Page 39 of Madness & Mayhem
LAKYN
My eyes flutter open to the heat of a body falling over me. I jolt in place, glancing up and seeing my masked man hovering over me. The mask situates over Reign’s face, his hard body molding to my soft one. I can feel the anger rolling through him.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper, sleep thick in my throat.
He shakes his head, not saying anything as his fingers trail down my side. They tickle against me gently, and I can feel the hairs raise in their wake.
No, not his fingers.
My eyes glance down, and I see a knife in his grip. Not the one he’s had before. This one is new, the blade smooth and free of scratches and blemishes. The handle is black and flawless. It glints against the setting sun, brightening the dim room. I let out a shaky breath as a shiver rolls through my body. I stare up at him, my fingers lifting into his hair. I tug on the damp strands, as if it’s been drizzling, or maybe a slight snow is falling. I’d glance toward the window to look, but I can’t take my gaze away from him.
I can feel the storm building beneath his mask.
“You’re troubled,” I whisper.
He shrugs away from me, the knife sliding down my side until he reaches the hem of my shirt. He grips it with his gloved fingers, completely dressed in his masked man attire. With his other hand, he drives the tip of the blade through my shirt, shredding it quickly all the way up to my neck. I hold my breath as the blade rushes toward me, fear choking me that the knife will go straight through my throat. He pauses, though, just as the tip of the blade pierces beneath my chin.
I can feel the warmth of blood as it drips down the smooth end of the blade.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper again as he shoves the fabric of my shirt aside, revealing my plain black bra. He lowers the blade to my bra, and I see the silver blade painted with a trail of red. He slips it between the strap between my breasts, flicking the blade until the cups slide to each side of my rib cage.
A shiver rolls through me, my nipples peaking against the cool air. He lowers his face to my quivering stomach, and I can feel a grazing of the mask against my skin. Smooth yet rough, weathered yet strong.
His gloved fingers slip under the waistband of my pants, pulling them down quickly. They slip over my knees, and he rips them off my ankles, tossing them aside until I’m lying in only a pair of cream-colored cotton panties.
He lets out a hum under his breath as he lays the flat end of the blade against my ankle.
“I have a present for you,” he says, and surprise shoots through me when I hear the voice box, distorting his voice.
Fear slowly trickles in. I haven’t seen him this closed down since before the Halloween party. He doesn’t seem like Reign. He feels like the masked man, and it puts my guard up and makes my heated blood cool to ice.
“Do you hear me, Lakyn?” he asks, and I let out a noticeable shiver as I glance at him.
“What present?” I croak.
He chuckles, “How badly do you want it?”
He drags the knife up, over to the inside of my ankle, and then starts lifting it, until I hear the light scrape as it slides against the fine hairs on my leg.
I huff out a small laugh. “You’re the one who told me about it.” Asshole. He toys with my mind and my body, making me crumble so easily in his grip.
The knife gets to the crux of my thighs, and he presses the tip of the knife against my cotton panties.
He grunts. “You’re already soaking the fabric, baby Lake. How far would you like my knife to go?”
I squirm against the blade, holding myself against the lumpy cushions as he presses the blade in, pushing the fabric between my damp folds.
“I’ll keep going unless you tell me to stop,” he warns, and I can feel the edge of the blade sharp against my sensitive skin.
He pushes further, and I can feel the pinch of pain.
“Stop,” I shout, and he withdraws the blade, easily flicking the blade as he cuts the panties from my hips. He pulls the fabric of my panties away, leaving me completely naked beneath him. I sit up slightly, and he brings the blade up to my breasts, nicking the skin. I can feel the blood dollop around my nipple before dropping to my stomach.
He brings his glove forward, swiping it and making it turn from a dark red to a light pink.
“Give me my present,” I demand, and his shoulders shake with his chuckle.
He scrapes the blood with his knife, then slides the knife between my lower and upper lip. I clamp down, my teeth sliding against the smooth metal as I look at him with wide eyes.