Page 31 of Cry, Little Dove

“Thank you for not killing me, sir,” I mumble, a blush warming my face.

A shudder courses through him. “Just like that, my pretty little slut,” he whispers. He tilts his hips, grinding his hard cock against my lower back, and despite the humiliation, my chest swells with confidence.

Cain makes me feel sexy. Wanted. And that intoxicating combination of degradation and praise? I can’t get enough of it.

“You forgot something very important when you put that knife to your neck,” he says, dragging the barrel of the gun down my throat, the tip disappearing under my top and between my breasts. “You belong to me.Nobodyhurts my little dove except for me. Not even you.”

Cain spins me around and tucks the gun into his waistband, but I don’t consider fighting back or going for the knife he left on the counter. I’m outmatched.

His right hand closes around my neck, painfully tight and sure to leave bruises. I can tell from the glimmer in his eyes that he loves the way my pulse hammers against his fingers. His free hand yanks down my pants and underwear in one go.

“Step out of your clothes,” he orders.

This time, I obey. As a reward, Cain releases my throat, and I gulp for air. He glances down at my discarded clothes and a smirk lifts his mouth.

“One day you’ll have to admit that you’re a sick, broken freak like me. Only a disturbed slut soaks through her panties from being threatened with a gun.”

Shame curls like an angry serpent through my belly. I don’t have to look to know he’s telling the truth. The warmth between my thighs is unmistakable.

Cain grips me around the waist and lifts me. He sits me down on the edge of the island, the marble pressing icy cold against my naked ass. He picks up the knife I threatened him with and he spreads my legs wide before stepping between them. His eyes hood with morbid lust as he brushes the tip of the blade under my chin.

“Beg me to cut you, little dove. I know you want it.”

“I don’t.” My meek tone is unconvincing.

He breathes a snicker. “You’re a lousy liar. I knew what you wanted from the moment we met. It was obvious you were looking for pain, somebody to let out the rage and terror you bottle up inside.”

My stomach cramps.

“You might not like it, but I’m the monster you need, darlin’. No other man can make you feel like I do. And when you finally get that through your pretty, stubborn skull, you’ll be on your knees, crawling at my feet and begging me to hurt you.”

He lowers the knife to my thigh, pressing the flat side to it. The cold seeps into my skin, making me squirm.

“Now ask me to cut you,” he repeats.

“Please—” I choke on my embarrassment, and he slaps my leg with the blade. I startle, forcing out the words. “Please cut me, sir.”

“God, your voice sounds incredible when you beg. Hold very still. I don’t wanna slip and nick an artery.”

My breath catches as he drags the blade in a slow curve over the inside of my right thigh, just below my center, avoiding my tattoo. The searing pain is intense, silky and rich. I don’t mean to moan, but I can’t stop it. Every neat cut sends shocks of lust to my pussy and my hand twists into his shirt as my blood drips on the floor.

Cain wields the large knife with the same precision he uses a delicate scalpel, yet I know these wounds are going to leave scars. Being marked by this vicious man should be a terrible thought, but the pulsing between my legs grows. My hips burn with the need to roll and grind, my cunt aching to be filled.

“Done.” Cain takes a step back. “Look at it, little dove.”

Dazed, it takes me a beat to make sense of what I see etched into my skin.

CM

I stiffen. The possessive asshole carved his goddamn initials into me to mark me as his property! I expected random cuts, but notthis.

“Do you like it?” Cain asks.

I have no answer for him. I don’t have one for myself, either.

He crouches and pushes his head between my legs, and though he has already seen all of me, I flush. There is something more intimate about this situation than the hookup in the motel or the sex in the operating theater.

His tongue flicks over the fresh wounds and his breath hits my slick pussy. I jerk and he glances up, grinning. The sight of my blood across his mouth has me spiraling deeper into the abyss of insanity. So deep, I’m sure I’ll never climb out again.

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