Chapter 45
Seth
Istay in the corner of the basement while the lights light the room and wipe out every shadow. The mask keeps my breathing even. I need a clear read on her before I put my hands on her.
Brooke stands near the last step with her knife in her hand.
Her face is calm. Calm in a way that only comes after the violence starts making sense.
Brooke is not surviving anymore. She is not shaking or second-guessing or flinching at the weight of what she has done.
She has passed that point. She has learned how to choose violence and live in it.
She doesn't carry the kills like guilt. She wears them like armor.
Watching her become that makes me hard as fuck. My cock pushes firmly against the front of my sweats while I study the woman standing in front of me. She looks stronger like this. Like the world has finally stopped trying to break her and she has decided to break it instead.
I press play on my phone.
“Ambrosia” rolls through the speakers.
“Seth—”
“Come here, Brooke. Now.”
She walks toward me. She doesn't look away from the mask. She stops right in front of me, close enough for me to hear her breathing and feel the heat pouring off her skin. Her pulse hammers in her neck like it's trying to break free.
I take the knife from her hand and grab the hem of her sports bra. The thin fabric stretches beneath my fingers as her breathing shifts. I slide the blade beneath the band between her breasts and cut straight through the center.
The fabric splits.
Her tits fall free.
Her chest lifts with quick breaths while the cool air tightens her nipples. The sight pulls a heavy pulse through my cock.
I have to stop myself from just grabbing her and bending her over the nearest surface.
I drop the ruined bra and lower the knife to her shorts. I hook the blade under the waistband and drag it through the fabric in one clean line. The shorts fall down her thighs. Her panties slide with them and pool around her ankles.
One second she is standing there in gym clothes. The next second she is standing naked in front of me in the basement, breathing hard, eyes wide, and waiting for my next move.
Her hands hang at her sides. Her fingers curl like she doesn't know where to put them.
She doesn't cover her chest. She doesn't close her legs.
She doesn't take a single step back. She lets me look at her.
Another hard rush of heat moves through my body, and I know I could do anything to her right now, and she would take it because she trusts me.
That kind of trust always does something to me that is difficult to explain to anyone who has not lived inside my head. Most people want safety from the people they love. Brooke gives herself to me knowing exactly what I am capable of, and that level of surrender means everything.
I grab her torn bra from the floor and stretch the fabric into a strip. I lift it toward her face. Her eyes stay on the skull mask up until the moment the cloth covers them. I wrap the strip around her head and tie it firmly at the back.
She sucks in a sharp breath, and I can feel the panic hit for a second before she forces it back down and stays exactly where she is. She stays because she trusts me more than whatever instinct tells her to step away.
My cock is rock hard, and I wrap my hand around myself for a brief second just to keep from losing it right there. I squeeze once, force my breathing back under control, then let go.
I slide the edge of the knife along her hip, the cold steel grazing her skin as I move it slowly up the curve of her waist and over her ribs. When I reach her breast, I let the flat of it pass over her nipple, dragging it lightly until her breath catches and the bud tightens beneath the chill.
I don't take the blade away.
I trace it higher, gliding it up the center of her chest and along the line of her throat, just enough pressure for her to feel it without breaking skin.
My mouth drops to her breast at the same time.
I close over her nipple and suck, slow at first, my tongue pressing and flicking against it as her body reacts. Her breath breaks, chest rising sharply as I pull harder, keeping the rhythm steady while the cold edge of the knife lingers at her neck.
I ease off just enough for the air to hit her nipple, then take it back into my mouth, holding her there while the blade stays pressed lightly to her throat.
Then I lift the blade higher and bring it to her mouth. She sticks out her tongue without me asking and runs it up the length of the metal, tasting it.
She knows that turns me on.
I press the blade between her lips until the handle rests against them. Her chest moves with a small adjustment as she balances the weight.
“Crawl to me, Brooke. Follow my voice.”
She drops to her knees slowly. Her palms meet the concrete. Her knees follow. Her whole body trembles from the mix of fear and arousal, and that mix sharpens the dark, possessive edge inside me into something that feels almost dangerous.
I step backward across the floor. I move toward the wall.
Her blindfolded head angles toward my voice while she crawls forward. Her shoulders stay tense but lower slightly as she continues moving.
She trusts that I won't let her run into anything. She trusts that if I hurt her, it will be the kind of hurt she likes, the kind she wants.
“Keep crawling, baby. Come to me.”
She follows the sound of my voice on her hands and knees. Warm air moves across the knife handle between her lips as she crawls closer.
Every inch of distance she closes makes my control strain, because the urge to grab her hair and drag her the rest of the way is loud in my head. I force myself to hold back and let her earn it.
My shoulders hit the wall. I plant my feet and wait for her.
“Right here,” I say when her fingers finally bump against my toes.
She stops crawling.
Her head tilts upward under the blindfold as if she is trying to look at me.
I reach down and wrap my fingers around the handle of the knife. I pull it slowly from between her teeth. Her lips stay parted for a second after the blade leaves, and her breath catches in that gap like her body wants me to fill it with something else.
I tilt her chin up and take her in, blindfolded, kneeling, naked, with her hands resting on her thighs and trusting me completely in a concrete basement after everything she has survived. The sight hits me hard enough that my cock twitches again inside my sweats from how badly I want her.
“That’s my good girl,” I murmur, letting her hear every bit of praise in my voice.
Her thighs press together slightly. Her breathing deepens in a way that tells me she understands exactly what that title means between us.
I flip the knife in my hand and drive the blade into the wall beside my hip, forcing it deep through the drywall and into the wooden stud behind it.
The metal sinks in with a heavy crack. The handle juts out near her shoulder.
I reach to the side and pull a length of rope from the hook mounted on the wall beside the tool rack. I left it there earlier when I set up the basement, knowing exactly how I plan to use it.
Brooke doesn't move while I work.
I grab her wrists and tie them behind her back, tightening the rope until her shoulders roll back and her chest pushes forward for me.
Her breathing grows heavier, but she holds her ground and lets me take her there, fear still clinging to her skin while she keeps giving herself to me.
I move behind her and drag her backward by her bound wrists until the handle presses into the base of her spine, forcing her back into a deep arch. Her lips part on a quiet sound that shoots straight through me and tightens every muscle in my body.
I step in front of her again and push my sweats down. My cock is fully hard, and the pressure throbs painfully low in my stomach. Her blindfolded face tilts toward the sound, and her lips open before I touch her.
“Open your mouth.”
She obeys immediately and lifts her chin.
I slide my fingers along her jaw and hold it firmly while I lean in closer. I watch her lips part wider, blindfold tight over her eyes.
I gather spit in my mouth and let it fall directly onto her tongue. She makes a small sound from the back of her throat as it lands, but she doesn't pull away.
“Keep it open.”
Her tongue stays out, glistening, waiting.
I place my hand behind her head and guide her forward until her lips wrap around the head of my cock.
Her tongue presses against me slowly, and the warmth of her mouth steals a breath straight out of my chest. Her jaw relaxes.
Her throat works to take more. The blindfold heightens every one of her reactions, and each one hits me hard.
I tighten my grip in her hair and pull upward.
She rises off her knees with a soft sound, her body lifting until her feet find the floor. She stays bent forward, her mouth still wrapped around me as I keep my fist buried in her hair to hold her there.
My other hand slides to the center of her back.
I step closer and guide her backward toward the wall, forcing her to move with me while she stays folded over in front of me.
Her feet shuffle across the floor as her mouth stays locked around me. When her ass brushes the knife handle she gasps.
The vibration runs straight through my cock.
I lean over her. I place both hands on her hips. I spread her ass apart slowly. Her breath shakes. Her body tightens. I push her backward until the handle presses between her cheeks and then slides against her entrance.
Her entire body jolts, and her mouth tightens around my cock.
I watch every inch of her react.
She trusts me fully in this position. She trusts me blind, bound, exposed, and pinned against a knife handle that only moves when I move her.
I adjust my grip on her hips and lower my voice.
“Good girl.”