44. Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Three

"No," he says simply, shaking his head.

"Yes. I told you each time I get you, I put a letter."

"No, Sevastian," he says, but there's hardly any fight to his words.

I growl, flipping the knife open. "I love it when you say my name."

He pushes against my chest, but when I swipe his hands away, he barely tries to stop me. I push him to the bed, slipping higher on his waist to hold him in place. Tugging his shirt up, I gaze over his sexy as fuck body.

"So fucking beautiful," I say.

My dick hardens further when he just lies there. Taking it. I thought I loved him fighting, and fuck knows I do, but this? His submission? Fucking hell, it might kill me.

Dragging my fingers along the letters of my name, he shivers beneath my touch. My cock throbs in response, loving how he's reacting toward me.

Two letters left and he's mine.

I press my hand to his skin to hold it taut. He doesn't argue.

Justin mutters something I don't hear, and his hands are on my waist again. I pause, wondering if something is really wrong with him because he never does this. But nah. He's fine. He has to be.

I make the first slice, causing him to hiss. He writhes beneath me, but something about it today is different. He's not fighting me off, it's like he's trying to get off.

Hold on, baby. I'll make you come when I'm done.

His breathing gets ragged when I add the second line, and my dick is so hard it hurts. Clearly I need to stop wearing jeans around him because they're too fucking constricting.

Justin grips my bicep, digging his nails in when I press the tip of the knife to his skin again, ready to make the third line. The one that connects the other two to make the A.

He whimpers, and I almost lose my fucking mind.

Blood trickles down his skin, and I take a moment to watch the way it slides down, pooling on the sheet beneath him. When I move the knife to start the line, Justin leans forward, sinking his teeth into the muscle above my elbow. The pain shocks the hell out of me. My grip on the knife falters and the line goes crooked, connecting the middle of one line with the bottom of the next instead of going straight across. I growl in both annoyance and lust.

I toss the knife away and grip Justin's chin with my free hand. He lets go of me and I shift my body down to get nose to nose with him.

"Do not fucking bite me," I growl, thrusting my erection against his. He whimpers, eyes wild as he looks up at me.

"I missed you," he breathes out.

Fuck. All the air leaves my lungs. My eyes fall closed.

The words were so quiet. Soft. Had I not seen his lips move, I wouldn't have heard him at all.

"What was that?" I ask as my heart beats out of control.

I want to kiss him crazy. Throw him over my shoulder, toss him in my car, and drive far the fuck away with him to a place no one will ever find us. We can hide in the mountains. I'll hunt food for us. Cook him meals every day. Bathe him. Fucking take care of him.

He sighs, closing his eyes. "I said I missed you," he admits defeatedly and my heart soars.

"Fuck…" I grasp his cheeks with both hands and kiss him.

He kisses me back.

Justin kisses me back.

His hands bunch in my shirt, body pressing to mine. He kisses me like he can't get enough. Like he never wants to stop.

I really am a fucking asshole.

Of all the things I've done to him—kidnapped him, carved into him, drugged him, stalked him, killed his brother—the only thing I feel bad about is lying to him. Especially now that he's finally fucking opening up to me. Now that he's finally allowing himself to feel. The wall of lies he built around himself is crumbling, right here before my eyes. It's beautiful.

"I missed you too," I say against his lips.

His hands slip under my shirt, sliding up my abs and resting on my chest. I groan at his touch. How the fuck does it feel so good? When he keeps going, I lift my arms for him to get my shirt off. He pushes on my chest and I sit up, looking down at him curiously.

He seems almost nervous.

"Don't say a fucking word," he says before reaching for the button of my jeans and undoing it. I raise a brow as I watch him, unable to believe this is really fucking happening. He quickly undoes my jeans and fists my cock when it's free.

"Fuck, baby," I rasp out.

He gives me a few firm strokes before dragging his thumb over the slit of my cock, gathering the drop of precum. Justin holds my gaze as he brings his finger to his mouth and sucks it off.

Get the fuck out of here.

"Fucking hell," I breathe out.

"You taste good," he says.

All I can do is nod. My mouth is suddenly so fucking dry and my body… my body feels like I'm connected to an electrical socket.

Still holding my gaze, he drags his fingers down his tongue to gather up spit then brings his hand to my cock again. He tugs my dick in long, firm pulls and it feels fucking amazing.

The mix of not having come in a while and his eagerness has me so close. My body is going lax, my eyes wanting to fall shut but fuck that. I want to see my cum paint his stomach.

I grip his shirt in both hands and tear it open, pushing it aside so I can see his whole torso.

"I'm going to cum all over this beautiful fucking body," I tell him.

His response is to moan and grind into me from below.

The day this man allows me into his body, when he lets me fuck his sweet little ass, I may die. I'm not sure how the fuck I'll be able to handle such a thing.

The orgasm hits me like a freight train, and I force my eyes to stay open. To watch the way thick ropes of cum shoot up his chest. The look of excitement on his face has the orgasm lasting forever. Over and over I paint his chest with my seed until there's nothing left.

My heart is pounding. I blink a few times to get my head on straight.

Justin and I hold each other's gaze.

And I wait for it.

I wait for him to panic. To push me off. To tell me how much he hates me.

To run.

I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

He doesn't go.

My dick starts to soften, and he tucks it away before doing my jeans up again. The gesture has me fucking speechless. It's not something I can begin to think about right now. Something so simple, yet not at the same time.

I spot my shirt from the corner of my eye, grab it from the bed and wipe my cum off him. I'd love to have taken a picture of this so I can jerk off to it every fucking day, but I think this image will be burned in my head forever. And I don't want to push his buttons.

Once he's clean, I get off him and lie beside him on my side, resting my head on my hand.

"Letting yourself want me isn't so hard, is it?" I ask. I expect him to get mad, like he usually does. But all he does is smirk. "No argument?"

He shakes his head, eyes on the ceiling. "Not today."

"Can I ask why?" I ask hesitantly, not sure if I want to know the answer.

He shrugs lazily. "I had a whole week to think, and… it is what it is."

"It is what it is?" I question carefully.

Should I be offended by that?

"I've got nothing else. That's what I came up with."

He rolls over to get up, but I grab his arm. He looks at me over his shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To clean this up," he points to his ribs.

I shake my head and get up. "Stay."

He does. Without argument. Without a single word. I go to the bathroom to gather the things to clean and bandage him up. When I get back, he's sitting on the edge of the bed and I ask, "Are you still trying to kill me?" I ask.

He chuckles. "What's the point? Remi is dead. I've got double what I was getting for you. Money is nice, but I'm not that greedy. Besides, I doubt Reginald would pay me. He wasn't worried about you."

"You're being weird."

He leans back on his hands, and I get to my knees to wipe him up, clean the wound, and cover it with gauze.

"One letter left," I say, looking up at him.

"One letter left." There isn't much emotion in his words. They're just simply stated. Like he doesn't care either way. That's better than despising it, I guess.

I get to my feet but keep my eyes on him. "Are you going to leave?"

"Thought you could make me dinner?"

That completely throws me off guard, and I almost fall over. What has gotten into him today? I quickly recover, jumping at the chance to do anything for him. "I don't keep food here, but—"

He stands and puts his hand on my hip the same way I do to him. The same way I love doing to him. "Take me to your house then."

Someone in the universe really fucking hates me. The man chooses to give in to me now? The same day I suddenly grow a conscience. After I killed his brother. After I lied to him about it.

He smiles at me, and my heart does a flip.

Fuck the universe. Fuck whoever is trying to make me feel like shit. It was one little lie that I'll forget about in a month. I have other things to worry about. My baby wants me to make him food. So, I'm going to make him food.