Page 75 of The Invite
“I’mnotgoing to stab you,” Augustus softly murmurs at the flash of anxiety in my eyes. All signs of his earlier amusement are gone. “I’mnotgoing to hurt you.”
Then he stretches his arm and presses the knife into my hand.
“Hold it,” he commands when I remain frozen.
I mutely follow his instruction and curl my fingers around the wooden handle. Once I do, he cups my wrist and raises it to bring itbeside our heads. Leaning back on his left elbow, he forces me to place the blade right below his jaw without any fear.
Is he crazy?
What’s he doing?
I try to put my hand away but he tightens his grip. “No.”
“What are you doing, Augustus?” I whisper.
“Chasing away your fear.”
“Stabbing you won’t make my fear go away,” I hiss, if that’s what he’s expecting me to do.
Instead of answering, he lets my wrist go. The sudden loss of weight almost makes me drop my arm but I get a grip. I should put the weapon away before I accidentally hurt Augustus, which is a shocker. When just a while ago, I was plotting to stab and teach him a lesson.
My mind has done a complete one-eighty in the span of minutes with him.
The thoughts in my head come to a halt when I feel something cold and smooth against my inner thigh. My eyes widen into saucers as I realize it’s the other knife.
“This isn’t safe, Augustus, nor is it a toy to play with.”
Augustus smirks, and delightfully whispers, “Tonight it is, and you’re going to come riding it.”
My heart skips a beat.
I shake my head but I can’t get anywhere.
He has me trapped.
“You’re in control, Nessa,” he says, running the knife up my leg. A depraved darkness glimmering in his pupils. “I need you to submit to me and know I won’t hurt or stab you. If you get afraid, hurt me instead. Use the knife, but don’t close your thighs, and take what I give you.”
He’s fucking mad!
“No, Augustus.” I swallow and lick my lips. “I can’t.”
What if I black out again and stab him?
It’s too risky and this is insane.
“I’m not giving you a choice,” he hums crazily, his hand inching up closer to my pussy. “I’m giving you all the power.”
“I’ll hurt you,” I reason with him.
“Then. Hurt. Me.”
Before I know it, he covers my hand gripping the knife, and carves a straight cut in his right pec.
“Augustus! No!” I yell, but it’s too late.
Blood oozes from the small cut onto my chest and trails down to my hard nipple. Bending down, he crudely licks it with his tongue and sucks harshly until I whimper.
“Like I said… Hurt me. Cut me. Stab me,” he growls after lifting his head. “But don’t let your fears win.”
