Page 70 of Sorrow

“Yes,” I reply, the word coming out much more growly than I meant it to. “I’ll be sure my mark stays with you forever.”

And I know exactly what I want to carve into her flawless skin.

“Then I’m ready to make art.”

Lifting her up with ease, I toss her over my shoulder and take her to my room. I have to set her on the bed to get everything ready, biting my lip at the gasp she lets out whenshe sees the new knives gleaming from their carrying case. “I got these for you,” I admit, setting them next to her so she can examine them as I grab the white comforter. Just imagining how much blood will be on it soon has my cock hardening in my sweats. We didn’t stain it nearly enough last time. “You can hold them, but don’t touch the blades, okay? I already sanitized them.”

“The smaller ones I understand, and I’m okay with. But this one?” She gingerly picks up the handle of a butcher knife, easily twice the size of her hand. “I trust you, Hayes. I do. But you can’t be serious about using this one.”

I can’t fight the chuckle her fear elicits, nor the blood rushing down to my already throbbing cock. “Does that scare you, Hurricane?”

Closing the distance between us, I gently take it from her fingers and hold her gaze, watching those expressive blues go from curious to almost terrified.

“Yeah, it scares me, Hayes. That thing is fucking huge.”

“You’ve said that to me before,” I joke, tentatively reaching out to press the cool metal to her throat. “This one is just for thatlook in your eyes. The one you have right fucking now.”

It’s clear when she tries to get herself under control. She rolls her eyes, relaxes her shoulders slightly, smirks at me. But she can’t change the erratic beating of her heart, the shallow, rapid breaths making her chest rise. This knife scares her.

Istill scare her.

Good.

I hum, sliding it along her flesh until that smirk is gone and her pupils are blown. “I can practically taste your fear, Samara. Do you know what that does for me?”

Reaching out for her hand, I guide it toward my cock so she can feel exactly how hard I am. Maybe it makes me fucked up that her fear turns me on, but that isn’t quite right. It’s not her fear, not directly. It’s the fact that even scared out of her mind, she still trusts me enough to submit fully. It’s the proof that she’d let me do anything to her I wanted.

“So what are you gonna do with it, Hayes?” she asks. “I’ll let you decide if I’m talking about your cock or the knife.”

It’s my turn to grin, but instead of answering, I lean in to kiss her with the blade still resting against her throat as I slip mytongue past her teeth and devour her for a little while.

One minute.

Two.

As much as I don’t want this to end, I remind myself I can pin her to the wall with a knife at her throat anytime I want and find the strength to pull away. “I want you to lay on your stomach this time, baby.”

She twitches, breathless and confused as she stares at the blade. “You’re gonna put that where I can see it, right?”

“Of course.” Fuck, this is hot. She’s fucking hot. “How about right here?”

I set it on the ground right above where she will lay so she’ll know where it is the whole time, hopefully keeping her heart pumping hard so her blood flows beautifully.

Yet she relaxes. Apparently being able to see it means she knows I can’t use it. Hmm.

“That works for me. Do you want me to lay down?”

I let her watch as I take off my clothes then nod for her to move, ghosting my hands along her skin the second she’s in place. “Have you been thinking about our art as much as I have?”

“Maybe,” she says quietly. “Probably.”

I’ll take it.

“I think about it all the time. When you’re cooking, walking around in those tight shorts... when you’re sleeping.” The amount of times I’ve stared at the thin skin on her wrists just so I could see the blood under the surface. Maybe thereissomething wrong with me, but if she enjoys it as much as I do, I don’t see the problem with it. We’ll be broken together.

“When I’m sleeping, Hayes?” She peeks over her shoulder, giving me that playfully judgmental look that drives me wild. “I’m wide awake now. Do you want me to pretend to sleep?”

“Not this time, beautiful. I want to hear you while I carve my last name into your back. How many letters do you think you can handle today?”

---