My hand closes around her throat, pressing her into the mattress. The knife slides up, the blunt spine tracing her jaw. I start to move, slow first, but harder a minute later, each thrust making the blade tremble against her skin.
“Take it,” I snarl, hips locking flush to hers. “Take all of me.”
She moans, her body clenching as I pull out slowly, letting her feel every vein, every ridge, before slamming back in so hard the headboard cracks against the wall. Her eyes flash, pupils wide.
I catch her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head. The other grips her thigh, spreading her wide as the knife rests over her sternum, the point angled just enough for her to feel its weight with every snap of my hips.
“I’m so deep in you, your blood now knows my name.”
Every thrust gets rougher, the wet slap of us filling the air. She trembles under me, her release coiling tight.
“Come on, hellcat,” I growl, my breath hot against her ear as I grab the knife and slide it higher, right to the hollow of her throat. Her pulse hammers against the knife, fast, frantic. Mine matches it. “Come for me with the blade kissing your skin. Fall apart while I fucking own you.”
She shudders. Eyes glassy. Lips parted.
Her scream rips through the room, raw and cracked, her body convulsing around my cock like she’s trying to drag the soul out of me. Muscles clamp so tight it punches the air from my lungs. She jerks beneath me, thighstrembling, back arching hard as her orgasm slams through her like a fucking seizure.
I don’t stop. Don’t ease up.
I fuck her through it, relentless, punishing, holding her down with one hand around her throat, the other gripping the knife so tight my knuckles go white.
“You feel that?” I snarl, snapping my hips harder, deeper, chasing the edge like I’m chasing blood. “That’s mine. That mess between your thighs—mine. That scream in your lungs—mine.”
She whimpers, a broken moan choking in her throat, body still twitching, too far gone to speak.
One more hard thrust and I come, violent and brutal, my vision blacks out for a second as I drive deep andstaythere, cock throbbing while I unload into her like I want it to mark her from the inside out.
A growl rips out of me as I grind into her, harder, deeper, needing her to feel it, to feel me, my seed, my cock, the blade.
“Good girl,” I breathe, voice shredded. “You take me so fucking well.”
We stay like that, me inside and her trying to catch her breath, until the blade cools against her throat and her body finally stops trembling.
Chapter Twelve
Istep into the kitchen with the guys, and she’s already there, sitting at the table in my shirt. It drapes over her thighs, hiding her curves just enough to make me want to strip it off. Two faint bruises mark her throat where my hand held her down while I fucked her into the mattress.
“There she is,” Beau says with a smirk, lifting his mug in a lazy salute.
She glances upand freezes.
Her eyes sweep the room, locking on each of them. It’s her first time seeing them without masks.
Caleb leans against the counter, dark hair tousled, black T-shirt stretched over his shoulders, and his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are darker, obsidian, and unreadable. Dangerous, even without a weapon in sight.
Beau’s the opposite, lighter in every way, with dirt-blonde hair and green eyes that hold a smirk even when his mouth doesn’t. Muscles cut under ink that runs down his forearm as he sips from a chipped black mug.
“They’re… hot,” she blurts, brows furrowing like it personally offends her. “You all look way too good to be assassins.”
Beau chuckles, deep and warm, but Caleb doesn’t smile, he just watches her, and me?
I watchthem. Her. That shirt. Those bruises I put there. I should be thinking about the next steps of the plan, but all I can think about is how good she looked screaming my name with a blade to her throat.I feel her eyes on me as I get my coffee, heat crawling across my skin. When I meet her gaze, something flickers there, not shyness or regret, it almost looks like fear.
The fuck?
I tilt my head, pinning her with it, but she looks away first and turns toward Beau. “So you all live here?” Her tone isn’t her usual sharp edge, it’s quieter, cautious.
Beau glances at me, waits for my nod. “Yeah. Our parents had more money than sense. When they died, we sold it all, bought this place… made it ours.”
