I am hard for her. So fucking hard. I grind my hips into her soft flesh and want so badly to feel her from the inside. I want to destroy her and fill her with my come.
I want her to cry so I can taste her tears. I want her to make me bleed. I don't know how to make it stop. I can't cure this madness in my head.
I'm not supposed to want her this way. I'm not supposed to feel anything when I look at her.
Her hands are on me. On my skin. Beneath my shirt. Touching me. Feeling me. Burning and healing me.
"Take off your sweater," she begs. "Please, Javi."
I look into her eyes, seeking out the deception I am certain to find there. But it is absent.
"Please," she says again.
I push my hand between her legs. Cupping her through the leggings. She is wet for me. For the monster beneath her. I don't understand it. How can she want something so bad for her?
"Javi."
She's pulling up the sweater herself now.
My mind is still at war, but my body is responding to her. Lifting my arms up when she tells me. My sweater ends up on the floor, and my chest is bare for her. Hard and scarred to her soft and pure.
Her palms move over me, exploring. Her lips find the skin of my throat first. And then my collar bone. Then the scars that litter my body. I close my eyes, and my head falls back against the chair.
She is the only one I've ever allowed to touch me in this way. I would not have believed that it was possible.That it could be real.
But it is.
I am allowing her to touch me, and she is wet for me.
"You have always been mine," I tell her.
Her hand moves down to the bulge in my sweatpants, cupping the hard heat through the material.
"But what about you, Javi?" she asks. "Does that mean you are mine, too?"
I groan when she squeezes me through the material, my self-control hanging on by a thread. She leans forward in my lap and kisses my neck again. All the way up to my ear.
"Let me have you," she says. "Let me have all of you."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
JAVI'S FINGERS dig into my hips, his eyes sharp and intense.
"You don't know what you're asking for."
"I do," I tell him, and it's a lie.
I know Javi is fucked up in the head. I know that he is a well of darkness I haven't even tapped into yet. And I fear those parts of him. But I am also drawn to it.
The darkness in him speaks to the darkness in me.
The space between us is loud with energy, boiling over into our heated skin.
"Get up," he tells me.
I hesitate.
Afraid he is going to reject me. Afraid he is going to send me away. It isn't what I want. I don't know how to convince him otherwise.
He reaches up and snags a handful of my hair in his grip.
"Are you going to do what you're told, Bella?"
His voice is menacing and hot. Hungry and full of promise. He's on the verge of breaking. And I think he just might give in.
So I stand, and he releases his grip on my hair, lifting his hips up to remove his sweat pants. I try to help him, and he growls at me.
"Do as you are told, Bella. Be a good girl."
I let him do it, even though it's obvious he is in pain. He removes his pants and slides to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over so that his feet rest on the floor and his hands are at his sides.
"Now come here."
I come to him, still fully clothed. Javi directs me with short, precise commands. He tells me to remove my shirt. And I do. Then my pants.
I do.
I'm standing before him in my bra and panties, and he's on the verge of losing control. I want him to. So I provoke him by removing the rest without his permission.
I am naked before him. Naked and cold and vulnerable.Something I have never liked to be. I don't know why I like it so much right now.
Javi's palm spreads over my hip and slides up my rib cage to cup my breast, his thumb skating across my nipple. I jerk forward like I'm being pulled by a magnet. Crushing against his body heat, and still not close enough.
He is a composition of hard muscle and painted tattoos. His cock, rigid and swollen against his thigh.
He's a monster. A chillingly hot monster. And I want him. I want him so badly it hurts deep in my core. He's going to ruin me. Destroy me. Physically and mentally. I know this. And yet I beg him for it, even as he shoves me to my knees before him.
"Kiss me."
I kiss him.
On the head of his cock.
The moisture of his arousal slides over my lips, and I part them to lick it off. In doing so, my tongue brushes against the head of his cock, and he groans.
As with all things, Javi does not have the patience for me to take him softly or slowly. He grabs my head and shoves himself deep into my throat, gagging me.
He holds me there, testing me. My hands rest on his thighs, and I don't dare move. I don't even breathe. I remain silent and still, my eyes watering while he measures my limits.
"Is this what you want, little Bella?"
I try to nod, but I can't move my head under the force of his grip. He sighs and releases me, allowing me to fill my lungs.
I look up at him. He expects animosity. Hopes for it. Anything to stop this. His eyes are pleading with me. Begging me to have some sense. To understand that he is a monster. To understand that I am asking him to destroy me. My eyes implore him to do it. To do the thing my lips can't speak of.
I rest my cheek against his thigh, stroking my fingers over the scarred skin there. The still raw wounds of his new injuries. Pressing a little harder than I should. Giving him the thing I know he wants and craves. The pain.
He shudders. Petting my hair beneath his palm while I trace the sensitive flesh with my nails. And I know. I know he's going to give into me now. He can't help himself. He reaches for something on the bedside table, and I don't see it until it flashes beneath the light.
The edge of the metal blade presses against my throat, dragging over the skin there. My heart accelerates, and my eyes snap up to his.
One push and he could end my life right now. I already know him to be a murderer. He murdered his own mother. But it's his eyes that give him away. This is his last attempt at pushing me away. He wants me to be afraid. He wants at least one of us to come to our senses.
I reach up and rest my hand over the blade. Gently, he allows me to remove it from his grip.
I press it against his thigh. Javi's eyes heat and his cock jumps. He wants this. He wants this fucked up scenario more than anything. He wants me to do the very thing his mother did to him.
I should stop. I should run away. I should reason that they were right to put him away. To lock him up and institutionalize him. But the need inside of him calls out to me.
And instead of appealing to logic, I dig the blade into his flesh. I dig until it pierces the skin and crimson oozes from the wound.
His lungs are at a standstill when I move my free palm between his legs to stroke his cock. He grunts. Bucks into my hand. Tosses the knife away and yanks me up onto the bed.
He is still bleeding from his thigh, and I wonder if I did too much. If I went too far. If I crossed a line I won't be able to uncross.
These thoughts all crash through my mind in jarring succession while he positions himself over me and secures my wrists above my head. I don't even know what he bound them with until I see the ropes around the bed frame.
The fear is potent when I pull against them and can't move.
"Javi," I plead with him, my voice betraying my terror. "Please..."
"I warned you, Bella," he says. "I told you."
He reaches for the knife. I squeeze my eyes shut and tremble beneath him. The tip rests against my collar bone, trailing along the sensitive flesh before it dips lower. Onto my chest, directly above my breast.
"My turn."
He cuts into my flesh, and I don't make a sound. Javi is breathing hard enough for both of us, his voice heavy with arousal when he speaks.
"Open your eyes."
I open my eyes.
The ache is intense. Euphoric. I feel lightheaded. High. And I can't tell if I am afraid or turned on when I glance down at the red line on my chest.
It is only small. Superficial. Enough to draw blood. I thought it would be worse. It felt so much worse.
Javi leans forward, pressing his skin into mine. He kisses me. It's so fucking wrong to like this. That's what I keep telling myself. It's so fucking wrong what he's doing to me. I know it. He knows it. But we can't help ourselves.
I am at his mercy as he drags his lips down my throat and sucks my nipple into his mouth. He licks me until I am raw and drenched with need. And then he pulls my legs up around his hips, opening me up wide for him.
It hurts already, and he hasn't even entered me. I look up at him and plead with my eyes. I want to ask him to be gentle. I want to tell him to just take me.