Legs yanked wider and he moves closer, his hand trailing down my body until its running the apex of my thighs. Oh God, yes. My head tips back at the feel of it, at least hoping for something to counter the vicious sensation of bites that keep coming. Nothing does, though. Nothing at all. It just goes still and quiet, nothing but the sound of my own laboured breath.
I look back up, panting and ready for this to carry all the way on. He’s not moving. Nothing. Just stationary above me, his jean clad knees tucked under my spread legs, and his eyes scouring my body. “What?” I spit, my hands reaching for him.
He bats them away, one of them landing harshly on the surface as he traps it down. “Slow down, Alice.” No. I don’t want it slow now I’m in it. I want it rough and fast, hard and furious. I need it. We need it after all this time fucking around the prospect of it.
I squirm and thrash, knees pulled up and feet pushing at his chest to rev him up again.
Slow down? Screw that.
My free hand swipes for his face again, ready to slap or scratch him or pull him into it if that will help. I’m flipped so swiftly, and so mercilessly, that the piano surface rebounds off my cheekbone.
”Slow. Down.”
Bewildered by the sudden tight authority in his tone, I pant out more breaths and try to still my writhing body. “Behave. Still. Calm.”
My head shakes, body unable to stop the wriggling that continues. I’m hot, wound up, and so ready for him everything aches and yearns. Pain unexpectedly rains down so hard on my ass that I scream at the sensation, eyes wide and wild. Jesus that hurt. I try to look back, only to have the feeling attack my ass again, and again until I’m near crying at the assault.
He moves, the feel of him shrugging out of his shirt following. “Behave, or this will hurt more than you can imagine.”
A soft kiss presses to the back of my shoulder, and I feel him lower and clamp my arms together. Something starts tying around them, warmth and fine silk holding them still. One sharp tug and he rolls me onto my side, his face coming back into view. My mouth opens, lips fraught to find words to say. Nothing comes from them, and nothing but a stern face looks back at me, his eyes boring in somehow.
“Pretty little Alice,” he says, moving away from me. He comes back a second later, the silver knife now in his grip before he lays down beside me. “Open your legs.” I hover at the thought, fucking disturbed by the prospect of doing this now that’s in his hand. “If you want to play like this, let me be who I am.”
He waits for me to obey, his body so still I can’t even tell if he’s breathing. I glance at the knife then back at him, unsure what any of it suddenly means. He just stares, black eyes sparkling with something unknown.
“What are you going to do with that?” I snap.
“Use it. As you should have before you offered yourself up.” My insides curdle at the thought, memories assaulting me again. “Those scars on your skin were made by someone. I’d like to add to them. Mask the things before me. Mark you.” Freak.
Fear should be writhing through me. It should. I remember the pain of the cuts, the terror that ran through me as I tried to get away and failed. It isn’t, though. I’m still not having someone cut me again. “No. I’m not into that.”
The sudden, sharp pain that slices my collar bone makes me gasp and recoil, body almost falling off the piano to get away. I’m caught before I manage it, rough hands pushing me back down until I’m flat to the surface again.
“I don’t like no.”
“Fuck you.” He laughs lowly and looks at my chest, slowly closing in on the slash he’s just caused. He laps at the area, soothing the teasing pain that’s barely there. I shake my way through it, unable to deny the erotic nature of him being so calm and considered around that move. “You’re a freak, Malachi.” My legs are quivering, core aching regardless of the freakery.
Cutting for pleasure?
“And yet you’re enjoying it.” I moan as he sucks again, groan as his tongue runs the length of my collar bone up to my neck. “Another?” It happens too quickly for me to comprehend, and the slash grates lower on my stomach this time. He drops down my body and starts sucking again. “Open your legs for me, little Alice.”
They clamp closed, my thoughts about that knife worrying me in the moment. He chuckles again and runs the blade down my body, tracing old wounds and whispering soft caresses over the vines. “There aren’t any lies here, not for you and me, Alice. It’s in our song – the music.” What? I swallow, refusing to acknowledge my own desperation, and look away. “Open them before I make you.” The hand goes in between my thighs, teasing me into it, and the second I fucking oblige, more pain hits me, this time between my legs.
I gulp and gasp, the writhing starting again, as my gaze comes back to him. He just watches, a slight smile coming. Not a pretty smile either. A wicked one, one that shows me all those visions I saw downstairs. Another gulp suddenly fills me, the realisation dawning of what I’ve just let myself in for. I don’t know what I thought this would be, but now reality is hitting home hard enough for me to consider all the possibilities. I’m not in control here, never will be with him.
“Again. Let me hurt you.”
“No,” stutters out of me. “Give me something first.”
The smile broadens. “What would you like?”
“Lips.” At least that way I’ll get an orgasm out of this and the knife shouldn’t be involved. He moves forward, kisses me briefly, and pulls back again. Apparently he’s done with my request. He isn’t. “I didn’t mean those lips, Malachi.”
A dark, low chuckle drawls out of him, eyes lowering to look at my body. “Hazardous, little Alice.” He moves lower anyway, pushing my body so I roll onto my back again. “This is potentially the worst thing you could have asked for.” I don’t care. I need my orgasm, and this is usually the fastest way to get one. I just need his tongue doing what I already know it can do, considering it in my mouth.
Head falling back again at the thought, I let him push my legs wide and move me further up the piano. My hands and wrists grate the entire time, the shirt keeping them uncomfortable behind my back. It only heightens the need to feel something good, something that might make this seem bearable. It isn’t until I feel warmth spread over my whole pussy that I realise how unbearable it’s going to be.
Long licks, slow and torturous rather than the feverish attack I was hoping for. Soft. Considered. Precise. Practised like a fucking master I expect. On and on it goes, all of it filled with everything needed to get me where I want to go.
