Page 51 of A Game So Reckless

I’m rock fucking hard. Without even realizing I’ve moved, I’m leaning forwards towards her, my elbows balanced on my knees, my hands clamped together in taut and pulsing fists.

I need to do something. Grab something. Strangle someone. Fist my own cock. I’ve never jerked off in front of a woman before. Never had to. They’re always enthusiastically on their knees or on their backs for me. Not standing in the middle of the room while I watch and the air turns to frothing poison between us.

There isn’t just blood on Valentina’s underwear, but on her skin. A rusted stain along her inner thighs that I catch sight of when she steps slightly apart. I want to feel that blood on my fingers. On my cock. I want to rinse it from her skin – me and only me – so that when she’s clean again she has to fucking thank me for it.

I don’t like the thought of her bleeding unless I’m the one who’s made her bleed.

Just like she did to me, that very first day. Those marks she gave me will be with me always. Put the inked needle to my skin today to guarantee it.

She rips open the tampon’s wrapper, and I take that opportunity to drag my gaze from her cunt to her face. There’s a bit of wariness in her expression, but also a smug sort of confidence unfurling there. And all at once, I realize exactly what she’s doing. I know exactly why she agreed with that biting, false sweetness to do this in front of me. I know why she didn’t fight me.

Because she thinks it’s shifting the balance of power. I’m not making her do it if she chooses to do it herself.

She thinks it’s giving her back some of the control.

And it makes me fucking crazy that she’s right.

I rise with a swiftness that sends her stumbling backwards. I pluck the tampon from her fingers and keep walking, forcing her to back up until she hits the wall.

“Legs apart.” My voice is rasping. Metallic. An axe being broken on stone.

Her eyes, eyes that a moment ago held so much glinting triumph, widen in defiant shock.

She’s probably going to spit in my face again.

Well, fucking let her, then. I’ll lick it off my own skin this time if I have to.

“Don’t get shy now, pet,” I growl. Nudging the plastic tip of the tampon’s applicator between her thighs, I relish the strangled gasp, the spasm of her muscles, when I put pressure on her clit. Heat blazes through me, so forceful and feverish that I’m fairly certain it’s going to cook my brain right out of my skull. Even now, thoughts feel stretched and strained, instinct taking over. I lower my mouth to her throat, grazing my teeth over the place her heart beats. So fucking fast.

Just like mine.

Fuck her. Fuck her for making me want to fuck her. Fuck her for the fire in those golden eyes. Fuck her for the fact that I can’t sleep if I’m not near her.

Fuck her, because I’ve never done drugs in my entire goddamn life, but I think she’s become the most potent one. My own personal addiction.

Fuck her for the shuddering high of it.

And fuck her for the withdrawals.

“Legs. Apart.” I say it directly against her throat, my lips imprinting the words on her fragrant skin. Shit, she smells delicious. Why the hell does she smell so good? She shivers, and her fingers fly to my chest. But she’s not pushing me away.

She’s not opening her legs, either. It’s some last bastion of resistance against whatever the fuck this is between us. Because she feels it too. I know she does. She’s panting and tense, her nipples puckering against my chest.

I wonder if she hates it as much as I do.

“Fine,” I mutter. Within moments, I’ve spun her around. She cries out, her hands slamming against the wall to maintain her balance. I hook my free hand against her hip, pulling her ass backwards towards me, forcing her to bend at her waist.

Don’t need her to spread her legs if I’ve got her like this from behind.

And, shit, what a view. I pause, breathing hard, just to grudgingly admire it.

She’s got a perfect heart shaped face. And a perfect heart-shaped ass to match.

Below, her pussy is on display, and even smeared with blood it’s one of the most clawingly beautiful things I’ve ever seen. A sight that makes me want to get down on my knees and pray. Pray for what, I have no fucking idea.

I’ve never begged for forgiveness. Maybe I should beg for salvation. But I’m beginning to think – todread– that the only salvation left in this world or the next is in her eyes, her skin, the profound perfection of her pussy.

“Fuck you,” I breathe raggedly, “for being so fucking flawless.”

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