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He leans in, his breath hot against my neck, and I shiver in anticipation. Whatever Ren has planned, I know it will be an experience I’ll never forget.
I watch, transfixed, as he retrieves his prized “Soulcarver” knife from a drawer. The blade gleams in the moonlight, and a shiver runs down my spine. Gently, he runs his fingers reverently along the edge, his eyes alight with a manic intensity.
“You know, bookworm,” he murmurs, his gaze locked on mine, “this knife has a voice all its own. Can you hear it?” He leans in close, his breath hot on my cheek. “It’s calling out to you. Begging to be buried in your skin.”
I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. A sane person who recoil in fear, but I’m intrigued and curious to see what new line of pleasure and pain he can introduce me to.
Ren trails the blade along my arm, the sharp edge leaving a faint line of red in its wake. “It likes you, you know,” he whispers, his eyes gleaming. “It wants to feel your flesh, to taste your blood.”
I can’t suppress the whimper that escapes my lips, which only widens his grin. “Don’t be afraid, bookworm,” he murmurs, the pet name rolling off his tongue. “I’ll take care of you.”
With that, he presses the blade against my skin, and I gasp at the sting of it. The flash of feral hunger alight in his eyes while he watches the crimson droplets well up along the shallow cut is unnerving.
“See?” he breathes, his voice ragged with arousal. “It’s singing for you. Can you hear it?”
I can’t respond; my breath catches in my throat as Ren continues his exploration, tracing patterns along my skin with the knife. The pain is sharp, but there’s an undeniable thrill to it, a primal pleasure that coils low in my belly.
His movements become more confident, more assured, as he reads my body’s reactions. This man knows exactly where to apply pressure and where to drag the blade to elicit the most delicious shivers from me.
I’m lost in the sensations, the world around me narrowing to the feel of the cold steel against my skin and the heat of his gaze. I’ve never felt so alive, so utterly consumed by the moment.
Ren’s free hand traces the lines of my body, his touch feather-light, a stark contrast to the unyielding press of the blade. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal. “Let go. Give in to it.” And then he moves the tip to my clit, and the cold contact of the metal against such a heated area tears me apart.
I cry out, my body convulsing as the pain radiates through me. Ren’s knife bites into my flesh, igniting every nerve ending. The agony is exquisite, shattering my senses until all I can focus on is the sensation of the blade against my skin.
My orgasm rips through me, tearing me apart with its intensity. I thrash against the ropes, binding my wrists, my mind going blank with the sheer force of my release. Every muscle in my body is taut, quivering with the aftershocks of my climax.
The delight and predator hunger gleaming in Renzo’s eyes makes the pleasure heighten. He leans in, his tongue tracing the crimson lines he’s carved into my flesh. I shudder at the hot, wet caress, my body still humming with the afterglow of my orgasm.
“Delicious,” he murmurs, his voice a low, rumbling purr. He presses the knife into my hand, forcing my fingers to curl around the hilt. “Taste it, bookworm. Taste what you’ve done.”
I hesitate, my mind reeling from the sensations this man has ignited within me. But the allure of the blade is too strong, the need to please him overwhelming. I bring the knife to my lips, my tongue darting out to lap at the scarlet droplets clinging to the steel.
The metallic tang of my blood explodes on my tongue, and I can’t suppress the moan that escapes me. Ren’s eyes darken with lust, and he yanks his pants down, his cock springing free.
“You want this, don’t you?” he growls, his hand closing around his shaft. “You want me to fuck you until you can’t think straight.”
I nod, my breath coming in ragged gasps. “Yes,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Please, Ren. I need you.”
He doesn’t hesitate, surging forward and burying himself in me with one powerful thrust. I cry out, the sensation of him filling me so completely shattering what little control I had left.
His pace is brutal, slamming his hips against mine with a force that borders on violence. But I welcome it, craving the rough, primal way he claims me. My body responds to his touch, my inner walls clenching around him as I climb toward another shattering climax.
I don’t understand any of it. The pain, the pleasure, the all-consuming need that this unhinged man ignites within me. But I can’t fight it or resist the allure of his twisted brand of madness. I’m addicted, hopelessly enthralled by the darkness that lurks beneath his surface.
I shudder as Ren’s hot breath caresses my ear. “That’s right, sweetheart,” he growls, his hips pistoning relentlessly. “You’re my good little cock whore, aren’t you? Made to take my dick, to worship it like the needy slut you are.”
I whimper, unable to form coherent words as the sensations overwhelm me. Ren’s brutal pace is terrifying and exhilarating, leaving me trembling and aching for more.
“You belong to me,” he continues. “I’ll never let you go. Never let another man other than my brother and Dante to touch what’s ours.” He pauses, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I love you, you know. Can’t you feel it?”
The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. Love? From Ren, this twisted, sadistic man who’s using me for his own desires? It doesn’t make sense. It can’t be true.
Yet, as I look into his eyes, I see a glimmer of something that could be tenderness. This vulnerability belies the brutality of his actions. The contradiction leaves me reeling, unsure of what to believe.
“No,” I manage to gasp, shaking my head weakly. “You can’t love me. This, what we’re doing... it’s not love.”
His expression hardens, and for a moment, I’m afraid I’ve angered him. But then his grip on my hips tightens, and he lets out a guttural groan.
