Page 39 of House of Lies
“You want to think you’re my enemy and I’m yours.”
“What makes you think that?”
Something about her is just so addictive. The world can crumble, and all I could care about is this woman. I could fuck her all day if I could. I could listen to her the entire day. I could breathe her in and touch her forever.
“Because as long as you see me as your enemy, you won’t allow yourself to feel anything but hatred. But the truth will always remain true, even if no one believes it, Wildfire. Even if you don’t believe it.”
“And what truth would that be?”
“Sometimes you feel things you’ve convinced yourself you’ll never feel in this marriage.”
“What things?”
I will show her what I’m talking about. She doesn’t protest when I remove her T-shirt, starting a trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbone. Her chest races and the grip around my waist tightens. Her skin is cold, and I’m hell-bent on warming it up. I unhook her bra, letting it float in the pool. I cup her breasts, lowering my mouth underwater and sucking her hard nipple. Her hands travel down my back, pulling the shirt from my trousers. She gets distracted for a second, taking out the gun from the back of my jeans. It’s not enough for her. She also takes out the knife, which I’m very fond of.
“Are you flirting with me again?” I smirk as she moves back, staring at the weapons in her hands.
I'm waiting to see what she’s going to do next. My Glock will fire even if wet—it will fire underwater. But she’s more fascinated by the knife. It has been custom-made, with the upper part of the blade jagged, the lower part sharp enough to cut through bone, corrosion-resistant silver, and a wood and brass handle. An upside-down M is engraved on it, and our family’s motto is carved in Russian.
“What kind of knife is this?”
“It’s a Russian combat knife.” I shouldn’t give her this, but my mouth opens before I can think about it for too long.
“What is this written on it?”
?????????? ??????.
She traces the words with her fingertip, careful not to cut herself.
“It will end in blood.”
“It will end in blood,” she repeats, smiling. “Are Italian knives not sharp enough?”
“Not for what I need to use them for. They’re not.”
She knows exactly where to stab me. I was stupid enough to teach her that during our training. I completely forgot about the weapons when I jumped into the pool, too concerned about her life. She lets the gun drop into the water, resting her palm on my shoulder and placing the tip of the knife at my throat. I swallow, my Adam’s apple grazing against it.
“What do you use them for?”
Droplets of water are caught in her eyelashes, and the rain is still pouring down on us. Her green eyes are wide and wild, and her red hair is soaked and dark. I’ve never seen anything more captivating.
“To disembowel anyone who’d dare to look at my wife, but you can have it, Wildfire.”
I’ll have another one made. She laughs, not believing a word I’m saying. Her free hand unbuttons my shirt as she presses the blade deeper into my skin, drawing blood. I’ve completely lost my mind. Caelia wants Mattia dead, and here I am, allowing her to place a knife to my throat. The cut is not too deep to hurt, but it stings, and I feel the warm blood running down my skin. She buries her face in the curve of my neck, sucking on the wound. My dick was already alive, but now it’s getting painfully hard. She grinds against me, rubbing her pussy on it. Her tongue lashes out, licking whatever’s left of the blood. My willpower breaks. I rip apart her leggings, freeing my cock. I slide her panties to the side and thrust inside her without warning, just as she locks her eyes with mine, her lips parting and her eyelids fluttering. Caelia doesn’t let go of the knife. I wonder how deep she wants to plunge it into my neck. I place my hands on her ass, guiding her hips on my dick.
I’m not surprised when she draws another cut on my neck, her lips sealing against it in the next second. Something’s not working right inside my brain. An attempt like that from anyone else would end in lost limbs. With her? Fuck, she can have my blood if this is what she craves. She can have my body. My life.
“Can I borrow that?” I stretch my palm open, waiting for the knife. She narrows her eyes, distrusting me. “Your leggings are preventing me from fucking you like you need to be fucked, Wildfire. Your choice.” Reluctantly, she places the handle of the knife in my palm. I cut her leggings and panties, giving her the mobility she needs to grind against me, pulling her closer. Her chest crushes against mine. “Here. You can have it back.”
She tries to decipher what the catch is. There’s none.
“Do you like to bleed?”
“Only if it’s for you,” I stress out. “And just because I like you.”
Like is the last word I’d use with her, but she’s not ready to hear words like obsessed. She won’t understand or believe me until I tell her the truth. I curse myself for not looking into her life personally. I could have prevented the hell she’s been through. If only I had taken the time to question whether what Sevastyan was saying was true. The only consolation I have is that I’m here now, buried so deeply inside her that I’ll never be able to wash away or forget this feeling.
“I’m serious.” Her lips linger above mine. “Do you want this?”