“You remember what he did?” I whisper to Leyla, walking up behind her, needing her closeness for just another moment before we change her life forever.
Leyla swallows deeply and nods slowly. “He drugs girls. Buried one alive.”
“Exactly, this isn’t someone who deserves to exist anymore. This is someone who has done horrific things to innocent people.” My voice is certain and confident, I feel myself slipping into that place that I go to when I have to do this. “Like we practiced, baby. This is going to be easy, and we will be done before you know it.”
I see the fear in her eyes as she looks at me, she was so ready just moments ago, but I see the hesitation. The second guessing of her decision to do this with me. But she marinates in my words, getting lost in thought. I let her drift, but I’m here to tether her if she tries to go too far.
Then, Leyla nods. I watch as she prepares herself, her face shutting off the loving, caring, and kind person that I am so in love with, to this woman who is ready to cut the world in half. She takes a couple deep breaths, her eyes squeezing shut. It then hits me that words won’t be the answer for Leyla; it won’t be enough to center her to do this. I know what I need to do.
“Leyla.” My voice is raw, pulling at every single part of me. She whirls to me hearing the gravity of my voice, her pupils block out her beautiful eyes. Leyla’s eyes shoot to my hands, as I fall to my knees, holding out the knife in my hand. The silver of the blade glints in the bedroom light, her eyes glinting in understanding what I’m asking her to do. A soft gasp comes from my Cherry, and her face looks even more terrified.
“Cammy… Wh-what are you doing?” I watch as her eyes bounce between me and the knife in my hand.
“I want you to see how much I trust you, okay?” I offer the knife handle towards her, her eyes locked onto mine and her hands shaking. Her brows flick up with recognition as she lets out a whimper as I gently place the knife in her hand.
“I trust you,” I assure her.
Leyla’s pupils grow wide, but she wraps her fingers around the worn leather handle that means so much to me. She’s fucking everything, and there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for her.
Chapter 33
Cut to the Chase
Leyla
The knife sits heavy in my hand; it’s somehow heavier than it looked in his. Cameron’s eyes haven’t left mine, burning with a fire that is all consuming. I know we have places to be, a timeline to follow, but he slowly nods, granting access and permission. Taking his shirt off, he shows me his chest as he falls to his knees, the power all in my hands.
A copper tang hitting my tongue as I slip into a mindset that I have been working on with Cameron for months now. “You trust me.” I twirl the blade between my trembling fingers, convincing my mind that I’m not nervous. Power isn’t something that I’ve ever been comfortable with, but it’s something that I deserve and I know that I want. I fall to my knees gently in front of him, and a grin grows on his face.
“With my life,” he whispers. He trusts me with his life— my heart thumps at the thought. Cameron leans forward, the light glinting off the yellow hues in his green eyes.
“Good, baby.” I move the knife towards him, and he doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t blink. The solid statue in front of me, a dark smile on his face. I slowly place the knife against his throat, his pulse hammering against the blade. I feel the heat everywhere, emanating off of his body, seeping into my bones.
“You should be scared of me,” I say as the knife glints, as I drag it down his exposed chest. Tracing the tip of his knife down his sternum, pausing over his heart. His breath catches slightly, heart pounding faster now, his eyes like fire.
“You could gut me right now,” Cameron murmurs, a feral growl, his voice rough. “And I’d thank you for it.”
“Get on the couch,” I command, my voice strong and powerful. I pull the knife away from his heart. Cameron, like the good boy he is, listens to me as he scurries and sits down on the couch. I grin as I straddle him, my hand trembles. Not with fear, but with adrenaline. Withneed.
I can’t believe I have this side of me, but now that she’s out— she feels right.Ifeel right. This isme.
I press the blade against his chest once again; the sharp edge of the knife pressed into his chest. A bead of blood pools up under the press of the knife. He shudders beneath me, and it isn’t from fear. It’s from restraint.
“You’re so fucking good at acting like you’re not dying for it,” I whisper, dragging the knife sideways now, exploring more of his skin inch by inch down his body.
“I am dying,” he says, voice hoarse. “For you.”
The words hit me somewhere deep, electric, and primal.
I pressed the knife against his sternum, harder this time— not enough to break the skin, just enough to feel the threat of it—and kissed him. Hard. Bruising.
He kisses me back just as fiercely, teeth clashing, tongues tangling. It’s messy and desperate andreal. I feel his desire flowing through me as our lips rush together. I ground my hips down against his, feeling how much he wants me— and just how close to breaking he is.
My hand grips the knife tighter, dragging the flat of the blade up the side of his neck, over his jaw, my lips following, kissing the trail I left behind. His hands shake where they’re gripping the couch cushions, white-knuckled with restraint. I grind my hips against him again, slow and punishing.
I feel Cameron’s smile grow against my lips, the knife suddenly forgotten between us. The power dynamic changes in an instant, his hands fly up from where they were on the couch, to where suddenly I’m beneath him, my breasts rising and falling so quickly from the pure adrenaline flowing between us. His body looms over me, urgent and strong.
“I got you,” he purrs, a growl as his eyes rove over my body, a dark promise in them. My breath catches as he grabs the knife from my hands. Using the tip of the knife, he gently pushes hair off my face.
