Page 68 of Always A Villain

When he pulls back, I feel the bed lighten as his weight shifts off. The door opens, and he slips through it, his silhouette fading into the dark hallway.

“Axe?”

Silence.

“Where are you going?”

Nothing.

I twist against the ropes, muscles straining with a flicker of panic. My gaze snaps to the doorway, straining to catch the sight or sound of him—of anything.

“Axe, get back here!”

Nothing. No answer, no footsteps.

Frustration has me ready to shout again when I finally hear him. The heavy thud of his footsteps approaches. He stops in the doorway, his shadow swallowing the room—and something catches the light in his hand.

A knife.

The masked man's knife.

Hisknife.

“Axe…”

He lets out a low, sinister chuckle. “I’ve seen you put this to good use. Moaning my name with it buried in your cunt.” His shadow grows with each step he takes toward the bed.

A furious blush ignites my cheeks, instantly matched by a surge of anger. “You have cameras in my room!?”

His smirk is unmistakable, even in the dimness. “Little siren, there isn’t a single inch of this house I can’t see. I also enjoyed watching you touch yourself in the shower, crying out my name.”

“You’re a sick, twisted pervert! How fucking dareyou—” My retort cuts off abruptly as his hand clasps over my mouth, his heavy weight pressing me into the mattress as he climbs on top of me.

“That mouth of yours is going to get you into real trouble.”

“Go to hell,” I spit, my words muffled under his palm.

He chuckles again, his breath hot against my ear. “Hell?” he purrs. “Iamhell. And you’re my fallen angel.”

Bringing the knife up to my line of vision, he drags the cool metal down my arm, leaving a tingling line of goosebumps.

“The first time I fucked you with this knife, I saw how badly you wanted the darkness.” The blade’s tip traces over the curve of my hip. His hand releases from my mouth, and I suck in a deep gasp as he shifts, his hips locking me beneath him.

His cock presses firmly against my ass, and he rocks forward, grinding between my cheeks, teasing me. Anger melts into a fresh, uncontrollable rush of need.

“I know what you like, little siren.” He drags the blade lower, the blunt edge scraping over the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “All your filthy secrets, your twisted little cravings…I know it all.” The knife presses deeper; it’s not cutting, but the sting is enough to remind me of who’s in control—of how much he could take if he wanted.

“You want my darkness, Rory. You wantme.”

The blade’s handle glides through my wetness, pressing against my entrance.

“Tell me, Rory. Tell me how much you need me to fuck you with this.”

My mind spins. Right now, he’s everything that pulls me in, everything that’s my downfall.

“Please,” I whisper, the word slipping out breathlessly. “Please, Axe. I need it.”

“Good girl,” he growls, stretching me open with the handle. A moan spills out of me as the cold steel sends a shock rippling down my spine. He twists it, digging in, a delicious sting that makes me shudder. Slowly, he pulls it out, only to shove it back in, his other hand gripping me hard.