I hardly think so. Crossing my arms to hide the scars—the burns—he glares. “Don’t do that. Don’t ever hide from me.”
“But the scars?—”
“You’re a survivor,” he interrupts. Pulling my hands away, his rough fingers trace a scar above my left breast. “A warrior. Don’t be ashamed of the scars that came from being forged into something deadly. You’re a blade, Maeve. Own it.”
Taking my hand, he helps me slip from the desk.
“I said only my knife touches your skin. I’ll show you why.”
Stripping his clothing, he leads me to his bed, pulling me to straddle his lap. Once I’m there, he lies back and then tugs me to sit on his chest.
I raise an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
Holding the blade, he turns it while speaking. “You need the pain to feel something familiar. And I want a piece of you inside me at all times.” Carefully, he touches my inflamed flesh with the icy blade, and I shudder. “I have something for the both of us.”
With such care, Killian’s blade slices into my skin. Fresh euphoria ignites in my blood, and I jerk upward, panting hard. He holds my hips, pinning me to his chest, continuing his work.
He’s a damn artist the way he uses his blade. It’s a brush, and I’m his canvas, and with every press of the edge, I gasp and grow wetter.
It’s only seconds before he lies back, grinning. Glancing down, the smear of blood covers my thigh in a thin line, a few drops on him. He licks the blade, bright red covering his mouth.
“How does that feel, baby?”
My body is on fire, and he can tell. My chest heaves, and my nails have cut my palms as I restrain myself.
“Good,” I pant. I’m vibrating with need, and he watches, smirking.
“Come here.” Scooping his hands under my thighs, he lowers my pussy to his face. My hands slam into the headboard, and I try to hover.
“No,” he commands, tone like steel. “Be a good princess and sit on your throne.”
I’ve never done this—but I lower anyway. Before I cover him, his tongue laps out, licking my wound, and I hum, pain and pleasure spiking. God,fuck, that feels too good, it must have been born from the unholiness of pleasures.
Looking up, he sticks out his tongue, covered in blood. “Now I’ll have two pieces of you.”
Without warning, his hands dig into my hips and slam me onto his face. His tongue laps out without abandon, spearing into me. He’s ravenous, moaning with me as my hips move, following his mouth.
He nibbles on my folds, teasing my clit. It’s mere moments before an orgasm works up, and I squeeze his head, my thighs wrapped around his ears. He chuckles under me, but he doesn’t stop. He pulls me closer, licking me until I’m chanting his name like a prayer.
The climax is hard and fast. I’m swept away as my vision blackens. Head falling back, I scream, riding his face without a care.
He doesn’t stop. He keeps moving, tongue flicking my clit with such skill that my breath stalls. My body tightens, pain filling my veins as he tries to bring me to another orgasm quickly.
My hips don’t get that message. I keep riding, chasing another high.
“Killian, I can’t?—”
Pulling back, chin wet and pink, he sucks his bottom lip. “Use your safe word, Princess. I’ll stop as soon as you say it.”
Like Hell will I say it.
He sees the determination and laughs, pulling me back. Running my hand through his hair, I hold him in place and use him—which he gladly obeys. Grinding against his mouth, he rakes his teeth along my sensitive parts, and I moan, voice cracking.
“There she is,” he says, voice full of wicked desires. “Use me, Maeve. Take what you need.”
So, I do. I ride his face until another orgasm builds, pain and pleasure wrapping into a heady concoction. My legs tremble, and my core tightens as he shoves two fingers into me. It’s intrusive, and yet, I moan louder as he chuckles. Pumping theminto me, he licks in time, my body floating to higher levels. The wave of an orgasm slams into me, a vicious thing as I shout out and falter against him.
Holding my waist, he waits for the orgasm to subside before lifting me away. Swiping his tongue over my wound, he sighs contentedly. “Perfect.”
