Page 153 of Cruel When He Smiles
Nate
Liam’seyeschange.
One second, they’re filled with satisfaction, with that slow, dangerous kind of amusement, like he’s savoring every fucking word that just came out of my mouth.
The next, they go dark and I know exactly who I’m looking at right now.
Not Liam the golden boy, not even Liam the manipulator. This is the predator. The one who sees something he wants and takes it. The one who doesn’t understand love without ownership.
The one I fucking crave.
Every muscle in my body goes taut, not in fear, but in anticipation. My breath catches as he leans in, fingers locking harder around my jaw. His head tilts, assessing me like he’s choosing which way to carve me open.
“Say it again,” he demands, his breath brushing my lips like a promise.
I swallow hard, but I don’t fucking hesitate. “You let me rewrite you.”
A slow, satisfied exhale leaves him, his grip flexing against my face. “And?” he prompts, pulling my head back until my throat is bared to him.
“Your pain belongs to me.”
It’s instant. His whole body reacts; his fingers clamp harder, his breath hitches, and then he fucking growls. Not loud, not for show, but from somewhere buried inside him, the sound rumbling through my chest and making my cock twitch.
Liam’s hand slides down to grip my throat hard enough to remind me who the fuck he is—the one who holds the blade and still bleeds for me.
His eyes are so dark they’re almost black, heat and danger swirling together until I can’t tell them apart. His other hand lands on my hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.
And then he kisses me—brutal, messy, his teeth catching my lip. The copper tang blooms between our mouths, and I realize I’m bleeding too. He fucking hums into it.
When he pulls back, I see a small split in his lip, too. My pulse jumps when his thumb drags across it, smearing the bead of blood. He sees me watching and grins “Want a taste, Pup?”
I can’t even lie. “Please.”
His grin is wicked. He presses two fingers to the cut I gave him, then drags them over my lower lip. “Open.”
The taste hits my tongue, and heat pools low in my gut, making my hips jerk forward without thought. Liam watches me swallow it, his breathing jagged now. “God,” he mutters, “you look obscene.”
“You taste better,” I shoot back, because I want him unsteady.
It works. He’s on me again in a second—mouth crushing mine, pushing the rest of that blood between our tongues. I groan intoit, tasting him, tasting us, my hands gripping his bicep like I’m drowning.
When he breaks the kiss, his lip’s bleeding again, mixed with his saliva and trickling down his chin. I catch it with my mouth, sucking the skin just below, and he shudders.
“Jesus, Nate,” he rasps. “You’ll make me lose control.”
“That’s the point.”
He laughs, then his hand grips my throat again as he leans over me. “Take off your boxers, you’re going to take everything I give you tonight,” he says. “Every bruise. Every drop. Every fucking inch.”
I blindly obey, shimmying out of them. His hand drops lower, stroking me with bloody fingers, red streaking across my skin, and I fucking lose it. My hips push up into his grip like I’m trying to fuck myself on it. My head tips back, breath coming fast, and when his fingers slip between my thighs, pressing against my hole, I swear my vision flickers.
“You want me inside you with my blood still on your skin?” he asks, leaning down until his mouth is at my ear. “Want me to fuck you like this so you remember it every time you touch yourself?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Fuck—yes.”
He kisses me again, and his teeth sink into my bottom lip until I hiss. When his finger slips inside, slicked up with lube I had no idea he even grabbed, my breath catches. “My slut’s already open for me,” he murmurs, and his eyes flick down to the streak of his blood across my ribs. “Bet if I slid in right now, you’d take me to the hilt.”
The groan that tears from me isn’t voluntary.
