Page 98 of Teach Me to Fly

“Do you trust me?” I ask.

She nods without hesitation, and I bring the blade to her inner thigh, just above her knee, and press the cool metal flat against her skin. She gasps in anticipation, excitement flashing across her features.

Slowly, I tilt the blade and make a shallow cut. She gasps, her head tipping back, thighs twitching against my sides. Her hands fist the sheets, her whole body arching toward the sensation. My tongue traces the skin beside the blood. Close enough that she moans from it.

“Again,” she whispers, voice strangled.

I drift higher, lifting her shirt to reveal the side of her hip—the faint scar from last time still visible. I press a kiss there and then slice a new line an inch above it. Her breath comes harder now, her thighs clenching around me as her hips jerk forward.

“You’re beautiful like this,” I whisper. “Bleeding just for me. Giving me your pain.”

Tears form in her eyes, but they don’t fall. I kiss each thigh, the space between the cuts, the soft flesh that trembles beneath me. And when I rise over her, she lies back on the bed, hair wild against the pillow, lips parted, dazed and wanting. I straddle her gently, blade in hand, and pull her shirt up to expose her ribs.

“This one…” My voice is low, almost a growl. “This one’s for the version of you that thinks no one would stay.”

She moans as I cut a shallow line under her ribs. She releases a broken sob, and a gasp fused together before she grabs at my shoulders, lips trembling.

“I can’t breathe,” she whispers.

“You’re safe.” I drop the blade onto the nightstand. “You’re mine.”

Her hands find my face, pulling me down, and our foreheads touch.

“I love you,” she whispers, barely audible. “I’m in love with you, Reign.”

Time stops and everything inside me goes still as I pull back, just enough to see her face. Her eyes are wet, so full of fear, yet so full of trust.

“Say it again.”

“I love you."

My mouth crashes into hers and I kiss her like I’ve been starving. She melts under me, lips desperate, her handsclawing at my back. I kiss her until she’s gasping again, and this time it’s not from the knife, it’s from need. I slide down, pull her shorts off, and roll on a condom before I bury myself between her legs like it’s the only place I’ll ever belong.

When I take her, it’s not gentle. Her back arches as I slam into her, hands gripping her thighs to keep her spread wide and open for me, her heels digging into the small of my back. I’m deep—so fucking deep—and she takes all of it, over and over, like she’s starved for it. Like a good girl. Her breath hitches, gasps tearing from her throat as I fuck her into the mattress hard enough to make it creak.

Her body is fire under mine, damp from the rain still, flushed from head to toe, her hair fanned across the pillows like a crown. Her mouth is parted, moaning my name, and I can’t take my eyes off her.

Her breasts move with every hard thrust, flushed and perfect, like they were made to fit in my hands, and her nails rake down my back, like she’s desperate to anchor herself to something—someone—before she completely falls apart. She lets out a sob when I drive into that perfect spot, the one that makes her legs shake and her fingers claw at the sheets like she’s unraveling right beneath me.

“You feel that?” I growl against her throat, thrusting deeper and rougher. “That’s mine. You’re fucking mine.”

Angelique cries out, nodding, barely able to breathe. “Yes—Reign—fuck—yes.”

I shift, hook her knees over my shoulders and drive into her harder, pounding her into the mattress until the headboard slams against the wall. She screams loudly as her body spasms beneath me, clenching around my cock, eyes rolling back as her orgasm hits her.

But I don’t let up. I fuck her through it, making her takeevery second until her moans turn into desperate little whimpers, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes as her thighs twitch uncontrollably. When I finally slow down, it’s not because I’m spent. It’s because I want to feel her fall apart again, slowly this time.

I pull out and flip her, dragging her onto all fours and ripping off her soaked shirt. Her shaking arms barely hold her up, but she lifts her head and looks back at me with wet lashes and parted lips. And fuck, I nearly come from just that. I push back inside, and her mouth falls open in a silent cry, forehead pressing to the sheets as I roll my hips into her, deep and slow now, punishing in a different way.

“You feel what you do to me?” I murmur, one hand gripping her waist, the other sliding up her spine to wrap around her throat. “You feel how fucking perfect you are like this?”

She whimpers, and her walls flutter again.

I lean forward, lips brushing her ear. “You ruin me, Angel. Every time.”

And when the pressure finally snaps and I spill into her with a strangled moan, hips jerking, muscles locking tight, I stay buried. I hold her there, breathing ragged, chest pressed to her back, her hair stuck to our skin.

We collapse together, limbs tangled, hearts racing like war drums. I kiss her temple, slowly, then her cheek, and finally her jaw.

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