Page 179 of Heart So Hollow

He brushes the tip of the blade against the rosy skin around my nipple, drawing a sharp breath from me. Then he stops, letting the blade rest there. I shift my focus from the knife at my breast to his face above me.

“What did you do?” I murmur, barely breathing as I try not to move beneath the razor tip dangerously close to my nipple, “What did you stop?”

Colson lifts the knife, rests his fist on the desktop, and leans over me, “I made sure you were safe,” he whispers before sinking down and slipping his tongue between my lips, coaxing them open.

“When?” I breathe into his mouth.

He smiles against my lips, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

But I think I already do.

As soon as his tongue dips back into my mouth, I tip my chin and press his lips to mine. For a brief moment, I forget everything around me and shut myself in a box with him, and only him, nicely compartmentalized and wrapped in opaque memories that blot out reality.

“Were you there?” I ask between breaths, “at the Rickhouse?”

“Of course I was,” he murmurs, sending a wave of butterflies through my stomach.

I knew it. I knew it was him. I knew he was there.

He braces one arm on the desktop, his other locked at the elbow to keep his blade at a safe distance. Then he hovers over my breasts, flicking each nipple with the tip of his tongue before raking them between his teeth until my breath catches.

“How did you get in my house?” I murmur between gasps.

He does it twice more, relishing each time I wince in pain, “Through the door,” he closes his mouth and sucks harder until I clench his hair with a gasp.

Arrogant son of a bitch.

He raises up and leers over me, “You know, I’ve missed those sounds you make for me while I mark you up,” I hear each click as he taps the pommel against the wood, “and the louder ones when I make you come.”

I shift my eyes to the side, only catching a slight shadow of his knife in my periphery, “Are you going to cut me again?” my voice shakes, as much as I try to make it stop.

Colson stares down at my torso, focusing on the six-inch scar below my breast, before finally shaking his head.

“No,” he murmurs, “that was the first and last scar I ever give you. And besides,” he examines the edge of the blade, “there are other ways my knife can defile you without desecrating your flawless body.”

Colson slowly rotates the knife in his palm until the blade is pointing down and drops it to my leg. He presses the handle against the inside of my knee and starts to slowly spread it wider. Full-body chills ripple through me and when I tremble with apprehension, it only brings a smile to his face.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my eyes darting to the deadly implement just out of view.

“Seeing what you look like with my knife inside you.” The corner of his mouth curls as he slides the pommel up the inside of my thigh, “Weren’t you listening? Nate wants to hear all about it.”

My heart pounds as Colson drags the handle through my hip crease, pulling the slack of my skirt back up to expose me. Then he hooks his elbow behind my knee and hitches my leg up so my legs are splayed open before him. He leans back slightly, biting his lip as his eyes fall to my slick thighs, and wraps his thumb and forefinger tightly around the hilt, leaving the rest of his hand loosely covering the base of the blade.

Then he lowers the knife between my legs, “Since you can’t make any noise, maybe you’ll make some nice faces for me.”

I long blink, breathless when I feel the handle just below my navel. My fingertips go white, pressing against the smooth veneer as he trails the pommel down, straight over my clit. When he pauses to circle it, my jaw falls open with a long, labored breath. A minute later, he slides it further down until I feel him tracing the edges of my entrance.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” Colson hums as he marvels at me. I let out an airy moan as he gently moves the handle over my slick skin, “The most gorgeous pussy I’ve ever seen, and she’s just crying for me.”

He dips the handle past my edges, teasing in the most brutal way. Drunk on dopamine, I roll my free leg to the side, spreading my legs even wider for him. My chest heaves as I try to keep still from the waist down, but the more he moves his knife, the more my core throbs.

I just want him to fill me—with something—before I go completely insane.

Maybe I already am.

“Colson?” my voice cracks.

“Yes, Honeybee?” he raises his eyes, his head still bowed, looking positively sinful, “Tell your stalker what you want him to do to you.”

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