13
Something cold touches my nose. I shift my head aside, wishing to shake off that sensation, but the odor of tobacco causes me to abandon my intentions, and I tuck myself beneath the covers.
I let his scent envelop me and make me call his name with a silent whisper.
The smell becomes more intense and that coldness returns to my nose, this time with a slight sting, causing me to open my eyes.
“Alek…” I murmur as I find his face lit by the faint moonlight coming through the window, illuminating the raindrops on the glass. I think it’s all just another stupid dream, but when I try to sit up in bed, my wrists seem to be trapped and that option is out of the question.
I lift my head to see what is keeping me trapped to the headboard. It’s chains.
“Hello,” he says in an amused tone that is far from reaching his eyes. “You called me…” His lips curve into a chilling smile just as the sky rumbles with new flashes of lightning. That feeling I know all too well takes hold of my stomach, making me forget the situation completely.
The sheet lies on the floor, but instead of feeling discomfort, my legs tremble with desire. My fingers burn to touch him, but I know full well that he won’t let me do it.
“And here I am.” His hoarse voice is another reflection of his anger, and I think I know why he's that pissed.
His eyes move to something shiny between the sheets. Mine follow the movement with a heat rising to my cheeks. That’s when I notice the blade of the knife he had used to caress the bridge of my nose.
I don’t move. I don’t even blink. My head is too busy filling with images of how he could use his weapon to realize the gravity of the situation. Fuck. I think all these years of wanting him in my bed have made me more depraved.
“We have a pending conversation.”
“You wanna talk again? Like this?” I point to the chains with my head.
“If you run away from a simple kiss, I can’t imagine what you’ll do when I do worse things.” The desire I’ve been trying to hide finally comes to light, reflected in the rapid movements of my chest as I breathe.
“What things…?” My hesitation hangs in the air.
“What the hell were you doing kissing that jerk at the mall?”
“Have you been following me?” I whisper in a thin voice. My cheeks flush slightly when his silence and hardened features confirm it, and my lips immediately tremble with a smile that shouldn’t be there.
“I’m the one asking the questions here, and I’m getting impatient.”
“I don’t know what you saw, but he was the one who threw himself at me,” I retort. “Besides, it was just a kiss. You have no reason to complain because we aren’t anything.”
With that, I hoped to send him some kind of hint. Something that would let him know that I want to take our relationship further than just a few kisses, even after discovering this side of him and his stalker tendencies.
I don’t think I’m in any position to reproach him, knowing full well that I did the same thing a few years ago. When I went to the same places he frequented with Grace, using stupid excuses so I could see him from afar and continue fantasizing about being in his arms.
“Good girls keep their promises, Lena.” I frown. Not knowing what promise he’s referring to. His fingers on the back of my neck, tangling with my hair, soon make me forget his confusing words.
“What should I do with you, hmm?”
He gets up from the bed in the blink of an eye. Not even giving me time to remember to breathe normally as he runs the blade across my torso, shredding my tank top. Next are my panties.
I bite my lower lip, standing naked before him. His eyes, previously filled with insane anger, now stare at me as if I were a talisman. The blade stops at the beginning of my mound, causing me to close my legs instinctively.
“Are you going to hurt me?” I whisper as soon as I break free from the hypnotic spell his eyes have cast on me. I don’t care if optimism and desire cloud my voice when I speak, not after agreeing to start over with him.
I’m opening up to him, showing a part of myself that’s hidden from everyone, in a situation that would make a sane person panic.
“I would never hurt you, lyubov’. Not in the way you think.” He slides his tongue all over my stomach until he stops at my breasts without taking his eyes off me.
His teeth snags one of my nipples, causing me to gasp and further intensifying the tension in my lower belly.
The other nipple meets the same fate. He then licks the small reddish thread emerging from my areola.
A guttural sound escapes his throat, as if my blood were the most exquisite offering he had ever tasted.
When he lifts his head, our eyes meet, sharing a knowing silence that dispels my nervousness and embarrassment at exposing my pleasure at his abrupt actions.
“Krasivaya,” he whispers on my lips in a hoarse voice, caressing the curve of my jaw before replacing his fingers with his tongue.
His piercing slides across my lips and deep into my throat, silencing my moans with a hungry kiss that I can barely keep up with as he pinches my nipples. The little blood that continues to flow from my areolas stains his fingers. He holds my breasts firmly, rubbing my nipples with his thumb.
“This belongs to me,” he declares before bringing his hands to my arse and squeezing until he possibly leaves his fingerprints. “This, too.”
He lowers his hand to my sex and covers his fingers with my juices, which he puts on his tongue seconds later. The heat on my cheeks doesn’t distract me from the itchiness in my hands that still yearn to touch him.
“I want to touch you,” I murmur, moving the chains to free myself. “Let me touch you.”
He ignores my pleas. Then pulls a black-checked handkerchief from his pocket and gags me with it under my bewildered gaze, but when he brings his mouth close to my wetness, I appreciate the gesture. I’m soaking wet. So much so that even the sheets have probably suffered the consequences.
First, he cleans the outside of my lips, running his piercing very close to my entrance.
I throw my head back with a cry that is muffled by the handkerchief, hitting the headboard.
The sound makes him divert his attention to my head for a moment, but when I open my legs with eyes that reflect my desperation, his face changes to a less concerned expression.
His tongue moves frantically over my clitoris and the walls of my rim, passing through the hole in my cavity.
“This belongs to me, too. You belong to me,” he whispers, his mouth close to my folds again. “I don’t want anyone else to touch you.”
He bites my outer lips so hard he could have broken the skin.
He uses the same roughness to suck my clitoris and penetrate me with the gold piercing in his tongue with no mercy.
When my walls tremble intensely, clouding my vision, he removes his tongue and takes off the handkerchief covering my mouth.
Then he takes my face and presses our lips together.
I let him slide his tongue in until he touches my uvula.
Another tug, accompanied by a pleasant rush, pulls at my stomach as I feel the mixture of my fluids and our saliva.
He kisses me fiercely as he slides the handle of the knife over my folds, then he inserts it without warning.
My whimpers linger in the air when I close my eyes.
The pain fades away with each passing second.
As the blade digs into my skin, sharp pain accompanies pleasure.
I move my hips roughly while he lets me take control, focusing solely on holding the blade.
My aggressive movements push the blade deeper into his palm, making a shallow wound.
He doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he wipes the blood onto my inner thighs.
My blood from the previous tiny cuts is already there.
His hoarse moans end up getting lost between my legs and mingling with mine and the lightning that makes the windows shake.
I arch my back and move my hips, our cuts now more intense, leaving more blood on the sheets.
He then grips the knife in his other hand, his wounded hand seizing my neck.
His blood smears my skin as he caresses my face.
His eyes still hold that voracious hunger when our gazes meet, but now there is also a hint of amazement.
The warmth of his blood in my mouth flooded my gums with a metallic taste. I collapse into his arms, my orgasm interrupted as he pulls away. His eyes lock on my neck and face. I glance at the front of his pants for the first time. The pressure seems about to make the buttons fly off.
“Keep going,” I murmur almost imperiously.
“I don’t think you deserve it,” he says, noticing my eager gaze and messy hair.
“Then let me go. I’ll finish the job myself.”
“No.”
“You can’t leave me like this all night. Please.” He softens slightly at the word please. He then moves closer to loosen my chains and kisses my forehead, leaving a red stain.
“We’ll see each other again soon, lyubov’,” he murmurs before disappearing through the window and leaving me chained to the bed, naked and covered in his blood.
I rub my wrists, seeing that the chains have completely disappeared.
When the hell did he take them off? My face feels dry and sticky, like when you go to sleep without removing your makeup.
I forget my face as soon as my eyes land on a luxury bag on my night table.
Despite still feeling sleepy, curiosity gets the better of me, and I open it, finding another cell phone of the same brand, this time white.
I spend a few minutes looking at the device until I find a phone number with no name added to the contact list. I’m sure it’s him again, sending me the same presents as last time because I didn’t answer him back.
But after how he left yesterday, I don’t want to be the first to call him.