Sorrow (Cape Frost #1)

27

Night falls and Boo leaves, same old story. I side-eye my phone even though it’s been a couple of days since Ricky’s little prank call, expecting it to ring, expecting it to ruin this. I know we shouldn’t be worried about sex right now. We should be out talking to other people fucked over by The Sons, gathering evidence. Doing whatever we can to help Boo out the legitimate way so no one ends up in prison except them.

But I can’t help it, and neither can Hayes. He’s been looking at me all day with this deeply hungry, predatory gaze, deliberately not touching me. Purposefully keeping distance between us like he’s edging himself.

I know what’s coming.

Hayes needs blood, and I bleed the prettiest red .

“Are you done avoiding me now?” I tease, stripping his stolen t-shirt off so I’m standing before him in just my underwear and bra. God, I love the fact that his furnace works. “Or are you going to keep brooding over there all alone?”

Brooding might not be the right word. His short hair looks disheveled and his expression intense, but everything about his body language is relaxed. His legs are splayed wide, his arm slung over the side of the dark grey couch. It somehow looks... powerful.

As if he isn’t intimidating enough, all he does is beckon me forward with two fingers without a word.

Suppressing a smirk, I drop down and crawl toward him, knowing it’ll make him weak. His quick intake of breath only spurs me on. “Fuck, I love it when you’re good for me.”

“I’m always good for you,” I whisper, settling between his knees. “How good do you need me to be tonight, Hayes?”

Biting his lip, he reaches out to pet my face almost lovingly. “The best,” he whispers, gravelly and desperate. “Are you in the right headspace to make art with me, Hurricane? ”

Art. Like the stuff in my veins is mere paint and not lifesaving connective tissue.

Luckily for him, I’m not too concerned with staying alive.

“Almost,” I say quietly. “Can I cockwarm for you first?” My cheeks flush with heat — I hate admitting that sitting here with his dick in my mouth actually calms me.

I see what that does for him. I see the way his eyes close, the way he breathes deeply like my words somehow comfort him. “Yes, of course. I’m proud of you for communicating your needs.”

Swiping his thumb along my lips, Hayes stares at me like I’m so precious my blush deepens, only easing when he sits back and waves at his crotch. “Go ahead.”

The process is familiar to me now, taking him out, settling my lips around him, tasting the metal from his piercing. Resting my head on his thigh, feeling his thumb against my cheek. But things are different this time. I’m not doing this to prove I can or to learn anything at all, I’m doing it to prepare myself for pain.

Maybe we should’ve talked about this more. Not knowing what he’s going to use or how much blood he wants to see has me nervous — so much so that it takes longer than usual to talk myself down.

I must sit there for the better part of an hour before my heart rate finally slows and I feel myself drifting. Not once does he rush me, and when I know that I’m ready for whatever he needs, I can tell I’m not the only one who used that time to get into the right headspace. His touch is gentle in spite of what we’re about to do, but his gaze is sharper than ever. “You’re so beautiful, Samara. No one else in the world is allowed to hurt you. I’ll always keep you safe.”

He carries me to the bedroom, where I’m surprised to find a white comforter spread out on the floor. I have to wonder what he’s going to do with it afterward when he lays me at the center.

Are we really making art?

“You’ve never done this with anyone else, right?” I ask. “Just me?”

He shakes his head. “I’ve been reading up on it though and watching videos on how to do it correctly.”

How cute of him to think I was worried about his technique. I don’t care that he isn’t experienced, I care that he’s taken so many firsts from me and I finally get to return the favor. And... maybe I’m glad that when this is all over, it’ll be me he thinks about when he’s all alone. Not someone else. This isn’t some acrobatic fuck or a porn star blow job. It’s deeper than that, for me and for him.

I can sense it.

His hands are trembling, but the excited energy radiating off of him tells me it isn’t nerves. He’s wanted this for a long time. And I think I’m ready to give it to him.

“My safeword is Frost,” I remind him. “Don’t listen if I ask you to stop.”

Wide eyes meet mine as he nods, straddling me still fully clothed as he begins to ghost his fingers over the places he wants to cut. “We’ll start with two today, Samara. Here—” he draws a straight line along the right side of my chest, and then another one on the left “—and here. I need to be able to watch your face this first time.”

To see what, I wonder? Pain, enjoyment, fear? All I know is instinct tells me I should temper my reaction, and I know my instinct is wrong. “I’m ready,” I breathe, fisting my hands in the soft cotton fabric below me. “Wait, can I take my bra off? I like this one.”

“Yes,” he growls, unclasping it in a second to toss it over on his bed, and then he cups both of my breasts with a satisfied expression. “Breathe for me. ”

He leaves me for the briefest moment, returning with a blade roughly five inches in length and a rock hard boner between his thighs. From here, I get to watch him set the knife down next to me and strip, each article of clothing leaving his body in a way that’s so unintentionally sensual, I feel my pussy throb.

When he straddles me again, I think my heart stops.

This is it.

“Do it,” I beg quietly. Before the anticipation kills me.

“Eager little girl,” he coos, his cock jerking against my stomach as he leans in and reaches for the blade. “Say please.”

Oh, he’s a special kind of bastard. Huffing, I ball my fists in the blanket again. “Please, Hayes. Make me bleed.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, cock leaking near my belly button. “Good girl. First slice... take a breath and release.”

The blade pierces my skin the moment I exhale, his eyes widening further as he slides a short trail along my chest and awaits the crimson liquid he longs for.

I know the moment he sees it.

I’ve never seen Hayes so enamored before. As he sets the blade onto the comforter without breaking my gaze, I swear I see him fall in love with my blood. Reaching out, he smears it down my breast with a moan. At least it distracts me from how bad it stings.

Adrenaline kicks in as I shudder, but I get it now. The draw. The reason he loves this so much. It's the ultimate form of control.

I don’t dare say anything that might snap him out of the trance he’s in, so I keep quiet as he brings those blood-coated fingers up to his face and inhales the metallic scent. Eyes closing, he loses himself there a little, sliding the liquid down his neck like he can’t stop himself from wanting to wear it.

I’m barely breathing as he leans in for more. His face is mere inches away as he carves a second line on the opposing side, that sinful tongue darting out to lick his lips while more blood oozes from the wound.

Fuck, watching him is intoxicating.

My heart beats faster, pumping more blood to the cuts like it’s searching for him, too.

I swear I see pride flash in his eyes. “You. Are. Divine.”

He isn’t looking at my face, but somehow I know that he isn’t just talking about my blood. He’s talking about me , and the fact that it becomes more obvious with each encounter that my body was made for him.

When he swipes his tongue across the cut for a taste, I huff a quiet, breathy laugh and curl my fingers in his hair. “Vampire.”

His breath fans along my skin with his chuckle. “I can’t help it,” he admits, somehow sounding vulnerable like he’s the one laid out and bleeding instead of me. “You have me so hard, Hurricane.”

Sitting up, he smears the blood around more with a groan, hips canting against me for friction as he paints my breasts red.

“So use it,” I coax, swiping my fingers through the mess and gripping his cock. “Use it like you use me.”

The fact that he whimpers emboldens me to reach up and touch those cuts, my eyes locked on him as he fists his length with a bloodied hand and begins stroking himself feverishly. “Samara,” he breaths, already leaking and adding to the mess. “Say my name.”

“Hayes. Hayes fucking Sarro.”

He growls, the nails on his left hand digging into my skin as he twists around the head. “Oh fuck! Fuck, I’m—”

But I don’t need him to say it. Hot white strips of cum paint my skin along with my blood, the sight making him feral as he fucks his fist to release more.

I swear I’ve never seen so much before.

I’m hit by an almost overwhelming urge to have it inside of me. “Hayes,” I beg. “Finger me with it. All of it.”

“I got you, baby. Stay with me.”

The tenderness in him has my chest clenching as he stuffs two fingers inside of me and his thumb finds my clit.

I can’t fucking stay with him, not while I’m strung out like this. Knowing what he’s using, how good it feels, the look on his face? It immediately takes me to the edge.

Grabbing his forearm, I scream his name as I let go. It’s hot and pulsing, contrasting the sticky cool feeling all over my skin.

Lost in the moment, Hayes cradles the side of my face with his dirty hand and slams his mouth into mine, the weight of him heavy on top of me. I’m breathless when he finally pulls away to whisper, “Thank you.”

“Can I see the art?” I ask, trying and failing to sit up. “I want to see what it looks like.”

The side of his mouth lifts. “Hold on, Hurricane. I need to take a picture first. I promise I won’t show anyone but you. ”

I stay there as he wipes his hand off on the blanket and grabs his phone, eyes hooded as he snaps a few from different angles, and then he lifts me up to carry me to his bathroom mirror.

“I meant the blanket,” I mumble, craning my neck to try to see it. “Where are we going?”

“I’ll show you after. I want you to see what I see.”

He plops me down on wobbly feet and stands behind me, his finger sliding down my side to my hip as I take myself in.

I’m a mess.

A beautiful, insane mess of pinks and reds and whites.

My dark hair is frizzy and wild, my cheeks permanently flushed.

I’m... marked.

“Will they scar?” I ask curiously, ghosting my fingers along the shallow cuts. “I hope they do.”

“You do?” His voice sounds awed. “They might, but I didn’t cut too deep this time. Next time I will.”

Next time.

Meeting his eyes in the reflection, I’m forced to admit that I want there to be a next time. Not for the money, not because I’m bored or just want to come.

I want to be good for him.

“Was it everything you thought it would be?”

“No.”

My stomach drops, but it was our first time. There are bound to be growing pains.

“Was I?”

“No,” he repeats. “You were better, and so was the whole experience.”

Turning slowly to face him, I reach up to cup his cheek. “Better be careful, Hayes. It’s starting to sound like you care about me.”

“Maybe I do.” He leans into the touch. “Maybe I always have.”

It doesn’t track. Maybe in the last year or so, he’s been mean because he wanted me, but before that? He... what, exactly? Ruined a dance, but that guy turned out to be an asshole. He picked on me, but it toughened me up, which I needed to survive a place like Cape Frost.

Come to think of it, he used to call me flat and then push food toward me when I hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. There was the year I ripped my only coat and my parents couldn’t afford a new one, but a new one ended up on our couch anyway. That couldn’t have been him, could it? After what Boo told me about the money Hayes lent him to get a lawyer, anything is possible.

Fuck. Shaking my head slightly, I back up a step and run into the counter. “Please don’t lie to me,” I say quietly. “Please.”

“Shh,” he breathes, stepping back into my space to cage me there. “I gave you my word on that, remember?”

“Hayes,” I gasp, feeling more vulnerable than I had when he was straddling me with a knife. “Say it. Say the words.”

The second he offers me a lazy smile, I know he isn’t going to do it. “So bossy sometimes. Let’s take a shower, baby.”

He takes my hand and tugs me toward it, making me pout.

I don’t know what else I expected.

“Not bossy. Maybe needy, but not bossy.”

“You can be both.”

Once the shower is on, he lifts me up to carry me inside, and when the water begins to cascade down my body, Hayes watches until all the evidence has washed down the drain.

It isn’t until the water runs clear that he tentatively reaches out and begins to clean me .

The soft, gentle touches only serve to confuse me more. He hurts me, he cherishes me. He tears me down, he builds me up. I’m on a roller coaster with him, and if I’m not careful... one of these days I might end up in a freefall.