Page 46 of Ricochet
“I don’t want to hear a sound coming from your mouth.” I started moving the fabric up and down, the intoxicating smell of her pussy filling my nostrils. She started pushing into my hand, into the soaked panties. “That’s right, let it go.”
Her eyes closed and the redness started spreading over her chest. I slowly lifted the knife from her lips. Her eyes opened and connected with mine. I used to get so lost in those eyes —those traitorous eyes.
“You want to come, baby girl?” Goosebumps erupted over her skin as I pulled the knife from her mouth toward her cheek. “Should I let you?” I taunted. “Or should I leave you like this?”
The chains rattled against the bed with every movement of her legs. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as I increased the pressure on her clit. Shaky breaths escaped her lungs, and my own started matching hers.
“Breathe.” I caressed her neck. “Just breathe, Phee.”
Eyes unfocused, she started pulling her hands, the ties digging into her skin. I could see the bruises already forming on her wrists.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
Body and soul.
I smiled at her, and without a warning, pushed the blade into the skin on her cheek. Blood spilled over the edge at the same time a moan escaped her mouth. I felt high from the sight of her blood, my own boiling in my veins. Without a sound, she pulled against the knife, cutting herself deeper, those hooded, ocean eyes zeroing in on me. She bit her lip, trying to push further, go higher, but the ropes held her in the same place, limiting her movements.
Mark her, destroy her,the voices in my head chanted.Make her ours. Make her pay.
It was only fitting to do so. Ophelia wrecked my soul, and now I was going to wreck her body.
I pushed at her chest, holding her on the bed, while her blood slowly trickled down her cheek. I leaned toward her, caging her head between my arms, the blade still in my hand. She pushed and pulled, but I could tell it was without a real fight. She wanted this.
She wanted to be destroyed, demolished, brought to her knees… And I, I was going to be the bringer of all of those.
“Do you like me now, baby,” I whispered, hovering over her lips. “Do you like how it hurts?”
My tongue darted out, licking from her jaw, biting and soothing, toward the cut on her cheek. The taste of her blood was the best opium, but it wasn’t enough. I needed more. So much more, and she was going to give it to me. With my lips coated in her blood, I licked the bloody trail, all the way to the wound already closing down.
But we can’t have that, can we now?
“K,” she whimpered. “Please.”
“Are you wet for me, Ophelia?” I bit on her cheek, my teeth sinking into the wound.
“Argh,” she cried out, her moans music to my ears.
My cock hardened as her pelvis lifted from the bed, meeting mine. The metallic taste of her blood drove me crazy, like an addict with the first shot of heroine. She was soaking through my pants, moaning in my ear, a masochist in disguise.
When all you ever knew how to do is bring the pain, you start craving your own.
I ground against her, pushing her on the bed, my cock straining against my pants. It was pain and pleasure mixed in one.
Bite.
Lick.
Rinse and repeat, but I wasn’t stopping. This was only the start of our game.
“Your blood tastes like heaven, Phee.” I gripped her hair in my hand, dropping the knife next to her head. “But it feels like poison running through my veins.”
“Please, Kieran,” she panted. “Please.”
“That’s right. Beg me. I want to hear you scream for me.”
