Rabbit’s head tipped from side to side as he studied my face. I lifted my fingers to his chest and walked them along his raw tattoo. “Sick Fux,” I whispered, reading the words aloud. Words I could read. Words I had drawn in pink on the Cheshire Cat’s head.
Words now forever etched into Rabbit’s flesh.
My fingers kept trekking north until they stopped on the beating pulse in his throat. My fingertip tapped on his pulse, in time with its beat. Rabbit’s eyes darkened. “What you gonna do, little Dolly?”
Naughty Rabbit was taunting me, and my core throbbed at his tone. Narrowing my eyes, I reached out beside me to the side table. Without looking, my hand found the familiar ivory handle. Rabbit’s nostrils flared as I brought my blade to hover in the small space between us. I placed the tip over his heart. A grin pulled on my lips as I listened to its beat and sang, “Tick tock . . . tick tock . . . tick tock . . .”
Rabbit’s eyes rolled back. Then I was moving the blade upwards. I scraped his skin, the tip dragging cold steel over the raw flesh of his new tattoo. Rabbit’s eyes snapped open and told me without words that he wanted the pain.
My Rabbit loved the pain.
My blade stopped where my finger still hovered over his pulse. Rabbit’s lip curled as he waited. When I ever-so-gently dug the tip of the knife into his skin, right into his clock tattoo, I watched as his blood pumped to the surface and trickled down his neck. I was mesmerized as it tiptoed over ink until it could hold on to Rabbit’s skin no longer and dropped on to my breast. His shaft grew harder against my thigh. Knowing he was watching, I scooped up the drop on my finger and brought it to my mouth.
“Mmm,” I murmured. Rabbit’s cheeks were flushed, and his breathing was out of control. His hips began to thrust his shaft against my thigh in short, slow movements. Using my free hand to push my upper body off the bed, I rose until my face was a mere inch from Rabbit’s.
“Delicious.”
Rabbit wrapped his hand around the nape of my neck. Holding my head captive, and with a tight mouth and harsh eyes, he ordered, “Drink . . .” He forced my head to his neck. “Drink from me.”
Smiling, victorious at getting the response I wanted, I inhaled his scent, then flicked out my tongue and tasted his blood. Rabbit groaned and pushed my mouth closer to his neck. I let him control me, fixing my lips over the cut and sucking.
I liked it when he controlled me.
Blood dripped onto my tongue and trickled down my throat. Rabbit’s shaft rubbed against my leg, faster and faster, as I drank and drank. Then I stopped. I fought Rabbit’s grip and tilted my head to the side.
I knew my Rabit liked it when I tried to resist.
In a heartbeat, his hot mouth had latched on to the slit on my throat, and he took from me as I took from him. I dropped my hand between us and under the waist of his pants. Without breaking away, I took hold of his shaft, Rabbit snarling at my touch as I pumped his length. I groaned and groaned as we took and took. In seconds, Rabbit snapped his head back and roared out his release. He spilled into my hand, and I stroked him until he pulled back his hips.
I drew my head back to find Rabbit watching me. Suddenly, he was off the bed and retrieving something from his bag. When he came back, he was holding a vial just like the one around my neck. I gasped and gripped the vial I never took off. The one that held the potion that made me small. The one labeled “Drink Me.”
Rabbit kneeled on the bed and removed the cork from the vial. Without speaking, he brought the vial to my neck and filled it with my blood. My heart raced and my breasts ached at the thought that he wanted my blood near him at all times.
He pulled back and met my eyes. I lifted the black ribbon attached to the vial and secured it around his neck. “Rabbit,” I whispered as he reached around my neck to untie the ribbon keeping my vial in place. He uncorked the cork and poured the blue liquid onto the floor. “Rabbit!” I called frantically. I reached out in panic, but Rabbit grabbed my hand and thrust the vial into it.
“You don’t need that now, little Dolly. My blood is all you’ll ever need.”
I swallowed and searched his face. “Really?”
He nodded. “It’ll make you tall if you need it. It’ll make you small if you need it too.” He leaned forward, mouth at my ear. “And it’ll give you strength when you’re weak.”