Page 67

He captures my neck and pinches hard. “You like it, you sick fuck?” And I don’t know if he’s asking the question to me, or himself.

Locking eyes, his travel down my body as I swallow hard, my heartbeat hammering in my ears. I lick my lips and he starts to pant, his chest moving up and down with every deep breath he takes. I look up again and flash him another smile. He’s just as turned on by pain as I am.

Rubbing his thumb over the corner of my lip, it hurts like hell, he bust my lip right open. I can taste the blood on my tongue. Staring at his thumb he pushes it into his mouth. I watch as he sucks it dry and groans before he places his mouth against mine, sucking and licking at the blood there.

I struggle with him, but he easily holds me in place, the fucker is so much bigger than me. He can easily overpower me if he wants, and the thought alone makes me want to kill him with one of my knives. To sink it deep into his flesh and watch him bleed out. My dick starts to twitch, and I cry out when he places his palm on my bulge and squeezes. My head falls back but he’s right there to keep me from falling back against the sheets.

“You like that?” he asks, his voice thick with lust.

I press the back of my hand against my mouth to stop him from kissing me. First, he smiles at me, cupping my cheeks. His playful eyes changing to that stoic gaze within a second as his lips touch my neck.

“Maybe I should ask Yuki to do it better?” I taunt, baring my teeth at him.

His eyes go wild with anger, and he slaps me hard across the face.

“Is this the best you can do?” I yell at him, my shoulder throbbing like my dick.

His nostrils flare while he smacks me again, much harder this time. I groan as the pain mixes with pleasure, and he pushes me against the sheets, climbing on top of me, to press his hard-on against my stomach. I want him to hit me to make me feel so repulsed from the things I like and want him to do to me. So I can replace the disgust I feel toward myself with even more hatred for him.

He grabs my shirt and starts shaking me as feeling returns to my arms. My shoulders still hurt, but it’s more like a dull pain turning me the fuck on. Who would have thought, having the guy you want to do depraved shit to you would turn me on so much?

“Look at what you’re making me do,” Moon says, his voice thick and hoarse, while his eyes fill with unshed tears. Good to know he has some feeling left in his rigid body.

He grabs ahold of my chin and examines my face. “You look like an angel, but when you stare at me with those half-lidded eyes, I see the devil inside you.”

“Please Moon, hit me again,” I moan, and the confession alone makes my cheeks flush.

His mouth opens on a gasp, shaking his head he pushes my head back against the pillows.

“No?” I groan in protest, bumping my fists against his chest, trying to egg him on.

He shoves me back and I place my hands firmly next to me to stop from falling. He pushes himself off the sheets and grabs a chair, and I watch as he drags it to the foot of the bed and sits down. His body is too big for the seat. He manspreads and leans back.

My body starts to shake, not from the cold but something else, trepidation, fear, anger, I don’t know. What I do know is that I’ve never been this turned on before.

“Take off the jacket,” he orders, “I mean it’s mine.” He winks, and I snarl at him.

Within a second, I’m pushing the drenched fabric down my arms. I suppress a groan that spills out anyway as I drop it on the floor, pain sliding down through my arms all the way to the tips of my fingers. I stare down at my chest, the dark bruises are already starting to show, and there are also a couple on my arms from when he held me down in the hotel room.

“My handprints look good on you,” he praises and my chest swells.

“Moon, I…” I begin.

He shakes his head. “Take off your sweats too.” Running the tips of his fingers around and over his mouth in a circle, as he undresses me with his eyes.

My dick twitches, and his eyes drop to my lap, to the bulge tenting the front of my pants.

He lets out a mocking laugh. “Take them the fuck off,” he orders, and slams his fist on the bed. “Lose them, bǎobèi.”

I shake my head. “No.”

He hovers above me. “Take them off,” he repeats, his voice so hollow goosebumps appear on my skin.

I reluctantly comply and roll them down. They’re halfway down my legs when I notice I’m not wearing any underwear and stop.

“Don’t you fucking stop now,” he orders, sitting back on his haunches.

My hands start to tremble while I push the fabric further, letting them pool at my ankles. He reaches out to drag them off, watching me as he sits back, and I kick them to the floor.