Just the thought makes me moan out loud as I swivel my tongue back and forth across her slit. But the narrow gap between her thighs doesn’t allow for much room, and Xavier is trying to push me away, so I shove my tongue right up against his.
I don’t care if he despises my presence. I will do whatever she tells me to because it’s one step closer to nirvana. My longing for a death by her hand cannot be fucking quenched by his desperate yearning even though he’s a shivering mess.
Fear eats him alive.
Meanwhile, I just want to be eaten. The end.
I shrug and continue licking her like I’m supposed to, wondering when she’s finally going to continue to punish us.
That dildo nearly got me there.
Though kissing him … That threw a wrench in my plans.
My eyes flicker to his while I’m lapping her up, and for a brief second, his eyes find mine in the flurry of lust, but they swiftly move up to her watchful gaze again, as if he’s absolutely determined to forget I even exist.
As if he wants to forget his tongue was swirling around insidemygoddamn mouth.
Fuck that.
“You’re doing so well, boys,” she mewls, and I look up into her eyes too, enamored by the mask covering her face. “I might come again.”
“Yes, please,” Xavier moans.
“Will you drown me?” I ask.
“By squirting?” She sniffles away laughter. “Keep licking, and I might.”
“Any way you desire,” I say, kissing her thigh. “Even if you drown me in a tub, I will oblige if it means a certain death by your hands.”
She bites her lip. “Does the thought of dying turn you on?”
My tongue rolls around her wet slit. “Greatly.”
She retracts her hand and slips it into a small pocket in her suit, only to pull out the biggest knife. It glints in the light, and the idea of it poking me turns me on so much my hard-on twitches in my sweatpants.
She slides open my bathrobe with the tip and slips the knife down my chest. “How much?”
“Fuck, so much,” I moan.
“Keep licking. Both of you,” she commands.
Xavier grumbles, but her hand firmly entwined in his hair keeps him from focusing on me, while she starts pushing the knife farther into my skin with each of my licks.
“Enough to sacrifice your precious skin for me?” she asks.
I’ve always considered my body my second-best asset, after my eloquent poetry, but I’m willing to shed blood for the chance to be wounded by her hand.
“Take what you need from me,” I whisper.
The first cut is immediate. Deep. Burning.
I hiss as the blood begins to roll down my chest.
“I need you to pay for getting in my way,” she says, cutting into my flesh. “But I’m flattered you two killed him for me.” She adds another cut, drawing a line from the other one. “You’d best not try to get in my way a second time, though.”
SLICE!
Another cut makes me hiss in pain, but my God, I’ve never been harder.
