Putty.
Goo.
He can do whatever he wants with me.
“You’re so easy to make submit,” he hums against my neck, kissing me between each word and I already feel drunk and lax.
This man short circuits my brain, and it’s hard to find it within myself to want to push back against him when he handles me like this, but he likes it when I do.
“Am I?” I whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear. Then, without warning, I twist out of his grip and dash toward the stairs, laughing as I go.
His startled chuckle follows me, and I can hear the sound of his footsteps as he takes off after me. “Oh, you think you’re getting away that easily?” he calls, amusement lacing his voice.
I leap up the first few steps, glancing back with a grin, but I can barely make out the outline of him in the dark.
He closes the distance with ease, but I squeal and dart up two more steps, my heart racing with anticipation.
I hear him right behind me, his footsteps heavy and determined. “You’re only making this worse for yourself,” he teases, his voice getting closer.
I laugh, trying to speed up, but I know it’s only a matter of seconds before he catches me. “Worse?Yeah, okay.”
As I reach the top of the stairs, his hand catches my waist, and I let out a yelp as he spins me around. “Got you,” he says, grinning down at me. Before I can protest, he scoops me up effortlessly, tossing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing.
I’m laughing uncontrollably now, playfully pounding my fists against his back. “Put me down!”
He gives a mock sigh, carrying me toward our bedroom. “You never learn, do you?”
“You love it,” I shoot back, breathless with laughter.
He gives my thigh a gentle squeeze. “Maybe. But now you’re at my mercy.”
“My favorite place to be,” I giggle.
With one arm holding me in place by the back of my knees, he uses his other to undo and remove his belt. I am slightly disappointed that it’s dark and I’m hanging upside down because there’s nothing hotter than watching Daddy Jack remove his belt one handed.
He plants me on my feet in the hallway next to his bedroom door and presses my back against the cool wall. With a swift movement, he wraps his belt around my wrists, securing them above my head. Trapped between his body and the wall, I feel both vulnerable and exhilarated.
I squirm playfully, mostly because I want him to be a little rougher. “I can get out of this.” I can’t, and he knows that as well as I do, but I tease him nonetheless.
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a knife, flicking it open with ease. The act is far sexier than any sane person would ever consider it.
The glint of the blade catches my eye as he stabs it through his thick leather belt, effortlessly piercing the wall behind me and pinning me in place. “Can you?”
The question now isn’t whether I can or not, but whetherI want to.
And when Jack drops to his knees in front of me, I decide thatno…I do not.
He pulls another knife out, and Quinn six months ago would have asked,“What in the literal fuck?”—but present-day Quinn knows, loves, and accepts her man.
And all of his quirks and stabby little tendencies.
He’s marked my body more times than I can count at this point, and I have found that I love it just as much as he does.
His knives have left scars all over my skin, a reminder of our passionate and intense love. The sharp sting against my skin is addicting, making me crave more of his touch. I can't get enough of the pleasure and pain he brings, willingly giving myself over to his skilled hands. With each new mark, our bond seems to grow stronger, and it’s something I am not sure either of us will ever get enough of.
He grasps my thigh, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. I flinch as he pierces my skin, but he quickly soothes the sting, leaning in and tracing circles over the spot with his tongue, causing a jolt of pleasure to shoot through me. As he continues this pattern, the mix of pleasure and discomfort sends shivers down my spine.
I don’t even try to bite back the moan that slips out.
