Page 32 of Into the Blue (Shades of Vengeance #1)

With some maneuver, he flips the knife so that he holds the wide blade in his hand.

“Been here before,” he says, somewhat distantly as he recalls our first night together. “This handle’s a little bigger, a little rougher.” His eyes flick up to mine, where I’m already breathing harder and faster. “Can you take it? ”

I don’t know if I can take anything right now. My nerves are on fire while I’m trying to stay sane and resist what I know he’s doing.

This is torture.

And it’s just the beginning.

He notches it at my entrance without my response. He wasn’t lying. It is bigger. It is much rougher too. The callous texture is already uncomfortable against my skin. But I have no choice. I can’t go anywhere without hurting myself. I have no plan for this.

Milo doesn’t shove the knife inside me.

No.

He leaves it right there, like a taunt.

I don’t know if I want it, or if I want to get away from it.

Like I knew it would, I’m curious about anything new this man wants to show me. Even though it is a little twisted and a whole lot sick.

I shouldn’t want it.

I don’t.

The index of his opposite hand resumes the slow path around my sensitive clit, throbbing with need.

Fully exposed I know he can see how I’m desperate for anything—everything he has to give me.

He fucking trained my body.

His smell assaults me.

His energy presses against my will.

His hands tease me.

Goddamn.

I’m at his mercy and there is nothing I can do but take it.

I nod, shallowly. Barely a movement but it gives him the answer he needs.

“Look at how you’re dripping already,” he says, rubbing the handle through my arousal. There’s entirely too much of it for the circumstance. I can’t help it.

I moan when the rough texture makes contact with my sensitive clit. Bucking to no avail, he doesn’t let up, rubbing it back and forth. A devilish smile takes over his face. “Here, I like it right here,” Milo says, repeating the motion over and over, playing my body like a fiddle.

I want more and—then, it’s gone.

He pulls away from my body, out of reach on the massive bed looking down at me. “No, no.” He sucks his teeth. “You won’t come that easily.”

Our eyes meet and the truth of what’s in store for me settles like a boulder in my stomach.

I shake my head, no .

But he just nods, his lips curling down in a mocking frown. “Answers. Need them, or you’ll never come. Understand?”

I hesitate but ultimately agree. What choice do I have?

“Need your words, Racquelle.”

“I understand,” I bite out.

“Good girl,” he says, lining the knife back up to my pussy.

Cursing my body for not getting the memo that we aren’t supposed to be enjoying this, I can hear the sloppy sounds of just the very tip of the handle going past my opening the slightest bit and then coming out.

For whatever reason, it’s a very intense sensation. The knife breaching me that small amount and then coming out again.

In and out.

Out and then back in.

Then he adds circles to my clit and the sound of my wetness grows louder in the room.

“Who is your Pa?”

I cannot tell him that.

No way in hell can I tell him that.

I wished he would drop that line of questioning and move to something different, but I should have known that he was smarter than that.

Sure, I may have fooled him so far with my tits and helplessness, appealing to his baser needs. Then falling into something more because he needed someone.

That someone could have been me if we had met in another life.

But we didn’t.

We met in this life .

And for better or worse, our paths crossed.

This can’t be where my story ends.

I told him before and I still mean it now.

Deeper the handle goes.

Deeper.

Deeper.

“Milo,” I gasp. “No,” I say, unsure if I mean the knife or to the question he’s asked me.

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

I clench and clench, each contraction of that muscle going against the logical response of my circumstance.

But, fuck.

It feels so good.

“Tell me,” he says, pressing the knife until the full length of the handle is inside me.

My head falls back to the bed. I can’t watch what he’s doing to me anymore. My head is foggy and conflicted.

I don’t know how long he can keep this up.

I’m so close to coming on his knife. Again.

I should be ashamed.

Tears fall from my eyes, rolling down my face to my ears.

I can’t tell him.

He stops, removing the knife from me entirely. Using it to cut the rope from one of my legs.

I think that he will move to the other leg but he doesn’t.

He takes his pants off. It’s quick and suddenly it’s his warm skin under my body. Strong and sturdy. Kryptonite for my resistance.

He holds the one leg he’s freed just under the knee to keep my legs open for him.

“Why can’t you tell me?” He asks, genuine curiosity in the pinch of his brows.

I simply shake my head. I can’t answer that either .

The broad head of his dick is hot and insistent on my pussy. He swipes it through the slick path from my clit to my ass. I make a silent prayer that he doesn’t try my ass right now.

But he doesn’t do any of that.

I can see how hard he is. Feel it, too.

But he doesn’t enter me.

Frustrating and patient, he continues to tease me in this way.

I mewl out of my mind, I’m over stimulated and not stimulated enough.

Four times he’s denied me.

“Milo, please,” I beg, voice desperate and unrecognizable to myself.

“Please, what?” He asks, with an oblivious look on his face. As if he doesn’t know what he’s doing to me.

My head falls back again. I can’t get frustrated when I’m in a situation of my own making and I know it could be a lot worse.

“I just need one,” I murmur.

He hears me with nowhere for me to hide. “Need one what?”

Before I can respond, he shoves into me with one thrust. The breath is knocked out of me as my heart sets off on a gallop in my chest.

His hips are flush with my body. As deep as he can get which is so goddamn deep . Stretched tight over the girth he’s kept from me all night. The fit is perfect. The sound of relief comes from my chest at finally being filled.

With my leg still in his grip, he has the right amount of leverage to pound into me at a punishing pace.

He fucks me like he hates me and loves me just the same.

Again I clench, getting so close, I’m using all the strength I have to help myself.

He doesn’t touch my clit, doesn’t slow down for the strokes to truly satisfy my need.

Milo grabs onto my chin, forcing me to look at him as he pumps into me.

With gritted teeth he asks me again and my heart sinks.

Lips pressed together, I shake my head, preparing for what is inevitable .

His smile lacks all joy, but he knows what he’s doing to me is fucked up and cruel.

He stops, pulling out of me.

His big hand stroking himself until he releases all over my stomach. He rubs it into the skin there and on my thighs. Carefully avoiding any areas that could be too enjoyable for me.

With a hard bite to my calf, he leaves me there—marked, unsatisfied and alone.