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My head falls to his shoulder as I relax into him. “Yes,” I whisper. It’s all I want.
“Then allow me to grant you that,” he speaks into my hair.
“Yes, but I’m still upset about last night.”
I feel him nod against me. “I should have asked before I marked up your flawless skin with my knife.”
Arrogant. “No, it’s not that. You didn’t come back last night. Left me in your bed like a cheap whore. I may be many things but cheap has never been one of them.”
He cups my chin, raising my head from his shoulder so her can peer down at me. “Let me get this straight, you’re mad because I didn’t come back, not because I cut you and licked your blood from your delicious body? You sick little rabbit,” he rasps. “Does that mean you’re curious? That maybe you like it?”
I narrow my eyes just a bit. “Yes, but not with someone who does what you did and leaves me.”
His tongue comes out, swiping over my lower lip and causing my eyes to flutter closed. “I promise not to leave you again.” He picks me up by my ass, sitting me back on the desk. I watch as he grips the back of his shirt slowly, pulling it up to reveal rows of taut muscles on tan skin. He tosses the shirt, arm muscles flexing with the motion. I peer at the tattoo on his neck. It readsMisfitsin big bold lettering. I have the urge to trace the letters with my tongue, but that is forgotten when I catch sight of his hand in his pocket. He pulls a knife from his pocket, holding it out for me. I look to his sparkling depths that heat and melt as they sear into mine. My hand, a little shaky from the adrenaline now coursing through me, wraps around the knife as I follow him to the couch. His body stretches on top of the cushions, and I slowly crawl up his strong thighs, sitting on his hardening member through his pants.
I allow my free hand to trace over his strong muscles, following the path with the knife. Up between his pecs, circling around his nipples, watching his muscles flex under the motion. I push the knife down into the skin below his shoulder blade. Small pricks of blood come to the surface, and my mouth dries. His beautiful, unmarred skin is now tarnished by my hands, and it feels like an ownership. I look to Beckett under my lowered lashes, squirming on his lap with arousal, seeing the pools of raw, molten want that probably reflects in my own eyes. Looking back to my mark of ownership, I run my finger through it, using the blood to write my name. Beckett groans and I pull my phone out, snapping a picture of just his chest, my name scrawled across his body. I toss my phone away, my head lowering. I swipe my tongue over the blood, allowing the metallic flavor to settle on my taste buds. Beckett grinds into me from below, causing friction so delicious it has me moaning and sucking the blood into my mouth like a starved vampire. It’s strange but also liberating. I’ve never done something so… I don’t want to say dirty, because it’s not. We like what we like, no shame. It’s erotic, which is how I feel as I suck Beckett’s blood, causing him to grind deeper, chasing his orgasm until his body stiffens and he groans.
“You made me come in my fucking pants, Rabbit,” he hisses, flipping me over in one smooth movement so that I’m now under him. “That’s never happened.” He bends down, licking his blood from my lips. “I’ve never let anyone cut me. Lick my blood.” Warmth spreads in my chest, blooming into something dangerous.
Beckett’s strong hand wraps around my neck, jerking my mouth to meet his, and it’s everything I expect a psychedelic drug to feel like. Intoxicating as warm liquid fire fills my insides. His hands are on my shorts, ready to rip them off me, when there’s banging coming from the door. “Open the fuck up,” Vance yells from the other side.
Beckett curses and climbs off of me, walking over to grab his shirt. And I wish I could set Vance on fire for ruining this moment.
15
Beckett
I watchas Brixley swipes her tongue across the corner of her lip, tasting the lingering stain of my blood. I groan low in my chest, readjusting my sticky mess of a dick. I came in my pants. Like an adolescent that’s seen porn for the first time. I’ve always been the one who did the cutting, the blood play never touched my skin, but when curiosity sparkled in her eyes, I couldn’t deny my little rabbit the chance to mark me.
As I walk to the door, fifty different versions of how to murder Vance plays through my mind. It seems like he’s always there, ready to cockblock me. I get it, but he’s always known this is how it would end. Brixley and I were inevitable, written in the stars as soon as a spark of life entered our souls. It was always going to be us; she just hasn’t realized it yet.But she will.
I swing the door open to a scowling Vance, eyes fierce with a rage that matches my own. He looks over my shoulder, spotting Brixley sitting on the couch, and his fists tighten as his eyes swing back to mine. “We have a problem,” he says.
“I’m sure it could wait,” I grit out.
He shakes his head. “Afraid not,boss.” The name is a dig, a sign of disrespect, but I don’t care to fight him about that now.
I sigh, looking over my shoulder at my red-headed beauty. “Come on, Rabbit. I’ll take you home.”
Brixley stands, pulling her phone out to check the screen before putting it back in the pocket of her running shorts. “That’s okay, I can find my own way back.”
“Doubtful, Soulless,” Vance says.
“Thenyoutake me,” she challenges, not making eye contact with me.
My fist clenches, my jaw hardening, as Vance grins. “My pleasure.” Vance looks over to me before saying, “I’ll be back.”
He walks away from the door as Brixley tries to walk past me. I grab her elbow, halting her. I lean close to her ear, and whisper, “This isn’t over, far from it.”
She looks up to me, green eyes the shade of ivory leaves and emerald sparkling. “We’ll see.” She jerks her elbow from my grip, smirking as she walks out.
A smile breaks past my lips as she shuts the door in my face. If my rabbit wants to be chased, I’ll hunt.
* * *
It feelslike hours pass by the time Vance gets back. All the arrogance has left his presence, leaving behind the cold man I’ve grown to understand. “What’s so important?” I ask.
“I know who’s been killing the students,” he says darkly, taking a seat on the couch opposite to the one Brixley and I used.Smart.
