Page 47 of Witch’s Heart

He had a baldric draped over the nearby chair. He went to it and retrieved a dagger. My breath hitched when I realized what he was about to do. I opened my mouth to protest. As much as I shied away from dresses and gowns, this one was exquisite. He sensed the words on my tongue and froze, his blade lifted, watching me, daring me to say something.

I pressed my lips closed and watched as he climbed over me. The tendons in his forearms rippled deliciously as he reached for my bodice, slashing it clean down the middle in one expert stroke. His deft hands gripped the fabric and spread it open. Cold air met my chest as I inhaled, sending my peaked breasts heaving towards the ceiling.

I watched his expression darken as he took in the sight of my skin on display for him. He was hungry, but I was hungrier. I let out a whimper as he moved lower, settling between my legs as he reached for the lower half of my dress, slashing it open until the skirts revealed my bare sex. I squirmed beneath his gaze, giving an experimental tug on my ankle restraints.

“Look at this perfect cunt, already weeping for me.”

Each breath from my chest was measured as I waited to see what he’d do next. He lifted the dagger and my heart gave a stilted beat before taking off at a gallop. Twirling it in his hand, he lowered it until the cold, blunt end of the metal was pressed against my clit. I cried out, bucking against the sensation. His other hand shot out, gripping my left leg at the junction of my thigh, pressing me firmly against the mattress.

“Already so swollen.” He rocked the rounded pommel over my bundle of nerves, making me shudder with pleasure. “I bet you’d come at the first stroke of my cock, hmm?”

“Please,” I breathed.

“Hmm.” He dragged the end over my slick folds, coating it in my arousal. It was warming as I fed it my heat. “Let’s play a little game. I’m going to make you desperate—so desperate that you’ll be coming on the first stroke of my cock, but if you don’t, we’ll just start all over again.”

“What?!”

“Shall I repeat myself, little demon?” He paused, the end of the grip notched at my entrance. My breath caught. Was he going to⁠—?

A low growl rose in his throat as he pushed the bulbous pommel and then the grip inside of me. I gasped, shocked. He was playing with me using a…a dagger?! It was… I couldn’t… Why did the idea make me feverish?

The grip was at least five inches long. He pressed all five of those inside me up to the cross-guard, keeping his fingers pinched on the widest part of the blade, wielding it expertly so as not to cut himself or me in the process.

I shouldn’t have been this turned on. This desperate. Not for this kind of bed play.

And yet, a moan betrayed me. He created just enough pressure that the pommel stroked against my inner walls. I tried to buck, but his hand still held me firmly in place.

“Careful,” he warned, eyes fixed on my sex in utter fascination, dark hunger consuming in his gaze. “I wouldn’t want to knick this pretty skin of yours. Be still and take it.”

My breaths came faster. He slowly dragged the grip in and out of me, then swirled the pommel around my folds, over my clit and back inside. “Oh, fuck,” I breathed. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

This was sick and twisted and yet…

“More, please,” I begged. It wasn’t big enough. It stretched me, but not the way Rixon did. There wasn’t enough girth. Not nearly enough length. Not even close. It was just enough to be maddening, while failing to satisfy. I clenched around it, wishing to draw it deeper, to feel it against the places that made me scream with pleasure.

“So greedy, my little demon. This is supposed to be punishing, after all.”

Tears of frustration gathered at the corners of my eyes. I chased an orgasm that was just out of reach. Begging got me nowhere.

Eventually Rixon pulled the weapon free and tossed it across the room. He lowered, positioning his head between my thighs as he hungrily licked his lips. I tried to buck my hips upwards, to meet his mouth, but the restraints were too tight. Slowly, slow enough to torture me, he used both thumbs to spread me wide and flattened his tongue over me, licking from my puckered hole up to my clit. I cried out in pleasure and relief, glad that this was soon to end.

But he had other thoughts in mind. He lifted his head to regard me, making a show of licking his lips. “You taste fucking delicious, as always. But if you think I’m going to have you coming on my tongue, then you weren’t paying attention. We’re playing a game, remember?”

“I… I remember.”

“Are you ready to give my cock a try?”

My breaths turned frantic. I wanted it—wanted his cock so bad. Surely he was bluffing about the whole one-stroke thing. If I could just get him out of his pants and inside me…

“Your cock. Please. Your cock. I need it.”

He lifted his brows, illustrating his doubt, but climbed off me and shed his pants. “Oh, gods,” I cried at the sight of it. Thick veins and swollen head. I needed him inside me—now.

“Let’s see,” he murmured. Spreading his knees until they wedged beneath my thighs, he slid a hand beneath my ass and lifted me, notching the head of his cock at my entrance.

“Oh, fuck.” I breathed. Finally. Finally.

His eyes met mine. I couldn’t decide where I wanted to look, the sight of him poised at my entrance, or the greedy expression on his face. He blinked, and then he sheathed himself inside me in one deft stroke. I cried out, clenching around him, holding tight as if that might keep him inside me forever.