Page 147 of Beautiful Scars

“Yes, Kill?” I say sweetly, as I tug at his belt.

“Stop.”

I bark out a laugh. “I believe the word you’re looking for is peaches.”

He glares at me and shifts his hips, but goes still the moment the tip of the knife touches his washboard abs. Damn, but he’s got a fine body. Muscles crafted over time. Perfect in every way, even taking into account the scars.

Those beautiful scars are what make him flawless, because they tell a story of a powerful, fearless man.

I grab the top of his pants and pull them down. I’d been planning on leaving his trunks on at least, but they end up coming off too. I tell myself I won’t look, but the fact that his cock’s hard draws my eyes like bees to a nectar-dripping flower.

“Are you...enjoying this?” I murmur.

He growls at me, and that makes my lips quirk up.

I believe the door—the one you planned to escape out of—is on the other side of the room, Meisie.

I push away Trish’s voice.

Kill’s not going anywhere. And, for the next few minutes, neither am I.

His eyes narrow to slits as I sit back on the bed and take off the ruined bridesmaid dress. “Here’s what you’ll be missing every second I’m gone.”

I don’t know why I want to torture him. Maybe it’s from all the times he tortured me. Maybe it’s because I want to leave a lasting impression. The girl that got away the night before he planned on marrying her for his own nefarious purposes. Suck on that, Kill.

My eyes dart down to his cock as the dress slides down my torso and pools in my lap. His dick bobs, and he slowly brings his knees up—for all the world like he’s gone shy.

“No, see, I don’t like that,” I tell him, reaching slowly for his ankle. “I want to see the effect I’m having.” I grab his ankle, gently, willing him to pull away.

But he doesn’t. He watches me with quiet rage as I drag his foot down the bed, his jaw ticking while I strap him into the foot cuff. I move across the bed in just a pair of lacy white panties to get his other foot.

This time, he pulls back. So I press the knife to the inside of his thigh, and he immediately stops moving. “There’s a vein there, princess.”

“I know,” I say, although I didn’t have a fucking clue. “So best you sit still for the nice lady.”

My heart starts thumping hard into my breastbone when he lets out a low rumble of a growl. I’m more than a little shaky when I grab his ankle and strap him in, but it’s not from fear. The exhilaration of having Cillian do my bidding is like being drunk and stoned and fucked all at the same time. I feel giddy and high, and I never want it to end.

But it must, because I still have to leave.

I just want him to know what it feels like, not being in control. I’m sure it’ll be the first experience of its kind for him.

So I climb between his sprawled legs and crawl up to him with the knife in my teeth, unable to suppress my smile. His cock bounces angrily in his lap the closer I get, but I make sure not to touch it as I carefully straddle his stomach. The cut I gave him earlier has stopped bleeding—I guess his body’s learned to knit up wounds quickly by now.

I take the knife out of my teeth as I lower myself onto his ribs, and hold the tip to his throat. His Adam’s apple moves as he swallows. “We had our fun, Kill, but it’s over. Maybe next time you’ll try and date a girl like a normal guy, instead of throwing her in your dungeon.”

His stare is imperious and filled with frustration. “There is no next girl, Meisie.”

It’s the perfect time to leave.

But, instead, I lift onto my knees and slide a hand behind my panties. His eyes widen, but he doesn’t look down. He keeps his gaze locked on mine.

Which is pretty fucking annoying since I’m literally trying to get a rise out of him. I glance over my shoulder. Well, a bigger rise, seeing as he’s already hard.

And God, I’m already so wet, I could just slide right—

Nope. Nuh-uh. Not the plan. I should be gone already. I should—

I slide my leg over his body, tug down my underwear, and straddle him again. This time, I move up to his shoulders. When he still doesn’t look at my pussy, I grab a fistful of his hair and tighten my grip. He grimaces at me, but he doesn’t even move his head back to ease the pain.