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I give an experimental tug, but he must have caught the ends of the strip he used to bind my hands beneath the knife. My hands are thoroughly pinned.
I look into his face and he winks, feeling around in his pockets as if he’s forgotten something. “Luckily, I’ll be carrying multiple knives from now on. There it is.”
This knife is identical to the one embedded in the table, so compact that I had no idea he was carrying a vicious weapon in his pocket. He flips the blade out and studies my body as if he’s never seen it before. Or maybe he’s making a mental list of all the places he’s going to cut me.
Yet, he hesitates. A faint quiver shakes the hand holding the knife.
“Please,” I whisper. “Tell me what you want to do.”
He breathes heavily, as if he ran all the way to Springfield and back. “I want to cut you. Not bad. Just enough…”
“For blood.” My words ring oddly in my head, echoing as if a huge cavern opened up in the center of my body. “You want blood.”
“Yes.” The word hangs between us, a soft, sibilant cry of agonizing need.
I know that need. It gnaws inside me too. Not for blood, but for pain, for complete submission and subjugation of my will to his.
“I want to mark you. Not with bites, but with my knife. Something I can look at that is mine alone, and you can look at it later, once I’m…”
His voice breaks and his breath wheezes through his teeth. His skin is taut across his cheeks, his eyes blazing with rage and grief, as if he already lost me. I know that fear too, because if I lost him now I don’t know how I could live in the safe and joyless shell I’ve been trapped in for so long. I’d rather be dead than go back into that empty prison.
“Okay.”
He closes his eyes, concentrating until he manages to calm his breathing. When he opens them again, his eyes are still tortured. That’s okay. I know torture and soul-crushing need all too well.
“Red. Remember it. If you need me to stop, I will. Always. For you.”
24
“I’ll make it feel so good. You won’t want me to stop.”
He nuzzles my unmarked breast, deliberately rasping his stubble against the tender nipple. He tickles the underside of my breast with his tongue and presses teasing bites to that curve. Not hard, only enough to pinch the skin and make me moan. I already made the mental submission to him. With these little touches, he effortlessly pushes my body into full arousal. He’s only been gone a few days, but I suddenly ache from head to toe, as if he’s been edging me for hours without end.
I don’t know how I’ll respond to knife play. The blood. But knowing it turns him on makes my pulse thunder.
“Who do you belong to?”
“You, Master. Only you.”
“Who’s the only one that can stop me?”
I swallow hard. “Me.”
“That’s right. Only you. This isn’t something I require from you. I want your safeword if you need to give it. I want that more than anything else.”
His lips close around my nipple, and I arch my back, pushing against his mouth. Obligingly, he takes more of my flesh into his mouth, gripping hard enough with his teeth that I imagine the bleeding ring he could leave around my areola.
I groan with frustration when he lifts his head. “No bites, I said. That’s not my mark. This is.”
I brace to feel pain, the slice of the blade, but he merely lays the cold metal against the swell of my breast while he licks and sucks my nipple to a deliciously painful peak. Each draw of his lips and stroke of his tongue makes my bones melt away. I burn for more: skin, flesh, his big cock hammering inside me. I shift restlessly, desperate to get my knees apart, my feet free, so I can wrap my thighs around him. Tempt him to slide into me while he does his worst. I won’t care about anything then.
Gripping my nipple in his teeth, he lifts his head, giving a tug that sends a throbbing wave all the way down to my clit. His slow, insistent pulls drags me higher, urging my body to soar. My eyes start to roll back, my toes curl, my body arching up in release.
And that’s when the blade cuts across my breast.
The slight tug through my skin is a sharp fire that melds with the pleasure crashing through me. It flavors and deepens my climax, pain to add to the perfect storm rolling through me. I soar higher, welcoming another flash of white-hot pain across my flesh. Even better are the sounds of pleasure he makes as he releases my nipple and strokes his tongue over the cuts.
Heaven, bleeding on his table, tied up with his shirt.
