Page 183 of Psycho

My breath stuttered.

He pulled away from me and took off his shirt, showcasing an expanse of golden tan skin, huge pecs, broad shoulders, and ropes upon ropes of muscles.

As angry as I was with him, I still felt a stirring of arousal from the sight of him.

It didn’t help that I was still wet from the multiple orgasms, my legs weak.

He turned away and showed me his back.

I blinked.

He turned his head slightly and looked back at me.

“Don’t you want to do it? Don’t you want to show the rest of the world who I belong to? The way I did with you. We’ll bleed together.”

His words finally made sense. He had planned this. I didn’t know for how long, but the fucker always wanted to mark me.

Anger drove my action as I tightened my hold around the blade and moved closer to him.

I ran the blade down his skin, not as gently as he had done with me.

He didn’t even flinch at the first contact of the tip of the blade piercing his skin.

Barely did anything as I finished carving theLthat was about eight or nine inches long. No one would mistake what I carved on his skin by the time I was finished.

Sweat coated my forehead.

This was harder than I had thought it would be, but I wasn’t stopping now.

I was fully committed, even as tears burned my eyes and a sort of mixed, contradictory feelings moved through me.

From disgust, to satisfaction, to possessiveness, to anger, and, of course, sadness.

Sadness for the obliteration of everything I had thought about myself.

I didn’t know this girl who was sitting on a bed, carving her name onto the skin of a man who had hurt her as much as he had saved her.

I didn’t know her, and at this point, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know her.

Micah barely moved.

Briefly, I wondered if he were one of those men that didn’t feel pain. There was no reaction from him when I finished theNin my name. Then theE, and finally theY, the tail of it creating a trail for his blood to fall from.

I threw the blade against the wall when I was finished and took in the bloody job I had done, mangling up his skin.

Then I pushed off the bed and ran to the bathroom, puking out what little I did have in my stomach.

I cried as it kept coming out, clutching my middle.

I heard Micah follow me, grabbing my hair and holding it away from my face.

I didn’t look at him. Didn’t acknowledge him.

I couldn’t.

I couldn’t believe he had done that, and I really couldn’t fucking believe that I had done it back to him.

What was wrong with me?

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