Page 98 of The Blood we Crave: Part Two

Large hands cup my breasts, fingers flicking against my sensitive nipples. He thrusts his hips into me, grinding the bulge in his boxers against my silk panties. I’m embarrassingly wet already, staining my underwear with my arousal.

He detaches our mouths, dipping his head down to bite through the material of his shirt, latching onto my nipple and tugging on it. I whimper, pushing into his teeth.

“I want you to make me bleed.”

The words float in the air and heat my skin. I lick the taste of him off my lips.

“Make me yours.” He swivels between my thighs, the head of his cock brushing my clit. The friction from our clothes heightens the pleasure. “I want to be yours.”

My addictive, obsessive fucking heart sobs with joy. Warmth spreads across my chest like internal fireworks setting off. There is something to be said about belonging to someone. Completely, utterly, entirely.

I’ve belonged to Thatcher for years. My entire life, it feels like.

But I’ve never known what it’s like to own another person. To look at them and know they want you to stake your claim. For the world to recognize you are a part of them.

The engraved letterTon my back tingles, burning for me to return the favor.

My hand fumbles for the knife next to me, holding it in a tight fist. It’s a weapon that represents violence and bloodshed, but in this room, between us, it’s much more than that. It’s the way we make our way into each other’s soul, carving out places for each other into our bloodstream.

“Are you sure?” I find myself asking as I drag the edge of the metal across his chest.

“I want a constant reminder of who my home is.” He brushes the bridge of his nose against mine, holding himself up with his hands. “I want to look at your mark every day so that I never forget the parts of me that have always belonged to you, darling phantom.”

Tears of happiness burn my eyes, a feeling of completion settling into my bones as I place the tip of the knife to his right pec. With as much precision as I can manage, I dig into his skin, sculpting the first letter of my name.

I’ve only just started when his hand curls around my wrist, forcing me to pause. I’m about to ask if he’s okay when he speaks.

“The sting of this blade. I feel this when I touch you. When I’m around you, it’s like fresh cuts. Painful in a way I crave,” he mutters. “What is that one?”

My chest expands, and I roll my lips together. I know what it means for me. I know that emotion so well it feels like I was born to experience it. I’m afraid of what it means for him though.

“I—”

“Tell me,” he urges. “What is it for you?”

“Love.” I say it on an exhale. “That’s what love feels like for me. It stings, it hurts, because it’s real and you’re afraid of losing it. But it stays with you. It scars.”

He nods, biting his bottom lip as I hold my breath.

I’m expecting him to pull away, but instead, he releases my hand.

“Go on.” He urges me to continue.

“Does it hurt?”

“I have something to keep my mind off the pain.” He smirks darkly.

I feel his fingers sink between my thighs, nudging at my pussy through my panties, grazing my clit and applying his attention there. Simmering tendrils of heat explode through me, and I tighten my thighs around him.

I sigh, my grip on the knife slipping a bit.

“Struggling to focus, pet?” He grins, saying the words. “This is permanent, you know. Don’t mess it up.”

My teeth grind together as I concentrate, swirling the knife into his flesh, deep enough to leave a scar. Blood drips onto his white dress shirt I’m wearing, and the heat from it warms my skin.

He pushes my panties to the side entirely. A high-pitched whimper tumbles out of me as his digits dip into my wet entrance. His fingers slowly glide up and down my slit, thumb still flicking cruelly against my clit.

A searing heat ebbs through my body as his fingers work within me, and I can’t help but grind onto his fingers without restraint. I let him fuck me with his hand, feeling him press harder against that spongy spot deep inside me.

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