Page 84 of Eden's Deliverance

These aren’t the throes of passion he was expecting to find in here, but this is who we were always meant to be. His hot, bitey breath chuffs against my cheek as we wrestle for the blade, and the smell of alcohol forces me to remember the first time I tasted the bourbon on his tongue.

I thought it was magical back then—the way two heavily-contrasted flavors could meld together so seamlessly—but now I fucking hate it.

The sounds of our struggle reverberate off the walls, surrounding us in a bubble of frustrated grunts and strained panting. I’m trying to rip my arm from his grasp, but he’s holding on like his life depends on it. At least he still has some sense left.

I flash him a smile, leaning in close to whisper against his lips. “What’s wrong,daddy?” I mock, but the word elicits an unforeseen response. He becomes still altogether; the heave of his chest disappears, the secure lock on my wrist falls limp, and his bared teeth retract until his jaw hangs ajar. Fucking putty in my hands. “I thought you loved it when yourgood girlput up a little fight.”

I know he’s enjoying this. His buttoned pants are the only thing keeping his twitchy cock from piercing through me. My hips roll against him, grinding down against the bulging denim, and he throws his head back with a moan.

“Fuck, Ruby. What are you doing to me?” he murmurs, relinquishing his reign over my knife. Both his arms flop to the mattress on either side of his head, and he lays fully spread out beneath me.

Without ripping his shirt, I slide the tip of the blade down his arm at a hair’s breadth—trailing from his limp hand to his bicep, then across his chest. He flinches when I pop off one of his buttons, but otherwise remains frozen.

“Don’t you trust me,baby? I can’t do the things I want to do to you if you won’t listen.” He lifts his head to look at me, the red glow of the room accentuating the muscles in his clenched jaw. “Scoot up on the bed. Hands above your head. Just like our first time.”

Despite the rage flowing through my veins, the intoxicating aura of Eden pulls me in like it always does. There’s always been something about this place that makes every touch feel as though I’m bathing in a tub of feathers.

He knows it, too. He adjusts his arms to run both his palms up the side of my thighs, resting them on my ass as a smile creeps across his face.

“Then you’ll be good?” he asks playfully, but I’m not interested.

I don’t answer, fully intending to keep my words as vague as possible until I have him in a less threatening position. His fingers tighten and dig into my ass when he pulls himself into a sitting position, our noses nearly pressed together.

Being this close again stirs up memories I’d much rather forget.

Call it Eden’s enigma, or whatever the fuck it is, but I find him irresistible. Even when he’s being a fuck. Even when he’s torturing me. The only thing I can do to stop myself from being pulled under his spell is to hold the knife perpendicular between us—pressed straight to his heart.

“Take off your shirt,” I insist, gesturing with a flick of the knife.

I’m the one in control. I’m the one with the power. I’m the one who gets to make the demands.

He looks at me with panicked eyes before blatantly refusing me, not moving an inch except to shake his head. “My clothing stays on, or I leave. That’s the deal.”

The anger consumes me. Before I realize what I’m doing, the blade flies to the underside of his chin, and I’ve got my fingers tangled through his hair. He suppresses a grunt when the metal punctures his skin, sending thin rivulets of blood dripping down the handle and onto my arm.

“There is no deal,” I hiss through my teeth, yanking his head back to watch the crimson liquid flow from his wound. “You never gave me the courtesy of staying clothed. You stripped me, humiliated me, then left me alone. Time and time again.” Pulling my arm back to hold it between our faces, I study the red stains trailing down my forearm. “Why should I give you a kindness you never offered me?” I ask, then run my tongue through the blood—making sure he’s watching every second.

I shouldn’t have let my guard down, but I guess I understand now how they get so caught up in the sickness of this room. He manages to plant his feet on the ground and scoops me up in his arms, standing to his feet. Aside from a slight wince across his mouth, he doesn’t seem to mind when the cut deepens because of the rigorous motion.

Without a word, he sets me down, bends to pick up the cuffs, fastens one around his left wrist, then steps backwards to sit on the bed.

He moves with such majestic energy that I’m almost regretful for what I’m going to do to him. He’s fascinating to watch, and I just find myself wishing he’d never broken me so we could actually share something special.

He doesn’t remove the shirt completely, but when he slides on the bed to position himself where I instructed, he rolls up the sleeves and undoes the front buttons to expose his chest.

I’ll take it as a win—it’s perfect for what I’ve been planning.

It’s not until I walk over and kneel onto the mattress that he finally lays down, begrudgingly allowing me to mount him and secure the cuffs around apost in the headboard. Without hesitating, I recite the same words he said to me last August when we met. “No touching.”

He laughs in response. I’m glad to see he finds humor in the situation, because he’ll need to hang on to that for later. “Don’t go easy on me,” he mutters.

I find it amusing that he thinks he has to convince me, but I don’t argue. Climbing down the bed, I rummage through the cabinet for the last things I need, then return with a roll of duct tape and a men’s tie. He watches me curiously, but when I start removing my panties, I can see the ideas swirling through his head.

I wish it didn’t feel so good to have him against my bare pussy when I straddle him, but it has to be done if I’m going to play out this scene.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on it,” I assure, laying the tie over his eyes and securing a knot behind his head. “No peeking.”

“Fuck, Ruby,” he moans, thrusting his hips up into the cradle of my thighs. “Do you see what I was talking about now? How fucking amaz—”

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