Page 49 of That Sik Luv

Aero is psychotic. Insane. Obsessive. And for some strange reason, I can’t help but to be entirely intrigued by the toxic sides of him.

Watching him clean me of Saint’s touch in the video had me spiraling. The warmth between my legs intensified as I witnessed him caress me with that tongue, caring for me in his disgustingly strange way. I’ve become totally captivated by it. Enraptured by his wicked ways. I was aching between my thighs, wondering if he was going to fuck me on camera, hoping and praying he didn’t so I could remember the feel of it. I didn’t want to be robbed of that opportunity, and that idea alone shocked the living hell out of me.

But I’m no dummy, and neither is he.

Aero gives me all the tools to make my own decisions. I’ve come to realize he enjoys restraining me, making me weak, but what really gets him off is my ability to fight back. He plants the tools, waiting to see if I’m smart enough to play his game, and leaving a scalpel blade within fingers’ reach behind the iron bars of my bed was evidence of that.

Was he expecting me to stab him in the side of the neck with it? Probably not. But here we are.

Quickly, I turn, using the scalpel to pick the lock on the other cuff.

I hear him rise off of the floor, and a low laugh forms. The cuff clicks open, releasing my sore wrist, and I bend forward, desperately sawing away at the rope tangled around my ankle. He watches, standing near the edge of the bed, shaking his head as he holds a hand to his new wound.

I got him in the muscle of his neck, not anywhere vital. I’m not trying to kill the guy. Not consciously, anyway.

What’s crazy is I don’t remember grabbing that knife in the video. I’d held onto it since he gave it to me, knowing I’d need it to save myself at some point, not thinking I was capable of doing it while coming out of my fog. I’m surprised by myself and the fight I hold deep within my being.

I free my leg of the rope around one ankle and try to untie the other, when he grabs both my wrists, slamming me back on the bed. I drop the blade before kneeing him in the side with my free leg. He grunts, but places all of his weight on my body, pinning me with his hips.

We’re both panting, staring dangerously into the other’s eyes. Two wild animals. One inherent, the other learned. Both feral in the worlds they thrive, meeting in the center of a new jungle. A hunger pitting them against one another until it becomes an intentional bloodbath of dominance.

He shakes his head again, his gaze dropping to my mouth before peering back into my eyes, a look of relief pouring from those dilated pupils.

“There she is.”

The way he says it, with a proud look on his face, makes me feel as if every button he pushes is for this purpose alone. To bring out the darkness in me. To wring out my strength before him, allowing it to drown him in his own strange, masochistic way. It shouldn’t excite me the way it does, but the idea that Aero is pushing me to be the baddest version of myself is entirely too attractive for all the wrong reasons.

“Are you ready to listen? Ready to feel?” he asks, slowly trailing his hands down from my wrists until they reach the curve of my elbow.

Softly, those hands trail my skin along my upper arm until they meet my neck. He slowly wraps both hands around my neck, smearing his blood across my skin.

“You deserve to bloom, Briony. You deserve pleasure and all the desires they have denied you, masked by the societal standards meant to hold you back.”

“Who are you?” The words slip from my lips without thinking, needing answers like my next breath. “I need to know.”

How has he found me? Why does he want this for me? Who is the man beneath the mask? The answers matter now more than ever.

His hazel eyes, surrounded by thick black lashes, go back and forth between mine, and I watch the roll of his throat beneath the rose tattoo sticking out from under the knit mask.

“Knowing a person means understanding their intentions. I think you know what mine are.”

I swallow, listening intently.

“No one can control me anymore, especially not a fictitious God created by despicable men designed to control the masses. I won’t allow you to live in this world of deceptions when you were meant for so much more.”

Everything he says holds such weight, as if the specific people he’s suggesting have wronged him in the worst possible ways.

“They’re lying to you, Briony. They don’t want you. They never did.”

Thousands of questions prowl through my mind at his words.

“But I do. I want you. You’re mine now, just as I am yours.”

“But I don’t even—”

“I’ll kill everyone,” he interrupts. “Anyone who gets in the way of letting you live.”

The words go directly to my center, and without even thinking, I raise my hips to meet him, grinding that sensitive part of myself against him for some much needed friction.

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