AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How funny would it be,” I murmur, “if my hand just… slipped?”
“You’re not going to castrate me,” Luca says. His tone is confident, but his voice is short, like he’s struggling to catch his breath. And maybe it’s fear, or maybe it’s because his cock is straining against the edge of the blade as I glide it up and down. “Verbally, perhaps, but not physically.”
“You’re sure of that?”
He nods and again, his tongue darts out to moisten his mouth. He looks a fucking mess, with his wet mouth and the bright red bruise on his face, and his cock poking obscenely out while the rest of him is fully clothed. But he doesn’t seem embarrassed—if anything, quite the opposite. He leans back in his chair, watching me from beneath heavy eyelids, a glint of arrogance in his eyes.
“You like this too, Lynch.” He speaks with the softness of a love confession. “That’s why we’re doing this on your birthday. Because you’d rather be chased like an animal than celebrating like a normal person. Because putting a knife to my cock is the best birthday present you can imagine.” He gives a rasping laugh. “You might think you’re better than me, but you’re just as fucked up as I am. You’re just asturned-onas I am.” He bites into his bottom lip. “You’re going to touch yourself later thinking about this.”
“I’ll be thinking about it when I’m throwing up,” I tell him.
But of course, he’s not wrong. Iamturned-on; my entire body is telling me so. My skin, which is alive and tingling, the excited pumping of my heart, flooding my body luxuriously with an excess of blood. The tightening of my nipples beneath my clothes, the deep, wet throbbing between my legs, almost painful.
And how could Inotbe turned-on?
Power is the most potent aphrodisiac, addictive as a drug. It corrupts everything it touches. It lights up my synapses and sends fireworks of dopamine through my brain. And power over Luca feels better than anything else. It feels exhilarating and glorious; it feels like I could come just from watching his body twitch under my knife; it feels like I’m finally being fed something I’ve been starving for all my life.
“I’m disgusting, Lynch, and so are you.” Luca’s voice crawls over my skin like fingernails, like it might leave bright red marks behind. “You’re fucking poison, but that’s alright. Did you know nightshade flowers are said to be the property of the devil?”
I laugh and hop off him, tossing the knife aside to land on the couch. “Except you’re not actually the devil, and I’llnever be your property.” I grab his face hard in my hand. “Congratulations on your dick, man. I’ll be expecting a bonus with my prize money.”
He smiles graciously. “I’ve got a different reward in mind for you, Lynch.”
“Keep dreaming,” I tell him. “At least you’ll have something to think about while you treat yourself to your first wank of the year. I’m off to bed.”
He doesn’t ask me to untie him when I walk away, which is smart, since I have no intention of doing so. And, just to really make a point, I don’t even go back to my bedroom. Instead, I have a long hot shower inhisbathroom, climb naked intohisbed, masturbate betweenhissheets before nestling intohispillows for the best sleep I’ve had in months.
29
Five Fingers
Luca
Woodrow and Nadine arrivethe following morning to find me right where Willow left me, bound to a chair in the middle of the living room, dick hanging out of my trousers. Nadine, professional and unflappable as ever, neither averts her eyes nor cares to comment. She gets straight to work, kneeling by my chair to unbind me.
Woodrow, on the other hand, looks utterly crestfallen as he rushes over to help me up. I push him away and cover myself up, straightening my legs with a wince. The combination of yesterday’s hunt and a night spent tied to a chair has left my body sore and aching, but more painful still is my shoulder where that feral dick witch Willow threw a rock at me. I refrain from mentioning this to Woodrow, who is very stiffly and formally asking if I need to be taken to my doctor.
“No need, Ned.” I wave a hand at him. “I’m just a little stiff, that’s all. Nothing a hot shower won’t fix.”
“And your face, sir?” Woodrow says with damning neutrality.
“A bruise won’t kill me.”
Woodrow throws Nadine a look.
“Shall I have a security detail posted here?” she asks with a slight tilt of the head. “We could do so discreetly, if need be.”
“That won’t be necessary.” I wave a hand at them both. “I’m perfectly in control of the situation—no matter what it looks like.”
Woodrow gives Nadine a look so pointed he might as well have stabbed her in the face.
“Of course, sir, our apologies.” Woodrow’s tone is witheringly formal. “We did not intend to imply you have lost control of the situation. Your personal affairs are your own, and we do not wish to intrude. Only, sir, the spring season is about to begin. You know exactly what this entails.”
Of course I do—the spring season is my own personal purgatory. Months of garden parties, formal balls, exhibitions and gallery openings, not to mention the races, or the galas, which conclude with one of the most important social events of the year: my mother’s yearly Coram Ridge Manor gala.
This gala is Mother’s pride and joy, her crowning achievement. It’s not just a crucial networking and social event; it’s also our family’s most obvious and public armour against the opioid crisis scandal that forever haunts Novus. Every year, my mother raises hundreds of thousands of pounds to fund rehab centres and hospitals. She’s been organising it even since before I was born, and I’ve attended it every year since I turned sixteen.
“Ned,” I say in a tone of mild disappointment. “Just because my personal life has taken on a more… interesting edge as of late does not mean I intend in any way to neglect my duties. I’m wellaware of my social calendar in the coming months; I will attend every engagement, just as I have any other year.”
