“No.” He releases the smile he was holding captive. “I wanna eat you!”
Teeth bared, he makes that all-too-famous Hannibal Lecter hissing sound, stopping mere inches from my face.
I’m left with my jaw in a permanent state of detachment. He caught me off guard.
In this single moment in time, we click so perfectly with our twisted minds.
Atlas’s eyes drift to my lips and stay there, studying the amused curve I don’t bother to hide. He earned it fair and square.
He’s staring at me like a child in a candy shop. Does he crave the kiss I gave him at the club? Thankfully, I have a good enough poker face to conceal the fact that I’d like that too. Much more than I should.
Atlas leans in, desperately attempting to get what he wants, but I turn my head to the side, shattering his illusions by denying him that kiss.
A displeased grunt reaches my ears when his forehead stops at my temple.
Tap,tap,tap. . .
His middle finger tapping on my lips pulls my focus back to him.
“Suck!”
It takes me a second or two of dazed staring before my brain gives actual feedback to hiskindrequest.
“Suck it yourself!”
“It’s either my finger or my dick. It’s up to you.”
I like my options. No, really! How could I be this fortunate to be given so much freedom in choosing what I’ll have to suck on?
“Your dick, please!” I let him swim in confusion, observing his stupefied stare long enough to feed my twisted mind with joy. “I’d much rather bite your dick off. It’s far more precious to you than one of ten digits.”
“I love this smart mouth of yours.”
Atlas taps once more, while the blade of his knife digs into my skin. I don’t think he’ll draw blood, but it’s enough to make my mouth part for him.
His middle finger plays with my lower lip for a second before sliding inside, and I’m tempted to bite right away.
“You bite my finger off, I bite your clit off. I’d still have nine more fingers, and I’ll fuck you with each and every one of them.” He offers those threatening words, probably prompted by my I’ll-bite-your-whole-hand-off-if-I-could glare.
He thinks he’s winning the power battle. I’ll show him another level of the game he never thought existed.
My tongue glides the length of his finger, eyes pinned on him, watching how the control shifts. The way his jaw ticks. The tensing of his shoulders. The widening of his pupils when I make a swirling motion with my tongue, that if it were his cock inside my mouth, I’m sure I would’ve made him come. My cheeks hollow, and by the look on his face, it’s me who’s winning, even though I’m the one tied up andblowinga finger.
Right when he’s enjoying himself more than he should, I sink my teeth in a bit, and he shoots me a dirty look... not because of pain. One final lick and I release his finger with a smile.
The knife disappears from my throat when he puts it away at the back of his jeans.
“Aren’t you going to thank me?” Teasing a psycho is such awisetactic.
“For?”
“Treating your finger so nicely instead of biting it off.”
“That’s exactly what I’ll be doing, honey,” he says, while pulling my panties to the side without grazing my skin. Then he halts, boring his eyes into mine. “Tell me to stop!” he dares. “Say it, and I’ll untie you and leave.”
How fucking cocky is he to think I won’t?
I open my mouth to say the word, but nothing comes out. Like I’ve been muted.
