Page 91 of Ly to Me

“Make me.”

“I—” I choked on the words, my body wanting nothing more than to tumble over the edge. I shifted my hips, trying to get into the right position to use what he was already doing to me to the fullest.If only…

I swiveled my hips more, seeking the pressure I needed on my clit by using the wooden stand in my favor. Carver murmured curses, and I hoped he was too lost in the way I was taking his knife and fingers to notice that I was getting myself close to what he promised to keep me from.

Screw words. They’d never helped me before.

Right as my body was humming, ready to explode, he pulled the knife from my pussy. The loss made me whimper until the blade slid over my lower back.

“Ly, Ly, Ly.” I stopped moving, my pulse thrumming hard with the desire to come and the knowledge that one move would cut into my skin. “The show you’re putting on for me, trying to make yourself come when I said you couldn’t, I have to admit, is making my cock even harder.” He roughly smacked my ass, and I whimpered. “Not exactly what you were goin’ for, is it?”

I continued holding my tongue as my mind raced.

Okay, Lyra. Think.

Begging to get me off wasn’t working and trying to do it myself was too obvious. But maybe if I could flip it all tohisneeds, make him want to see me come, it might just—

“You remember last night when I was buried deep inside this perfect pussy of yours?” he asked, apparently one step ahead of me.

“Mhm,” I let out weakly, my core aching at the reminder.

“Those little whimpering sounds you made when you choked my cock with each orgasm?”

“Yes,” I whispered, silently cursing myself for ever leaving the bed this morning.

“You remember feeling my cum leak and pool between your pretty thighs? How it felt riding me, digging your nails into my skin? And don’t get me started on how red and sore your nipples were from my mouth.”

Fuck.

He reached over my body, keeping the knife loosely over my back as he gripped my chin, forcing my head to crane to the side and back uncomfortably. My gaze caught on the tilt of his lips, the pure enjoyment lighting up his eyes while the shadows played over his lowered lids.

Car was a monstrous, gorgeous man who’d told me he’d spent years imagining me while he was with every woman he’d slept with since. He admitted his faults. He admitted he loved me.

But every time I thought about that night, my mind shut down, leaving my heart to lead with whatever was left.

Normally, that was anger.

But right now, I just wanted him to kiss me. Hold me. Tell me he loved me while doing all those depraved things he just said while calling me his wife.

His voice came out gritty and low, almost desperate as he said, “Just tell me, sweetheart. Give mesomething.”

Some form of autopilot in my brain answered for me. “I can’t.”

He stared back at me, any sign of hope fleeing from his face. Then, he released my chin slowly like his fingers were extending the time for me to give a different answer.

An answer no one, not even myself, was ready to voice aloud.

He lifted my hips and slid my balled-up, shredded shirt between the top of the saddle stand and my pelvis, taking away any hope of using the wood to my advantage.

“Keep holdin’ on. This will hurt.” I didn’t know if he meantto my wordsorto the saddle standbut I did both, because, what other option did I really have? I still wanted him, and maybe giving him pieces of my physical self would be enough to keep him from asking again.

I hoped.

He laid the knife flat on my back, then a rough hand exposed me further to him. More lube slid over my skin, and I took that time to peer at him over my shoulder. He tossed the bottle to thefloor, his other hand fisting his cock as he stepped in closer. The loops of his jeans grated against my sensitive thighs, and I held my breath right as the tip of his cock hit my backend.

“Last shot, sweetheart.”

I blinked at him and shook my head.