“It’s fine,” I tell him, still playing with myself. “Do it again. Where my skin is soft. Make me bleed all over.”
He shakes his head, sucking in his upper lip. “I don’t think I can.”
I reach up and grab the back of his head, bringing his face to mine. “Do this for me.” Then I kiss him, hard and wet and violent, leaving him gasping against my mouth.
“Okay,” he says, trying to catch his breath.
His brow lowers in determination and makes another quick cut on the other breast, then between my breasts. I lean back on the counter so he can do the same to my stomach. It hurts every time, but the pain is almost transcendent, like it’s bringing me to another plane of existence. Good lord, I hope I don’t turn into a masochist after this.
“I’m done,” he says, voice shaking. “I can’t do anymore.”
I straighten up, looking at the blood run down me. At first, I was a bit worried that it would feel like I used to when I was cutting myself, back in high school. My inner arms still bear those faint scars. But there is no relief or anguish in this, just determination that we’re doing the right thing.
Okay, and it’s also a little bit hot. I don’t make the rules.
“I can do myself,” he says, bringing the knife toward his chest.
“No,” I tell him, holding my hand out. “Give it to me.”
“Why?”
“Because you do things to the extreme, Dex.”
“I do not.”
You once stuck a sword in your fucking throat.
“You’re going to hurt yourself. Give me the knife. I’ll be quick.”
“Maybe I’m afraid of how comfortable you are with this whole thing,” he says, but he hands me the knife anyway.
I press one hand against his shoulder to steady myself, trying to decide where to put the cut. The weird thing is this won’t even hurt him a little, and by next week he won’t even have a scar. Makes it a little easier on me.
I make quick work of him, matching the same places where he cut me. Two on the chest, one between, three on the stomach. He doesn’t even fucking flinch.
“Not even an ouch? What’s wrong with you?” I ask him, putting the knife to the side, watching the blood run down him.
He shrugs. “Tis only a flesh wound.”
I glare at him. “No jokes, Dex.”
“Sorry.”
“You going to finally get naked, or do you need me to slice them off of you?”
“I hope to god you’re talking about my underwear,” he says, running his thumbs under the waistband, teasing me for a moment. Then he pulls them down, stepping out of them. His cock looks phenomenal, sticking straight up and I instinctively reach out, running my fist over it from balls to tip.
He hisses out a breath, and we watch as my bloodied hand leaves red behind.
“Am I crazy, or this the fucking hottest thing we’ve ever done?” he asks. I look up at him to see all the worry and fear disappear from his eyes, replaced by pure carnality.
There he is.
I give him another squeeze, running my palm over the crown, a fever running through me. He thrusts up into my hand, a groan escaping his lips, and I remember how important it is to draw this out, to delay the orgasms as long as we can.
This is going to be HELL.
“Jesus,” he swears, leaning in to kiss me, his mouth gently sucking in my lip, then my chin, my jaw. “I want to fucking maul you.”
“You already have,” I tell him as he finds my neck. He tentatively licks at my skin and I start jacking him off, making my fist tighter, harder.
“Fuck,” he cries out, and then bites down on my neck hard, and I know he’s broken the skin there. Vampire husband will come in handy tonight.
I grip him harder, watching his back rise as he tries to catch his breath, tries to keep it together. Then I suddenly let go of him. Not only did they say to delay foreplay, but they said getting each other to the point of coming several times would help, as cruel as that seems.
And right now, it seems very, very cruel.
“I need to be inside you,” he says to me, grabbing my chin with a shaking hand. He has my blood on his lips and I lean in, licking it off of him.
“Not yet,” I tell him before kissing him deeply.
I make fists in his hair and then pull away, yanking his head down between my legs. “Don’t you dare get me off and don’t you dare get yourself off either,” I tell him.
I lie back on the counter and he starts devouring me, one hand spreading me further open, the other I know he’s touching himself with.
My back arches, my hips rise, and he works me so good with his tongue and teeth and lips that I just want him to keep going, but I know I can’t come, not yet.
“Stop,” I whisper but he’s not listening, his tongue swirling around my clit.
I grab his hair tighter and lift his head off me. “Stop,” I say again, gasping. “Oh god.” I was so close to coming.
He stares up at me through my legs, blood on his face, his hands. My stomach and breasts are already smeared red, so is his chest.
I hoist myself up to sitting position and he straightens up. His dark eyes are lost to lust, they look crazed and unsteady, gripped by fever. I part my thighs further and grab his bicep, pulling him up to me, wrapping my legs around his waist.
“Come here,” I tell him, reaching up and putting my hands behind his neck. “Closer.” I pull him into me so that I’m almost sliding off the edge of the counter, his shaft pressed right up against my clit, sliding easily against me. I’m so fucking wet, it’s insane.
I place my chin on his shoulder so that my breasts are pressed against his chest, so that our stomachs meet, so that the blood between us mixes. I swear I feel the heat building on our skin, sparks where the blood fuses together.
“Can you fuck me like this?” I whisper.
I hear him swallow, let out a heavy breath. “Yes.”
He reaches down, scooting back just a few inches to position himself.
Then he pushes his cock inside me, sliding in like silk, our bodies pressed together again.
“Oh, fuck,” he says through a gasp, and I’m widening for him, squeezing down on him as goes.
He’s already inside me so deep, and I press my heels against his ass, driving to drive him in deeper. I know we can’t rush, I know we have to wait, but I’m so fucking crazed right now that I almost don’t care. I just want to get off.
Focus with intention, I remind myself.
My fingers trip over the strained muscles of his back and he keeps pumping into me, his hips working in tight controlled circles at first, before getting more and more wild. He’s fucking me here, working me hard, just like he did four years ago, when we had absolutely no idea what was ahead of us.
And we still have no idea what the future holds.
All I know is that I will do anything to keep him in my life.
To keep having a life.
And that’s why we’re doing this.
“Slow down,” I whisper to him, pulling my head back to look him in the eyes. “Dex. Slow down.”
He shakes his head, sweat beading on his brow, his lips red with blood, his dark eyes flashing. “I can’t.”
“You have to,” I tell him, moving back a couple of inches on the counter until he almost slips out.