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“Should we free these beauties first?” he asked no one in particular and slid the flat of the blade under the bra she wore, then turned the blade on its side. The serrated edge caught the thin lacy material and held. It was a kind of sports bra made of fabric that Sam knew would open like a melon once cut, spilling her luscious breasts free. Sam licked his lips in anticipation, but Dean only turned the knife and dragged it tip-down over her quivering abdomen. “Or should we remove the top layer first, I wonder?”
A thin red line appeared in the wake of that knife. The skin wasn’t broken—it was as if he had a pen instead of a blade. He swirled the lethal tip over her belly button long enough that both Sam and Kimberly held their breath in anticipation of where he would go next. Sam couldn’t vouch for Kimberly’s thoughts, but she’d been with them long enough that he clearly saw how turned on this was making her. They were still good. Dean wouldn’t hurt her no matter how mean and raw he was feeling right now, and Kimberly’s obvious arousal showed she knew it too.
The blade teased her waistband, went lower. Kimberly made her first sound when Dean ran the knifepoint in a line directly over her slit. She was dressed in black yoga pants and lying flat as she was, aroused as she was, the little bundle of her clitoris popped out like a tiny button. Dean traced deliberate circles with that sharp, sharp point. Kimberly was having trouble breathing by the time he dragged the blade to her hip.
As soon as the tip pierced through the black spandex, Kimberly moaned, Dean spread his lips in an expression no sane person would call a smile and slit the pants from hip to ankle in one long, sinuous glide. A thin red line earmarked his path like a seam. He worked from ankle to hip on her other side, leaving an exact match on her second leg while her ruined pants lay in tatters beneath her.
Dean brought the knife back between her legs as she lay there, panting now. He ran it lightly up and down the crease as though he were a chef contemplating how best to carve up the feast spread before him. Kimberly trembled delicately as she awaited his next move. With slow deliberation, Dean used the knife to pick up the ruined front panel of her pants and delicately worked it between her lush thighs, not allowing her to spread any farther for him, Sam could clearly see the threat of getting pricked by that steel was really working for her and knew Dean must sense it too from the way he lingered over the task.
“What next, hmm?” Dean asked her. “Only this cute little bralette and this adorable little scrap here.” The flat of the blade smacked her clit and Kimberly squeaked then moaned. Dean rewarded her by pressing the cold steel on the engorged nub until she whimpered for him. Snick, snick—with two rapid flicks, the legs of her panties were sliced. Dean stabbed the scrap and wiggled it free. Then he was holding the black silk up to his face on the tip of the knife, where it dangled like a delicacy. He took a long, exaggerated sniff, staring into her eyes the entire time.
Sam’s fists clenched with the urge to join in, to touch. He held himself in check though—Dean had a need in him right now to purge whatever demon he’d caged out in the woods and that need superseded his own. And God fucking bless the woman who’d offered herself up like an altar for its exorcism.
Dean swirled the knifepoint over her nipples next, lightly pricking at the material around each until they poked through the holes he’d created like ripe berries.
Dean braced his free hand on the counter and leaned over her prone, trembling form. Without looking he stuck out a hand and Sam, knowing what was needed, passed the syrup.
Dean took the offered pan and Sam watched as syrup, thick as honey, began a slow descent onto one ripe crest.
Rich maple drizzled over the tightly budded tip, oozing into the fabric of her torn bra. Then he slowly strung a thin line over her chest and made a detour to ooze some of that golden nectar onto her pouting lips. Kimberly's mouth opened to lick at it, and he paused to let more drip in.
Sam was riveted—he ached with the need to taste; he wanted to lick every drop of that sweet syrup from her body as Dean continued his journey and brought the honeyed syrup to her other waiting breast.
Dean didn't stop with her chest, though. He continued and traced a sticky line over her exposed skin, down her abdomen, over her pubis in a thick, sweet layer, then down each of the lines still etched onto her legs. Next, Dean made sure to cover her toes in the bronze liquid before finally setting the pan aside.
“Looks like we have a mess to clean up here. Wanna help me out with this Sam?”
“I thought you'd never ask.” At last, Sam released the leash he'd held on his own desire, unclenched his fists, and approached the counter from the opposite side of Dean. Kimberly lay stretched between them, covered in golden syrup, and smelled as delicious as she looked. Both men lowered their heads at the same time. Sam placed his lips gingerly over Kimberly’s mouth; the maple sweet on her lips was still warm, or maybe rewarmed from the fire within her. Sam didn’t know which, but the combined taste was heady enough to intoxicate him.
Dean's mouth was busy on her breasts, sucking and lapping at the nipple closest to him. Then he switched and tormented the other, turning Kimberly’s breath choppy and erratic under Sam's kiss.
He could taste the fire in her, the desire, the need growing within that Dean had set on a knife's edge. As Kimberly kissed Sam back, as her tongue dueled with his and filled his mouth with the taste of Nirvana, he was lost. Need swirled in his mind, the fire burning within him charred away the residual doubts, worries, and concerns that clouded his thinking. The only thing left behind was Kimberly spread before them like a banquet.
After what felt like an eternity, Sam tore his mouth from Kimberly’s with an effort that cost him dearly. He closed his eyes and let Dean's trail be his guide. Sam's tongue swirled and lapped against Kimberley’s satin-like skin—he sucked and nipped and drank the syrup from her as though the tiny trail of sweetness held the answers to the universe. Sam knew better—those answers were held within the heart of the woman beneath them.
Dean was making luxurious work out of cleaning up her beautiful breasts, so Sam forced himself to walk to the end of the counter where Kimberly’s syrup-drenched toes awaited.
Sam didn't give Kimberly a hint of what he was going to do—he didn't tease or tickle or gently sip from her narrow feet. Sam simply locked one hand around her ankle to stabilize her against the counter, opened his mouth, and took the entire top of her foot between his hungry lips.
The sound she made was only exceeded by the taste of her. Sam held on tight while Kimberly's leg trembled and tried to jerk beneath his ministrations. He wouldn't let up and gave her no quarter, administering this new, erotic thrill without restraint or restriction. Kimberly's leg trembled within his tight grasp as Sam sucked at her delicate toes. They were long and narrow, and curled and twitched as Sam’s tongue wrapped around each one as he devoured every delicious drop from them. She was crying out now, her voice gone deep and throaty the way it did when she was entering subspace. Sam opened his mouth, flattened his tongue, and ran it over the sensitive arch, darting the tip of it between each wiggling digit as she went hoarse with her cries of pleasure.
Sam felt the beast within him stir—the one that was hungry for more than the sweetness of tree sap. His beast was hungry for the sweetness of her flesh and nothing else would suffice.
As Sam began to make his way up the line of liquid sugar along her right leg, he noticed Dean was tracing the same path down her left. They both made sure to take big sucking bites along the way, lapping up the trails that spilled over her calves and thighs, using their tongues to tickle underneath where syrup had pooled.
Kimberly was mindless now. Sam could hear it in her voice and recognized it in the glassy look in her eyes. Kimberly had entered subspace. Already. It thrilled him to see it—thrilled him that she matched their needs, their hungers, their lives so perfectly.
Sam's favorite kink was his rope but, for the first time, he wanted to bind someone to him with more than just nylon and cotton. Sam wanted to bind her to them in every way possible. Forever. The realization galvanized him.
He had known that he was in love with Kimberly almost from the beginning. As a psychologist whose job it was to help others get in touch with their own feelings, he’d be a pretty fucking sorry excuse if he couldn't get in touch with his own heart. But what was happening now went deeper than love—or maybe this was the moment, Sam thought as his mouth worshipped the woman beneath him. Maybe this was the real moment where he passed from tenderness, affection, and lust into the real thing.
His eyes opened and for one brilliant moment in time, Sam knew perfection. He thoughtyes, yes thisisthe moment. Love like he’d never known existed swamped him and threatened to choke the breath from his lungs and tears from his eyes.
The moment lasted an eternity. The moment was over in a heartbeat. But as their eyes stayed fused and Sam finally, at last, placed his open mouth over Kimberly’s dripping flesh, he knew the moment would never be forgotten.
She came almost as soon as he started sucking. Sam didn't let up though—his mouth ravaged her dripping flesh. The cries of her continued release were like the drums before an army, urging him on, giving him strength and filling him with the need to conquer and lay claim.
There was a ledge around the base of the counter that guests assumed had been built in as a footrest to use while sitting on the stools. They’d assumed wrong. Dean—having had his fill, apparently—stalked to Kimberly's head, hooked his hands under her arms, and pulled until her head dangled off the edge. Then Dean put that footrest to its real purpose, stepping onto it so his cock was perfectly aligned with Kimberly's open mouth.
