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“I asked you a question,” Cage murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Do you want to die, Blair?”

I shake my head, the motion barely there, terrified the blade will bite if I move too much. “N-no,” I stammer.

“Good girl.”

This time, I do whimper. Heat pools low in my belly and my knees go weak. I can’t even recover from the reaction to his praise before the knife makes a shallow cut just below my ear. I gasp, more from the shock than the pain, and feel the warm trickle of blood slide down my neck.

Cage growls low in his throat, pressing his hard bulge to rest against my back. He seals his lips over the cut he made and sucks.

Oh, God.

His hot, wet mouth against my skin, his tongue lapping at the blood, the sucking sound he makes as he tastes me. It all drives me crazy. He moans, deep and guttural, like I’m the most delicious thing he’s ever had.

“So you’re going to do exactly what I say then,” he whispers against my skin. It’s not a question. And the implication of that is somehow hot as fuck.

Catching me off guard, a cold, metal chain of some sort closes around my throat.

I claw at the chain, trying to get my fingers under it, but it’s too tight, the links biting into my skin. He turns me around.

I stumble, disoriented, and he uses the chain to guide me—no, to force me—down until my knees hit the tile.

Now that I can see it, the chain is studded with small, wicked-looking silver spikes, the chain he wears looped into his pants buckle.

Cage reaches down with his free hand and undoes his belt, then his zipper, and when he pulls himself free, I damn near forget how to breathe.

He’s massive. Thick and long and perfectly cut, the head flushed dark with arousal. Veins run along the shaft, pulsing visibly, and my eyes catch on the piercings—black metal bars running in a line along the underside.

I lick my lips without thinking, and Cage chuckles.

“Is the slut getting hungry?” he taunts, tapping my cheek. “Open.”

“Screw you,” I snap, but even as I say it, I feel my thighs rubbing together, trying to ease the ache building between them.

The slap comes out of nowhere. His palm connects with my cheek hard enough to make my head snap to the side, and my hands immediately fly to my face.

I shouldn’t like being slapped by this monster. It’s degrading.

But I do.

My heart speeds up as my pussy throbs with its own heartbeat.

“Here’s the thing, little bird. I’m not asking for your obedience. I’ll take it. Piece by trembling fucking piece.” He grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “Now open.”

My mouth opens because some ruined, electric part of me has been waiting for him to ask it like that. No, to demand it like that.

“I knew you’d be sweet when you stopped pretending you were only here for the money.”

“What—what are you talking about?”

“Don’t lie to yourself, Blair. You love the fear, the unknown. Coming to an old mansion in the middle of the woods with a group of masked men, not knowing what would happen to you. A slut like you just couldn’t resist yourself, could you?”

“That’s not—”

He feeds himself into my mouth in one brutal, claiming thrust that doesn’t care about my breath. Or my jaw, for that matter.

Salt. Heat. The clean-bitter taste of skin. I gag around him, and he groans.

He uses the grip on the belt chain to tip my face up, and I have to look at him, have to see the way his pupils have eaten the steel gray color out of his eyes.