Page 55 of The Hand that Frays

He rears his head back, not allowing my lips to connect with his, which only makes my cunt needier.

“What else?” he asks, teasing the tip of his blade between my breasts.

I don’t know what answer he’s looking for here, nor what he’s playing at by having me in this time capsule of a bedroom, but I can’t deny how hot my body feels.

My toes curl in my boots as he teases his tongue across my lips.

“Am I your master? Your creator?” he whispers.

A whimper escapes my mouth as the power of Neo Wade envelops me while chewing me like its last meal.

“Yes, sir,” I answer before thinking otherwise.

I’d taunted him downstairs, but only to coax the harsher portion of the Butcher out to play.

He knows that.

Right?

A waver of nerves skitters through my stomach like rocks skipping the surface of still water.

“Bare. I want you fucking bare. Remove these clothes.”

I hasten to do so, kicking off my boots and then tossing aside my shirt as I make a pile of discarded, bloody clothes on the floor.

We’re being sloppy. We should be well on our way from the scene of our double murder downstairs, but I don’t care.

I can’t care.

Not when Neo drops the blade to the floor with a thump, only to find my hips and squeeze.

The feel of the pain against the building arousal in me has me moaning.

I don’t care who finds me here in this room with blood all over my skin; I fucking need him.

“Neo,” I whine.

“Stupid girl,” he answers, his tone heavy with obscurity.

“Where is your gun?” he asks, and at first, I can’t make sense of his question.

He bites my ear, giving me the slightest twinge of pain to grasp onto.

“On the floor,” I answer.

“Get it for me.”

I drop to my knees and search the pile of my clothing before finding the Glock we’d brought but not used.

After all, bullets can be traced.

“Present it to me.”

His command confuses and excites me as I fit the gun into my mouth and crawl it over to him before kneeling at his feet and presenting it to him with my head bowed.

“When you’re a good girl for me, it makes me want to do dark shit, you know that?”

“Yes, sir,” I answer, knowing not answering won’t get me what I want.

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