Page 46 of Intense (Beneath The Blaze #3)

FINN

Song- Creature In The Dark Night- Dayseeker

S he’s panting beneath me. Her chest heaving, the heart monitor spiking with every breath. Every moan.

All fucking mine.

I slide her black lace panties off and place them on the monitor.

She’s strapped to my rhythm now. Her pleasure is being recorded in real time, the final experiment.

But it’s more than that. She’s finally admitting to herself that she belongs to me.

My wife.

Putting her legs in a better position, her feet flat on the bed and knees bent, I open them up for me.

Her thighs are slick, her lips swollen, her wrists bound to the railings. Stripped down to skin and sweat and submission. Her pussy begging to be fucked raw.

She’s perfect like this.

Ravaged. Quietly begging with her body while her mouth still fights me.

God, I fucking missed her. It was one single day too long. I can’t deny I’ve got it bad.

I trace the fresh cut across her thigh with my glove, collecting the blood on two fingers and dragging it slowly over her clit. She twitches violently, the monitor going wild.

“You hear that?” I murmur, ghosting my lips over hers. “That’s your heart screaming for me, while your body bleeds for me.”

I slide two fingers inside of her, watching in fascination as her back arches off the bed.

Her eyes flutter shut, and her teeth sink into her bottom lip to keep herself from coming.

“No,” I growl. “You don’t get to finish until I say.”

She whimpers, giving in to me. Finally fucking listening.

Submitting to me, just as she was made to do.

“My good girl,” I whisper.

My cock’s rock hard and aching. But I won’t give in until she spills my blood. Not from my hands.

From hers.

I reach into my coat pocket and pull the scalpel free. Her blood is still coating the metal. With my eyes locked on hers, I run the flat edge along my tongue and do the same with the other side.

Ingesting her blood, so I am hers too.

Her breath catches when I unbind her wrists. She shakes them out, her gaze never leaving mine.

I hold out the blade to her.

“Your turn.”

She stares up at me, wide-eyed and trembling, but not from fear.

From want.

“If you cut me,” I say roughly, “you get to come.”

Her lip trembles. Her thighs clench.

“Do it.”

This isn’t just about me marking her as mine. It’s about her owning me too. This is a marriage, a union in blood.

This isn’t something any paperwork can take away from us.

Standing beside her, she sits up and takes the blade. I watch the slight shake in her fingers, the movement awkward and hesitant. I’ve seen her do surgery for hours. I know she can do this. She handles pressure like a pro.

I drag my shirt off, baring my chest to her, forgetting my past for just a second.

Forgetting the things I am supposed to hide from the world.

Her eyes rake over my body, and she’s not horrified; she’s not even looking at the scars on my chest that I’ve covered my best with tattoos.

No. She’s staring at my shoulders like she wants to sink her teeth into them.

“Something you like, Mrs. Quinn?” I ask with amusement.

It makes my heart flutter seeing her satisfaction with me. Like she wants to tear into me. That this obsession is mutual.

“I knew you were ripped, but damn. Look at those traps.”

I tilt my head, amused at her little outburst.

“You mean your leg rests for when I eat you out?”

She licks her lips and nods.

“Not now though, that can be after,” I wink.

I tip my head back, offering my skin.

“Make it hurt, Mrs. Quinn.”

Her fingers shake. But the blade slices clean and fast across my shoulder. Not deep. Just enough to sting. To satisfy.

My groan is guttural.

Pain and pleasure blur. They always have for me. I need this, and something settles inside of me knowing that she is prepared to give me it. No questions. No persuading her to do it.

She is like me. She wants pain too.

“Nice work, Dr. Quinn,” I praise her.

“Now, lie back down.”

Blood runs in a thin line, trailing down my chest. I dip my hand into it, smear it between her thighs, and slide two fingers back inside her. Her slickness and my blood mixing into something primal.

Something sacred.

She arches violently, gasping as I stroke her with that unholy blend. The monitor screams. So does she.

But I’m not done.

I yank off the wires from her chest as fast as I can before flipping her onto her stomach so she’s on all fours and dragging her to the end of the bed.

She will never comprehend the importance of that. The fact I’m going to fuck her while her hands are free. That this is me giving her power over me.

Something I’ve never, ever, given away willingly before.

“You earned this,” I rasp, lining myself up behind her.

She cries out as I slam into her, slick and hot and desperate. I grip her hair in one hand, the blood-slicked blade in the other. My teeth find her shoulder, biting down as I fuck her deep and slow.

She clenches hard around me.

Her body begs as her screams grow louder.

“Come apart for me,” I whisper, pressing the blade flat against her spine. “Bleed and break for your husband.”

And she does.

She shatters around me, crying out my name like it’s salvation.

I follow her, spilling inside her with a roar. The sight before me, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—my blood and hers, on her thighs, on my chest.

A fucking masterpiece.

She collapses forward, chest heaving, wrists limp, skin marked and glowing.

I drop the blade and pull her into my arms.

And for a long moment, we just breathe. Entangled. Covered in our blood. I grip her throat again, bringing her face to mine.

“Everything you hoped and dreamed it would be fucking your boss?” I tease.

She scowls at me, so I squeeze harder.

Her fingers trail up my chest, over the scars, and I close my eyes.

“There is a reason I need pain in my life, Stephanie,” I tell her.

The most honest I’ve ever been with anyone since it happened. I know it’s not much. It’s not a revelation.

But for me, it is.

It’s like she understands the weight of it as she continues to trace them.

“I understand.”

My heart stops.

“I really, really fucking hope you don’t,” I tell her.

She gives me a sad smile.

“I guess we will figure that one out.”

If someone has hurt her, I will hunt them down, each and every one, and slit their throats as they sleep.

I stroke her hair away from her face and press my nose against hers, and she smiles.

It’s fucked up. All of this.

But so are we. And I wouldn’t change a damn thing.