Page 26 of Together We Burn
He whispered, “And with how fucking soaked you are for me; it won’t be long until you start, and I won’t let you have it until I’m fucking good and ready.”
He thrust a finger deep inside me in one smooth motion, pulling a loud, breathy, downright embarrassing moan that felt like it came from my soul. My body had a mind of its own as my hips began rocking into his hand, wanting more friction to bring me to that beautiful cliff’s edge and hurl me over the side.
“That’s it, Stefany,” he murmured, his lips sending shivers down my spine with every touch against my ear. “Take what you need from me.”
Pain. That's what I needed from him right now, because I couldn’t fight against my undeniable attraction and craving for him. Even if all I could channel and stoke was the small amount of hatred I had following his admission to working for Will, it would be enough to stop the craziness of letting him touch me like this.
My eyes opened and scanned the room, searching for anything I could use to make him bleed. A glint of metal caught my eye from the table lined with different dildos and butt plugs–gag.Pulling his hand free from my panties, I lunged toward the knife, which, once in my hands, I could see that it was a letter opener.
What the fuck? Who has a letter opener in a sex room?
Shaking the question from my head, I spun and held the stupid choice of weapon in front of me.
“No, you don’t get to say dirty things and expect me to drop my panties for you,” I spat. Jake smirked and started taking slow, calculated steps toward me.
Lifting the fingers still soaked with my arousal, he licked them clean. “I don’t need you to drop them for me to do wicked things to that pretty pussy of yours.”
Gripping the blade in my hand, Jake stood close enough that the tip kissed his white shirt. He wrapped his hand around mine and pushed the sharp point into his body. My breath hitched as the end pierced through the cotton and met his skin.
“Jake,” I whispered, trying to fight his control.
“Shh, baby. I get it; I fucked up. I hurt you.” He pushed the blade in deeper, the warmth of his blood trickling down his stomach, seeping into the material in its path. “I couldn’t protect you. Let me bleed for you.”
My eyes never left Jake’s as the little knife continued to bury itself into his flesh at our hands. His nostrils flared as the sharp sting turned into a burn, yet he didn’t stop. He wanted to hurt for me.
I felt the moment the cut passed the stage of being superficial. As I tried to relax my grip on the handle, his fingers constricted around mine, keeping my hand in his as he steadily continued to impale himself. I searched his face, unsure what I was looking for, when I was met with determination as the letter opener moved further into his body.
His nose twitched as pain radiated down his stomach. We glanced down to where his blood had stained his shirt, the blade not going deep enough to cause any real damage, but it would definitely scar. One I knew he’d happily wear for me.
“Stefany,” he murmured, his voice strained. Moving my fingers from the knife, he tangled our hands together, letting the metal clatter to the floor.
I looked down to see it smeared with Jake's blood. Call me a sadist, but I needed to see the physical form of pain. I wanted to see how deep he actually went. I took a thicker blade to near enough the hilt in my thigh; the least he could do was take a tiny letter opener to the gut. But why did I suddenly have this feeling of guilt?
“Stefany,” he repeated, placing his fingers under my chin and tilting my head up. He reached up to thread his free hand into the hair at the base of my neck and harshly guided my lips to his.
Molten heat encased our bodies like a circle of fire surrounded us. Teeth, lips, and tongues clashed as a million unspoken words were expressed as our hands roamed over each other.
“I hate you so much,” I moaned into his mouth as his large hand cupped the back of my head, not allowing me any distance from him.
“I know.”
"Urgh,fuck it. Take your pants off,” I panted, pulling on his shirt and quickly unbuttoning it until it hung loosely open. My fingers skirted around the wound we made, coating the tips in his blood.
I smeared them down the ridges of his abs as he watched. He brought his hand to my thigh, brushed the scar from where Emilia had stabbed me, and then dragged his hands to my ribs, soothing the place he’d struck.
“Stefany, I–”
“Pants, Jake,” I interrupted. I didn’t want his apologies, if that's what he was going to do. The window of stupidity before realising this was a fucked-up idea was closing, and if we were to do this, he needed not to speak.
Taking matters into my own hands, I went for the button on his pants, tugging it free, and pulling his zipper down again. Jake scooped me up by my thighs, and I began using my toes to try to push his trousers down.
“Stefany, baby, you need to stop squirming, or I’ll drop you.” He laughed as I continued to hike myself up against his body like he was a tree and I needed to get to the top. Eventually, he got the message and moved his arm to cradle my ass as he pushed his trousers and boxers down to his ankles. I felt his dick bob and smack my ass, and I groaned as his smooth, warm skin brushed along my crack.
“Fuck this,” Jake snarled, walking us back until he slammed my body into the wall. He brought his foot up, which he had somehow managed to free from his pant leg, and suspended me mid-air, straddling his leg. Carefully balancing me, he brought his hands to the middle of my bodysuit cups and asked, “Is this expensive?”
I shook my head just as he tugged and tore the cups apart. He continued pulling and yanking at the material until it hung on me like a cape, exposing me to him.
“Much better,” he groaned, kissing and sucking down my neck. Moving his hand back under my ass, he dropped his leg, lined up his cock with my entrance, and pushed inside in one swift thrust.
