His hard cock pushed between the crack of my arse, my thin silk pyjama bottoms providing no barrier, and slowly, he started to rub up and down, his angry breathing turning into a warmth of desire.
His fingers curled, twisting my hair around his hand to use as leverage to pull my head back. “You think I would allow you to go hungry?”
I shook my head as much as possible in his hold, feeling his anger ride over me. “No.”
“No,” he echoed. “You will never go hungry again, Kloe. Never.”
His cock pressed into my bottom, the feel of the silk pressing into my backside making my heart throb hard. I pushed back against him, begging, pleading with him to help me. “Anderson, please.”
“I need to hear it, Kloe. Hear you say it. I need your permission.”
A tiny part of desire died inside me and I sagged into the table. Closing my eyes, I gulped as I accepted what lay beneath my soul. “Don’t let Terry take what we had, Anderson. Please.”
Anderson tensed over me. I felt his caution, his apprehension, but I could feel his acceptance in the way his breathing hardened and his cock jerked alongside my body. It excited him too, but he’d been adamant to bury that side of him because of what Terry had done.
“I don’t want to give you my permission,” I whispered. “I want you to take it.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying, little wolf.”
“Yes.” I nodded sharply. “Yes, I do. And so do you.”
I could feel his inner battle, the way his chested heaved and the way his body hardened next to me. His thoughts were rampant, my admission both shocking him and arousing him. This was us. It was how we were built.
Needing to give him a short nudge in the right direction, I raised my hand above my head and grabbed a chunk of his fine hair. Then pulling his face down to mine, I turned into him and sank my teeth into his neck.
Instinctively, his grip on my own hair vanished and he flinched, giving me enough strength to push him off me slightly. Spinning round before I could think about it, I slapped him abruptly and harshly across his cheek.
Fury spat from his eyes, but mine only glistened in hope. His teeth sank into his bottom lip as he tried to restrain himself. But when I lifted my hand once again, his resolve snapped.
His hand flicked out, catching mine mid-slap. “That’s not a good idea,” he said, the cruel smirk that heated every part of me prominent on his face.
His gaze darkened, speaking to the mirroring fibres inside me, and my body lit up.
This time my back hit the table as his hand circled my throat. His grip was tight, strong enough to cut off the air to my lungs. “You want me to hurt you?”
The flash in my eyes answered him when my voice couldn’t.
Without letting me go, he reached out his free arm and snatched a small filleting knife off the countertop.
His breathing became deep and heavy, his cock throbbed hard into my stomach, and the immorality in his swirling green eyes almost made me come there and then.
The tear of my pyjama bottoms in the otherwise quiet room was loud and exciting, the cold air that suddenly hit my skin exhilarating as the knife sliced through the silk like butter.
My eyes rolled back when the tip of the blade caught my skin, nicking it deeply enough to free blood. As it ran down the inside of my thigh, the tickle stirred a string of sensations within me, the shot of electricity to my system making me squirm in pleasure.
With one quick movement, Anderson slid me upwards until the whole of my back became supported by the table and my legs dangled off the end.
A soft moan left him and I shivered at the touch of his tongue on my skin. He lapped at the trickling blood, drawing his tongue up my skin to collect every drop.
Propping myself up on my elbows, I watched indulgently as Anderson opened his mouth and dribbled the blood over my cunt. His eyes lifted to my face and I reached down to cup his beauty in my hand. “Make me come hard.”
The low growl that escaped him made my breath hitch. He dipped down, forcing his face between my legs. Blood smeared over his chin and his mouth as he started to tongue-fuck me, the blood that still poured from the tiny incision mixing with the wetness of my arousal.
Sensation after sensation rolled over me as Anderson’s fingers dug into my hips to hold my bucking body down. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t process thoughts as a crucifying wave of ecstasy seized every muscle in my body and forced me into the realms of rapture.
Dragging his hand over the blood, Anderson then drew it up my stomach and over the valley of my breasts, pushing up the silk of my top and smearing me with a pathway of bright crimson.
My nipples pebbled under his touch, the stain of redness over my pale skin becoming mesmerising as Anderson continued to paint a route over me. I couldn’t stop looking as, bit by bit, my skin disappeared under the illustration of his touch.