Page 65 of Not Another Dark Romance

Zane notices, and a predatory smile spreads across his face as he watches my reaction.

“Look at you,” he mocks, pressing the flat blade more firmly against my throat. “Already shaking, and we haven’t even gotten to the fun part.”

I gulp as my heart pounds aggressively in my ribs.

“You wanted this, Pet. You asked for it.”

I did, and I do want this, but my body is mixing fear and arousal in the way I love so much. It’s overwhelming, intoxicating.

“Strip,” he orders, pulling the knife away for me to undress.

My body is trembling as I remove my clothing until I’m standing naked in the kitchen with a leaking erection and absolutely no self-preservation skills. I proved my loyalty to him, and I suppose this is how he proves his loyalty to me. I’m handing myself over to him now in a very real situation where he could kill me, and I’m doing it willingly. It was my idea.

Zane smirks, but it’s devious, laced with the darkness inside of him that I uncovered. He brings the knife to my cheek and slaps me once, twice, with the flat edge, and I gasp audibly.

Fuck, this thrill is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Possibly more so than being chased, and Zane’s barely gotten started. My senses are all on high alert as adrenaline courses through me. I love this feeling, the fear and lust mixing as we share this wild moment of trust.

He slowly drags the knife down my throat, over my collarbone, the dull edge scraping against my skin, sure to be leaving marks. It’s not sharp enough to cut, but the pressure, the threat, the possibility—my mind races with what could happen if he made a mistake. If he slipped.

The knife continues its journey down my chest, tracing patterns around my nipples, which harden under the cold steel. My breath catches in my throat as he circles one, then the other, teasing me with the edge that could so easily hurt me.

“So responsive,” he observes, his free hand moving to grip my hip, holding me in place. “Every touch, every threat—you love it, don’t you?”

I nod, unable to form words as he presses the tip of the knife against my sternum, right over my frantically beating heart. The pressure increases, just enough to remind me how vulnerable I am.

“I could do anything to you right now,” he whispers, his voice dark with promise. “You’re completely at my mercy.”

And God help me, I’ve never been more turned on in my life.

My cock is so hard it’s almost painful, but Zane’s in no hurry. He hasn’t even touched me there, but I could probably come just from this foreplay.

“You’re thinking about how good it would feel to come right now, aren’t you? But you’re not going to. Not until I say so.”

I whimper as he drags the knife lower, tracing it along my lower abs and the words still there. The dull edge scrapes against my skin, leaving red marks in its wake—even more temporary evidence of his ownership. He starts moving lower, down the top of my right thigh, and my breath hitches as the knife moves closer and closer to my dick, a mix of fear and anticipation.

My heart is racing, my palms are sweating, and every instinct is screaming at me to run, to get away from the man holding a knife to my body. But I don’t move. I can’t. I’m trapped by my own desire, by the knowledge that this fear is exactly what I’ve been craving as I gasp for a steadying breath.

Zane seems to sense my internal struggle, a cruel smile playing on his face. “That’s it, Pet. Let the fear consume you.”

He presses the flat of the blade against my hip bone, then slowly drags it upward, the cold metal a stark contrast to my burning skin. My breath catches in my throat as he stops just below my ribs, the tip of the knife pressing into my flesh.

“Look at me,” he commands, and I force my eyes to meet his. “You’re mine. Every inch of you belongs to me. And I’ll do whatever I want with my property. Your pleasure is mine. I own you. Say it, Pet.”

“I’m yours, Master,” I gasp as he teases my cock, barely placing his hand over it, and my hips try to thrust into his grip while the knife is once again at my throat. “All yours. You own me.”

“That’s right.” The knife moves from my throat down the side of my neck. “And I can do whatever I want with what’s mine, can’t I?”

“Yes, Master, please,” I beg, knowing it’s pathetic.

“Please what?” He strokes me faster, tightening his grip.

“Please—” I don’t even know what I’m begging for, but somehow, I want more. More of this, more of him, more of the exquisite tension between fear and desire that’s making my head spin. I nod, unable to finish my thought, my throat tight with emotion. He’s right. I am his. Completely and utterly, and I trust him fully.

“Good boy,” he praises, then he finally moves the knife to the most sensitive part of me.

My entire body locks up as I watch the dull silver blade move toward my upper inner thigh, so close to my dick. Every rational thought is screaming at me to stop this, to use my safe word, but my mouth won’t move. I don’t want it to. All that comes out is a choked, desperate sound as the flat of the blade presses against the side of my shaft.

“Shh,” Zane soothes. “I’d never cut you here. You’re far too pretty to damage.”