Chapter 4 #2
I whip the blade from her hand and fling it, not taking my eyes from hers as it lands with a twang in the oak door. A sting rises a beat later where it must have dragged across my skin. I touch my fingers to it and find a drop of blood smeared across their prints.
I level Harper with a predatory glare. Her eyes glitter devilishly in the dim light.
“Oops,” she says.
In the moment that hangs between us, I think of a thousand things I could do to Harper Starling.
But none of my fantasies will ever compare to the reality of her.
All her fierce defiance and mischievous danger and masterful deflections that I can’t help but fall for.
No one has ever consumed me like she has.
I want to push her. Punish her. See how far she’ll let me go.
Because with every ounce of pain and fear she revels in, every challenge she rises to and conquers, she destroys me.
She dismantles the shell of a man I was when I came here and carves me into something new.
“You have exactly three seconds to leave this kitchen, or you’ll be on your knees, gagging on my cock,” I say.
Harper’s eyes sparkle. I know how much she gets off on my threats, how wet her panties will be with my words. My cock strains against my jeans.
“One . . . ”
Her lips tense as she fails to tamp down a smile.
“Two . . . ”
“It’s already been three seconds. You count exceptionally slowly.”
“Three.”
I step into her space, backing her into the corner as her grin unleashes. She looks wild. Uninhibited. Fucking beautiful. And she’s mine.
I undo the clip of my belt to let it dangle, and then the button of my jeans. She’s going to do the rest. “On your knees, Harper.”
“I’ll tell you what,” she says as she grabs the two ends of my belt and tugs me closer. A steady ache throbs in my erection. “I’ll choke on your dick like a desperate little slut if you tell me a story.”
My eyes narrow. “If you want me to narrate The Fellowship of the Ring while I fuck your mouth, you’ll be sorely disappointed.”
“No,” she says as she slowly runs her hand down the length of my chest. Her touch drags down my abs, roving over my pants until she grips my length with sudden, shocking strength.
I hiss in a breath that smells like her.
Harper’s quiet laugh fills my head. I swear I can even taste her, just like she was at the river, her arousal branded into my memory.
My eyes briefly drift closed as she firms her grasp on my erection.
“You know many of my secrets. And I know so few of yours. So I want you to tell me one as I suck you off. Tell me about the first man you killed. I want to hear about Marc Beaumont.”
The darkness in me surely settles into my features at her request. But Harper doesn’t show any fear. She just pushes me back a step and releases my cock to grasp my zipper. But she stills when I grab her wrist.
“Tsk tsk,” I say. There’s a flash of trepidation in her eyes.
I think she’s worried I’ll decline her request, because she wants this as much as I do.
And maybe I do briefly consider it—even though I know she’ll embrace my darkness, some pieces are harder to give away than others.
But what she doesn’t yet realize is that it’s nearly impossible for me to deny her anything. “On your knees first.”
Harper’s features brighten with a suppressed smile, and she takes my offered hand as I guide her to the floor.
My touch traces her cheek before I straighten to stare down at her.
She’s so fucking perfect. Kneeling before me, waiting patiently for instruction, yet still dominating this entire moment.
She knows that I’ll give her exactly what she’s asked for.
And she also knows that with one word, I would stop.
Most of all, she understands that my obsession with her will only dig its claws in even deeper when I confess my darkest sins.
But I’m no fucking saint. She’s going to work for it.
I don’t take my eyes from hers as I pull my belt free of my jeans. “Lean forward. Hands behind your back.”
She assesses me, but does as I ask, laying one hand over the other. I move to her side and loop my belt around her wrists and secure the bind with a tight knot. When I’m done, I return to stand in front of her, and she remains exactly as I left her.
“Snap your fingers three times, and make it loud,” I command, and she does so. “That’s what you’ll do if you want me to stop, got it?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl. Now straighten up,” I say, and my blood surges as she obeys.
She rarely does exactly as I ask, opting for the hint of pain that comes with punishment.
But her obedience is equally as exciting as her stubbornness.
I take a step back, placing my hands on my hips to keep the waistband of my jeans from slipping.
My cock fucking aches with the desperate need to sink into her heat. “Undo my zipper.”
Harper’s brows raise, but she doesn’t question the command.
She sets her sights on my jeans and shuffles to me on her knees, going slowly enough to keep her balance.
When she finally stops in front of me, she leans closer until she can grip the metal end of my zipper with her teeth.
And fuck me, it’s simultaneously the hottest and most infuriating thing I’ve ever seen.
She loses her hold on the zipper. Claims it again.
Unlocks a few metal teeth. And repeats the cycle again.
She brushes my length in her attempts, making little noises of frustration.
She clenches her bound hands and focuses all her efforts on this one seemingly simple task that could have taken just a moment, if I let it.
But she doesn’t give up, doesn’t stop until it’s done.
When she finishes, she leans back, her silver eyes fixed on mine, her patience unwavering.
I let the moment linger. Maybe I like a little punishment too, denying myself something I’ve fantasized about even in the days when I first came to Cape Carnage, intent on strangling Harper Starling with my bare hands.
I’ve woken many times from dreams of plunging into the depths of her mouth as my cum filled her throat, and tried to convince myself they were nightmares.
Or maybe it’s not masochism. Maybe I’m just afraid of what she’ll think of me if I give up this precious truth and tell her my darkest story.
I grit my teeth. There’s a flicker of awareness in Harper’s face, but she doesn’t voice any questions or concerns. I reach behind my head and pull my shirt off, then let my hands fall to my sides. “Pull my jeans down,” I say.
Harper focuses on the dark denim, leaning closer, her nose and forehead grazing my abdomen.
I shudder. I’m sure she notices, but she doesn’t acknowledge the effect she has on me with such a simple, fleeting touch.
All her attention is on tugging my jeans down over my hips and down my thighs.
When she gets to my knees, I tell her to stop.
“Now the briefs,” I command. Harper doesn’t delay her compliance.
Her teeth grip the waistband of my briefs.
I hiss as she pulls out a few hairs from the trail that leads to my erection.
Though I fully expect her to stretch the elastic as far as she can before letting it go to slap me across the dick, surprisingly, she doesn’t.
She keeps her teeth clamped on the waistband and pulls them down, freeing my erection.
When my briefs are at my knees with my jeans, she leans back to scrutinize me.
I pause, trying to read anything from her expression. And trying to peel myself apart. “Open your mouth,” I finally say.
One of her brows lifts. “We made a deal.”
“I know,” I say as I run a hand through her hair. Slowly, I firm my grip at the back of her head. “I’ll keep my word.”
“And don’t tell me about some hobbit shit or I’ll bite.”
The ghost of a grin sweeps across my lips, but it doesn’t linger. Not when the need coursing through my body is so desperate it’s nearly painful. Harper wets her lips with a leisurely sweep of her tongue. Finally, she opens her mouth.
“Once upon a time . . . ,” I say as I pull her head toward me. Electricity crackles up my spine with the first whisper of her exhalation on the crown of my cock. “There was a boy named Nolan.”
I lay the head on her tongue and push into her mouth. Fuck, it’s so much better than I imagined. Her plush lips. Her wet heat. Her gunmetal eyes latched to mine, waiting to consume my sins.
“Years ago, I had some very dark urges. I wanted to do terrible things to awful people as punishment for their misdeeds. And the person I wanted to hurt the most was named Marcus.”
Harper hums a note of agreement as I glide deeper into her mouth.
“Marcus was the kind of vile person who liked beating people up to steal their money.” I slide out slowly, until the tip is at her lips.
“Hurting animals. Lighting fires. Marcus was a ticking time bomb that no one knew how to defuse.”
I pause, my pulse climbing. When I take a deep breath, the scent of the forgotten lemon and herbs from our stalled meal preparation fills my lungs. A faint crease appears between Harper’s brows as she waits for me to continue.
I push into her mouth again. “His favorite pastime was bullying and intimidating anyone he thought was weak. Making fun of people who were different. People like my brother, Billy.” This time, I don’t pull back.
I keep going, slowly forcing her to take me deeper and deeper until she gags.
But she perseveres, adjusting to my length.
I’m staring right into the depths of her watering eyes when I say, “Marcus Urkhart.”