Page 89 of The King of Hearts

“What the fuck did I say about crying out that name?” He takes his finger out and thrusts it back in, deeper this time. “Now say it correctly.”

“Ryker!” I scream, giving him exactly what he wants.

“Good girl.”

He pulls his finger out and flips me around so I’m lying on the bed with my ass hanging off the edge and my arms trapped under me. Grabbing my ankles, he sets my feet on the footboard, leaving my legs wide open.

He must see the defiance in my eyes because he orders, “Leave them there.”

My breathing picks up speed when he reaches for the dagger. The blade twinkles in the bright-white light overhead. My eyes widen, and panic wedges its way into my system when he presses the tip in the hollow of my throat.

“It would be so easy to slit your throat from ear to ear,” he says nonchalantly, like he’s not fucking talking about murdering me. “The edges are dull, but it wouldn’t take much pressure to slice through your skin.”

I whimper, but this time it isn’t from pleasure but genuine fear. Would he really kill me?

“You look scared, Vicious,” he taunts.

“Because you’re talking about killing me.”

“No, I’m not. I said it would beeasyto kill you. Not that I would.” The dagger scrapes down my chest and then veers over the slope of one of my breasts. He circles the tip around my nipple. “Why in the fuck would I kill you when I’ve waited over two years to finally have you? That would be psychotic.”

“Youarea psycho.”

His eyes move up to mine. “Probably.”

He flicks his wrist, and I hiss out a breath when there’s a sharp pain in my nipple. His gaze moves to it, and I don’t need to look down to know he just nicked me.

“You look so fucking pretty when you bleed for me. All of that red makes my mouth water.”

His head drops, and his tongue wraps around the abused nipple. Despite the pain of the cut, pleasure whips through mewhen he sucks the bud into his mouth. I grit my teeth, fighting the need to moan.

When he lifts his head, he moves the dagger to my other nipple and does the same. The pain isn’t as piercing because it isn’t a shock to my system like the first one, but it still stings. He licks and sucks the blood away.

Red coats his lips when he releases my nipple and peers up at me, and I’m suddenly curious of whathisblood would taste like. Would he allow me the opportunity to find out? Or does his depravity only extend to him causing me to bleed? I don’t know if I’d ever have the nerve to actually do it though.

He drops to his knees before me, and his head lowers. Wetness and warmth hit me square between my legs, and my hips buck up off the bed. His tongue swipes across my clit, his lips suck it into his mouth, and his teeth bite my lips.

“Ryker,” I moan. “Mmm… that feels so good.”

He groans against me, and the added vibration of the sound zaps my core with little electrical shocks. The light, prickly scruff on his cheeks scrapes across my skin, and it has me seeing starbursts behind my closed eyes. I plant my feet on the footboard and lift my hips, trying to smash my pussy harder against his mouth. I’m so turned on, my body a sensitive ball of nerves, that I know it won’t take me long to fall over the edge.

There’s a sharp pain on the inside of my thigh close to the crease of my leg, and I feel something warm trickle down my skin. The dagger. He still has the dagger, and he must have cut me again. It hurt, but not enough to cause unbearable pain.

I tip my chin to my chest and look down my body. His mouth has left my pussy, and if I wasn’t so distracted, I’d protest at the loss. He’s looking at me with a feral intensity as he lowers his head to the spot he just cut. I hiss out a breath when his tongue touches it, causing the nick to sting.

“Hmm… so fucking delicious.”

There’s another stinging pain on my clit, and this time I cry out at the sharpness. His head lowers and he sucks the sore spot into his mouth. Pain and pleasure slam inside me, and I don’t know whether I should beg him to stop or press myself closer. I choose the latter.

I bite my lower lip, reveling in the way he likes the taste of my blood way too much. We should both be locked up in a mental hospital somewhere because this is just so wrong.

He stands to his full height, laying the dagger on my stomach so he can remove his shirt. Once again, I’m left speechless by the beauty of his chest. Tattoos cover most of it, depictions of angels and demons, a rose in half bloom, birds in flight, a willow tree with weeping branches, half of a skull. There are a couple of quotes in a language I can’t read, but the script itself is beautiful. There’s also a lot of scars. More than I originally thought. They litter the bottom half of his stomach.

I want to ask him about them. Do those scars have something to do with his blood kink? Has he done this with other women? Has he let other women cut him? My blood turns icy cold at the thought. I want to murder any and all women who’ve ever touched him.

He gets rid of his pants next, revealing his massive cock. A bead of pre-cum clings to the angry-looking tip, and my mouth waters to lick it away. Before I met my devil, I never really put a lot of thought into if I would like the taste of a man’s cum, but ever since I tasted Ryker’s, I’ve grown a craving.

He slides his hand up and down his length, squeezing the tip when he gets to it, and more leaks out.

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