Page 73 of The Worst Pucking Deal

She nods. “I want to know if it feels as good as you make it sound like.”

We both look down at the crescent moon shapes she’s left on my chest. They’re red, and there’s a little blood, but nothing serious—nothing like my back.

“Okay,” I rasp, nodding. “But you have to tell me what you want.”

Her breathing becomes labored, and she lifts herself slowly, easing off my cock. “I’ll be right back.” With those words, she turns and runs to the bathroom.

Lucia emerges only seconds later, clutching her pink razor. With a deep sigh, she hands it to me before she climbs back on the bed, immediately taking my still hard dick inside her. I fist the razor, turning it this and that way, which is a bit fucking stupid considering the darkness covering us.

“This won’t do,” I rasp, stretching so I can reach the bedside table. Opening it, I carefully feel my way around until I find the pocketknife I have in there. Bingo. I hold the knife up so Lucia can see the blade. Without moving her, I sit up so we’re nose-to-nose. “Wrap your legs around me and sit still.” She whimpers as I move my hand to her throat, squeezing until she stops moving.

“Will it hurt?” she asks, sounding so innocent my cock swells inside her.

“Yes,” I rasp. “But if I do it right, you’ll love it.”

“How do you know?” she challenges. I chuckle and press my lips together. I’m not about to tell her how I know while I’m balls deep in her pretty pink pussy.

It’s been years since I’ve had this dark need fed by anyone. Fuck, not since I entered the NHL. But before then, I frequented a whorehouse only one town over from where I lived. The women there charged a lot, but they also let you do whatever you wanted. Whatever. You. Wanted. I’ve been too scared to go anywhere since I became a public figure. Having the press find out about my kink isn’t high on my to-do list.

Licking my lips, I let myself feel the dark anticipation running through my veins. Holding the sharp blade must be what it’s like to smoke after taking a break. Or getting a steak after swearing off meat.

Lucia looks at me with so much trust I can barely stand it. “Are you sure?” I ask again, needing her to say the words. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I want to try it with you,” she whispers. “I-I trust you. At least I think I do.”

With a growl, I claim her lips in a bruising, all-consuming kiss. Our tongues tangle, stroking each other while I flex my hand around her throat. Her breath hitches, and then she moans into my mouth.

I wait until her pulse under my thumb isn’t running a million miles per second. With the other women, I loved watching my knife glint between their swollen cunt lips. But given Lucia’s past, I keep the pocketknife in my hand. While she’s distracted by my mouth, I move the tool to her collarbone. I don’t need to look to know what I’m doing, I’ve done it so many times my hands are practically my eyes.

“Sy.” She moans my name sweetly as I add pressure, creating a thin line in her skin.

Unable to keep my need to watch the blood well to the surface at bay, I rip my mouth from hers and look down. “Look how prettily you bleed,” I rasp.

Lucia takes a shuddering breath, gyrating her hips. Then she looks down. “Oh,” she gasps. I don’t know if she likes what she sees. “Mhmm, do it again.” Throwing her head back, she arches her back, pressing her chest against the knife, and I’m not stupid enough to deny the invitation.

This time I slide the blade lower, cutting the skin at the top part of her left tit. I growl possessively when we both watch the blood seeping down her skin. “You’re so fucking pretty,” I groan. “So. Fucking. Delicious. Perfect in every sense of the word.”

My cock throbs deep inside her wet heat. At the same time, my balls tighten, begging for a relief I’m not ready for yet.

Panting through parted lips, Lucia looks down, almost cross-eyed as she follows the blood slowly making its way down her skin. Yeah, she likes it. The evidence is right there in her hooded eyes and heavy breathing.

“This is honesty,” I mumble, feeling something stir in my chest. “Blood doesn’t lie, sweet bunny. This is the most honest a person can be.”

She nods. “I can be honest.” Looking up at me through her thick, dark lashes, I feel like she’s looking into my soul.

“Give it to me,” I rasp. The air around us is thick, and my skin is practically buzzing with anticipation. “Give me a truth, sweet bunny.”

“I-I…” She pauses and straightens her spine. “I know Fabian. He’s not a good person.” Pain coats her words, and I feel it vibrating inside me like I’m absorbing her truth.

Though I’d already worked that part out for myself, I feel honored that she’s choosing to tell me this. I lock down the part of me that wants to rage at the fact he’s clearly hurt her, and instead I push the pocketknife into her hand. “Your turn,” I say. “Claim your truth from me.”

Lucia tightens her grip on the knife handle and hesitantly brings it to my chest. She chooses the spot right above my heart. My breath hitches when she rotates her hips, and my cock throbs in anticipation. I barely feel the cut, but I watch it, mesmerized as she parts my skin and blood flows down my body. She’s cut me deeper than I did her, but not enough to do any real damage.

“Fuck,” I grind out through clenched teeth.

Before Lucia, I’ve never wanted to be the one shedding blood or the one hurting. But the way she makes me fucking ache for her with a single look makes this oddly perfect.

“Give me your truth,” she moans, her green eyes sparkling with determination.

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