Came Back Haunted (Experiment in Terror #10) - Karina Halle Page 0,106

by taking complete control until I have to give it all up.

Though I have to say, having this control is empowering, like I’m not only using my own energy, but creating something too.

Maybe being a witch ain’t half bad.

“Now,” I say through a long exhale. “Do you think you can touch me and cut me at the same time?”

He blinks, mouth opening. He then snaps it shut, shaking his head. No.

“That’s fine,” I slide my fingers over myself again and Jesus this is going to be hell because I’m already so turned on.

“Fuck Perry,” he whispers, eyes glued to where I’m touching myself.

“Cut me,” I tell him, reaching forward with my other hand and grabbing his, pointing the knife at my chest, just above my breasts where the bones disappear. “Right here. Little cuts, just deep enough to draw blood.”

“It’s going to hurt,” he warns me.

“Not any more than when you bite me during sex. The pain feels good when I already feel good,” I tell him. I mean, I’m just going by what they say, that sexual arousal dulls pain, hence why a lot of BDSM works the way it does.

I close my eyes and bite my lip, waiting for it.

I hear Dex’s breath catch.

Feel the warm of his hands and the cool of the blade as they approach.

Then the sharp sting as he makes a cut across my skin.

It hurts but only a little.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly.

I open my eyes and look down to see a single tear of blood bleeding from a two-inch cut above my left breast. I glance up at him. He looks both scared and fascinated, watching the blood trickle down.

“It’s fine,” I tell him, still playing with myself. “Do it again. Where my skin is soft. Make me bleed all over.”

He shakes his head, sucking in his upper lip. “I don’t think I can.”

I reach up and grab the back of his head, bringing his face to mine. “Do this for me.” Then I kiss him, hard and wet and violent, leaving him gasping against my mouth.

“Okay,” he says, trying to catch his breath.

His brow lowers in determination and makes another quick cut on the other breast, then between my breasts. I lean back on the counter so he can do the same to my stomach. It hurts every time, but the pain is almost transcendent, like it’s bringing me to another plane of existence. Good lord, I hope I don’t turn into a masochist after this.

“I’m done,” he says, voice shaking. “I can’t do anymore.”

I straighten up, looking at the blood run down me. At first, I was a bit worried that it would feel like I used to when I was cutting myself, back in high school. My inner arms still bear those faint scars. But there is no relief or anguish in this, just determination that we’re doing the right thing.

Okay, and it’s also a little bit hot. I don’t make the rules.

“I can do myself,” he says, bringing the knife toward his chest.

“No,” I tell him, holding my hand out. “Give it to me.”

“Why?”

“Because you do things to the extreme, Dex.”

“I do not.”

You once stuck a sword in your fucking throat.

“You’re going to hurt yourself. Give me the knife. I’ll be quick.”

“Maybe I’m afraid of how comfortable you are with this whole thing,” he says, but he hands me the knife anyway.

I press one hand against his shoulder to steady myself, trying to decide where to put the cut. The weird thing is this won’t even hurt him a little, and by next week he won’t even have a scar. Makes it a little easier on me.

I make quick work of him, matching the same places where he cut me. Two on the chest, one between, three on the stomach. He doesn’t even fucking flinch.

“Not even an ouch? What’s wrong with you?” I ask him, putting the knife to the side, watching the blood run down him.

He shrugs. “Tis only a flesh wound.”

I glare at him. “No jokes, Dex.”

“Sorry.”

“You going to finally get naked, or do you need me to slice them off of you?”

“I hope to god you’re talking about my underwear,” he says, running his thumbs under the waistband, teasing me for a moment. Then he pulls them down, stepping out of them. His cock looks phenomenal, sticking straight up and I instinctively reach out, running my fist over it from balls to tip.

He hisses out a breath, and we watch as my bloodied hand leaves