Azira
Time is ticking away so fast it feels like it’s goading me.
There’s only two weeks until graduation, which means two weeks until I say goodbye to Blaine forever.
Any pain that he’s inflicted on me is nothing compared to the heart-wrenching pain at the mere thought of never seeing him again.
It feels like he’s my other half, as if he completes me. Even if he’s always insisted this is only sex, I find it hard to believe he doesn’t feel it too.
Or maybe I’m just a naive virgin who did get too attached to the man who took my innocence away. The emptiness that his absence will leave is too much to think about.
I glance up from my work to find him staring right at me, an inferno burning in his eyes.
My cheeks heat and I glance back down at my essay when the bell rings.
Butterflies flutter to life in my stomach every single time I know I’m going to be alone with him.
My sadistic and twisted Blaine.
The things he’s done to me most people would be disgusted by and yet I want to explore more with him. I want to delve into the darkness and never come out.
This man could either be my salvation or my destruction, it just depends how it all ends.
Mia asked me how it was going with him when I went back to Chicago for her wedding a few weeks ago, and I couldn’t talk about it.
My dreams could be fulfilled or smashed depending on how he feels for me, and I’m too scared to find out yet.
I take my time packing my bag until I’m the last one in the classroom, and that’s when I meet Blaine’s intense gaze.
“You are adorable when you get embarrassed about me staring at you. Did you know that?”
I shake my head. “You shouldn’t be so obvious when we’re in a room full of other people.”
He chuckles, a dark, almost sadistic sound. “You shouldn’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do.” He walks over to me with a predatory stalk, eyes dark with desire and something else. “Come here.”
I walk around my desk and toward him, my heart hammering unevenly as it always does when he looks at me like that.
Stopping a foot away from him, I hold my breath, waiting for his next move.
Like a viper, he strikes and pulls me against him, not caring that the door to the classroom is still ajar.
I gasp as the softness of my body presses against his hard muscles. “Sir.”
“Call me master, malishka.”
“Master,” I purr.
He groans and then kisses me with all the passion in the world, his tongue swiping against my lips viciously.
I part them for him and he delves inside, fighting for complete domination, and I give it to him.
I love the way he takes all the control away from me, controlling the situation so perfectly.
It’s impossible not to moan as I rub my thighs together, needing more from him. “Please,” I gasp.
“Please what, Azira?”
“I need you so badly.”
He smirks. “Tell me how badly.” The man is toying with me, but I can’t deny him.
“As badly as I need oxygen.”
The smirk on his lips widens. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“I need you so bad it hurts.”
“Good.” He kisses me again, hauling me into his arms.
Peppering hot kisses over my neck, he carries me toward the door to the basement.
A pain squeezes around my heart as I realize there’s only a few more times this can happen.
Fifteen days and I’m gone from The Syndicate Academy for ever.
It feels like I’m on fire for two reasons as he kisses me. The heat of desire and the burning pain of the prospect of losing him.
Forcing my mind to go quiet, I enjoy the feel of his skin against me. His touch, the fire it ignites deep in my soul.
Nothing else matters right now. It’s just me and him.
Once we get into the basement, he sets me on my feet.
My brow furrows when I see there’s a new bed there against the back wall. “What’s that for?”
He shrugs. “Thought it might be a bit more comfortable.”
“I thought discomfort was your forte.” I arch a brow. “What happens when you punish other students down here?”
“It is my forte, but not all the time.” He smirks and winks. “And with out students, it’s a secret bed.”
“What?”
“Look at this.” He grabs the end of the bed and it moves upward. “It disappears into the wall.”
“Clever,” I say, but I can’t help but feel an odd jealousy that he’s only just installed a bed two weeks before I graduate. Does it mean he intends to fuck other students? Maybe start acting like Coach Daniels.
He doesn’t seem to notice my shift in mood as he walks toward me, kissing me with a tenderness that makes my heart ache. “Just you and me today,” he murmurs.
I don’t understand his meaning, but he starts kissing my neck and shoulder, pushing me toward the bed.
He’s never wanted to have sex without some kind of sadistic element involved. After all, he loves inflicting pain and I love receiving it.
Slowly, he lowers me to the soft silk sheets. His lips making love to my skin in a way he’s never done before.
It feels like there’s no urgency, like he has forever to worship me. Slowly he unbuttons my shirt, eyes heated, but that darkness that’s always there seems at bay, calm. It’s not in the driver’s seat as it usually is.
He unfastens the front clip of my bra and then moves his lips to my breasts, lavishing them with painfully slow strokes of his tongue.
I shudder, lacing my fingers in his dark hair.
He doesn’t tell me off or stop me, allowing me to touch him for the first time.
There’s a shift. A change in him that I can’t explain.
Bly takes his time undressing me and worshiping me with his hands, tongue and teeth-the only aspect of pain he allows me.
Once I’m practically gasping for air and begging for release, he gets off the bed and starts to undress. Normally there’s more sadistic play before this point, and I wonder if we’re just going to have straightforward sex. Even when we’ve been at his cabin on his bed, there’s always been an aspect of sadism. A detach between us, as he ties me up, strangles me, and every time he’s kept this disconnect between us.
I’ve never slept there, always feeling like he wants me to leave pretty soon after we have sex. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes as he throws his jacket and tie on the ground and then unbuttons his shirt. My breath gets caught in my throat as he gives me a chance to observe the scars over his skin, scars I’ve wanted to ask about, but I’ve been too unsure to mention. The tattoos have been strategically placed to hide the wounds, but there is no covering them up.
I open my mouth to mention them, and as if he can read my mind, he shakes his head. “Don’t ask.”
I nod, respecting that he doesn’t want to talk about it. “Okay.”
He looks relieved as he tosses his shirt on top of his jacket and then unbuttons his pants and takes them off with his briefs, standing totally bare to me and allowing me to observe him. Even his thighs and calves are peppered with scars, and I want to know how he got them all. As I sit on the bed staring at him, I know I’ve never seen such a beautiful scene in all my life. A man who seemed so unshakable stands in front of me, oozing vulnerability.
“Can I touch you, master?”
His jaw clenches, but he climbs onto the bed. “Yes.”
I run my fingers gently over the large scar that stretches across his left pectoral in a diagonal.
He shudders at my touch, as if it hurts him.
“Are you okay?”
His eyes are different now, as if a haze has lifted from them and I can see right into his soul. “Don’t talk.” He kisses me then, as I let my hands rove over his skin.
He pushes me into the mattress with his heavy weight, the hard length of his cock pressing into my soaking wet pussy.
I groan as he rubs the head of it through my arousal, teasing me. “Please, sir.”
“Master,” he murmurs. “I want you to call me master.”
“Please, master. I need you.”
He bites the inside of his cheek before thrusting inside of me, holding my gaze. At first he’s slow, almost tender, as if he’s making love to me.
I almost laugh the moment that thought enters my mind as a monster can’t love. Even if I still haven’t given up the hope that he’s not beyond repair.
Bly was a man before he became a monster. I have to believe it. Monsters aren’t born, they’re raised.
“You are so fucking perfect, Azira,” he murmurs into my ear.
I swallow hard. “Not as perfect as you.”
He laughs as he thrusts into me hard, giving me that roughness I crave. “I’m anything but. Now be a good girl and keep your hands above your head.”
“Yes, master.” I put them above my head, as the tenderness dissipates as if he’s trying to prove a point. But all he’s doing is proving that for me he is perfect. The darkness to my light.
I shut my eyes and enjoy every second, hating that deep inside that ache won’t go away, because it’s going to end. And I can’t be without this man. He completes me and without him, I know I’ll drown in despair.