Page 74 of Crybaby

It’s amazing how someone can be so devastatingly sexy yet walk around as the most disgraceful human on the planet.Blake is a pretty face with damage behind his eyes. His dark hair and dark eyes mirror his dark heart, but those fucking lips are like the most heavenly raspberry jubes I want to run my tongue across…right before I slice out his tongue and swallow it whole.

His jawline square, lightly dashed with afive-o’clockshadow against his skin. He’s not wearing a mask, but his “pet” is. Her hair is tied back painfully in a rope-like plait.

It would appear that he’s a Dominant with an ugly little “brat” submissive trying to press his buttons to receive her punishment. But he’s bored. I know what he likes.

He likes me.

Someone who really fights, who really cries, who really knows how to take the pain—for no real reason other than for his pleasure. Someone who will sacrifice their own soul to feed his.

The submissives are boring him, and he’s starting to feel like he’s serving them. It makes him sick. I can see it in his eyes when his gaze drifts over to me. The room is dark, but a blue light is hitting all my skin’s highlights.

He doesn’t even appear surprised to see me here because he knew…he knew I would find him.

I remove my mask and drop it on the floor. He’s transfixed on me, and I can almost see the pulsing in his neck while his blood begins to pump harder. Like I’ve lit a match and thrown it on pure gasoline, he is on fire.

Blake stands, and with heavy leather boots, he kicks his sickly brat to the side. She giggles in excitement, thinking her punishment is on its way, but when he bends to her and mouths, “Fuck. Off,” she realizes playtime is over.

She pouts at him, and he grabs her by her high ponytail braid, dragging her past me before he throws her out the door and over a metal railing. I hear a few screams from the people in the surrounding lower level of the club, but not for long when they realize who did it, like it’s a regular occurrence.

Blake returns seconds later and kicks the doors shut to silence her screams.

“Well, it’s taken you long enough to come back to me,” he says with a smirk; a smirk I want to carve into with a knife. “Get on your knees, Darcie. It’s customary when you enter my room.”

“Get on yours,” I counter, unafraid.

Blake throws his head back and laughs. He seems delighted. He likes a challenge.

I watch as he unscrews a long vial from his neck chain and brings it to his nose. He sniffs hard, and his eyes roll back into his head.

I stand still, observing him with no expression on my face.

He sits down in a red velvet chair which is akin to a throne, his legs wide and his arms placed on the armrests. The room has old Victorian vibes, ornate trimmings, a large brocaded mirror on the heavily wallpapered wall with a bureau beside him. Upon it sits candles, an ink pot, feather pen, crystal wineglasses, handcuffs, cat-o’-nine-tails, a knife—which I’ve locked in my memory bank, and some half-used lines of powder.

“It’s not how this works, darling,” he states, wiping his nose.

“I’ve seen how it works.”

“How could you with your back turned, my petal?” I see flashes of the wooden bleachers I smacked my teeth against as he invaded me over and over again. I run my tongue over my teeth just to remind myself they’re all still intact.

His gaze slithers down my body.

“I am not your darling or your petal,” I retort. “I could be your worst nightmare.”

His hand playfully reaches out to a melting candle, and he teases his fingers on the flame.

I see Rev appear behind him as if he had been there the whole time, but I had never heard him enter. His presence makes me feel alive.

“Get on your knees, Blake.” I hate repeating myself.

He mulls over my comment before standing slowly and walking over to me. Big leather boots creasing with each catlike step.

Rev retreats back into the shadows, just watching quietly because this is my show.

I lift my chin as this six-foot-four man towers over me. I can smell his sweaty arousal, and it’s familiar. He smiles and leisurely lowers himself to his knees, his mouth brushing down the length of my body as he does so. My stomach lurches, and I can barely contain my need to strike out like an angry cat.

I don’t know why he’s submitting, as it’s so out of character for this dominant asshole.

My eyes glance behind him, and Rev nods gently from the darkness to encourage me to do whatever I need to.

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