Page 142 of The Darkness is Calling

“Maybe when you drop a bomb like that on me, you should also tell me why I shouldn’t panic.”

He kisses the corner of my mouth.

“Because everything I do has a carefully thought-out plan behind it. Even if I ever fail, trust me, you will still be protected. So, I’m telling you for the last time. Trust. Me.”

“And what solution do you have for this whole Bratva situation?”

“You’ll find out all the details after you shower and come to the living room. Sasha and Yar have probably arrived by now.”

I nod, but without much energy. It’s so hard to trust anyone when chaos is pounding at the door.

“But before anything else, let me get you out of this dress.”

He rises and offers me his hand, which I accept right away. As if it is in his nature to do this, he carefully turns me with my back to him and begins undoing my buttons, one by one. After about five, he stops.

“There are over fifty buttons,” he says, visibly displeased.

“Yes,” I answer with half a smile, satisfied that at least this annoys him.

“Why did you want to turn the wedding night into torture?”

I bite my lower lip, still smiling. “I wasn’t thrilled about the groom.”

Silence for a few seconds.

“And if you had known from the beginning that I would be the groom, would you have changed the dress?”

“No. I would have added ten more.”

“I can cut every one of them off just as easily.”

Even though I can’t see his face, I can tell he’s smiling.

Then he bends, and from the corner of my eye I see him pull something from his ankle. I hear a metallic sound, and the next second, the cold blade of a knife touches the skin on my back, slicing through the fabric with ease.

I tense, but his words echo through my mind. I have to trust him, even if I’m still angry and upset with him.

He kisses my shoulder, my shoulder blade, then slowly descends along with the dress as it falls heavily from me, pooling at my ankles. But he doesn’t hurry. His kisses touch my skin along my spine, then my hip, stopping on my backside.

With my eyes closed, I savor the delicate touches, until I feel the cold blade suddenly press with its flat side directly against my already damp pussy, exposed after the underwear he destroyed earlier.

My eyes snap open.

“You have no idea how many things I could do to you with this knife,” he whispers, playing with my wetness. “And I promise you would scream only from pleasure.”

I should be afraid, but my body betrays me, my core clenching at the deep, rough sound of his words. His madness is contagious, because I begin to agree with anything he might want to do to my body.

“Fuck... The way your slick is dripping down this blade, mixed with my cum. It makes me want to bend you over right here and fuck you again.”

The increasingly hot air makes my bare chest rise and fall faster. Desire seeps back into my cells, igniting them instantly.

“But we have all the time in the world, dusha moya. You are my wife for the rest of your life, after all.”

He rises, and I turn to face him again, a little disappointed that he stopped. More than a little.

“You know, that sounds like a line from a horror movie.”

“All romance movies are horror movies,” he says with a grimace, though something tells me he doesn’t truly feel that way.