Page 66 of Sorrow

I know the moment he sees it.

I’ve never seen Hayes so enamored before. As he sets the blade onto thecomforter without breaking my gaze, I swear I see him fall in love with my blood. Reaching out, he smears it down my breast with a moan. At least it distracts me from how bad it stings.

Adrenaline kicks in as I shudder, but I get it now. The draw. The reason he loves this so much. It's the ultimate form of control.

I don’t dare say anything that might snap him out of the trance he’s in, so I keep quiet as he brings those blood-coated fingers up to his face and inhales the metallic scent. Eyes closing, he loses himself there a little, sliding the liquid down his neck like he can’t stop himself from wanting to wear it.

I’m barely breathing as he leans in for more. His face is mere inches away as he carves a second line on the opposing side, that sinful tongue darting out to lick his lips while more blood oozes from the wound.

Fuck, watching him is intoxicating.

My heart beats faster, pumping more blood to the cuts like it’s searching for him, too.

I swear I see pride flash in his eyes. “You. Are. Divine.”

He isn’t looking at my face, but somehow I know that he isn’t just talking about my blood. He’s talking aboutme, and the factthat it becomes more obvious with each encounter that my body was made for him.

When he swipes his tongue across the cut for a taste, I huff a quiet, breathy laugh and curl my fingers in his hair. “Vampire.”

His breath fans along my skin with his chuckle. “I can’t help it,” he admits, somehow sounding vulnerable like he’s the one laid out and bleeding instead of me. “You have me so hard, Hurricane.”

Sitting up, he smears the blood around more with a groan, hips canting against me for friction as he paints my breasts red.

“So use it,” I coax, swiping my fingers through the mess and gripping his cock. “Use it like you use me.”

The fact that he whimpers emboldens me to reach up and touch those cuts, my eyes locked on him as he fists his length with a bloodied hand and begins stroking himself feverishly. “Samara,” he breaths, already leaking and adding to the mess. “Say my name.”

“Hayes. Hayes fucking Sarro.”

He growls, the nails on his left hand digging into my skin as he twists around the head. “Oh fuck! Fuck, I’m—”

But I don’t need him to say it. Hot white strips of cum paint my skin along with myblood, the sight making him feral as he fucks his fist to release more.

I swear I’ve never seen so much before.

I’m hit by an almost overwhelming urge to have it inside of me. “Hayes,” I beg. “Finger me with it. All of it.”

“I got you, baby. Stay with me.”

The tenderness in him has my chest clenching as he stuffs two fingers inside of me and his thumb finds my clit.

I can’t fucking stay with him, not while I’m strung out like this. Knowing what he’s using, how good it feels, the look on his face? It immediately takes me to the edge.

Grabbing his forearm, I scream his name as I let go. It’s hot and pulsing, contrasting the sticky cool feeling all over my skin.

Lost in the moment, Hayes cradles the side of my face with his dirty hand and slams his mouth into mine, the weight of him heavy on top of me. I’m breathless when he finally pulls away to whisper, “Thank you.”

“Can I see the art?” I ask, trying and failing to sit up. “I want to see what it looks like.”

The side of his mouth lifts. “Hold on, Hurricane. I need to take a picture first. I promise I won’t show anyone but you.”

I stay there as he wipes his hand off on the blanket and grabs his phone, eyes hooded as he snaps a few from different angles, and then he lifts me up to carry me to his bathroom mirror.

“I meant the blanket,” I mumble, craning my neck to try to see it. “Where are we going?”

“I’ll show you after. I want you to see what I see.”

He plops me down on wobbly feet and stands behind me, his finger sliding down my side to my hip as I take myself in.

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