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He reached up. One cuff clicked. My arm dropped. He reached up again and the second cuff sprung open. Suddenly free, I clasped his face in both hands, ignoring their tingling, and slammed a kiss full of vicious bites and furious desperation on his mouth. He knocked me against the wall. His teeth pinched my lip, sparking pain.
I had him distracted, almost wild with lust.
What I needed now was a weapon. His table with its display of knives and implements was several strides away. Too far to reach without suspicion.
His hands dropped, grasping my dick. “You’re hard,” he mumbled around my tongue.
I was hard because I knew how this ended.
I grasped his chin, jerked his head back, and marched him backwards toward the pool. “What do you want to do with me? Fuck my mouth, my ass, come all over me? The possibilities are endless. Hurt me, cut me—”
His eyes lit up. As I’d suspected, he’d carve up Razak, taking his time, and it didn’t matter that the fantasy wouldn’t be real. He’d gone beyond thinking, or fearing the true Razak’s wrath. Bendrik had dreamed of this for a long time. Nothing would stop him living this fantasy. His desire for Razak was his weakness, and it would get him killed.
I turned away, grabbed a whip from the table’s selection with my right hand, and slipped a knife down the front of my trousers with my left. I’d have to be careful. The blade was unsheathed, and the knife was snug against all my best parts. But it wouldn’t have to remain there for long.
Facing Bendrik, stroking the whip, I nodded at the pool behind him. “We’ll get to this. But first, get in.”
He glanced behind him, uncertain. If he began to think, then he’d doubt everything that was happening, and I’d lose my control. Bendrik thinking was not part of the plan. He had to remain distracted. I shoved him in the chest, toppling him backwards, over the edge of the pool and into the water. He emerged moments later, spluttering, shock all over his face.
I waded in, moving fast, moving as though he were my prisoner and I the prince.
“Wait—” He raised a hand, thinking to hold me, believing he could stop me—stop Razak.
He’d already lost.
I took his hand, put it on my cock, and looped the whip around the back of his neck, jerking him up close. “You wanted me aroused. Now I’m fucking aroused. What are you going to do with me, Benny?”
His gaze jumped about my face. His body screamed for sex—his pupils were blown, his face flushed, his breaths racing. He wanted to fuck and hurt Razak, to lick and bite and taste him, to land his whip as revenge for Razak humiliating him. He wanted to make me cry out, make me bleed. So many marvelous things, but men like him thought with their dicks, and I had his in my skilled left hand.
I stroked, making him groan and mumble. His blush spread down his neck, beneath his clothes. He’d forgotten I’d pushed him in, forgotten I was Zayan and what that meant. I was all his dreams about to come true.
He backed through the waist-high water, letting me steer him by the dick, and bumped the back edge of the pool.
I lunged for a kiss, pumping him hard. The whip didn’t matter now. I dropped it and sunk my right hand into my trousers, careful to keep my fingers from the nasty little blade’s edge. Pleasure sizzled through my veins, as well as lust, desire, and need, and somewhere inside all of the madness a voice screamed at me to stop—the voice of reason, of morals—but it was too late.
Bendrik panted around my assaulting kiss. His hips bucked, driving his dick into my fist.
I’d heard it said once, that killing a man was one of the most difficult things to do.
I’d never found it that challenging.
I sliced the small knife up his left forearm, unzipping the flesh from wrist to elbow.
He grunted, but I had him under me, his body shuddering from ecstasy, heady desire, and the siren song of lust. He didn’t notice the new, fiery burn in his arm. Pleasure blurred the edges of pain, made everything seem lesser. The burn he’d felt in his arm might even heighten his desire. His dick, trapped in my grip, approved.
I reached behind him, dropped his dick, switched the knife to my left hand, and grasped his dick again with my right, all under the guise of an embrace. We kissed like lost lovers, as though we’d been starved of each other.
He didn’t know he was dying.
With the little knife now in my left hand, I dropped it below the water’s surface, snatched his hand from off my back, and while we were still engaged in the deadly kiss, I glanced down, saw my target, and carved the blade up his arm.
Steam from the bath carried with it a warm coppery smell.
“Yes, Bendrik,” I crooned in Razak’s lethal voice, the one that forewarned of terrible things. “Come for me, fuck my hand now and cut me later, make me scream and writhe.” I touched the man’s paling face, holding his gaze under mine. He saw Razak, and this was everything he’d ever wanted.
He moaned, bucked, and shuddered. Cum warmed the water around my hand.
There were worse ways to die than at the height of pleasure.
