She nods.
I fuck her harder, eating her pussy lips, her clit, relishing the taste of the leather of my knife. Lick around it.The blade is cutting into my palm- but my pain and her pleasure are getting me off. My cock leaks.
The dwindling light is enough for me to see. I keep fucking her with my knife, and lick her clit, slurping, drinking her up. Camryn shakes, bucking her hips. I grip her inner thigh, holding it open as she writhes against my mouth.
And when she’s about to come, I place my mouth on hers, eating her release. I want to own all of her orgasms. I want to hear it, to taste it.“Scream. Let me hear you,” I breathe against her lips. She stills and then turns her face to me, and moans, crying out. “Yes. Yes!” I kiss her lips, tasting blood on her lips, in her mouth. She comes, neck arched, grinding against the hilt inside her, bucking her hips up against the fingers wrapped around the handle. Slowly, her body relaxes into me, her forehead falling to my chest.
When her tremors stop, I stand. I pull the knife out of her pussy, and bring the blade to my mouth, tasting the saltiness of my sweat, her blood, and her cum. A perfect combination. “Little slut. That’s why your pussy is so wet. You wanted me to fuck you even with your fear, and the smell of death on the air?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
I suck on the handle, tasting her blood and her cum. “You taste beautiful, Countess, even better than I remembered. Open your mouth, taste how good you are.”
She opens her mouth and I kiss her, sliding my tongue inside, swirling her flavors and mine. She licks her lips, which are coated in my blood. “Is that blood?” There’s curiosity in her voice.
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
“Ours.”
I don’t elaborate, and untie her hands. She leans forward, slumping against me, but I straighten her and turn her around, forcing her to her knees. I arrange her the way I want, her face on the bark of a fallen tree trunk. I spread her legs and stare down at her. Her fingers are buried in the dark soil. Her face is against the decaying tree trunk. Her pussy is swollen, exposed to my view. Lips spread, pink and swollen, shiny with the fluids from her orgasm, our blood and spit that I used as lubrication, dripping into the soil. I can’t wait for that sticky mixture to cover my bare cock. I want inside her. I want my blood coating her inner walls, her mouth, her pussy, her ass. I want it all. I’m a sick bastard, but there it is. Unbuckling my pants, I stroke my cock with my bloody hand, watching her on all fours.
“Don’t move, do you understand?”
“I—”
“Do you understand me, Countess?” She hesitates, clearly overwhelmed. Just the way I want her.
“Yes. Yes, I understand.”
I slide my fingers through her slickness, liking how slippery she is. She’ll need it to take my cock. I lower to my knees and crawl between her legs, totally lost in the seduction, the temptation of her. The feel of her cunt sucking my fingers inside, her blood and my spit destroys common sense. I look down fucking mesmerized by the dark pink residue her pussy leaves behind on my fingers. I suck them into my mouth, moaning at the taste.
Chapter 52
When Stone pushes me down, with my face on the branch, it hurts. The rough bark is abrading my skin. I smell the dankness of the forest. It’s eerily quiet. I can hear the water running somewhere, and my heartbeat thundering beneath my ribs. My earlier orgasm still courses through me. He’s the only man I’ve ever come that hard with. Even when he ate me out during my tattoo, there was something cool and controlled about him, but I feel his lack of control now. The chaos of all that’s happened since I got in Kingsley’s jeep.
That I’m here, my legs wide, my body covered in scratches and bruises. Stone just fucked me with his knife, and I want more. He didn’t treat me like Reed, who made it seem like it was a privilege to be with him, or the other two men I was with before. A blip in the grand scheme of things. No, being with him is raw and elemental. Full of sounds and sensations. The soil is cold, sticks and rocks dig into my kneecaps, and when he pushes two fingers inside me without pause, I curse. I feel it all, the burn mixed with the pleasure. I moan long and loud, bending my back more, pushing my ass toward him, letting him finger me roughly. I want to experience this. His aggression. It’spainful, but there’s a thread of pleasure that I chase, clawing to find it, trying to catch my mind up to my body. My whole body is attuned to his fingers moving in and out of me.
I can’t see him, but when he removes his fingers and spits, I hear it. I feel his fingers return, and he moves them back and forth, adding his slippery saliva. He curls his fingers, and I helplessly moan, moving my hips back into his hand. “Good girl. Fuck my fingers.”
He grabs my braid, pulling me back, and I like it. I like the helpless way I feel under his control. I hated it the night Reed grabbed me- but now I like it. With him, I like it. He doesn’t treat me like fragile porcelain. I don’t recognize myself. I don’t recognize this woman, who doesn’t give a shit that he all but admitted to killing men, their corpses no more than ten feet away. The smell is still there, but my senses are too consumed with him.
So I do, I curve my back more, and thrust back, meeting the hard push of his fingers in and out of me. “Look at you.”
Distracted by the way his fingers feel, I bite my lip, refusing to answer.
“Don’t be shy now. You came out here, followed me. Stalked me. You wanted to get fucked like a dirty slut. I wonder what people would say if they knew how prettily you beg for a criminal’s cock.”
“I hate you,” I moan, his degradation is making me wetter. Wet fingers dig into my ass, and the feel of his wet mouth in a place that no one has ever touched makes me rear up. “Fuck!” I curse. His fingers go back inside me, and the combination of his fingers and his tongue laps and tunnels in my ass is beyond comprehension.
“Good. You hating me is what I want. Hate me for a long time, Countess, because after today. I’m going to do what I wantto you when I want. You forfeited the right to say no. He pulls his fingers out of me, and the notch of his
“Condom,” I mewl.
He laughs, that guttural chuckle pissing me off. “Too fucking late, Countess. I’m not stopping. You were reckless coming in here and now I’m going to wreck your pussy.”
As he says it, I feel him notch his cock at my entrance, but that’s not what whirls through my mind. It’s the feeling of something hard, cold.
