19. Eli
ELI
T he slam of Freya’s bedroom door vibrates through the whole house. I sort of want to punch River for upsetting her, which probably makes me a fucking hypocrite, but now that we’ve got her back, I just want her to be happy.
I hate the idea of her alone in that room, so I ignore River’s call for me to stop as I stride past and go upstairs. I take the steps two at a time and punch the code into the keypad. The lock clicks as it disengages, letting me push the steel door open and step inside.
Freya stands with her back to me, her arms hugging her chest as she stares out of the window.
It’s dark out and she must see my reflection in the glass because she speaks without turning around. “I’m really fucking pissed off right now Eli, so unless you’re here to let me out, you can just leave.”
Yeah, that’s not fucking happening. I may not be willing to let her out, but Freya only gets this angry when she’s panicking so there’s no way I’m leaving her here alone.
“I figured you could use a distraction.”
“I’m fine.”
I lean back against the door and cross one leg over the other.
“You haven’t even heard my ideas yet.” I hold up a finger, counting as I go.
“Option One: you pretend I’m River and punch me in the face.
Option Two: you pretend I’m River and we have hot, angry, hate sex.
Option Three: you pretend I’m River and give me an hour-long monologue about how Eli is better in the bedroom.
Personally, I’m a fan of option B with C coming in a close second but if you want to go with option A, just avoid the nose. ”
Freya turns around with a slow spin. Her brows pinch up and together as her lips twitch. “You know jokey, flirty you is really fucking weird.”
I jut my chin towards the tilt of her lips. “Made you smile though.”
That smile breaks free for a moment before Freya’s gaze catches on the door behind me. “You should go.”
I push away from the door, cross the room and cradle her face in my palms. “Not fucking happening.”
Her hands press against my chest. “Eli. I need space.”
I tilt my head. “I don’t think you do.”
Her cloudy green eyes flare. “What is it with everyone is this house suddenly deciding they can make my choices for me?”
My hands drop to her hips, and I walk her back till she’s up against the window. “Ever think maybe it’s because we’re worried about you? That the more you pull away the tighter we want to hold onto you?”
Freya’s tongue darts out, wetting her lips, and my gaze drops to the soft, glistening pillows. “I’m not pulling away,” she breathes out.
I pin her hips with mine, letting her feel my hardening length, and bring my hand to her throat. “Prove it. Kiss me.”
“Eli…”
I tighten my grip and pull her in towards me.
“Fucking kiss me, Freya.” The words come out harsh because I’ve been craving this woman for weeks now and I’ve been on the edge of losing my mind since I touched her this morning.
I almost got past her walls earlier and I’ll be damned if she tries to put them back up now.
The relief that rushes through me when her lips crash into mine is borderline euphoric. I push my tongue into her mouth and groan into her as she battles against me.
Her hands come to my nape and she jumps into my arms, hooking her legs around my waist and grinding against my length. The kiss is a brutal fight for dominance, all of her frustration and anger bleeding out of her as she tangles her fingers in my hair, her nails scraping my scalp.
Heat flushes through me, every prick of pain shooting straight to my dick. I feel like a man possessed because I would let this woman do anything to me if it meant her hands were on my body.
I give as good as I get, nipping and tugging at her lips till they’re swollen and red. Needing more, I spin us around and find the bed, lowering her onto her back.
Freya tilts her head, arching her neck as I move lower with my lips, leaving a trail of marks down her throat.
She moans but then small hands push against my chest. “You can’t just distract me with sex.”
I smirk and lift up to catch her eyes. “Can’t I?”
Her gaze snags on my lips and I use her distraction to slide my hand under her pants. The silk of her panties is soft against the back of my hand as I ease one finger inside her slick heat.
Her eyes roll back and I dip my head to her neck, sucking sweet bruises into her pale skin. I’m lost in the ecstasy of touching her, the taste I’ve been starved of clouding my brain and hardening my dick and it takes me a moment to feel the cold metal prick my neck.
“No, you can’t,” Freya states, her voice cold.
I ease my finger out of her and lift up. The knife she’s holding trails down to my chest as I move and Freya stares at the blade.
Her hair is messed up, tangled golden curls splayed across the navy pillow. Her cheeks flush pink and each breath escapes through parted lips.
“Feeling kinky, are we?” I ask.
Freya blinks, her green irises clouding with tears. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”
I’m suddenly all too aware of everything Freya has been through, the worst of which blindsided her not so long ago. It’s going to take time for her to heal and she’s going to need to feel in control. Especially in the bedroom.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. Given the way you were raised it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why pulling a knife is your first defense.”
“I’m like him.” Oh, fuck no.
I slide my hand under her head and squeeze. “You are nothing like him.”
Stubborn eyes flick up to me. “I’m holding a fucking knife to your chest, Eli. I could hurt you.”
I shrug, letting the knife scrape my skin. “So do it. Cut me.”
“What?”
“Cut me, Freya.” I press my hips into her, letting her feel how hard I am. “I promise you I’ll like it.”
A thousand thoughts flurry through her eyes. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe.” But I’m pretty sure some part of her needs this. Knives for Freya have only ever meant torture and pain. She has always been the victim, even when she was the one using them it was never her choice, and I have a feeling taking back some of that control will help.
Her gaze traces over my face, checking that I’m serious, that I’m okay with this. Honestly, I’m liking the idea more and more with each passing second. The tip of the blade is warming against my skin and it’s like the metal is a lightning rod, shooting arousal straight to my cock.
The moment Freya presses down and breaks the skin, that lightning strikes and I close my eyes as pleasure cascades over me. She pulls the knife down in a slow line and I thrust my hips forward, burying my length between her sweet thighs. “Fuck, kitten, that feels incredible.”
I open my eyes to find Freya staring at me with wonder. She’s drawn two more lines on my skin and I can’t help the grin that breaks across my face when I look down and see she’s cut the letter ‘F’ into the space above my heart.
The knife drops from her hand onto the bed, and I see the second her eyes go dull. Her chest hiccups and her whole body shakes beneath me.
“Hey, hey.” I cradle her face, bringing her back to me because I know exactly where she’s just disappeared to. “It’s not the same, Freya. It’s not the same.”
Her hands grip my wrists, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Fuck Freya, you could cut me to pieces, and I’d love you for it.” I press kisses to her face, catching all her tears. “Tell me what you need, kitten.”
Freya threads her fingers through my hair and rocks her cunt against my length. “I need… I need you to make it hurt.”
She smudges the small ‘F’ she’s carved into my chest, and I follow her gaze to the knife.
“You want me to cut you, kitten?”
She shrugs, her throat bobbing. “Turnabouts fair play.”
The idea of my initials in blood has the possessive caveman in me pounding his chest but I need to make sure she wants this for the right reasons. I push off the bed and hold out a hand. “Come with me.”
After snagging Freya’s knife off the bed, I lead her into the bathroom and position us in front of the mirror over the double sinks. “Arms up.”
She does as she’s told and I strip her shirt off and unsnap her bra.
I brush my thumbs over her scars.
Freya watches, her hands curled around the edge of the counter as I wash my blood off the knife and dry it on a towel.
Once everything is ready, I twist her hair around my fist and meet her gaze in the mirror, letting her see how serious I am.
“I’m not going to do this if it’s just another way of you harming yourself. ”
She shakes her head as much as my hold will allow.
“It’s not. I promise.” She looks down at the knife in my hand.
“My father used his knives to torture me, to prove he owned me. I don’t want to be scared anymore, Eli.
And I don’t want to be owned.” She tilts her head back and looks up at me. “Not by him.”
I nod and bring the tip of the knife to the back of her shoulder. “You say stop and I stop. No questions asked, okay?”
“Okay.”
I go carefully, barely breaking her skin because this is more about reclaiming her power than actually causing pain. A tiny bead of red blood wells at the tip of the blade as I draw it down her shoulder. My cock throbs.
Freya gasps. I check in the mirror to make sure she’s alright, only relaxing when her eyes glaze over with arousal and she squeezes her thighs together.
My lips tip up and I go back to work, lightly drawing the blade across her freckled skin and leaving my initials behind. Tension bleeds into the air with every cut, making us both heady with arousal.
When I’m finished I drop the knife in the sink, metal clashing against the ceramic as I roughly undo Freya’s pants and thrust inside of her. I drop my head to her shoulder and suck the blood off, soothing the sting with my tongue.
“Eli,” she moans my name, her eyes rolling back as I wrap her hair tighter around my fist and tug her head back.