“Maybe I like the way danger feels.”
His grip tightens.“I’m not danger, Becki.I’m the ending.”
I don’t blink.“Then end me.”
Something inside him snaps like a bone.
He slams me back against the cinder block wall.Hard enough to hurt me.Hard enough to remind me nobody else has ever touched me like this.Hard enough to remind me I asked for it.
His mouth hovers an inch from mine, not kissing me, just breathing me in.
“You don’t understand what you’re asking for,” he murmurs, voice darker than the room.
“I want everything you won’t let yourself do.”
His eyes close like the words hit too deep.
“Fuck,” he whispers.“You have no idea what I’m fighting.”
“Stop fighting.”
That does it.
Royal’s hand slides into his pocket and comes out with another knife.The silver handle looks obscene in this dim light.He flips it open with one practiced flick.The blade glints.His breath hits the metal and fogs it faintly.
I gasp.
He hears it.
Biting his tongue ring, he smiles.“Not scared?”he asks softly.
“No,” I lie.I’m terrified, and that excites me so much I’m dripping wet.
He presses the flat of the blade to my stomach, cold and wicked.
Royal’s voice drops to a growl.“Lift your shirt.”
I don’t breathe as I obey.
He drags the knife up my ribs, slow, reverent, never breaking skin, just letting the cold carve a path of goosebumps.When the blade reaches the underside of my breast, he pauses.
His tongue ring flashes as he licks his bottom lip again.
“You have no idea what I think about when this knife is on you.”
“Tell me.”
“I think about marking every inch of you until everybody in this goddamn club knows you’re mine.I think about licking blood off your skin until you cry.I think about chaining you so tight you forget your own name.”
I shiver violently.He feels it through the grip he has on my waist.
His lips brush my jaw, barely, light enough to make me chase him.
“You want that?”he murmurs.
“Yes,” I breathe.
He drags the blade up, up, up, past my pierced nipples.Then slides it under my chin, lifting gently.
