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His voice is so rough with want. His touch too, the clawed nails of his free hand grazing down my side and making me whimper.
It’s a lot. I’m forgetting to breathe, I can tell, and it’s adding to my lightheadedness. My thighs and stomach are a mess of vivid red lines. Blood is smeared against the skin where Caelan’s fingers or lips have been.
He’s moving upward, knife cutting into my chest just above the soft tissue of my breasts now. Slowly still, savoring it, and the way he drags it out only makes the sensation more intense.
Maybe a little too intense. It hurts, but at the same time, it feels so good having Caelan all over me, making me ache with want, but my head is spinning, and I just—
“Ugh. Y-yellow, Caelan, I...”
The knife immediately lowers away, and Caelan’s expression shifts to one of concern. “You all right? Shannon?”
I take a moment to gulp in a few steadying breaths. “Mmm. I don’t want to stop. I just… need a breather.”
“Need me to back off?”
I shake my head with as much vehemence as I can muster. The contact is good. It’s helping ground me and gives me something to focus on. “Stay. Just… hold me, talk to me for a moment?”
“All right. You sure you’re doin’ okay?” he asks, obliging me. He’s put the knife aside for the moment, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other rubbing small circles against my hip.
“Yeah. Just felt kind of lightheaded for a second, is all.” Honestly, a moment to breathe was all I needed. The dizziness is fading already, and all that’s left is the sensation of feeling delightfully buzzing and floaty.
Caelan gives a soft snort. “I forget how fragile you humans can be. So easy to break, and yet you’d still give yourself to me like this.”
All I can do is grin up at him because, yeah, I’d absolutely give myself to him like this, and I’m hardly about to deny it. He’s not looking at me, though. He’s looking at the cuts he’s left with an expression of utmost appreciation.
“Fuck. You’re so good. So gorgeous like this, all marked up. Allmine.”
The way he says it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “All yours,” I agree, my voice cracking with a moan.
Caelan’s eyes snap back up to meet mine, and he cups my face between his hands and kisses me until I’m breathless. The length of his body presses up against mine, his weight bearing down and pinning me to the bed. I can’t resist arching up into the contact. He’s so warm, and the connection of so much skin against skin is delicious. I wish his jeans weren’t in the way, either.
Even with them, I can feel how hard Caelan is through the fabric.God, he really is so damn into this knife-play thing, isn’t he?Though it’s not like I can judge him for that, not with how wet, needy, and aching I am.
The way he presses against me and growls my name isnothelping. “You have no idea how much I want to carve my name into you and justclaimyou.”
He grinds against me, and I can’t help the needy whimper that bursts from my lips. When he says ‘claim,’ it’s clear he means it in a thoroughly physical sense. And I want that,needit too. The ache between my legs is driving me mad. I’ve been teased all evening. I have to get something inside me. And soon.
“Do it,” I beg him. “Please.”
“Which part? The carving or the claiming?”
“Both!” I blurt out the answer without thinking, but I realize it’s exactly what I want. The knife is fun and all,very fun,but the thought of him carving his name? Like a brand, a mark of ownership? It thrilled me when they left marks on me last time, butthat…
My voice is shaky and desperate. “Make it deeper. Enough to scar for a few weeks at least. Months. Permanently, I don’t care, just… Caelan, please, I’ll be yours. Carve your name into me. I want it.”
Caelan’s eyes darken, and he leans in. When he kisses me again, it’s pure heat.
He reaches up, and it takes me a moment to realize what he’s doing, still utterly distracted by his lips against mine. But he’s undoing the ropes.
“No!” I protest. “I didn’t want to stop!”
Caelan chuckles. “Demanding little minx, ain’t ya? We’re not stopping. I’m gonna flip you over and carve into your back instead. It’ll be less sensitive for going deeper, yeah?”
“Oh. Okay.” I’ll miss being tied up, but it makes sense.
“Cute how much you want it, though,” he says, kissing the tip of my nose.
He unravels the last of the rope, rubbing my wrists to make sure the circulation is still flowing fine, before sliding his hands back down my sides. Then he takes my hips and flips me over, just as promised.
