I’m on her in three strides, gripping her hip so hard she gasps, pulling the knife from inside my cut with the other hand.
The blade flashes.But I don’t lift it to her throat.I press it flat to the inside of her thigh.Her breath leaves her in a trembling rush.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” I growl.
Becki
Oh, I do.
I know precisely what danger is like.It feels like cold steel against hot skin.It feels like Royal’s breath shaking just above my knee.It feels like every bad decision I’ve ever made coming back for seconds.
“You gonna hurt me?”I ask softly.
His jaw flexes.Hard.“Yes.”
The blade glides higher, slow, deliberate.Cutting.Barely breaking skin.Not just threatening it.Not just promising.
“I’ll mark you,” he says, voice low enough to crumble bone.“I’m gonna put my name so deep into you that you won’t ever forget who you belong to.”
My pulse stutters.“I’m not yours.”
His eyes go dark.
“You’re chained in my room, Becki,” he murmurs as he pulls my shorts off my legs.“And you touch yourself thinking about me.That makes you mine more than you want to admit.”
I should fight.
I should deny it.
Instead, my legs slide further apart.
The knife follows.
Up, up…almost to where I’m throbbing for him.
“Royal…” I whisper.
He looks up at me through his lashes, hunger carved into every shadow on his face.
“Say you don’t want this,” he orders.
I wet my lips.“I don’t.”
“Say you’re not begging for me.”
“I’m not.”
“Say you don’t want my knife on your skin.”
“Royal,” I breathe.“Stop.”
His grip tightens on my thigh.
And I see it.The exact moment he breaks.
Royal
I should pull the knife away.
