I could hear him rustling around behind me and then something cool pressed against my skin. “Is that… is it..?”
His tongue licked up my spine and between my shoulder blades. “Mm-hmm, this is my favourite knife.”
Tension radiated through me. I pulled the restraints, my instinct to survive coming to the surface. They barely moved and the edge of the bands dug into my skin.
Byron placed the sharp tip of the blade against the soft spot between my spine and my shoulder blade. It wasn’t hard enough to break the skin, but it was hard enough that it had my heart pounding in my chest.
“You look so beautiful like this, baby,” Byron purred as he swirled the cool metal of the knife against my heated skin.
I couldn’t move. My entire body froze, but it wasn’t in fear.
Or not entirely.
Something about the way he called me ‘baby’ sent a bolt of lust straight to my dick. It always did. I wanted to preen and beg and moan for him, but this wasByron. The guy I used to hate. The one who always used to irritate the hell out of me but here I was, surrendering all my control to a damn psychopath.
“Such a good boy for me,” he said as he ran his fingers through my hair. He slid the tip of the knife further down my spine, dipping it into the top of my crack before removing it from my skin entirely.
Maybe I was crazier than I thought. My dick was still hard, despite the fear running riot. I wanted to roll my hips to seek some friction, but something held me back. I wanted to be a good boy for him, and I didn’t want him to stop. That’s where the fear really came from. From some desperate twisted need for him to stay and carry on.
Byron sat on my ass, his erection digging into me, idly tracing patterns on my skin with the knife. I knew, even if I still wasn’t quite ready to admit it to myself, that I’d let him do whatever he wanted to me. I was his, just as much as he was mine.
“Do what you want.”
His hands stilled. “What?”
“You can do what you want with me.” Something inside me cracked with those words. Maybe it was my sanity—because I’d have to be crazy to put my life in his hands—or maybe it was finally one of those walls I’d built in order to survive. Was Ifinally ready to give into whatever this twisted dynamic between us was?
He paused, the tip of the knife digging into the soft spot below my shoulder blade. “Are you sure?”
Byron sounded like he was holding onto the edge of his restraint. Something in me liked that. That he was just keeping it together to check in with me and make sure this was what I wanted.
My sweet little psychopath was considering my feelings, and I fell hard.
“Yes. Let go, Byron. Let me experience all of you.”
He hissed in a deep breath and sank the fingers of his free hand into my hair. Then he gripped the strands and pulled my head up. “You’re so fucking perfect.”
My insides warmed at his words. I was probably more on the lines of ‘fucking crazy’ but if he thought I was perfect, I was going to bask in it.
He pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth and then let my head drop. Anticipation flooded my veins as I lay there, just waiting for what he’d do next. I didn’t like the fact that I couldn’t see him, and no way of predicting what would happen next.
Byron explored the expanse of my back with the blunt edge of his knife. Occasionally, he’d dig it into my skin, still not hard enough to leave a mark, but the constant shift in pressure had my body wound tighter than a coil. Over and over he’d torment me, never touching the same place twice, never letting me get comfortable, always balancing me on the edge. My spine went rigid as I felt the sharp tip ghost against my perineum.
I had to resist the urge to fight. Losing my balls wasn’t something that I wanted to happen. There was the slightest hint of pressure and I gasped at the illicit thrill that had me wanting to thrust my hips into the mattress.
“Such a good boy for me,” he muttered.
Why did I like that so much? Why did that make me want to earn his praise even more? He could have just been mocking me, but the hint of pride in his voice made me think otherwise.
“I wonder,” he mused with a curiosity that had me instantly on edge, “whether your blood tastes as sweet as the rest of you.”
Before my brain could catch up to what he’d just said, there was a sharp sting as he drew the blade across my skin. My entire body bucked beneath him, but it was futile. I was pinned to the bed, he was still sat on top of me and some twisted part of me was enjoying the pain. It hadn’t hurt as my as I thought it did, but I was still very much aware of the fact that he’d just marked me. A thought that sent a surge of heat straight to my cock.
A sharp intake of breath caught my attention.
“Magnificent,” Byron said with reverence. He dipped his finger into the pool of blood that I could feel forming and traced lines and swirls on my lower back. I shuddered at the wet sensation, at the feel of him painting me with my own blood. Then he lowered himself toward me until I felt his tongue tracing the cut he’d made against the column of my spine. And why wasn’t I running away? Why was I letting Byron do what he wanted?
The truth was, that everything he did turned me on.