Page 36
His hot breath is right in my ear. “Seeing you like this turns me the fuck on.” He grabs the knife from my hand and licks a clean line of Parker’s blood from the metal.
The next thing I know, he attacks me.
His lips forcefully crash onto mine, letting me taste the metallic iron of my now passed-out boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.
I’m thrown to the ground with him following right on top of me.
“You should be afraid of what I’m about to do to you, little bird.”
13
Blair
Out of nowhere, Cage grabs me from behind and wrestles me down to the forest floor. I hit the dirt hard, leaves and twigs digging into my skin. I fight like hell, bucking and kicking, nails raking across his skin, leaving a trail of red.
His weight pins me down as one knee forces my thighs apart. His hand grabs hold of my neck.
“Keep struggling, little bird. Your screams turn me on… and the harder you fight me, the sweeter it’s going to be when I bury all ten inches inside you.”
Jesus Christ.
He’s going to split me in half. And I have no doubt he’d enjoy every second of breaking me.
“Fuck you,” I spit, bucking my hips.
He shifts his weight, pressing down harder, pinning me so completely I can’t move anything but my head side to side. The ground is freezing against my spine, but everywhere he touches me burns.
He laughs. It’s a dark, rolling sound that vibrates through his chest into mine. “You will. But not yet.”
Then I see the knife.
I realize that my fear, my trembling, only seems to egg him on, but I can’t help it. Not when a masked devil towers over me with a knife still wet from someone else’s blood.
The cold metal traces down my neck, down my collarbone, over the curve of my breast. When the tip catches on my nipple piercing, at just the right angle to twist it, a strangled cry scratches my throat.
Fuck, fuck, that hurts.
“That’s a good fucking slut. Scream for me. So good,” he smirks, twisting harder. “What do we have here?”
He’s staring at my chest. At the small silver rings piercing through each nipple, visible through the thin lace of my bra. I got them last year on a dare, drunk and reckless and trying to prove something to myself.
“Jesus Christ, Blair.” He flicks one of the rings with his thumb.
Electricity shoots straight down my spine and pools hot between my legs. I gasp, my back arching off the ground, my hips lifting toward him without wanting to.
“Oh, fuck,” Cage breathes, his pupils blown wide. “You like that. You like pain.”
“No—” But my voice is shaking, my thighs too, and I can’t hide it. He flicks the other ring, twisting this time, and I moan.
“Hold still,” he orders, his voice dropping into that low, hypnotic register that makes my brain go quiet. He brings his mouth to my left nipple, pressing his warm tongue against the sensitive flesh, and then he hooks his teeth through the ring and bites.
The pain is agonizing. It’s white-hot and all-consuming, radiating out from my chest in waves that make my vision blur.
“Ah!” I yelp. “Oh, G-God.”
“Fuck,” he murmurs, almost reverent. “Look at you. Taking it so prettily.”
I arch into it. My spine bows, my head thrown back against the dirt, a broken moan tearing out of my throat. My hips grind up against him, seeking friction, seeking anything to ease the ache building between my legs.
