Good Girl (Sugar Life #2)

40. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

Xavier

Her carotid artery hammers as fast as a fucking machine gun against my knuckle, and mine speeds up to match her tempo. As soon as my blade was against her throat, she froze and her curiosity turned to fear. My cock is already hard, and I’m ready to throw all my goddamn plans out the fucking window, just so I can sink my cock into her tight, wet cunt while she fears for her life.

Fucking calm down.

I do not want this to be over quickly. And I’m not fucking cheating myself out of this one moment that I have been given. I’ve been good, all fucking weekend.

Playing nice.

Being involved.

Not taking things too far.

Being gentle.

Soft.

Considerate of their time with her.

No accidental cuts or bites.

Good.

I’ve been goddamn good for these fuckers.

But now it’s my fucking turn.

Cupping her shoulder with my free hand, I lower my head until my face is buried in her hair, just below her ear.

Slowly, I inhale through my nose, eating up every single scent. Her shampoo-and-conditioner combo is a basic ten-dollar bottle and is so floral, it borders on intolerable.

It took me three stores to find them, but now there are four bottles of each sitting in the trunk of my car. When this weekend is over, I’ll be using every last drop to jerk off in the shower every fucking morning. My new favorite lube.

As my lungs inflate, I use my nose to trace the shell of her ear and fight the urge to take, so I can start the fucking scene I’ve been planning since Friday night, when she made her lip bleed all over my cock.

“You say red, and the scene stops. Nod, so I know that you understand,” I whisper, my throat thick, which causes my voice to sound like I swallowed a mouthful of crushed glass.

Emery dips her chin enough that it passes for a nod, and I finally give in to the urge to use my teeth. I wrap my arm around her upper chest and take the lobe of her ear into my mouth and bite until she gasps, the noise rattling loose some of the bars that hold my insides together.

Her hands fly to my forearm, squeezing tightly, but her ass screams the truth as it presses back into my hard-as-fuck cock.

I chuckle, grinding into her. “I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

I grab one of her breasts and squeeze, hard, nothing but my thin T-shirt between us.

Emery Alana Nicholas, eighteen years, six weeks, and two days old, five-foot-three, with sixteen Facebook friends and no Instagram account, and a DCFS file that will only take me a few hours to get into, moans.

The sound is lightning to my balls.

Shifting the smooth handle of the knife so that the blade is angled up a little higher, I force her to tip her head back. I reach for the piece of black fabric hanging from my back pocket, then lift it to dangle over her face.

“Put this on.”

The knife shifts against the column of her throat as she swallows and tentatively reaches for the blindfold, fingers trembling. It threatens to break the last few bars on my cage, but I can feel my bloodlust slipping through the gaps.

A haze has already started to form, and I know I’m going to give in and take what I want. But not yet, not until she is secured and not until I have her safely in place. No need for her to flinch and cause more damage than I intend to inflict.

I ease up on the pressure with the blade to give her room, but that doesn’t mean I make it easier on her.

I’m starving for the taste of her. I need her in my mouth, on my tongue, and down my throat. I want to make her come so many times, her cunt runs like a river while I bleed her dry, capturing both in jars for later.

I want to mix them together, to taste her orgasm mixed with her vitality.

I want to consume her.

As she starts to tie the knot, I reach for the hem of my shirt she’s wearing and raise it up enough that I can slip my fingers beneath the waistband of the panties I picked out for her. Plain black cotton, not one of the fucking gorgeous sets we bought, no. These panties will be useless by the time I am done. They’ll also be my trophy.

Thrusting my hand down, I find her clit. I form a V with my index and middle fingers and pinch her clit between the two, rolling it between my knuckles.

Emery’s moans return, and her knot-tying skills go to shit. She starts to thrust into my fingers, making the skin under my blade shift.

“Ah, ah, ah,” I murmur, returning the pressure of my knife against her throat. “None of that. I’d hate for my knife to slip and end your participation in this scene. Finish tying your blindfold so the fun can really begin.”

Emery whimpers.

Ah, my little dove likes that idea. I continue to play with her clit while she finishes the knot.

“Can you see?” I ask, twisting the knife as I pinch her clit.

She gasps. “No, D-daddy.”

I glance over to where Derek is standing, partially hidden by the pulled-back curtain, and make eye contact with him. He makes his way over to us, slipping between the wall and the St. Andrew’s Cross.

He is Emery’s safety, in case the bloodlust steals me from her.

The fucker will get his rocks off from watching me play with Emery, and he’ll keep her safe. He’ll keep her safe after I restrain her to the cross. He’ll keep her safe when I score her skin. He’ll keep her safe when darkness consumes me and she bleeds for me.

I’m not giving her up. Not after this scene. Not after this weekend.

I’m claiming her.

She’s mine.