āDo something for me?ā He purred in her ear.
āAnything, Daddy.ā She whispered the words in a voice so soft anyone else wouldnāt have heard it. But she knew he heard it, heard the tremble, the slight stutter as her breath caught in her throat. He was behind her, pinning Harley up against the wall, the full weight of him pressing into her back so that she couldnāt move. One of his hands, slender yet deceptively strong, held both of her wrists above her head.
āTilt your head back just an inch.ā
She obliged. Was he going to bite her? Heād done it once before, pulling her earlobe into his mouth and nipping at it with his teeth until heād drawn blood. Sheād had to ice it for a week afterward but, oh, how exquisite the pain had been. Harley shivered with anticipation.
And then she felt the knife at her throat.
It was his favorite, a Japanese stainless steel eight-inch, with a razor sharp serrated blade and the word āLolaā lightly engraved along the side. He played with it often, tracing it across her arms and legs while they laid in bed, so she was familiar with the feel of the edges on her skin. Heād never held it to her throat before.
āAre you scared?ā He asked.Ā
She relaxed against him, letting him be the only thing keeping her upright as he held her on the wall. āIām flattered. You would bring out Lola for little old me? I know sheās your favorite toy to play with.ā He groaned and she felt him harden against her back.Ā
āYouāre my favorite toy to play with.āĀ
In an instant, he had released her wrists and used his free hand to break the straps of her nightgown. It fell to the floor in a puddle of red and black silk, and Harley felt goosebumps raise on her flesh as she stood in front of him in her nakedness. She was glad that she faced away from him and toward the wall, because a warm blush spread across her cheeks and down into her chest. He hadnāt let her wear underwear to bed.Ā
The grip he had on the knife remained rock solid, but she could hear the jingle of metal as he undid his belt and the snaps on his trousers with his other hand. She resisted the urge to lean forward and brace herself against the wall, feeling the cold bite of the metal at her throat. He pushed into her from behind a second later, and even though the blade stung as it scraped across her skin with the motion of his thrusts, he didnāt cut her.Ā
He planted the hand not holding the knife on her shoulder, fingers digging into the tender flesh over her clavicle and thumb pressing against her shoulder blade, and then he rocked her back and forth, using the momentum to plough even deeper into her. He gripped her so tightly she arched her back in response, and she was certain sheād shatter from the sensation of him filling her while holding the jagged edge to her throat. He was growling, deep and guttural and primal, floating the knife over the delicate flesh of her neck as he drove himself into her, and she began to scream from the pleasure. If he slashed her throat right then, even by mistake, she couldnāt think of a better way to die.Ā
The Joker let go of her shoulder and grabbed her wrists again, walking her forward until her face was pressed against the bedroom wall and her arms were pinned over her head. Splaying his hand out over top of hers, he braced the two of them against the wall and pounded her with the fury sheād come to expect from him. The knife never left her throat, and she let her head fall backward against his chest as she came again and again. A part of her almost wished his hand would slip and end it all; it was torture, loving someone so much. It was blissful agony.Ā
Every muscle in his body suddenly tightened, coiled like a panther ready to strike. A short gasp escaped from his lips, and the knife pressed harder against her neck. She froze, feeling one drop of blood run, hot, down her throat. And then he was emptying himself into her.Ā
āYou can never leave me. I forbid it.āĀ
The words seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, all at once. They echoed in Harleyās brain until she wondered if sheād imagined them, like she did so many other things. She and J had had a million conversations in the funhouse that was her mind, been a million places, killed a million people. Most of it came true eventually, especially the hallucinations that involved murder, but this one she desperately wanted to be real right now.Ā
āWhatād ya say, Puddinā?āĀ
He pulled the knife away from her throat and she knew instantly that sheād made a mistake.Ā
āStupid!ā she scolded herself. She knew better than to talk while he was still coming down. Now heād give her the silent treatment for hours.Ā
Pain suddenly tore across the nape of her neck.Ā
āPuddinā, I didnāt mean it-āĀ
āQuiet,ā he said softly. āIām trying to concentrate.āĀ
He gripped her hair tightly and pushed her head down, and she felt the white hot flash of the knife cutting into the back of her neck again. She fell silent, letting him do whatever he was doing. Shit, she was in trouble.Ā
After about five minutes, he let go. Blood dripped down her back and onto the floor, landing with a steady thud thud thud. He walked away, and she remained pressed with her face against the wall, too mortified to move. After a couple of seconds she heard water running in the bathroom. When he was done cleaning up, she figured sheād go take a shower and see what her punishment was.Ā
She was surprised to feel a warm towel on her neck a minute later. He gently cleaned the blood off of her, and then turned her around to see that in addition to the towel, he also held two small mirrors in each hand. As always, she was dazzled by his beauty. Green hair mussed from their lovemaking, stark white skin, red lips. He smiled broadly at her and his silver teeth glinted in the light.Ā
āHarley, dear,ā he purred, āI said you can never leave me.ā Then he held up the mirrors so she could see the back of her neck.Ā
Heād carved a tiny āJā there, inside of a heart.Ā
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. āAw, Puddinā,ā she said. āWhere am I gonna go?āĀ
Heād used his favorite knife on her. Sheād never felt more special.
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