Page 115 of Savage Keepsakes

“Fuck me, Billy,” I gasp, and he thrusts into me harder.

I clench onto the intrusion, my body spasming uncontrollably. Billy keeps thrusting inside me, and I can feel his breath on my skin as his mask’s empty eye sockets seem to bore into my soul.

I grind against him until he pulls away. He presses the handle of the knife into my mouth and I lick it clean.

“On your knees,” he grunts out. He kneels behind me, gripping my hip and sliding inside.

“Beg.”

“Fuck me, please. Show me how you make me your perfect little cock-sleeve,” I utter.

Billy’s fist grips my hair as he fills me, and he smacks my ass as he pounds into me. My head is turned by his firm hand as fingers enter my mouth, pulling on the side of my cheek.

“Always look at me while I fuck you.”

“Forever,” I garble out around his digits.

As he lowers his hand to my throat, his grip adds an electrifying sensation, intensifying the pleasure that engulfs me. Billy spits on my ass and spreads me open. As he thrusts into me, I feel the knife handle sliding into my tight hole.

My fingertips slide beneath us and I tease myself, the bliss building. Every fibre of my being is flooded with a primal, carnal need. My fingers find the spot that sends shockwaves through my body.

“Come all over my cock, darlin’.”

Ecstasy courses through my veins, igniting a symphony of sensations that dance under my flesh.

As he penetrates me with the handle of the knife, his blood spills along my skin and his savage grunts reverberate through the stillness of the night.

Waves of pleasure wash over me, and he lets out a deep groan as he fills me with his warm come.

With a powerful grip on my hair, he yanks my head back, planting a forceful kiss on my lips. Hestares down at me and spits into my mouth, which I swallow.

“You’re my perfect slut. Only mine.”

As the aftershocks ripple through my body, I can’t help but slump forward, my energy sapped away. Billy slowly removes the knife handle and slips out of me.

The last thing that registers in my ears is the distinct sound of his jeans being zipped up.

I wake up in the cabin, hearing the crackling of the fire and the gentle patter of rain on the roof.

He took the time to clean me up, and now I’m sporting one of his oversized band tees. Billy’s hand is wrapped in a bandage, and he’s showered.

“Didn’t think you’d be out that long. We should figure out what makes you pass out after you come and sleep for an hour.”

“Probably being thoroughly fucked, and adrenaline drop,” I say.

“Guess so. You’re the professional. That was one of our best ones yet,” he says and smirks before handing me a bowl of soup.

“I love you, Billy,” I say before taking a spoonful.

“Forever, Lou.” He winks and settles beside me.

“And always.”

Thirty

Billy

One Year Later

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