He fucks me harder, the hand between my thighs grasping as firm as the one on my neck.Shit, he feels so good, even as his growls become so animalistic they’re unrecognizable. I breathe through tight lungs, inhaling the darkest parts of him.
So this is his freedom. I wonder what it tastes like.
My gaze slides back to the open knife beside us. The smooth silver that yields so much power. I want to feel it—the power. I want it for myself. My heart pounds against my ribcage as he pushes me closer to the edge.
“Adam,” I half-breathe, half-moan, a faint thread of reason trying to break through, warning me against the sinful creature I am. But a stronger voice latches on too; one that lurks so deep I’m not sure I’ve ever really met her. And she urges me not to resist it—the burning longing that swells inside me whenever I taste Adam’s darkness.
I don’t want to resist. I don’t want to be good or bad or spared or cursed.
I just want to explore whatever’s inside me.
I want the freedom tobe.
When he squeezes so hard a choked cough escapes, I stretch my arm as far as I can and reach for the knife. My fingertips graze the handle, then a thrill courses through me when it’s finally in my grasp.
For a second I stare at it, soaking in the way his rough thrusts blend so perfectly with the power in my palm.
I gasp when he snarls and frees my neck, suddenly pulling out of me. He spins me so I’m facing him, his gaze darting to the knife, and I swallow.
His eyes are crazed with lust and darkness, his breathing heavy, and a vein pops in his forehead. Possessive or possessed, I don’t know the difference right now.
The longer he watches me, the more his breathing calms. His expression clears slightly, and his brows crash together when he glimpses my neck. I still feel the invisible weight of his hand clutching me, and I know it’s red—or worse.
His jaw ticks, his lips thinning, and he closes his eyes for a minute.
When he opens them again, his gaze flicks back to the knife in my hand. Shadows flit across his expression. “What are you doing?”
I clench it tighter, absorbing the strange feel of the weapon. For so many years I’ve painted the colors it draws from our skin. I’ve closed my eyes and been flooded with them—reds and blacks, mangled bodies and broken bones. But I’ve never stood and held in my own two hands the tool that spills the blood. Not like this.
I’m teetering on the edge of unfamiliar territory, and somehow I sense the rush is greater than the fall.
Cartwheels go off in my stomach as Adam watches me brush the tip of the weapon from my hip bone past my bandaged wounds and up to my ribs, like it’s a feather.
His nostrils flare, his grip finding my waist. I almost groan when a heavenly zing surges up my body. The tormented way he’s looking at me, the dangerous weapon in my control, the freedom of justbeing—the combination is toxic, and I’m drunk on it.
“What are you waiting for?” I coax softly, moving the knife’s point in slow circles around my belly button. “Fuck me, Master.”
A deep grumble fills his chest. I grow warm at the raw beast inside him. The beast that calls to me and soothes the bleakest parts of my soul.
I place my free hand over the ridges of his abs, then slowly slide up his hard chest until my fingers curl around his neck. Moving the knife to my lips, I dart my tongue out and drag it from the handle to the tip.
A long tremor rolls through him, and it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
When I lower my mouth back to the base of the knife, he dips his head so our noses almost touch. Waves of heat fill the gap between us, and the room goes so still all I hear is our breathing and my throbbing pulse. I gently bring the tip of my tongue to the smooth, flat surface of the blade. My breath hitches when he does the same on the opposite side. His eyes are locked on mine as we run our mouths from one end to the other, finding the same rhythm. When we reach the top, our tongues brush for a mouthwatering second before he drags his along my jaw and down the side of my neck, tugging my head back by my hair. My eyes flutter shut, and a long moan bubbles from my core.
Strong hands grip my ass and squeeze. With his lips attached to my neck, he pulls me up and paces across the room, my legs wrapped around his waist as he lowers me onto the dresser. He glides his palms against my thighs and spreads me wide open. After curling one hand around my fist so we’re holding the knife together, he fucks me deep and slow.
Jesus.
Tangling my free hand in his hair, I clutch him as I meet him thrust for lazy thrust. Goose bumps prickle along my body, his breath skating over my throat. Quivers run through his muscles like he’s never felt anything so satisfying, and I finally understand.
I finally get why it’s theactof sex people seek, not just the blissful ending. Why people drag it out instead of claiming their release right away.
This. This is everything.
Bodies melting together as you set each other on fire. Peeling back your mask and baring your soul. Surrendering yourself to another while owning every part of them.
His teeth skim my jaw, crossing over to the other side of my neck. His hand grips my shoulder as he goes deeper, drawing a shiver down my spine as he fills me.
