Page 44 of Unholy

“Tristan!”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.” Another slap and I watch her body tense.

“Good. I want to hurt you, Ash.”

“Why?”

“To make you feel good. To make me feel better.”

“Do what you need to do, Tristan,” she tells me. I hop off the bed and dig through the drawer, finding the candles and a lighter. I light them, set them on the table, and then turn back to Ash. I rip open the front of her shirt and then grab my knife, cutting her bra off. She watches me, her breathing becoming faster by the second.

When she’s exposed to me, I lean down and bite her nipple hard enough to draw blood. Ash whimpers, and when I look up, I see the tears in her eyes she’s trying not to let fall.

Then I reach for the candle and bring it over her chest. Tipping it sideways, I let the hot wax fall onto her flesh and watch her lips part.

“Tristan,” she cries my name, and fuck, it sounds so right.

“It’s okay, Ash.” I keep going, pouring hot wax over parts of her body and watching it set on her skin. But when it’s not enough, I set it back on the table and spread her legs, pushing my jeans and boxers down and grabbing my cock.

“You love me, Ash?” I ask her before slapping her pussy with my cock. She gasps, and I do it again and again. “Tell me.”

“Yes!” she squeals as I keep slapping her. Then I shove into her and fuck her hard. I need this. I need her. What the hell is wrong with me?

Chapter 20

Ash

Things with Tristan have been strange the last couple of weeks. He’s been distant and not speaking much. In fact, he’s barely touched me, and it makes me wonder if he’s really over me now.

He untied me from the bed the same night and held me for almost a full day. It was crazy, but I let him have his time. He wouldn’t accept the fact I love him, and I know that’s a tough one for him, so I’m just giving him time.

He’s been lost in his work, sculpting all day and most of the night, which I guess is what he does when he’s stressed. I just feel bad I’m the reason he’s so stressed.

I walk toward the door, grabbing my jacket as I go, ready to head out and grab us something to eat.

“Where the hell are you going?” His voice sends a chill down my spine. I both love and hate when he talks to me like that.

“To get food.”

“We can order it.”

“We haven’t left the warehouse in weeks, Tristan. I’m bored.” He stops what he’s doing and looks at me intently before nodding.

“I’ll take you out,” he offers. A genuine smile crosses my face as I watch him go clean up and then come back. He’s ready, opening the door for me and ushering me outside.

“Walking?” I ask, hopeful. It’s been so long since we’ve walked and done anything that I think we just need that break. He nods,and we start walking when some asshole whistles at me. Tristan turns, pulling his knife once more and grabbing the guy’s face. He pries his mouth open and grabs his tongue, resting the blade on it.

“You whistle at my girl one more time, and I’ll cut your tongue out,” he growls at him. I gasp, watching the scene unfold, but it doesn’t really surprise me anymore. This is Tristan, although I haven’t seen this side of him in a while.

He presses the knife against the man’s tongue, and I can see the blood blooming before Tristan pulls the knife away. The guy doesn’t say anything; he just takes off running in the opposite direction.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You haven’t been for weeks,” I remind him.

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