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Serrated, gold handle. Gleaming like a treasure between us.
“What about this?” she rasps, chest rising and falling. “I stole it from the table setting. Is that enough for punishment?”
A low, animalistic growl rumbles in my chest. Romy appeals to the darkest, most depraved part of me. I’d given her an out, so why does she continue to poke me there?
In half a second, I’m on top of her with the knife in my hand, and the sharpest point pressed to her throat. A little hiss escapes her lips, a sound so beautiful I want to claw inside her mouth and turn up the volume. She arches her neck, pushing into the blade.
“Why do you want me to punish you so badly, sweetheart?” I murmur, watching her in fascination.
“Maybe I like being hurt.” Her hip bones push into mine. My boner fits perfectly between her thighs. “Maybe I deserve it.”
A low chuckle seeps out of me, one she doesn’t like. She twists her head, sulking, but I grab her jaw and pull her back to face me. “Wanna know the biggest difference between you and me?” I push down on the knife, feeling the tension against the surface of her skin. Feeling how her throat vibrates with a moan. Fuck. “You’re hurt, so you want to hurt more. When I’m hurt, I want to hurt other people.”
She laughs bitterly. “I’ve hurt other people too.”
Is this what’s consuming her? Killing Danny English?
I trace the knife down the length of her neck, leaving nothing more than a faint red line. When I reach the neckline of her dress, I dip the cold blade underneath the fabric, running it over the curve of her breast.
“Please, don’t tempt me, sweetheart. I’ve done a good job of staying out of the way of temptation this week.”
“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?”
I know the blade meets her nipple because her fingers dig into my bicep. Her perfect mouth parts, and she briefly closes her eyes. Instead of answering her question, my lips find her other nipple, hardened against the velvet fabric of her dress. I clamp my teeth on it, enjoying how she bucks against me. God, she’s so fucking hard to resist. With every muffled gasp, every fingernail that pierces my flesh, I just want to rip her open and break her into a million sharp pieces.
But I can’t. I fucking can’t. Emelia rattles in the locked box somewhere in the shadows of my brain. And for a moment, I can hear her cries in my ear. Feel her wet tears dripping onto my chest. Guilt winds around my neck like the noose she put around her own.
Two heads. Not enough blood for both.
I look up at Romy through my lashes with an idea fully formed in my mind. “You want me to punish you, Romy?”
Her body stiffens, and wordlessly, she fuses her lips together, her eyes dancing. Readying herself for battle.
Without warning, I toss the knife across the room and curl my arms around her, scooping her up in one swift motion, blanket and all.
“Where are we going?” she gasps as her legs latch around my waist.
I ignore her, and instead, I stride down the hall, bursting through the door at the end. Gripping her tighter, I take the spiral stairs up to my bedroom suite and drop her on the bed like she weighs nothing.
My eyes follow her, hot and hungry, as she lands on the silk sheets, breasts bouncing against the fabric of her dress.
Taking a step back, I look up at the skylight above my bed and mutter a few curses under my breath. Having her spread out like a goddamn buffet, panting and willing, puts a slight damper on my plan. I’m dizzy with how much I want her. Drunk on the thought of sinking my teeth into her flesh and peeling away her layers. Exposing the darkness within her.
But I draw a deep breath and climb on top of her, clamping her hips between my thighs. Sliding her arms out of her dress, I yank it down, freeing her beautiful tits.
She squirms underneath me as I expose her, still biting down on that goddamn lip. Navy eyes heating up, expectantly. For her, it’s a sick game of chess. She’s the novice, begging for the chance to lose to the grand master. And I’m the grand master, only I’m torn between wanting to win the game and not wanting to break this novice’s spirit.
I have to tear my eyes away from her gaze before I put my fist through the headboard. Instead, I turn my attention to her chest, dipping my tongue between her cleavage and up to one of her nipples, clamping down on it. Fuck, it feels even better than it does over her dress. Her fingers entwine themselves in my hair as she drags me closer to her and arches her back so she’s closer to me. Until not one single inch of thick air is between my mouth and her sweet, hardened nub.
Pulling back, I trace a delicate finger over the teeth marks now circling her nipple. They are red and angry and won’t be the only way I mark her tonight.
I crave more.
Dipping my hand between her thighs, I lie flat against her and suck on her throat. Hard and slow, my mouth pulls at her delicate flesh where the knife was just minutes earlier. Romy’s nails claw against my scalp, a tiny, pathetic whimper somehow managing to escape her stubborn lips. Her fingers flex in my hair, and she pulls my head up.
I search her face cautiously, but the desperation coloring her cheeks pink tells me she wants this as much as I do. Her eyes drop to my lips, then she fuses them against hers. Her hands slide from my hair to my jaw, holding me with the dominance I’ve never felt from a woman.
She might be fighting the noise of her lust, but I’m not. I have no qualms about forcing her mouth open with my tongue and groaning into the silence that lives there. I can taste every unformed moan, every unspoken secret, yet still not feel any closer to knowing the real her.
