Page 44 of Tainted Wings of Failure

"What is it?" I suck my lower lip between my teeth, chewing the soft flesh to calm the burning impatience inside me, wanting nothing more than to feel him again after weeks of abstinence.

"My desk, top left drawer."

I raise my eyebrows in confusion. "What's there?"

"Just go get it. Please." I sigh and climb off his lap, circle the coffee table and walk to his desk located in the middle of the room. Pulling open said drawer, my eyes widen at the sight of the object at the top of the papers. A pocket knife.

"No." I lift my head to look at him with a stern expression on my face.

"Please."

"No. I'm not going to hurt you."

"I need this, Dove, please."

"Need? Are you insane?"

He sighs and rises to his feet, stripping off his pants and walking across the room until he is standing behind me, his right hand sliding around me, resting on the table, while his left reaches into the drawer and pulls out the knife, snapping it open. "I want to control who hurts me." He says and grabs my hand, forcing the knife into my palm. "You just said that when I go through something, we face it together. And I need your help to get that control back." He leans down and whispers in my ear, his hips pressing into my back, his cock thrusting between my thighs and I let out a soft moan at the sensation of it rubbing against my cunt. My heart rate quickens as it drums against my chest. "I'll beg for it if that's what it takes." His lips brush against my ear, sending a cold shiver down my spine.

“No, that’s not what I mea—” A shriek rips from my throat as Noah's hands land on my hips and he yanks me around, lifting me up onto the table and stepping between my legs so close that his hard cock presses against my soaking wet cunt. Only the sheer fabric of my lingerie keeps him from thrusting in.

"Do you want me to beg?" He asks in a hoarse voice.

I glance down at the knife in my hand, my palm sweaty around the handle. Part of me wants to protect him, to keep him from being hurt any more. But another part—the primal part of our relationship—is drawn to the idea of giving him what he needs, the one thing we have done countless times before but now feels like a bad idea. My gaze drifts back to him as he stares at me with pure determination, and I can't help the small smirk that tugs at the corner of my lips. "Be a good boy," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "And beg for it."

The corner of his lips twitches into a grin. "Please, baby," he says, wrapping his fingers around my wrist, holding the knife. "Threaten me." He leans in closer, resting his forehead against mine. "Hold the knife to my throat like you have so many times before." He guides my hand up between us. My eyes land on the blade touching one of the scars on his throat. "Show me that you're the only one worthy of hurting me."

My lips part in a silent gasp as his free hand slides down my thigh, between my legs. Two of his fingers brush my sensitive folds through the sticky material of my thong. "Come on, baby, please." He draws out each word in a raspy, pleading tone as he applies pressure to my clit, eliciting a moan from me.

I rock my hips forward, into his touch, chasing the pressure and he responds, rolling my clit, sending a wave of pleasure through every muscle in my body. My grip on the knife tightens, my wrist flexing in his hold, which he takes as a sign. Releasing my wrist, his left hand slams down on the table beside me. His right hand between my legs rips the fabric aside and within a second he is thrusting into me with a violent force that knocks the air out of my lungs as I scream.

My eyes fall shut as the unfamiliar yet familiar warmth of his cock stretching and filling me tears through my core. My free hand lands on his shoulder, digging my nails into it for extra support. When I open my eyes, my heart skips a beat as I find his stunning green eye staring back at me, its pupil dilated.

My mouth hangs open as he pulls his hips back and then thrusts forward again. The soft pace is short-lived though, with each roll of his hips his strokes become more violent, more desperate as he hammers into me, pulling a long series of high-pitched moans from me.

The dark room fills with our animalistic screams, our skin colliding in wet slaps, the soothing crackle of the fireplace, and the dangerous sound of his office desk feet scraping the floor in the sheer intensity of his pursuit.

Unable to hold myself up any longer, I collapse backwards, pulling the knife from his throat as I lie down on the cool surface of his office desk, soothing my heated skin. My cunt pulsates around the violent but so sweet thrusts as he drives into me. His hands then land on my thighs and he pulls my ass closer to the edge, lifting my legs and propping my feet on the edge of the table before catching my hand holding the knife and bringing it back to his throat. "Don't stop." He says through heavy gasps.

I nod and tense my muscles, holding the knife while my other hand flies over my head and grips the edge of the table, bracing myself for what is to come. His hands land on the table next to me as he picks up the pace again, driving into me with sheer force.

My jaw trembles as I try to keep my eyes open so as not to miss the beautiful view of him looming over me, illuminated by nothing but the warm light of flickering fire. I focus on the knife, the blade sinking deeper into his skin, droplets of blood pooling around the sharp edge. Sucking my lower lip between my teeth, I muffle my moans, concentrating on not slashing his throat. When I deem the cut deep enough, the blood already running down his chest in narrow lines, I flip it over and press the thick, dull end into the wound, offering him the pressure.

Keeping the intense eye contact, Noah lifts a hand, brings it to his throat, and scoops up some of his blood, coating his hand in the thick crimson liquid. His hand then lands on my abdomen and he draws a perfect red line up my torso before pushing aside the cups of the lace bra and cupping one of my tits in his palm, squeezing the soft flesh and rolling my hard nipple between his fingers, sending a jolt from my chest, through my belly, right to my cunt.

A painful groan escapes my throat as he pulls at my nipple, stretching the skin only to have it snap back. His hand then follows the bloody path back down and slides between us, resting on my pubic bone as his thumb finds my clit, circling the nub, lighting a spark of pleasure. I throw my head back against the table and let out a throaty moan as he rolls my clit in perfect circles while he continues his relentless chase.

The stretch of his cock, the rough skin of his thumb on my clit is enough to set off fireworks after weeks of starvation. My walls contract around him in waves as my orgasm builds, higher and higher until it crashes down on me in a thunderous wave. The muscles in my legs spasm and I sling them around his hips, pulling him deeper, forcing him to bury himself inside me until our hips are pressed flush together.

Looking up at him, I catch a glimpse of his tongue sticking out between his lips, drops of sweat running down his temples, as he concentrates on rolling his hips and holding back his own orgasm just a little longer. "Let go, baby," I whine.

His arms begin to tremble as his muscles spasm, his hips stutter and he lets out a deep groan, followed by the familiar warm sensation of his cock pulsing inside me and cum filling me, sending soothing warm waves through my body.

One of his hands wraps around my wrist and pulls the knife from his throat before he leans forward, pinning me to the table and crashing his lips against mine in a loving but passionate kiss. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and cling to him, my eyes falling shut as I respond to the kiss with similar passion. All I can focus on is him—his cock inside me, his breath hot against my skin, the solid strength of his chest rising and falling against mine with each ragged breath, matching my own. Warm droplets trickle onto my chest, his blood running down my collarbones to my neck, causing goosebumps to form on my skin.

I rock my hips back and forth into him, enjoying the friction until he is too soft and slips out of me. Then I break the kiss and meet his green eye staring back at me, blurry and unfocused as he gasps for air, revealing the physical strain the act has taken on him.

A smile spreads across my face as I run my hands up his back, over his neck and through the short, sweaty strands of his hair. "Let's go take care of your cut," I say in a calm voice, planting a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

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