Page 91 of Boy of Ruin
Not unless we both wanted it.
My body knows better. My fucked up hand.
I know better.
“Tell me what you want. Tell me the goddamn truth for once in your life, baby, because I’m so tired of you pushing me. I’m so, so tired. And tonight? I want to fucking push back.” I press the knife in closer, gliding it up, nicking her skin.
She gasps, her eyes fluttering closed, long lashes nearly grazing her cheekbones.
I grip her jaw, fingers digging into her cheek. “Open your fucking eyes and tell me what the fuck you want.” My dick is aching, being this close. And I think if she walks away, I might have to turn this blade on myself to not fuck her anyway.
I’d have to slit my own fucking wrists to let her walk away.
Don’t do that to me, baby.
A moment passes. I can’t breathe. I want to hurt her. Drag this knife down her belly. Lower still.
I want to wrap my hand around her fucking throat.
It’d fit perfectly, her little neck in my hand.
I want her to scream for me.
I want to make her cry.
And when she finally opens her eyes, meets mine, and starts to speak, I know she wants the same fucking thing.
“I want you to hurt me,” she says quietly. She steps closer, and my heart picks up speed at the knife point nearly disappearing into her belly, but she doesn’t even flinch. More drops of blood well up around the shallow wound, but her fingers only tighten on mine on the knife. “I want you to own me so I can get you out of my fucking head.”
I can’t breathe.
“Show me what I’ve been missing all these years, J.”
J. Jeremiah. Jamie. I’ve always been those to her, and only she’ll ever get that from me.
My blood heats with her words. Her submission. With this day finally fucking coming.
I glance down between us, at the silver of the blade. The black handle, covered by our hands.
“How wet are you right now, baby?” I breathe out, staring at the knife. “Knowing that right now, right fucking now, I can do anything I want to you and no one,” I meet her gaze, feel her chin quivering in my hand, “no one would hear you scream for help? No one would fucking stop me?” A slow smile curves my lips as I drop my hand from her face, to her soft belly. I run my finger through her blood, bring it to my mouth and suck on it, hear her little whimper as she watches.
The iron taste of her blood makes my cock ache all the more, and goddamn, I just want it all over me. I fucking want nothing between us. No walls. No lies. No secrets. No…skin.
“What do you want to do?” she asks me, her words quiet, but there’s not a single trace of fear in her question.
Like she trusts me.
Like she knows I’d only hurt her if it was for her own good.
Not like him. He’d abuse her in so many different ways, and never once to make her better.
I stare into her beautiful eyes for a long moment, just watching her.
Then I sink to my knees.
Her mouth drops open as my head is level with her belly, with the knife still held against her skin.
“Let go of the handle, baby,” I whisper, placing my free hand flat on her tummy, nearly dwarfing it as I cup her.
