Primal Pursuit

He smiles.

“Maybe I’ll do that, anyway? What do you think?”

Asshole is testing me, trying to get me to speak, say my word.

But this is a battle, and I have to fight to win. Otherwise, he’ll think I’m weak.

“Lie down, put your face in the hole.”

Moment of truth. I take a breath and steel myself as I turn. Jackson is very deliberately not looking at me as he prepares the gun and the inks. There’s a folded piece of paper, too, and…what the fuck am I letting these men do to me?

But a dark thrill that pulsates through my bones whispers, saying I want this. Call it a pre-marker of my kill. I’ll have this ink to remember Davian by. To say I looked the devil in the eye and won.

I crawl on the massage table, my hands shaking.

I’m still on my knees when Davian demands, “Hold it there, Rabbit.”

My ass is in the air, but I do as he says. I’m naked, vulnerable, and in a compromising position. Exposed. I swallow hard, knowing he’s behind me. Davian inserts his finger into my pussy, and a shudder rolls up my spine.

“Jesus, you have a magic cunt.”

He pulls his finger out, and I exhale.

“Lie down, Rabbit.”

I eye the gun, then after one brief second of hesitation—it’s too far from my reach—I lie down.

My heart is a wild thing in my chest, and to my side, Jackson moves about, shifting things. The scent of ethyl alcohol laced with lavender and something almost coconutpermeates the air. It smells similar to the tattoo shops I’ve been to, but this seems richer, somehow. Like he uses top-grade green soap. Then again, my senses are all wired, because as Davian comes near me, the aroma of leather, followed by that dirty, sexy rose and tobacco, honey and rum of him wraps around my senses like someone shoved my face into his skin and told me to breathe deep.

His tattooed hand comes up to my face from below the table as he slips a leather strap around my neck. Davian catches the ends and buckles them in place. It’s tight, but comfortable, and after testing it with his finger, he slides that same finger between my lips, and I suckle it.

“Good.” He thrusts that finger into my mouth numerous times. “Now, if you move too much, it’ll choke, so don’t.”

Davian waits for a response. For the word. But I just bite down on his finger, and he laughs then pulls it free.

He moves around me without a word, pulling my arms up and to the sides of the table before strapping each of them down.

He doesn’t speak for a while, but he’s always pausing, then adjusting, and stroking his fingers, palm, or knuckles over my bare skin, making me shiver.

I know with each pause he waits to hear the word, giving me a chance to say it if I need to. But I’m not saying it. Not tonight.

“God, you’re exquisite, Rabbit,” he murmurs, his palm gliding over my ass, fingers touching and exploring, one sliding low but not touching anything that needs to be touched. Not my pussy, my clit, the inner and outer lips, or any place that could set me alight.

Davian ignores it all.

He’s a consummate tease artist.

Gifted.

Evil.

Every part of me, every single fiber and atom, is zeroed in on where he is, where he touches, and though I can see the clean wooden floor, and not him, I imagine him, shifting and moving, touching, his cock straining in the confines of his pants.

It doesn’t matter that he came in my mouth maybe an hour ago. Hours or minutes, time loses all meaning when I’m near him.

It doesn’t matter that I fucked him in the club or fought with him and rode him in the park. I know he’s turned on. It’s a fever, poison, a drug, a disease that’s in our blood. And the farther we go, the more we want. Both of us.

I can’t lie to myself as he runs his fingers down my left leg to my ankle that he moves to the edge of the table where he straps it down. I can’t lie. I want him touching me right now more than I want to kill him. That hasn’t changed, but right now the need for him is so much more.