Again, “Yes.”
Her eyes jerk up to mine. “But it’ll hurt.”
I smirk. “Oh, baby girl. You say that like it’ll put me off.”
That makes her eyebrows climb a little higher, but she seems to disregard it. “The scar will be there forever.”
I hold her gaze, willing her to see the gravity in mine. “That’s the idea.”
She lets out this short, disbelieving laugh. “You don’t even know me.”
I narrow my eyes, searching her face. “I know you want to do it, but you’re scared. I know when you brush your hair, you look sad, like you’re missing someone, or feeling nostalgic. I know you test Slytherin on every quiz you’ve ever taken, but swear up and down you’re Gryffindor. I know you didn’t like sweets half as much before you moved in with Tristian, and I know you can’t get a full night’s sleep because it freaks you out that none of us can watch over you. I know that, despite that, you’d rather hold your ground because you’re god-awful stubborn.” Running my thumbs over the dimples in her knees, I list, “You make bad decisions when people threaten you. You hate ska, but somehow like Sublime. You’re curious about your dad, but figure the reality will never measure up to the dream, so you don’t try to find him. You miss being places where no one knew you. You always sleep with a fan on, which is why Killer put one in his room, even though he despises the thought of dust blowing around. I know you noticed it, but pretended not to.” Raising an eyebrow at her expression, I add, “I know that blush on your face right now has nothing to do with you sitting on my dick.”
Her throat jumps with a swallow, eyes moving anxiously from the blade to my face, as if she’s expecting me to reveal this whole thing is a prank. When I don’t, she breathes, “You’re serious.”
“As a heart attack.” Raking my lip through my teeth, I gently urge, “Come on, baby. Make me yours.”
The shudder that goes through her body might be subtle, except I can feel it all around me. It’s nearly as electrifying as the way the blade feels, finally piercing into my skin. She sucks in a short inhale at the bubble of blood, big eyes pinging to mine. “Are you…？”
“Keep going,” I insist, staying still. “Make it deep.” Wetting her lips, she returns her gaze to my chest, pressing the blade in deeper. “That’s it,” I breathe, going limp beneath the surge of endorphins. It makes my cock jump and I know she feels it—can tell by the way her lashes flutter—but she doesn’t stop. Not even when the blood pools in the valley between my muscles.
Her breath is coming quick and shallow, and I don’t need to see the tremor in her wrist to know she’s afraid. Afraid of hurting me, perhaps, but more likely, afraid of what it means to have me.
To really have me.
The ‘S’ might be bigger than my ‘R’， but when she pulls back, ashen and slack-faced, I look at it and can’t tell. There’s too much blood to see the edges.
I lift a hand and run my fingers through it, smearing the blood across my skin.
Yours.
But instead of inspecting it, I reach up to slash a long line of scarlet across her parted lips. For a moment, she looks stunned, transfixed and frozen as I prod my bloody fingertips between her teeth, forcing her to taste me. I know she’s lost when she lets me, a slave to this trance, just like I am. Slowly, I lean up, holding her gaze as I fuck my fingers into her mouth, pressing against her tongue, making her just as open and gruesome as we both know we should be.
And then I lick her.
Over her lips, around my fingers. Her tongue meets mine somewhere in the middle, sharing the taste as it rubs against my tongue in a grisly offering.
I grab the knife before rearing up and flipping her over. She lets out a startled yelp, but it’s over just as fast as it begun, and then I’m gazing down at her, pressing our bloody chests together as I kiss the shocked noise from her mouth. The taste is sharp and bitter, a metallic edge that doesn’t go away.
The way I look at her might be tender, but the first punch of my hips into hers is anything but. Her body jerks with the movement and she clings to me, brows collapsing in rapture. But she doesn’t close her eyes. That’s how I know she feels this too. This wild intensity running between us, the thrill of wanting and having.
Give me a masked man in a dark alley any day, because this?
This is terrifying.
“Don’t stop.” She lets out a whimper, fingernails digging into my shoulder blades as I pummel into her, and it’d be easy to pull it back, to give away less of myself, too close my eyes and hide the fact I want her so badly it fucking hurts.