Page 37 of My Bloody Valentine

Her eyes flutter closed as I drive into her again, my body taking over. The world narrows to this moment—to the intoxicating sensation of joining with her. I thrust harder, deeper, searching for my own release.

“Open those eyes,” I demand through clenched teeth. “Show me what my darkness does to you.”

Her lids snap open, the sultry depths of her gaze locking with mine. I trace her jaw with my fingertips. “Fall apart, Maya. Fall apart for me.”

On that command, her body shudders, her inner walls clenching around me. Her cry of release echoes in the room, spurring me on as I thrust through her orgasm, chasing my own peak.

With a final, ragged groan, I spill myself into her, the force of it stealing my breath. For a moment, there’s only the rapid rise and fall of our chests and the throb of pleasure throughout my body.

Slowly, I lower myself onto her, careful not to crush her small frame. My masked forehead rests against hers, our sweat-dampened skin fused together.

I trace my fingers along Maya’s collarbone, watching her chest rise and fall as she catches her breath. The mask still sits heavy on my face, a reminder of the line I’ve crossed tonight. She didn’t explicitly consent to this—to being tied up, to the knife play, to my dominance. Yet her body responded with such raw need.

A twinge of something flickers in my chest—not quite guilt. I’m beyond that now, but I acknowledge that I’ve pushed her boundaries further than intended. The beastly part of me purrs with satisfaction, drowning out any whisper of remorse.

Her skin feels electric under my touch, still sensitized from our coupling. I can’t bring myself to regret what just happened. The way she surrendered, fought, and then yielded was perfection. Her fear and desire are an intoxicating cocktail that rivals my finest creations.

“You’re thinking too loudly,” Maya mumbles, her voice hoarse.

I smile behind the mask. Even now, she reads me too well. “Rest, little critic. You’ll need your strength.”

She shifts, wincing slightly, and I feel pride at having marked her so thoroughly. The rational part of my mind knows I should feel shame for taking it without asking, but I can’t summon an ounce of regret. She’s mine now, claimed in every way that matters.

I pull her closer, possessively wrapping my arm around her waist. The line between consent and coercion blurs, but I’ve never claimed to be a good man. My fingers find the pulse point in her neck, steady and strong, just like her will and her spirit. They’re both bent but not broken by what transpired.

17

MAYA

Iwake, immediately aware of Adrian’s muscled arm draped possessively across my body. Blood thunders in my ears as memories flood back—the mask, the knife, the way he commanded and claimed me. A chill unrelated to the cool air on my bare skin sweeps over me.

He’s psychotic. A murderer who drugs women and uses cum and blood in his chocolates. I should be terrified, should be plotting my escape. And yet... heat pools low in my belly as I remember how he pushed me to the edge, how he seemed to know exactly what I needed. No one has ever made me feel completely owned and thoroughly satisfied.

The dirty fantasies I’ve kept locked away, the ones I never dared share with anyone—Adrian brought them all to life. The skull mask that should have frightened me only heightened my arousal. His forceful dominance, the blade’s cold caress... I squeeze my thighs together at the memory.

I shift away from him, trying to resolve the war between my rational mind and traitorous body.

Adrian stirs behind me, his arm tightening around my waist. “Going somewhere, little critic?” His voice is rough with sleep but no less commanding.

My breath catches. “I... no.”

The truth in that simple word terrifies me more than any blade could. Because despite knowing exactly what kind of monster Adrian Vale is, a bigger piece of me wishes to stay right here in his arms.

Adrian’s voice is like warm honey, dangerously seductive. “You’re a good girl, Maya. So perfect for me. Soon, you’ll understand me well enough to accept all of me.”

At his words, I shiver. Should I accept him? I don’t think I will ever truly accept him. But even as my mind rejects the idea, my body yearns to submit, to learn more.

“Now that you’re awake, it’s time for us to continue our exploration.” He reaches for the knife on the bedside table, and my breath catches. His fingers trail lightly along the blade, and I see the glint of hunger in his eyes—it mirrors mine.

I watch, transfixed, as he brings the knife closer, his thumb gently stroking my inner thigh. “You’ve been mine since the moment we met.”

With a swift, sure motion, he cuts me. A sharp sting and then warmth as a bead of blood forms. I feel lightheaded, arousal mixing dangerously with the aftereffects of the drugs. He leans down, his lips close to my ear. “Let me show you how deep this goes.”

Adrian lowers his mouth to my wound, his tongue lapping gently at the blood. My body arches instinctively toward him as a low groan rumbles through his chest. His mouth on my skin sends sparks of pleasure through me, and a part of me wonders if it’s the blood that’s made his kiss so electrifying.

His tongue teases my wound, gently probing, and I whimper as the pleasure intensifies. I’m helpless to do anything but feel. Feeling the sharp bite of the knife, the heat of his mouth, and the rush of my blood as he tastes me. I’m completely under his spell, caught in a sensual web of pain and pleasure.

“You like that, don’t you?” His voice is deep and satisfied as he pulls away, licking his lips. “You’re just as addicted to the depravity as I am.”

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