Page 40 of Darkness of Mine
The relief that rushes through me when her lips crash into mine is borderline euphoric. I push my tongue into her mouth and groan into her as she battles against me.
Her hands come to my nape and she jumps into my arms, hooking her legs around my waist and grinding against my length. The kiss is a brutal fight for dominance, all of her frustration and anger bleeding out of her as she tangles her fingers in my hair, her nails scraping my scalp.
Heat flushes through me, every prick of pain shooting straight to my dick. I feel like a man possessed because I would let this woman do anything to me if it meant her hands were on my body.
I give as good as I get, nipping and tugging at her lips till they’re swollen and red. Needing more, I spin us around and find the bed, lowering her onto her back.
Freya tilts her head, arching her neck as I move lower with my lips, leaving a trail of marks down her throat.
She moans but then small hands push against my chest. “You can’t just distract me with sex.”
I smirk and lift up to catch her eyes. “Can’t I?”
Her gaze snags on my lips and I use her distraction to slide my hand under her pants. The silk of her panties is soft against the back of my hand as I ease one finger inside her slick heat.
Her eyes roll back and I dip my head to her neck, sucking sweet bruises into her pale skin. I’m lost in the ecstasy of touching her, the taste I’ve been starved of clouding my brainand hardening my dick and it takes me a moment to feel the cold metal prick my neck.
“No, you can’t,” Freya states, her voice cold.
I ease my finger out of her and lift up. The knife she’s holding trails down to my chest as I move and Freya stares at the blade.
Her hair is messed up, tangled golden curls splayed across the navy pillow. Her cheeks flush pink and each breath escapes through parted lips.
“Feeling kinky, are we?” I ask.
Freya blinks, her green irises clouding with tears. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”
I’m suddenly all too aware of everything Freya has been through, the worst of which blindsided her not so long ago. It’s going to take time for her to heal and she’s going to need to feel in control. Especially in the bedroom.
“There’s nothing wrong with you. Given the way you were raised it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why pulling a knife is your first defense.”
“I’m like him.”Oh, fuck no.
I slide my hand under her head and squeeze. “You are nothing like him.”
Stubborn eyes flick up to me. “I’m holding a fucking knife to your chest, Eli. I could hurt you.”
I shrug, letting the knife scrape my skin. “So do it. Cut me.”
“What?”
“Cut me, Freya.” I press my hips into her, letting her feel how hard I am. “I promise you I’ll like it.”
A thousand thoughts flurry through her eyes. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe.” But I’m pretty sure some part of her needs this. Knives for Freya have only ever meant torture and pain. She has always been the victim, even when she was the one using themit was never her choice, and I have a feeling taking back some of that control will help.
Her gaze traces over my face, checking that I’m serious, that I’m okay with this. Honestly, I’m liking the idea more and more with each passing second. The tip of the blade is warming against my skin and it’s like the metal is a lightning rod, shooting arousal straight to my cock.
The moment Freya presses down and breaks the skin, that lightning strikes and I close my eyes as pleasure cascades over me. She pulls the knife down in a slow line and I thrust my hips forward, burying my length between her sweet thighs. “Fuck, kitten, that feels incredible.”
I open my eyes to find Freya staring at me with wonder. She’s drawn two more lines on my skin and I can’t help the grin that breaks across my face when I look down and see she’s cut the letter ‘F’ into the space above my heart.
The knife drops from her hand onto the bed, and I see the second her eyes go dull. Her chest hiccups and her whole body shakes beneath me.
“Hey, hey.” I cradle her face, bringing her back to me because I know exactly where she’s just disappeared to. “It’s not the same, Freya. It’s not the same.”
Her hands grip my wrists, tears streaming down her cheeks.
