Page 29 of Their Cruel Love

The needles are also evidence of their dominance and their possession.

Now, blood is visible.

Where the needles have been stuck into me, blebs and trickles of red arise on my skin. There are thin red smears. I’m high butnot enough to orgasm. I’m in awe, rocked as they fuck me. Taken. Filled. There are the thuds, the grunts and gasps, the wet, rude noises of unrestrained sex. Truthfully, restrained, tied up, and handcuffed sex has just rocketed to the top of my favorites.

When Brutus then Razor come in me, leaving bruising fingermarks in my hips—as well as the other marks of their sadism—I’m exhausted but ecstatic in a soft, rapturous way.

Freed of the ropes and handcuffs, I reverently bump my fingers over the metal trail.

They cradle me, snuggle in with their heated male bodies, but leave the needles where they are, because I want to see, I tell them. Razor is careful not to get too near my chest and sprawls across the top where the pillows once were.

“I’m dangerous,” I whisper to him, smiling. “I should get you to leave them there to ward off men like you.”

He shoves two fingers in my mouth to shut me up, then pulls himself closer and kisses me.

Brutus is already up close and spooning. I worm around to find that mask there, or what’s left of it.

“Now,” I say quietly, watching him.

I can tell he’s frowning from the creases around his eyes, but I reach tentatively for the side of it, and pull it off his face.

“Marcus.” I knew but one is never certain until it hits you. Until you see. The row of needles is still decorating me below. The small hurts in my ass, the bruises are there. Much of it from him. “You.”

“Yes. Me.” Then he takes my throat in his hand, and he kisses me.

I’m glad. I’m not sure I have the strength in me to begin to explain the past.

And then I think.Coward.

I need to ask. I must.

“Why?”

“Why what?” He walks fingers up me, from low down on my belly, weaving past the needles, to my left breast.

“Why not tell me?”

“You hid from me.”

“For different reasons. My friend is missing maybe dead due to your…” I wave my hand. “Your fraternity. I didn’t know you’d be here, but you knew it was me.”

He nods, begins to circle my breast, brushing over my skin, spiraling inward until he reaches my areola. I hold my breath as he does this. Then he’s busy watching it rise and fall as I inhale, exhale.

Razor interjects, “I’ll take those out while you two chat.”

The wariness in his tone and manner says he figures we’re on eggshells over here. He shifts lower then begins to slide each needle from its position. I try to ignore the pulls, but it’s impossible. Pain stirs, slithering like a friendly snake.

“Okay. Here goes. I used a mask because I wanted to fuck with you.” Tension reigns in his expression—eyes, jaw muscles, all is stilled and tight. “I wanted to bring you down and hurt you.”

Oh crap.“Why though? No, wait.” I wince as Razor pulls another needle. “I get it, I think. I know I ghosted you. I even blocked you, after a while. I’m sorry.”

A severe frown settles on him—the corrugations stark on his forehead. “It’s not just that. You must know it is not just that.”

I am actually a bit lost. Something else is bothering him—enough to almost want to toss me into the dirt. This is why that cruelness seemed to bubble in him, ready to explode. Butthere is some uncertainty there. I still know him well enough to see that.

I should tread carefully.

“Gareth died. I had to pull away. I needed space. I didn’t know which way was up back then, not for months and months. He was my stepbrother and I…I killed him.” My voice cracks. I thought I was done with this. “I kicked him, he tripped over that stupid pot plant…” I eye the ceiling and see it happen again. It lived rent free in my head, once upon a time. I pinch my lips together than make myself relax,one, two, three. “Then he fell—tripped on a pot plant, fell.”

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