Page 83 of Creatures Like Us
“Yes, but only because I told you not to.”
“I’m sorry.”
I grip his jaw, caressing his cheek with my thumb. “Don’t be sorry. Just be honest and say you liked it. You liked cutting me.”
“I?…?I did like it.” He sighs deeply. “Fuck, Noah, I like everything we do down here. I likeyou. I like you so much.” His cheeks flush with color, and he stutters, “I-I mean?…”
“I know.” I keep my voice steady, but my heart is rattling around in my chest. “I like you too.”You have no idea how much. You have no idea how much my soul aches for yours or how much my body yearns for your hands on my skin. If I told you the extent of my desire, you’d run. I’d never see you again, and it would destroy me.
“G-Good,” Asher says, his voice more strained than I think I’ve ever heard it, his eyes wide and scared.
“Shh.” I reach out to stroke his cheek. “You’ll be okay. I told you, didn’t I? You’ll learn to stand it.”
“How?” Asher whispers.
I reach for the knife lying by our side. “Maybe this will help.”
He stiffens underneath me, gaze fixed on the gleaming blade.
For what feels like the tenth time, I ask, “Are you sure you really want this?”
He nods, eyes just as wide, just as terrified.
“Not just to make us even?” I ask. “Not just because you think you hurt me, and now you want me to hurt you too?”
“Ididhurt you,” he whispers. “You can’t say I didn’t.”
“But I wanted it. That’s different.”
His gaze shifts sideways. “If you say so.”
“Ash.” I grip his jaw and force him to look at me. “Focus for me, okay? Don’t be scared.”
“I’m not.”
“What have I said about lying?”
His eyes are wide and glossy, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Okay, I’ll focus. I want you to cut me, Noah. Get to my blood. You’ve already had all the rest. My skin, my dick, my ass. And I’ve had yours—all of it. It’s time you had all of me too.”
But do I have your heart as well, my Goldilocks?
I cannot ask; what if he says no? Instead, I trace his torso with the tip of the knife, lightly scraping the skin.
“Where do you want it?” I mumble, dragging the blade down underneath his belly button, where he cut me. “Here?”
“Maybe?…?here?” He motions to the space between two ribs on his left side.
“Okay.” I move the knife up, and our eyes fix on it—the glinting blade and the trembling flesh beneath.
Part of me wonders if he’ll scream when I cut him. The way I remember, I merely gasped or whimpered, but as previously mentioned, Asher is more affected by pain than I am.
He shudders when the blade hits home, and I slowly drag it sideways.
It’s over in an instant. Blood blooms in the knife’s wake, and Asher rocks his hips hard against mine, letting me feel the sticky head of his cock rub against the underside of my shaft.
“Oh fuck,” he whimpers. “Fuck, that’s?…”
“How was that?” I set the knife aside and trace the blood seeping from the wound with the tip of my finger. He doesn’t bleed as much as I did; I didn’t cut him as deeply.
