Page 44 of The Darkest Gift

"You said I was going to be killed," he growls, pressing the knife a fraction harder against my throat. A bead of blood wells up, trickling down my neck. "So tell me, why shouldn't I kill her? Why shouldn't I take you both out and be done with this whole fucked up situation?"

Mason's grip on his own knife tightens imperceptibly. "Ah, but you misunderstood, Elijah," he says smoothly. "I told you we had killed our previous guests. I never said we planned to kill you."

Elijah goes very still at this, his body coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. "What?" he breathes, disbelief coloring his tone.

"You heard me correctly," Mason continues. "The truth is, Elijah, you were right… I've grown... attached. And I know my wife. I can see she's attached to you too."

My breath catches in my throat at Mason's admission. He's right, of course. There's something about Elijah that draws us both in, something that sets him apart from everyone else.

Mason's voice drops lower, taking on a seductive purr. "And I make it a point of letting Iris have what she wants. Within reason, of course. And what she wants is you."

Elijah's grip on the knife falters slightly, confusion warring with the drug-induced lust in his eyes.

"So you see," Mason continues, "we find ourselves at an impasse. You have a knife to my wife's throat. I have a knife to yours. But we don’t want to kill you. The question is, where do we go from here?"

Elijah is silent for a moment, his icy blue eyes locked onto mine. I can see the war raging behind them - lust and longingbattling against suspicion and self-preservation. His breathing is ragged, chest heaving with each labored inhale. A bead of sweat trickles down his temple, catching the soft morning light.

Finally, he breathes out, his voice barely above a whisper, "I want to fuck you. God, I want to be between you both like I was that first night. I want it so badly it hurts." His hips roll, his rock-hard cock grinding against my stomach. "But I don't know if I can trust you. Either of you."

Mason's voice is smooth as silk when he replies, "Then fuck her. Show us what you really want, Elijah."

Elijah's movements are slow, careful, as he reaches between our bodies. His eyes never leaving mine, searching for any sign of deception or trickery. I hold his gaze steadily, letting him see the raw need burning within me.

I feel the cool metal of the knife slide along my skin as he shifts his grip, never fully removing the blade from my throat. His other hand finds the delicate lace of my panties. With a sudden, sharp motion, he rips the fabric away, the sound of tearing lace loud in the tense silence.

The movement causes Elijah's body to jerk slightly. A drop of blood wells up where Mason's knife presses against his throat, trickling down to land on my collarbone. The warm, crimson droplet slides down between my breasts, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

Elijah's eyes follow its path, his pupils dilating even further with arousal until there is barely any blue left. His cock, already painfully hard from the drug, twitches against my bare skin. I can feel the heat of him, the desperation rolling off him in waves.

He shifts his weight, carefully maneuvering his body without disturbing the precarious balance of blades at our throats. I part my legs, allowing him to settle between them. The cool air kisses my heated flesh, sending a shiver through my body that has nothing to do with temperature and everything to do withanticipation. Elijah's skin burns like a furnace against mine, his body radiating a heat that seems to burn my very soul.

His free hand moves between us, his touch searing against my heated flesh. His fingers find my entrance. A low groan escapes him as he feels how wet I am, how ready I am for him.

"Fuck," he breathes, his voice rough with need.

The knife at my throat never wavers as Elijah uses his free hand to position himself at my entrance. Despite the danger, or perhaps because of it, I'm embarrassingly wet. I feel the head of his cock brush against my clit before he shifts and then pushes into me slowly.

A low, guttural moan escapes Elijah's lips as he sinks deeper. His eyes flutter closed for a moment, overwhelmed by the sensation. I gasp at the delicious stretch. Inch by exquisite inch, he fills me completely until I feel the press of his hips against mine.

For a heartbeat, we're both still, savoring the moment. I can feel every throb of his cock inside me, every twitch and pulse. My pussy clenches around him, drawing a sharp hiss from between his clenched teeth.

Elijah begins to move, his thrusts slow and measured. Each roll of his hips sends sparks of pleasure racing up my spine. The knife at my throat slides against my skin with each movement, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the heat building within me. It's exhilarating, terrifying, and arousing beyond measure.

After what feels like an eternity of slow, torturous thrusts, Mason finally speaks. "Good boy," he purrs, his voice low and rich with approval. The knife at Elijah's throat disappears, and I watch as some of the tension leaves Elijah's body.

With the immediate threat gone, Elijah's movements become more fluid, more confident. He picks up the pace, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. The knife at my own throat disappears as well, clattering to the floor beside us.

Mason moves to the side, his eyes dark with desire as he watches Elijah fuck me. With deft fingers, he undoes his belt and unzips his pants, freeing his own hard cock.

"I don't have any lube close by," Mason says, his voice husky. "So you're going to suck me while you fuck my wife. Show me how talented that mouth of yours really is."

I know we have lube stashed in nearly every room of the house—a necessity given our proclivities. But I understand what Mason is doing. This is a show of trust, an olive branch extended to Elijah.

We shift and reposition ourselves, a tangle of limbs and heated skin. Elijah pulls out of me momentarily, eliciting a whimper of loss from my lips. He helps me onto my hands and knees, then kneels behind me.

In one smooth motion, he sheaths himself inside me once more. I gasp at the new angle, feeling him even deeper than before. I watch over my shoulder as Mason positions himself in front of Elijah, his hard cock level with Elijah's face.

"Open up, pretty boy," Mason growls.

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