week.”
I don’t get a chance to protest because a moment, later he’s pushing the handle into my pussy, and I’m too terrified to move a muscle for fear he’ll cut off something important.
My gaze is locked on Kaos, while his is on what he’s doing to me with the blade. “Fuck, Camilla. You should see how your cunt is wrapped around this.” His voice is full of desperate need, and somehow that brings me closer to the edge.
I’m not going to come all over the handle of a knife…am I?
At this point, nothing about my body’s reactions to these men should be a surprise. But this certainly is.
A moan escapes my throat, and his eyes dart up to meet mine with a satisfied smile. He’s loving every fucking second of this. And truthfully, I think I am too.
I dig my nails into my palms, willing myself to remain still despite the assault on my senses, and with each second that passes, I draw closer to the edge. I don’t know how I’m going to survive.
“Kaos,” I whine.
“I know, Princess. You need to come so badly, don’t you?”
“Yes, fuck. Please.”
“Such a desperate whore for me,” he muses as he lifts his other hand and presses two fingers to my clit, which elicits another cry. “That’s it, Camilla. Why don’t you come for me?”
The idea is so preposterous I can barely make sense of the words he’s speaking, but my body seems to have a mind of its own, and as if his words alone have conjured my release, I fall over the edge into an orgasm that takes my breath away.
A cry escapes my throat, but I’m too lost in the pleasure to concentrate on anything else. I’m vaguely aware of Kaos speaking, but it’s like his words are underwater as my entire body trembles from the power of the release.
I don’t know how much time passes before I finally pull myself out of the rush of pleasure, but when I do, Kaos is looking up at me with an amused smirk playing on his lips.
“Holy fuck, Camilla. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
My cheeks flush at the idea, but mainly because it can’t be true. Kaos is fucking hot. He’s huge, built like he belongs on the starting line of any NFL team, and is covered head to toe in so many tattoos I can barely comprehend how many hours he must have spent in the chair. There’s just no way I can come out on top of any of his experiences. The thought shouldn’t make me self-conscious, but I am laid out on top of a kitchen counter naked and covered in blood, so I guess it’s fair.
Kaos seems to notice my shift in mood because he brings the handle of the knife to his lips and drags his tongue along the cool steel with a groan of satisfaction.
“Never going to get tired of your taste, Princess.”
He stands to his full height, his body towering over me, and I can’t help but track my eyes over his hard muscles, appreciating all the hours he must have spent in the gym, before my gaze falls on the wound that’s still bleeding in the middle of his stomach.
“We should probably get that looked at.”
“After I fuck you.” He grips the hem of his sweatpants. “If I die of blood loss balls deep inside you, I’ll die a fucking happy man.”
I’m about to respond when someone clears their throat in the doorway, and I turn my head to find a very amused-looking Kovu leaning against the wall.
“Sorry to break up what seems to have been a real party, but family meeting in Crew’s office. Now.” He moves toward us, his eyes trailing over my blood-soaked body. He releases the towel around my wrists before Kaos gets the chance. “Fuck, do you look good covered in blood, Little Lamb.”
“I’ll just go get cleaned up, and I’ll meet you up there,” I say quietly, not trusting my voice when I’m feeling both vulnerable and turned on as hell.
He shakes his head as he takes his shirt from Kaos and carefully helps me into it. “No time. Looks like everyone gets to see how good you look covered in Kaos’s blood.”