Page 64 of Not Another Dark Romance

“How about some breakfast?” Zane asks me after Grant walks out the door.

A thrill goes through me the way it always does when he takes care of me. “Sounds great. Thank you, Master.”

He smiles at me, looking amused, but that doesn’t cover up the heat in his eyes that’s there whenever I use the title. “Perfect. I want to talk to you about the party, too.”

My stomach tightens as I wait. As much as I would obviously love to go to the party with him—my mind is already spinning with costume ideas—I try to reassure myself that it’ll be fine if he thinks it’s too soon. He did only let me come downstairs for the first time last night. A party with a bunch of people he knows would be so different from the last couple of weeks. “Okay.”

“I know I told Grant you’d be there, but I want to make it clear I want you there. With me. As my date.”

Holy fucking shit. Where are those cameras he mentioned, because fuck, do I wish I’d somehow recorded that. His date. His boyfriend. These new titles I’m collecting make me so happy. My heart soars, and I stare at him as he pulls eggs, milk, and butter out of the fridge. I can’t help myself. I want to hear him say it again. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” He stops pulling things out of cabinets and turns to me. “I meant what I told him. You’re my boyfriend, Mason. I want to show you off.”

The words slam into me, and I break out into a giant smile. “Really?”

“Really. You called me your boyfriend first, to that cop last night.” Zane crosses the kitchen, closing the space between us while cupping my face in his hands. “Did you not mean it? Do you not want to go?”

“No! I mean, yes, of course I want to be your boyfriend. And I want to go. I just thought… I don’t know, I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about me leaving the house.”

“I thought I didn’t have anything to worry about?” Zane raises his eyebrow in challenge.

“You don’t. I promise.”

“Good.” He nods and then leans forward to place a quick kiss against my lips. “Now, I’m going to get started on breakfast. Why don’t you think about your costume while you cut up some strawberries for us?”

I bring the berries over to the sink to rinse them off before carrying the container to the cutting board Zane set out for me. I dump them out and grab the knife, my fingers closing around the handle. Zane moves behind me, his chest pressing against my back as he watches over my shoulder.

“Careful with that, Little Psycho,” he murmurs against my ear. “It’s sharp.”

“I know.” My voice is a bit shaky as his larger frame engulfs me. His arms are caging me in, and I love feeling wrapped up in him.

Zane seems to forget all about what he was preparing and lifts one hand to snake down my stomach, stopping at my dick that’s now growing hard in my sweatpants. He rubs his palm over my erection, and I set the knife down, wanting to turn to face him.

“Ah, ah,” he tsks. He stops moving his hand, keeping it still on my dick, teasing me. He picks the knife back up with his other hand and urges me to take it before placing his hand over mine, guiding me through another chop. “Stay focused, Pet. You can handle this, can’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” I breathe, and he resumes stroking me through my clothes. With one of his hands on my dick and the other back against the counter, I feel caged in. Owned. The contrast between the sharp edge of the blade and Zane’s gentle stroking is intoxicating. I need more.

“Do you have a dull knife?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop the question.

“Yes.”

“Get it out and clean it. I want you to play with me.”

“Fuck, Pet,” Zane moans, his mouth moving closer to my ear as he leans in. “You really are a little psycho. I love it.” He squeezes my dick at the same time he licks a wet stripe up the side of my face before backing away from me.

My heart is beating erratically as he pulls open a drawer and grabs a knife. All I can think about as he washes it is how dangerous, how reckless, how thrilling this is to live out another fantasy I never thought would actually happen.

He holds the knife up and presses his finger against the silver blade. “This one hasn’t been sharpened in years. I’ve always meant to get around to it, but maybe it’s been waiting for this moment. Waiting to mark up my favorite toy.”

I gulp as fear courses through me at the desire in Zane’s voice.

“Remember your safe word?” he checks.

“Peaches.”

“Good.” He approaches me with the knife that’s glinting in the midmorning light. He backs me against the counter as he stalks toward me. When he’s standing in front of me, looming over me, he uses the knife to lift my sweatshirt, exposing my stomach, still covered with black ink. “Such a pretty canvas.”

I suck in a sharp breath as the material falls down, and he drags the knife up along my jawline before pressing the flat of the blade against my throat. The cold metal sends a shiver down my spine, and I can’t stop the tremor that starts in my hands.