Page 64 of Pretty Poisoned

"Ah!" I yell as his hand comes down again.

And again and again and again. Maybe fifteen times. I scream and grip the table hard in my hands, tears running down my cheeks.

When he stops, he leans over me, and I don't move.

"Now, we've both made you scream and cry, Teagan," he says.

He shows me his knife again; this time, he's holding onto the blade. Then, he runs the handle up my arm and down my spine. I gasp when I feel it run down my ass crack.

"Fuck, you're pretty," he says. "I'm so disappointed. I wanted so much more from you, and now I have to make you go. Do you have any idea how hard that is for me?"

He leans in, and, if I didn't know any better, I'd swear he's smelling my hair.

And then he shoves the handle inside my pussy. And I moan. I fucking moan.

"That's what I thought," he says, pulling it out. "Look at that—you're soaking wet."

He stabs the knife into the table next to my head.

"Get out," he says.

I sit up, scrambling backward, then bend down, grab my bottoms from around my ankles, and pull them back over me.

"Declan…" I start, even though I'm not sure how I'm going to finish the sentence.

"Now!"

I turn and unlock the double doors, then walk into a scene similar to the one a couple of nights ago. I scan the room and find Luca leaning against a back wall, talking to people I don't recognize.

I push through the crowd until I get to him and fall into his chest, wrapping my arms around him. Maybe he's insane, but he's beautiful and he's warm and he smells good. And he feels really good right now.

"Hey," he says. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," I tell him softly. "Luca?"

"What do you need?" he asks, running his hands through my hair.

"Will you come to bed with me?"

He smiles. "Yeah, I'll go to bed with you, Teagan."

He grabs the back of my thighs and lifts me, and I wrap my legs around his waist. "Be gentle with me," I tell him. "I'm hurt."

"Did my brother beat your ass, baby?"

Shocked, I can only nod. He just smiles, then kisses me. "I'll be careful," he says.

"You can fuck me, you can cut me, you can come wherever you want, but I'm not sleeping in fucking handcuffs. Okay?"

"Well, fuck. Okay." He narrows his eyes at me. "What about awake in handcuffs?"

"No. Maybe someday. When I feel like I can trust you to take them off."

"Deal," he says.

He kisses me again, then carries me up to his room and kicks the door closed behind us.

TWELVE

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