“Sounds like fun.” We haven’t been able to play any twisted sex games since before Isaac came to visit.
“I’m going to want to scare you,” he warns.
“Okay.”
“You might want to fight back.”
“I won’t, though, because I’ll know it’s you, right?” I say and he tilts his head, acting all mysterious. “Right?”
“I don’t mind a little physical altercation, but I’d rather you not injure me too seriously,” he says.
“I would never.”
“You might be tempted. I’m going to be very mean to you.” He tugs at my lower lip with his index finger and traces my mouth with my own saliva. My dick rubs insistently against his thigh, dry humping him like a dog.
“I don’t mind when you’re mean,” I tell him.
“How about when I’mnasty?” he asks with an evil glint in his eyes.
“I like that too. The nastier the better. Are you going to give me any drugs?”
“Not this time. And I’m going to surprise you. Of course, you can tell me to stop, but that would really ruin it for me.”
“Then I won’t.”
“But what if I’m hurting you?” he squeezes my throat in a way that makes my dick want to hurdle out of my pants.
“You can hurt me, scare me, drug me, fuck me in front of your friends… whatever you want, so long as I get to come.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He smiles and kisses the tip of my perfectly proportioned nose. “You are the most adventurous lover I’ve ever had, and there is not a single thing I would change about you. From the moment I saw you, I was infatuated, and my obsession since has only grown. So, don’t ever leave me, Adam, or else.”
“Or else,” I murmur with a contented smile.
* * *
I’m alonein the house when the lights go out. All of them. Total darkness. I figure it must be another rolling power outage and I’m about to text Cassius when I hear something topple in the living room. Something big.
“Cassius?” My senses are on high alert, muscles tense, listening for any other movement. I hate being left alone, even with the security system. Back home my dad got me a dog when I was little because my separation anxiety was so bad.
I’m in his mother’s bedroom–I was using her mirror to pluck my eyebrows–so it takes me a minute to feel my way along the walls in the dark. I’m just entering the threshold of the living room when two strong arms grab me from behind and drag me backward.
“Don’t make a sound,” the voice hisses. It’s Cassius. Ithinkit’s him, but the tone is rough and grating, at least an octave lower than his normal voice. He forces me back into the bedroom and shoves me onto the bed. The man—definitely a man—wears a ski mask and leather gloves. It’s dark enough that I can’t make out more than an outline of his head, but he’s holding a long length of rope and pulling it taut between his fists. Scary as hell and hot as fuck.
“Cassius?” I ask, less sure this time.
“Put your hands over your head.”
I comply and he pounces on top of me like a tiger, pinning my ribcage between his sharp kneecaps. My skin burns as he swiftly knots the rope around my wrists and lashes it to the slats in the headboard. I tug on the restraints, unable to do much more than that, and he sits on my chest with his full weight, making it difficult to breathe.
“I caught you,” he says with satisfaction. “Now, we’re going to have some fun.” He pulls a knife from his back pocket. Not a butter knife either, but a lethal-looking hunting knife with a jagged edge and cruel tip. My eyes have adjusted to the dark enough that I can see his perverse smile.
“Cassius, what the fuck?” I start struggling then, for real, bucking my hips to knock him off me. He rides me like I’m a bronco. His laughter is unhinged. Who is this man, really? My sociopathic boyfriend.
“I wouldn’t fight if I were you,” he taunts when I’m out of breath and exhausted from swearing at him. “I might accidentally slice you open.” He drags the knife slowly down the center of my sternum, pressing hard enough into my skin to give the illusion of one long cut. My sweat turns ice cold and prickles my skin.
“Please don’t hurt me too bad,” I say on the verge of begging.
“Such beautiful skin,” he murmurs. “So smooth and unblemished.” He lays the flat side of the knife over one of my pecs, chilling me to the bone. The edge glances against my nipple but doesn’t break skin. “A true masterpiece,” he murmurs. “I’m going to have to cut you just to prove you’re real.”
