Caged In (Caged Prison #1)

35

Izz’s not sure if he should be worried by the look on Sin’s face.

He’d agreed to allow Sin to try again with the knife-on-skin action—he’d actually spent the night in Sin’s cell. Sin had woken early and, in turn, had woken Izz up to play with.

He’s slightly put out by the shine in Sin’s eyes. But he’s more interested in stepping off the ledge and into a darker realm. His experience with it in the showers had been euphoric.

“Close your eyes. Let yourself feel it. Don’t over think,” Sin instructs, and Izz follows the orders. Closing his eyes, he relaxes on his stomach, bare to sin’s eyes, arms tucked under the pillow his head is resting on.

Sin’s hands stroking up and down his thighs. Massaging the muscles in a calming rhythm. He lets the sensations consume him. Giving in to his body’s desires, his lust.

Hands caressing. Rubbing. Massaging his flesh . . .

He sighs as his muscles slowly unlock. The fearful tension seeping out. His mind flowing into the moment. His dread leaving . . .

The first cut is tentative. A delicate move of blade through skin. A small sting, and it’s gone. Sin’s lips working his neck—kissing, sucking . . . biting. Taking his mind away from everything. And it’s working. His body is opening up to Sin’s ministrations. Wanting more. Needing more.

The next slash is sluggish, dragging over his thigh before sinking into skin. Warmth trickling down his thigh—his breath hitching—then the blade is gone once more. Hands kneading his ass, teeth grazing his shoulder. A distraction he clings too.

He sucks in a breath as a finger pushes inside him. Working its way in deep, sliding over sensitive walls—

He arches his back into Sin when the finger hits the place inside that has him seeing stars. His breath ragged. “Fuck . . .” He grits the word out on an exhale.

“Your body responds deliciously to me,” Sin practically purrs, pushing down on Izz’s sweet spot.

The leisurely way Sin pierces Izz again, with the blade, has him digging his hands into the sheets. Begging, “please.” I don’t know what I want. “It hurts.”

Sin pushes a second finger inside. “Do you want me to stop . . .” his voice holds an amused undertone to it.

“N-no. Please.” What do I want?

I can’t think. I can’t—

“Didn’t think so,” Sin removes his fingers, lining his cock up with Izz’s entrance. Pushing in. Penetrating with a sluggish air. In no hurry to finish. Wanting to drag this out for as long as possible.

Izz whimpers, his breath hiccupping, his body overstimulated. His sweat slickening his burning skin. His core heating up, shearing his insides.

It takes him a moment to realise he’s right on the edge. He’s so close. “I’m going to cum—” He barely has the word past his lips before he’s biting the pillow under his face to muffle his scream. His body spasming with the intensity. His mind fogging and clearing, fogging and clearing.

He’s vaguely aware of Sin cutting into him. Slicing . . .

Izz sobs. His oversensitive nerves sending pain signals through his lust. “Please—”

“Hush, now,” Sin shifts above Izz, gripping his hips to sink in to the hilt. “You’ll beg when I tell you to beg. Not before.”

Izz complies, his breathing shallowing. Small gasps following each deep penetration, hitting the place within, sending sparks throughout his nerve endings. His pleasure building and growing with every push and pull of Sin’s cock.

Izz flinches at the kiss of the blade, running up his spine. The promise of what’s to come. . . What he’s begging for . . .

His breath hisses as Sin grabs his hair, tugging his head back, exposing his throat. His internal voice sparks with warning—warnings he ignores—flooding his body with adrenaline. His lips part and he does nothing to prevent the blade pressing under his jaw—

How many people have died under Sin’s blade? How many have felt the deadly pressure promising pain, promising death. Unable to move away, to pull back, their throats slit. Delicate skin giving way under a sharp blade.

Sin handles the weapon as if he’s performed this manoeuvre a thousand times. Confidently and with controlled purpose . . .

The pressure increases . . . A burning sting registering before the tell-tale warmth follows. Blood trickling free. . .

How deep is the wound . . . ?

How much blood is he losing . . . ?

How much can he afford to lose . . . before his body gives out?

. . . Am I going to die today. . . ?

“You’re mine,” Sin growls, pressing deep inside as he claims Izz at his throat and between his legs. “To do with as I desire. . .”