Page 164 of Broken by my Bully
She goes still, eyes squeezing shut like she doesn’t even want to accidentally blink. I give her a hard shake, forcing her to snap her eyes open.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Her eyes snap open, and fuck, there it is. That look. Terror mixed with something dark that makes my dick so hard it hurts.
With obvious reluctance, Haven blinks twice.
I don’t release her immediately—just to watch that flash of panic—then let her suck in air like the desperate littlething she is.
When I settle my full weight on her hips, she groans like I’m crushing her.
But she goes quiet when I pull out the steak knife I’d stolen from the kitchen downstairs, and deathly still as I lay it against her throat. I saw it gently back and forth over her skin, drawing a thin line of blood, my eyes glued to hers as the sting makes her flinch.
“Nothing like that blunt thing I used to carry around the woods, is it?” I twist the knife, dragging the sharp tip to her jaw, then her chin. Lightly enough that I don’t cut her, but from the way she shudders, I might as well have been flaying her.
“Melissa’ll be back any second,” she croaks, and then coughs. “If she finds you here, then—” Her teeth click shut as I press the tip of the knife against the plush, pink pillow of her bottom lip.
“Then nothing, ‘cos you’re gonna be quiet, aren’t you?” I press the knife harder, harder, until a tiny spot of blood wells up from the tip where it pierces her lip.
“No,” she blubbers. “Touch me and I’ll fucking scream.”
I grind against her, and she makes a sound that goes straight to my cock.
“Yeah,” I chuckle. “But I’m already touching you, Heavenly. I’m touching you in all sorts of places.”
Her lips tremble, and I use my thumb to smear that drop of blood over her mouth like lipstick.
Scarlet lips for my scarlet whore.
“I bet you want her to find us,” I say, flicking out my tongue to lick the blood from my thumb. “You love an audience, don’t you? Someone watching you get railed.”
I grind her against the floor again, and she groans in pain, one hand shooting to my stomach, the other clawing into my thigh to relieve the heavy weight on her guts.
“No—” My backhand cuts her off. The knife finds her cheekbone.
“No more lies. You spread your legs for him yet? Or are you still playing virgin?”
Tears spill down her cheeks. “I’m not a slut, Kai. You’re the only guy I?—“
Haven cuts off with a strangled cry as I snatch the front of her dress and stab the knife through the fabric. Shocked blue eyes follow my hand as I shear through her black dress, exposing her breasts and belly to the cool air of her new bedroom.
She watches, so morbidly fascinated with the fact that I’ve just stripped her half-naked that she’s forgotten to struggle, to resist, to even scream.
Jesus, she looks good.
All woman now, but I can still see every scar I gave her. Every mark that proves she’s mine.
I trace the faint line from her collarbone to her sternum with the knife tip, then flick her nipple.
“Where’s your bra, Haven?”
She’s staring at me like I’m the Ghost of Childhood Past, and, fuck, I guess I am. But when I say those words, I see how they trigger her. From the flinch on her face to the way her mouth slackens and grows wide.
Her hands slap over her breasts, trying to cover them.
That’s when the sobbing begins.
Deep, mournful, wrenching sobs that shake her whole body.
