Page 80 of Cruel Betrayal


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Wren moves her hand away herself as she searches the counter. My confusion only grows as I hear the clatter of metal.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart.” I curl my fingers into her again.

With a groan, Wren turns back to face me. My knife is in her hand, and she presses it into my palm.

“Show me I belong to you,” she whispers. “Show me I’m yours.”

I swear, my heartactuallyskips a beat. As I close my fingers around the knife, I search her eyes, unsure of what I’m even looking for. I figured we’d reach this point eventually. Oliver told me about her discovering his scar and how eager she looked.

“I can take it,” she says, sensing my hesitation.

I open the knife, watching her eyes flare as she takes it in. Slowly, I move it closer, until the flat of the blade is resting against her collarbone. She doesn’t move—barely breathes—but her face lights up.

“You want my mark on you, sweetheart?” I ask lowly. Making sure not to cut her, I move the knife down her chest.

Her nod is sincere. “I need it.”

Stepping back, I look her over. She really, truly seems to want this, so I grab a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the closet behind me. While I clean the knife, Wren watches with fascination.

“Do you have a preference for where?” I ask her.

“Ummm.” She looks over her body before her fingers graze over the top of her thigh. “Here?”

“And you’re sure? It’ll hurt.”

“I want it.” She adjusts herself so she’s sitting in a more stable position. “And I trust you.”

I watch her for a second, waiting for the fear to show up in her eyes, but it never comes. After a deep breath, I kiss her gently. Her trust is a gift. Sometimes I wonder if I deserve it, but she’s given it to me regardless.

“Make sure you stay still,” I tell her as I hold her leg down with one hand.

Wren gasps as the blade breaks her skin, but she doesn’t flinch. I don’t cut deeply—in fact, I keep it as shallow as possible. The knife is sharp enough that as I carve a small heart into her skin, I barely have to apply any pressure. It most likely won’t scar, but I think for her first time, that’s probably for the best.

Blood wells from the cut and runs down her leg. Once I’m finished, I set the knife on the other side of the sink. Wren is staring at her thigh, and her lips are slightly curved upward in a satisfied smile.

“It’s perfect,” she whispers.

I lick up some of the blood before it drips onto the counter. Then Wren tugs me up, pulling me into a wordless kiss that sends a shudder through my body. When she pulls away, her gaze drops to her cut again, and she swipes a finger over the trail of blood.

Before I can ask her what she’s doing, she gently traces a small heart on my bare chest. Her voice is soft as she looks up at me and says, “Now you have my mark, too.”

My heart races as she leans in and kisses the spot right next to the little drawing. Never in a million years would I have expected Wren would do something like that, but she wants it just as much as I do.

“Sweetheart,” I murmur as I cup her cheek. I’m at a loss for words, so all I can do is stare at her and hope she understands what I wish I could say.

When her hand wraps around my dick, I lower my gaze to watch. As she strokes, I groan. There was still a little blood on her finger, and now it’s on my cock.

“Fuck me,” she whispers. “Now, Rhett.”

After sliding into her, I take hold of her legs and spread them farther open. Wren moans as I bottom out inside of her. I hold myself there for a second and press my lips to her forehead. We’ve barely started, but I’m already breathing hard.

“Wren.” Her name is heavy on my tongue. This close to her, my thighs are pressed against hers. When I pull out, blood covers a patch of my skin. I slam into her again, groaning at the sight.

Wren’s cry echoes through the room as she grabs onto my shoulder. I press small circles to her clit with my thumb. Her eyes flutter closed, and she tips her head back with a blissful expression on her face.

“My beautiful whore,” I murmur.

Wren gasps for air as she clings to me. I grab her jaw, keeping it open as I lean down and spit on her tongue. Her eyes fly open, and I thrust into her harder as she swallows.

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