Page 166 of The Beautiful Dead

His body caged over me, hot skin pressed against my back. His cock—thick, heavy, hard—slotted between my ass cheeks.

I shuddered.

A full-body fucking shudder.

He reached past me, yanking open the drawer. I barely processed it. All I knew was that he was still hard. That he’d just filled my mouth with his load, but he was still ready to ruin me.

That he was going to leave my hole battered and bruised, wrecked and gaping—that I’d feel him for weeks.

And I couldn’t fucking wait.

His teeth sank into my spine, biting kisses trailing down my back, catching on each vertebrae, leaving behind heat, marks, proof. My brain was spiralling from sensory overload. It took a few moments to latch on to a new sensation.

Cold metal.

A blade.

The kiss of steel against my skin. The lava in my veins turned white-hot. My hole clenched around nothing, desperate, aching.

My body sank into the madness he forced upon me, a fevered haze of pain and pleasure, heat and need.

His hips rolled against my ass, grinding into the bruises he’d just left, pushing me deeper into delirium.

The blade pressed down sharply. The first prick of pain. My breath hitched as the first drop of blood welled. Slow. Hot. Itrolled down my ribs in a thin, glistening line. My lungs stuttered. My body fucking spasmed.

“You bleed so beautifully for me.” His voice. Dark. Possessive. Ruined.

The hot swipe of his tongue on my side as he lapped up my blood was like a bolt of lust straight to my cock. It jolted against my abs. My ass clenched, begging, aching to be filled.

A strained whimper slipped from my lips, and some of his cum pooled on the sheets by my mouth.

I wasn’t here anymore.

I was somewhere deeper, darker.

Somewhere only Domino could take me.

My eyes rolled back as he scored my skin open, carving me like I was something sacred. Like I was his map, his art, his canvas.

Thin rivulets of blood rolled down my ribs, following the paths of his blade, a network of intricate cuts drawn with precision. He was mapping my veins.

Whispered words slipped past his lips, his voice sinking into my marrow like he was spelling himself inside me.

I was gone. No up. No down. No sense of self beyond him.

I was nothing but his to ruin.

And he knew it.

Domino’s fingers dug into my cheeks, spreading me wide. A sharp inhale—his breath shuddered against my skin. The tip of his nose dragged from my taint up my cleft, breathing me in like I was oxygen.

Like he couldn’t live without me.

The blade balanced on my back, a warning, a promise, as he moved, shifting his weight. Heat. Wetness. His tongue. Slick, hot, circling my entrance.

“Fuck, you taste so good.”

His muffled voice sent tremors through my entire body. He circled my entrance with the tip of his tongue. Worked me open with his mouth, with his hands, softening me, breaking me.

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