His other hand grips my jaw, holding my face, which is unconsciously shaking my dissent, still.
“I need this, Angel. I’m going to give you a superficial cut, and then I want you to take Lola and carve the letter ‘A’ right here,” he says, pointing to the area over his heart.
Instead of scrambling off his dick, I clench at the idea of him wanting me embedded in his skin.
“Owen, I can’t do that,” I begin to protest, but he brings the blade to my lips, quieting me.
“You can and you will. I’ve never needed something or someone as much as I need this from you, Angel.”
I peer into his eyes, and I see. The darkness. The haunted look that matched mine after returning home. I’m not entirely sold on this, but I can process this shit later.
Nodding, I push my chest out, offering him what he needs. “I’ll do it.”
He groans, and I feel his cock pulsating inside me as the knife slides across the top of my left breast, enough that I feel my skin break. I hiss, and Owen’s hand lifts as he thrusts inside me.
Owen hands me the knife, and I watch as my blood drips down the tip.
“Please, Angel,” he begs, and I steel my spine, pressing the sharp edge into his flesh. “Oh fuckkkk!”
His body strains, the veins in his neck bulging as he fights to stay still. As I finish carving the line across to make the “A,” he grabs the knife from my hand, tossing it somewhere on the bed, and flips me over, slamming inside of me. His hips piston, his pace relentless.
I attempt to match his pace, but he’s fucking me like a man on a mission. He powers into me, thrust after thrust, no stopping in sight. My nails dig into his back as I try to hold on. His hand reaches up, touching the “A,” gathering his blood before reaching between my legs and rubbing his blood-coated thumb into my clit as he slows his pace.
“You’re going to come with my blood staining your pussy, and then I’ll own you, and no one will be able to take you from me,” he growls, snapping his hips forward, his stroke deep enough to hit that spot over and over. Then he pinches my clit, and my orgasm crests. My body shakes, my head falling back as I bow off the bed.
The last thing I hear is his curse as he jerks his release.
Owen’s body slips from mine, and he lands beside me on the bed, pulling me into his bloody chest. His fingers run through my tangled hair as he says, “Thank you.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I try, hoping he’ll confide in me.
He sighs but answers, “Let’s get cleaned up, and we can talk.” His lips press to my forehead before we both get out of bed.
Owen rolls the condom off, tying it, and tossing it in the trash can. With each step he takes, he grows distant, his armor fastening into place. Something I’ve never seen him do with me before. Whatever this is about, he doesn’t want to talk about it.
Noting that I’m still frozen to my spot by his bed. Owen turns, a small smile on his face, “You coming, Angel?”
He’s trying Ry.
Guilt tugs at me. I don’t want him to have to hide just to open up.
“We-you don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to,” I offer. I almost pray he’ll take me up on it. I’m not sure what would make the wildest and most carefree of the guys look so solemn.
Turning, Owen’s in front of me in three quick strides. I nearly take a step back in surprise.
His hand encircles my throat, his grip light, coaxing me into him as he lowers his gaze to mine.
“For you, I’d slay my demons. So, no, Ariah, I don’t want to put this off. I should’ve told you before I asked you for what I just did, and yet somehow, you glorious girl, you saw my monsters, and instead of running, you met them head on.”
I tip my chin back, peering into the furthest depths of his gaze. Determination lines his features, the resignation I’d seen earlier a distant memory.
Flicking his chin toward the bathroom, he says, “Let’s go shower.”
Nodding, I grab his hand and squeeze, hoping he feels the sincerity in my actions. I won’t give him superficial words of support. I hate that shit.
We walk into the bathroom, and he pushes some buttons. Water shoots from almost every angle, spraying like a carwash.
“Fancy fuckers,” I mumble, and Owen chuckles.
