Page 24 of Fear Me, Love Me

Tyrant’s black velvet voice is in my ear. “Tell me what it is, angel. Do you feel nothing, or do you feel too much?”

“Too much,” I cry. “Dad said—Dad said—” I can’t even get the words out.

“The graffiti,” he snarls. “I will find whoever did this, and I will make them pay. Your father disowned you?”

I nod, anguished tears rolling down my cheeks. “I’m not allowed to see Barlow anymore.”

Tyrant doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the anger racing through his body. With his hand still over mine, he forces the blade toward himself. His shirtsleeves are rolled back, revealing the muscles and tattoos on his forearm.

The knife is headed right for his flesh.

“Tyrant, don’t,” I cry desperately.

“If you need to bleed, then I’ll bleed for you.”

Tyrant is a perfect work of art, and he can’t sully himself with my misery. “But your arm. Your tattoos.”

“Fuck my arm. Fuck my tattoos.”

He forces me to cut him. A long, blazing red line up the edge of his forearm. I start to shake, but Tyrant is as steady as a rock. Blood wells up and runs down his arm, over his fingers, and drips onto my thighs.

When it’s done, Tyrant pulls the knife from my nerveless fingers, throws it aside, then wraps his uninjured arm around my waist and holds me against him. We both watch his forearm bleeding freely, bright red blood running over black tattoos.

His lips are against my ear. “Your pain is my pain. It’s inside me. It’s flowing out of me. I’m bleeding for you, so you don’t have to.”

Tyrant kisses my neck, and I take a shaky breath and close my eyes.

He goes on kissing me, and I feel some of the pain inside me ebb away. His erection is a thick rod against my ass, and my core clenches in response. I need the sweet pain of his first, hard thrust. Tyrant knows I need it. He turns me around and pushes me onto my back.

While he’s unbuttoning my skirt and pulling it and my underwear down my legs, he asks, “Did you buy this bra, or make it?”

“I bought—”

He grasps it in the middle and pulls. The lace rips, and it comes off in tattered pieces. With his jaw grit tight, he unfastens his shirt and pants and shrugs out of them. His cock is a thick, hard rail that he grips tight in his blood-covered fist. As he spreads me open with his fingers, I can feel how wet I am already.

Tyrant gathers saliva on his tongue and spits it onto my inner lips. He squeezes his fist and blood from his cut drips down and splashes on my clit.

He pins me with a steely glare. “I’m going to fuck my spit into you. My blood into you. My cum into you. All of me, angel. You’re so far from being alone. I’m going to fucking suffocate you.”

With one thrust, he impales me with his cock right to the hilt. I gasp in shock, pain, and pleasure, and hold on to his muscular shoulders.

Tyrant groans like he’s been as desperate to feel this as much as I have. With his blood-covered hand, he squeezes my breast, palms my belly, and then cups my jaw, all while hammering me with his cock and leaving smears of blood all over me.

He pushes his thumb into my mouth, and as I suck I can taste his blood.

Holding on to his wrist, I pull his hand away and gasp, “I’m too much for everyone. You’ll leave me, too.”

His punishing rhythm doesn’t stutter. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

“You will. Everyone always does. I’m weird. I’m crazy.”

Tyrant reaches for the bloody knife, puts it in my hand, and then grabs my wrist and holds the blade to his throat. “Do you really think I’m scared of you? Angel, I’m not scared of anything. Now, hold that blade right here while I fuck you, and if you don’t come, you can slit my throat.”

7

Tyrant

Iforce her to hold the knife right where it is while I thrust deep inside her. I can see why she loves knives. It’s never felt so good before. Knowing she’s bare and unprotected makes me absolutely feral, and the scent of blood is making me insane. She’s decorated with my blood, my vulnerable little angel.

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