Page 66 of Tainted Blood
Her gaze is steady and fierce. “Every scar I have was created from hate. I need one created from something…more.”
Understanding immediately, I take my knife from the nightstand. Flipping her onto her back, I slide my hand up through the valley of her breasts to her throat. I tighten my hold, her pupils dilating with her escalating pulse rate. I watch her expression carefully for regret or fear, but there’s only certainty and lust as I touch the blade to the soft swell of her stomach.
“Like this?”
Something flickers behind her gaze, and my cock is rock-hard again. There’s a shadow there, moving…craving…
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to hurt you, Thalia? Do you want me to make you bleed so you can hate me more? So you can hold onto it at night, tucking it away under your pillow when the doubts creep in? Your fucking father would love that.”
“I don’t want it, Santi. I crave it. What he did—what he made me do—it’s all over me. I need to see something else when I look at my reflection.”
It’s a fucked-up request. I hate it, but the thought of marking her is so fucking tempting. I can already see the blood pooling against her pale skin.
Mine.
Maybe we both need to bleed…
Choosing my canvas carefully, I press my knife in harder. She hisses at the blade’s sharp bite, but she never screams.
I work quickly after that, her blood beading with every flick of my wrist, rushing to chase each letter. When I’m done, I sit back, staring with reverence at my promise, as Thalia lowers her gaze to the word I carved into the soft skin above her pubic bone. She traces each letter, swirling her finger through the red rivulets. Never flinching.
“Siempre.”
“Always,” I confirm, our heated gazes colliding. “It’s how long I’ll wait for you, Thalia Carrera.” Tossing the knife on the floor, I slip my hand under her neck, and pull her upright, our lips barely a breath apart. “Always. Forever. Whether it takes a month, a year, or ten years, I don’t fucking care. I’ll wait for you to come back to me.” With that, I’m pushing her back to the mattress, my cock straining as I press against her opening, my lust heightened by the blood that’s staining both our skin.
“Siempre,” I repeat, huskily, driving into her. Taking all she has left to give.
She chants my name with each brutal thrust as I fuck my own pain into her, leaving it so deep inside she’ll never forget it. Her arms coil around my neck, her breath coming out in sharp, brittle pants as I fuck her like an animal. I was already on the edge. Now I’m a man possessed.
Obsessed.
The harder we fuck, the stronger the craving.
“More,” she pants, with nothing between us but slick skin, blood, and lust.
“This pussy,” I rasp, catching her mouth in a vicious kiss, forcing her to taste herself, “will only ever come for your husband. You’re mine, Thalia Carrera… mine.”
I can’t take her hard enough.
I can’t get deep enough.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
I can feel her squeezing my cock. I slam my mouth against hers again as my last frantic thrusts send me careening over a cliff.
“Eres mia por siempre!”
Throwing my head back, I roar as I come harder than I’ve ever come in my goddamn life.
Jesus Christ.
When the haze clears, and I can finally think straight, I realize Thalia is lying motionless beneath me.
That’s when I know it’s time.
Slowly, I pull out of her, hating the break in connection, and swing my legs out of bed. Thalia is quiet for a moment, drowning me in silence, before she’s moving up behind me and snaking her arms around my chest.