I ease off just enough for the air to hit her nipple, then take it back into my mouth, holding her there while the blade stays pressed lightly to her throat.
Then I lift the blade higher and bring it to her mouth. She sticks out her tongue without me asking and runs it up the length of the metal, tasting it.
She knows that turns me on.
I press the blade between her lips until the handle rests against them. Her chest moves with a small adjustment as she balances the weight.
“Crawl to me, Brooke. Follow my voice.”
She drops to her knees slowly. Her palms meet the concrete. Her knees follow. Her whole body trembles from the mix of fear and arousal, and that mix sharpens the dark, possessive edge inside me into something that feels almost dangerous.
I step backward across the floor. I move toward the wall.
Her blindfolded head angles toward my voice while she crawls forward. Her shoulders stay tense but lower slightly as she continues moving.
She trusts that I won't let her run into anything. She trusts that if I hurt her, it will be the kind of hurt she likes, the kind she wants.
“Keep crawling, baby. Come to me.”
She follows the sound of my voice on her hands and knees. Warm air moves across the knife handle between her lips as she crawls closer.
Every inch of distance she closes makes my control strain, because the urge to grab her hair and drag her the rest of the way is loud in my head. I force myself to hold back and let her earn it.
My shoulders hit the wall. I plant my feet and wait for her.
“Right here,” I say when her fingers finally bump against my toes.
She stops crawling.
Her head tilts upward under the blindfold as if she is trying to look at me.
I reach down and wrap my fingers around the handle of the knife. I pull it slowly from between her teeth. Her lips stay parted for a second after the blade leaves, and her breath catches in that gap like her body wants me to fill it with something else.
I tilt her chin up and take her in, blindfolded, kneeling, naked, with her hands resting on her thighs and trusting me completely in a concrete basement after everything she has survived. The sight hits me hard enough that my cock twitches again inside my sweats from how badly I want her.
“That’s my good girl,” I murmur, letting her hear every bit of praise in my voice.
Her thighs press together slightly. Her breathing deepens in a way that tells me she understands exactly what that title means between us.
I flip the knife in my hand and drive the blade into the wall beside my hip, forcing it deep through the drywall and into the wooden stud behind it.
The metal sinks in with a heavy crack. The handle juts out near her shoulder.
I reach to the side and pull a length of rope from the hook mounted on the wall beside the tool rack. I left it there earlier when I set up the basement, knowing exactly how I plan to use it.
Brooke doesn't move while I work.
I grab her wrists and tie them behind her back, tightening the rope until her shoulders roll back and her chest pushes forward for me.
Her breathing grows heavier, but she holds her ground and lets me take her there, fear still clinging to her skin while she keeps giving herself to me.
I move behind her and drag her backward by her bound wrists until the handle presses into the base of her spine, forcing her back into a deep arch. Her lips part on a quiet sound that shoots straight through me and tightens every muscle in my body.
I step in front of her again and push my sweats down. My cock is fully hard, and the pressure throbs painfully low in my stomach. Her blindfolded face tilts toward the sound, and her lips open before I touch her.
“Open your mouth.”
She obeys immediately and lifts her chin.
