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s soon as she gave the word he was going to use a huge knife on her aching clit.
She had to realize she was in love with him now?
Fuck.
Of course.
Real romantic, Mila.
He must have taken her hesitation as nerves, and he moved to cut the ziptie at her ankle.
“I already gave you my answer, sir. I think you’re the one who’s chicken.”
His nasty smile made her forget the sweet things she’d been thinking about him. Playing with this man was like playing with . . . Fire? No. Electricity? No.
It was like playing with a fucking sadist with a knife fetish.
“So you think I’m chicken, do you, you little shit?”
He thunked the knife down on the table next to her, and grabbed her breasts hard, forcing them together then attacking them with his mouth, torturing her sore nipples until she cried out. Arousal spiraled through her and she fought her bindings, needing to grab his hair and make him stop, while simultaneously loving that she couldn’t stop him. He made a path downward, sucking and biting and nipping, making her moan and squeal until he got to her pussy. Although her position held her open to him, he bit her labia then spread her completely open. He attacked her clit with a series of the tiniest, most gentle and frustrating licks. She strained her hips upward, trying to make contact with his mouth, but he refused to cooperate.
When he stopped, he had the kind of cruel, cocky expression she’d started to associate with him being completely aroused.
Somehow, the butter knife was back in his hand. Starting at her navel, he stroked the blade downward. She had to trust that he still had enough control over his urges not to switch back to the sharp knife and harm her. She couldn’t look down. The knife alone was making her crazy without even looking at it. She was so close to coming that her jaw hurt from clenching it against her frustration.
His hand came down on her pelvis, just above her pussy, pinning her firmly to the table.
“Don’t fucking move, Mila.” Then the cold metal was against her hot flesh, sliding over the bump of her clit hood, tracing carefully around it. Oh god—even though she knew it was the dull knife, she was so scared and so horny, and it felt so fucking good. Every muscle in her body knotted and she froze.
Don’t come. Don’t come or he’s going to know exactly how much of a pervert you are.
Breaths came and went from her throat but never seemed to reach her lungs. She tried to slow her breathing and the battering of her heart against her ribs. Dizzy, she planted her back against the hard wood of the table and strove not to move, but the knife handle was nudging between her labia, teasing at the tip of her exposed clit.
Arousal. Cold metal.
A scream tore from her and she came hard and fast, so violently her entire body arched off the table. She sobbed and writhed, and through the haze she could feel him freeing her wrists and ankles and pulling her to him. Her body convulsed for ages, empty and wanting, and when she was finally aware of herself again, he was sitting on the floor of the kitchen, cradling her against his chest. The feel of his bare skin against hers was keeping her arousal from waning.
Before she could decide whether to laugh or cry, he kissed her face. First the spot between her brows, one eyelid, then the other. When he claimed her mouth, the kiss was long and gentle, even though she could feel the hard bar of his erection against her naked bottom.
The kiss and the promise of having his big beautiful dick in her pussy for the first time stoked her desire. She kissed him hungrily and squirmed against his hard-on. He groaned, and thrust against her hip.
“What’s the matter with my girl?” he asked. “Do you want something else?”
She frowned. “You promised.”
“Promised . . . ?” He kissed her then nipped her bottom lip when she stuck it out at him.
He was going to make her ask? The man was insufferable.
“You promised you’d fuck me,” she reminded him, knowing damn well he hadn’t forgotten.
“Ah. Now I understand. Your ass is empty and begging for cock.”
“No!” She struggled in his arms, and he chuckled and held her firmly in his lap. The worst part was the thought of him fucking her ass right there on her kitchen floor, whether she approved or not, was wildly arousing.
He groaned. “Even making you mad feels good. You want a hard ass fucking, don’t you? You like to pretend you hate it, but you lie in bed masturbating to the thought of it. I bet you even did it today.”
Ugh. Why the fuck did he have to know everything? Although when he saw her expression, she realized he’d been baiting her, and hadn’t believed it until her face confirmed it for him. Great.
