Page 165 of Uprising

She blinks instead of replying. The little minx is toying with me. Riling me up.

I pull my own clothes off, tear my shirt from my chest, and all the while she’s laid there, on the bed waiting like a good girl.

“Spread your legs Rose. Let me see all of you.” I murmur and she does. She widens her legs letting me see how wet her underwear is.

I pull it to the side, running my finger right through her folds. “Such a needy thing.” I taunt.

She moans arching her back.

I reach up and shove her top above her bra. Her chest is heaving, she’s practically gasping with her need.

“Make me yours.” She says.

“You want me to mark you is that it?” I reply.

She looks up at me, her eyes widening as she clearly comes up with an idea. She rolls away, disappearing into the bathroom before coming back with something between her fingers.

I narrow my eyes giving enough space for her to sit back down in front of me.

When I see what’s in her hand I frown more. “You really want that?”

She nods placing the razor blade into my hand.

“This will hurt.” I state.

She gives me a strange grin. “I’ve been hurt before Roman. Besides, I like the way you hurt me.”

I catch her lips, force my tongue into her mouth and she wraps her arms around my neck deepening it further.

When I pull away I stare down at her body, pushing her down onto the bed.

“Hold still.” I say spreading her legs wide again.

She nods, gripping the sheets. As I begin to cut she whimpers, but she doesn’t move. She takes every stroke, breathing through the pain. When I’m done she stares down at where the blood is pooling, where it’s running down her thigh. I get up, grab a plaster and put it in place. I made sure to only cut as deep as was necessary. The scar will be fine. The letters small. But they are there.

My name is there.

Etched into her skin.

She’s got the blade in her hand and then she looks at me.

I take in a deep breath, already knowing what’s in her head. Taking her hand, I rest the blade below the scar on my chest, indicating exactly where I want her to mark me.

She doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t flinch. She cuts into my skin, carves her name into me, and I revel in every twist of the blade, every slice she makes.

When she’s done my own blood is trickling down my chest. I take the blade, toss it into the sink in the bathroom and clean my own mark.

And then I walk back in, pushing her back onto the bed, claiming her mouth, devouring her as something primal takes over.

She moans, wrapping her body around mine, writhing, telling me that her need is matching mine.

I rip her top off her, toss it away and then unhook her bra. She digs her nails into my scalp, she rubs herself against my hardened cock.

“Fuck me Roman.” She gasps.

I tear her underwear off, hearing her whimper as the fabric pulls her skin.

When I sink into her she’s so wet and warm I think I lose my head. I thrust all of me inside not giving her time to adjust and she claws at my back in a way I know will leave scrapes.

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