Page 26 of The Games We Play

Does he know what I’m thinking? I glance up at the blue X’s of his mask. His words draw me in, grabbing my soul and tethering it to his.

“Claim me, Puppet,” he nearly begs, his voice breaking at the end. “Prove to them I am yours and no one else’s.”

I stop circling his chest. With his hand holding mine, I sink the tip of the knife into his skin, and he hisses as it cuts into his first bit of flesh. He forces me to push harder, cut deeper. To leave a permanent scar over his heart. I make one line vertical along his pectoral muscle, then lift the blade back to where I started. X lifts his hips, his cock pressing into myleggings through his jeans. He moans as drops of blood bead from the slice of his skin.

“Yes.” His head falls back into the reclining chair, and he releases my hand, panting and gripping the edges like he can’t contain himself.

Fire burns through my veins at the sight of him. His body trembles underneath me, the monster’s appetite barely curbed under the surface. I take my time in completing my mark, then sit back and study my work of art. Blood runs down his toned abdomen from thePI’ve carved.

His chest rises and falls in deep breaths, his mask muffling his sounds. “My turn,” he whispers, and he slides my ripped shirt off my left shoulder, blood already staining the fabric.

He tsks when he sees the mark slashed across my chest, running his thumb across the cut. I flinch from the pain, mesmerized as he places his thumb under the mask, and I make out the sound of him sucking my blood off.

“Delicious,” he purrs, his chest rumbling with the deep, satisfied sound. My core tightens, and my hips writhe, begging for more. He plucks the knife from my hand and places his palm flat against my sternum. I shudder at his touch, this moment more intimate than what I plan to do before the night ends.

My breath picks up as he brings the tip of the knife to my chest. I gasp as he cuts into the mark that’s already there, dragging the blade until the end. Fresh blood mingles with the dirt smeared on my skin. “Fuck.” I bite my bottom lip and grip his jeans, pressing my clit onto his crotch until the pain subsides.

“Who did you let get too close, Puppet?”

“I left him bleeding in the first room,” I saybreathlessly.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he praises, and the knife cuts into my chest again. His cock hardens to the point it has to be painful, and I bear down on him, pressing his zipper into my clit and moaning as he finishes his mark across my chest.

“You’d kill for me,” he murmurs more to himself, like he’s shocked, and pulls the blade away. I glance down to see a freshly carved X on my skin. He places his hand over the dripping blood and smears it up my throat. “I want to fucking worship you.” His slick hand moves to my nape, and he pulls me flush against his body. Our blood mixes, linking us permanently to each other.

Lifting my hand to his collarbone, I glide it across the fresh blood on his skin.

My lips part, and I skim the bottom side of his mask. His breath catches, and his legs shift slightly from under me.

Is he…nervous?

I slide the material up his chin. Short stubble from his facial hair brushes against my fingers. He exhales slowly, and I stop lifting the mask, memorizing the shape of his lips and the contours of his jawline. His tongue swipes out to wet his bottom lip, and I can’t pull my eyes away from the glisten.

“You put me through hell,” I say and slide off his body. He pushes up to his elbows and reaches for his mask. But I turn my back before I can see his face. The minimal lights filtering through the walls around us go out, signaling Haunted Nights has ended. My blood runs hot as he steps off the chair and stalks over to me.

“I had to make sure you had what it takes.” His breath blows across the nape of my neck, and I angle my head to the side, desperate for his touch but refusing to cave like a lust-drunk child.

“Takes to do what?” I ask.

His fingers graze my arms, and his chest presses against me. “To bring me back from the brink of my personal hell when I need it.”

His words stun me, and he nips my neck. The pleasure shoots straight to my clit, and I grind my ass back into him.

“What about you?” I quip and turn, cupping the crotch of his jeans and squeezing his balls. He immediately fists my hair and yanks my head back. “How do I know you have what it takes?” I ask, glancing up at him, even though I can’t see him through the pitch-black darkness.

His low, rumbling laugh vibrates against my breasts. “I’m your new addiction,” he says. “I’m your fix. Your drug. Your god.” His nose brushes across mine. I tilt my head back and push to my toes, finding his lips with mine. I squeeze my hand tighter, and his fingers wrap around my throat.

“My damnation,” I gasp. I’ll gladly follow him into the pits of Hell.

X shoves me back and slams me into the barely-there wall. I raise my leg and hook it around his hip, gripping the waist of his pants to bring him closer.

“On your knees, and suck my cock like it’s the last drag of a cigarette,” he demands. I drop obediently and unbutton his pants, dropping them down his legs. Gripping his freed dick with both hands, I pump him and force him to brace himself on the wall. Just weeks ago, I swore I would never get on my knees for this man…but here I am. And as I gaze up in the darkness, I imagine what he looks like. Are his eyes a moss green that is as rich as the green woods banked with heat as he stares down at me? Is he biting on his bottom lip at my challenge, filled with excitement?

“Make me,” I purr.

“I’ll fuck that cunt until you can’t stand to walk, Puppet. Is that what you want?” My stomach flips, and I squeeze my thighs together.

“Yes,” I admit. More than anything, I want him to demolish me.

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