Page 122 of Hide And Seek

My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. His cock was already hard, thick, and pressing against my entrance, slick with my arousal and his precum. As I felt his wetness glide over my clit, desperation flooded me, and I closed my eyes and let filthy thoughts consume me; thoughts of him claiming me completely, dangerously, irreversibly.

Then I felt the cold steel of his knife dragging slowly down my inner thigh.

My eyes flew open on a sharp gasp. The flat of the blade kept teasing my skin, threatening, promising, and the thought of Rhys cutting me while he fucked me sent a fresh wave of arousal flooding through my core.

How did he know?

I’d never told anyone about this particular fantasy. I’d barely even thought about it in the privacy of my own mind, ashamed of how badly the idea turned me on. But now, with Rhys’s cock pressed against me and his blade on my skin, the truth clawed its way out.

I wanted it.

Neededit.

“Rhys…” My voice came out shaky, barely more than a whisper. “Do it.”

His eyes flicked up to mine with raw intensity. “You sure?” he asked, voice low and rough, the tip of the knife pausing against my thigh.

I swallowed hard, heart hammering, then nodded. “Cut me. Please.”

The words felt filthy and freeing at the same time.

Without hesitation, Rhys turned the blade and slowly sliced into my inner thigh. A bright sting bloomed across my skin, followed by the warm trickle of blood running down my leg.

The pain barely registered beneath the adrenaline and raw desire, and a long, dragging moan tore from my lips.

“Again,” I gasped.

He made a low, approving sound in his throat and did what I wanted. The second line burned hotter, pulling a deep moan from my throat, and my hips jerked against him as the pain twisted into something electric.

The friction of his cock against my clit, combined with the fresh cuts, sent shockwaves through me. I surrendered completely then, riding the fucked-up euphoria swelling inside me as he made another shallow mark on my thigh.

After one more deliberate cut, he dropped the knife onto the mossy ground beside us. His hand moved over the stinging wounds with possessive hunger, smearing my blood across my thigh and up over my hip.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growled, voice ragged. “Bleeding so pretty for me.”

With that, he lined himself up and thrust into me in one hard stroke, burying himself to the hilt. I cried out at the sudden stretch, my back arching against the tree.

He was relentless, fucking me deep and rough, each brutal snap of his hips driving me higher into the bark. Every thrust made the small cuts on my thigh sting and throb, sending fresh sparks of pain-laced pleasure through me.

Rhys dropped his head to my neck, teeth scraping over my skin. “You’re mine now, Alissa. Even knowing what I am.” He slammed into me harder. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” I moaned, voice breaking. I was soaked, dripping down his cock as he pounded into me. “All yours.”

His blood-smeared hand gripped my thigh, pressing into the fresh cuts as he fucked me, and the pain and pleasure started twisting together so intensely I could barely breathe. I came hard then, clenching violently around him and screaming into the dark woods as the pleasure ripped through me.

Rhys didn’t slow down. He kept fucking me through the haze of pleasure, growling filthy praise against my ear until his own rhythm turned erratic. Then, with a deep, guttural groan, he buried himself deep and came, pulsing hot inside me as he held me against the tree.

For a long moment, the only sounds were our ragged breathing and the distant rustle of leaves. He stayed buried inside me, forehead pressed to mine, his hand still gently smearing the blood across my skin like he was marking me as his.

“You’re never getting away from me now,” he muttered, voice dark and reverent. “Not after this.”

The haze of pleasure slowly ebbed, leaving me raw and trembling. That was when reality started to creep back in.

Blood.

It was everywhere. Smeared across my chest, my stomach, my thighs. And most of it wasn’t mine. It belonged to the four Legacies Rhys had just slaughtered; the ones who’d been hunting me through the woods only minutes ago.

My stomach lurched violently, and I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking my head as if I could somehow force out the memory of what we’d just done. But it was too late. It was already playing on loop: how desperately I’d kissed him back, how I’d begged him to cut me, how I’d come harder than I ever had in my life while he was soaked in someone else’s blood.