Page 75 of Seven+Four

“Stop, just stop!” He bats my hands away. “Why do you keep doing this? Playing with me?”

“Playing?” I echo.

“Stringing me along, when what you really want is someone else!” he clips.

“There’s only fucking you in my world, Sari. Nobody else.”

He looks down for a moment. “I saw you!” He swallows hard and then fixes his pained eyes on me. “I saw you with that guy.” His gaze turns watery again, and fuck, there’s too much space between us.

“He was just a tool; I used him and discarded him.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” He stands up, keeping the sheet around his body. “What if I use tools as well, Uri? What then?”

I growl long and deep. “I’ll end them, just like I’m going to do with that fucker who thought he could put his hands on you.”

“Talk about a double standard.” I don’t understand the betrayal pouring from his voice. “And I asked thatfuckerto touch me.”

I grunt. “Did you ask him to use a paddle as well? Or to split your lip and bruise your face?” I snarl; my rage tries to overwhelm me again.

“Obviously not!” he cries out. “I always choose the wrong guy, don’t I?”

“Because I am the one for you.”

“Right!” he exclaims sarcastically. “If that’s true, why are you fucking other people then? Why won’t you use that whip on me? Why don’t you wantmeto touch you?” he screams, blurry eyes wide and wet, cheeks red. He’s so fucking beautiful. The sight of him so broken and desperate turns my dick to stone.

When I don’t answer, he shakes his head. “Get out.” I can barely hear his soft whisper.

“Look at me,” I order him, and fuck he does instantly, turning the fire inside me into a blazing inferno. I grab the back of my shirt and pull it off slowly, showing my chest and biceps to him for the first time since I was seventeen.

His eyes move all over my torso, looking at the ink covering it. It’s all Sari. Memories I share with him, places, names, and dates. Baby Blue Eyes envelop one pec, moving up the shoulder and down the bicep. The day, month, and year I first saw him is tattooed among the flowers on my heart in red, bold numbers. On the other side, there’s a microscope, a slice of apple pie, sometitles of his favorite books, a pomegranate, the green bicycle he rode when we were kids, a quote from his favorite song.

I have more on my legs and back, more things that remind me of him. Always him.

His arm reaches out. His trembling finger almost makes contact with the tattoo of his teary eyes on my belly. But don’t. He wraps it around his body while his confused gaze keeps studying me with shock and appreciation. My cock is throbbing inside my pants, begging for some relief.

“They are all about…”

“…you,” I finish for him.

He blinks a few times, looking even more confused, then suddenly frowns. “What are those small lines tattooed all around your bicep?”

“One for every research project you completed,” I let him know. There are twenty-three in total.

His hand shoots up to cover his mouth. “Why?” I think I hear him ask.

“I got a tattoo each time I almost took you. The flashes of possessiveness overwhelmed me to the point of possessing you.” I give him a look filled with raw desire, so as not to have any more misunderstandings. “Ironically, the pain reminded me why I couldn’t do it.” Instead of hurting him, I hurt myself.

His arms tighten around his waist. “I don’t understand,” he says in a small voice, mouth trembling.

“I’m a sadist, Sari.” I pause to let the word sink into his brain. “I enjoy hurting people.”

“I know.”

I nod. “I’m not only talking about donors. I get hard thinking about a writhing body in the throes of pain and pleasure, confused pleading, high-pitched cries, reddened skin and jiggling flesh. And you, Baby Blue, are the main character every single time. The way I want you is rough and forceful. I want to dominate you and punish you, see your body shiver, jolt, scream under my hands.”

As I talk, I see Sari’s body quivering. There’s no fear in his half-lidded eyes. He’s struggling to catch his breath as his face blooms with a deep flush. His big eyes remain on mine, they never waiver. I don’t let them.

The sheet falls on the floor, revealing his lean body covered only in sexy lingerie as his cold hands flatten on my bare chest. The unexpected touch ignites an ache inside me, the all-consuming, craving kind.

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