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My breath escalates when I slide the handle inside me to the hilt, Zade’s fingers pressed up against my flesh. A groan rumbles deep in his chest, but he keeps his promise, his hand not even twitching against me.

“Tell me how it feels,” he rasps, enthralled by the sight of me tugging our hands down just to drive it back up, eliciting a sharp jolt of bliss.

“S-so good,” I breathe around a moan, my eyes fluttering as I continue, finding a pace that threatens to make me forget my own name.

“Go slower,” he urges, his hand flexing beneath mine. I force myself to listen, keeping the pace gradual and drawing out the pleasure.

“Now watch yourself. Look how pretty you are when you fuck yourself.”

Mouth parted and chest heaving, I look down between my slick thighs, the euphoria heightening from the sight.

“See how you’re dripping all over our hands, baby?”

Both of our hands are covered in his blood, my arousal mixing in and carving paths through the crimson staining our skin.

My stomach tightens, an orgasm building low in my stomach.

“Yes,” I moan.

“You know what I see? I can see how tightly your pussy is clenching the knife,” he growls, face strained with need. “Like it’s just begging to be filled.”

“Do you wish it was your cock instead?” I pant, enjoying the way his eyes flare. Absolutely loving that he can only dream of fucking me, forced to watch a knife handle do it instead. A rush of power flows through me, and I can’t contain the smile.

His eyes lift to mine, something dangerous whirling in his irises. My stomach clenches, the orgasm cresting higher. But I don’t fear him. I pity him.

“Does it hurt knowing that you can’t touch me?” I ask, another moan slipping free when I hit that spot inside me. “Does it cut deeper than this knife?”

“Yes,” he confesses, his tone low and dark.

“You can’t have it,” I taunt. He eyes me closely, understanding what I’m doing and not liking it. Yet, he’ll never disobey me, knowing that the trust I’ve placed on him will be shattered.

Giving respect hurts like a bitch when your hands are tied.

I drive the knife deeper and faster, reaching that peak, and I decide that giving him a small taste will deepen the agony.

All I need is a little nudge, but this time, I’m not the one that will be begging him to let me come.

He will be begging me.

“Do you want to lick me, Zade?” I ask, eyes threatening to cross. “I’m so ready to come.”

He drops his gaze to our hands, baring his teeth from the restraint.

“Yes,” he chokes out.

“Say please.”

A flick of his dangerous gaze and savage curl to his lips that promise retribution, but he doesn’t hesitate. “Please, little mouse.”

“One lick,” I allow. “Make it count.”

Giving me one last weighted look, he leans forward, and I shiver when I feel his hot breath fan over my core.

And then his tongue is sliding against my clit, slow and firm. He groans around me, and I can no longer hold on. I shatter around him, crying out as my world breaks apart. My free hand flies into his hair, grasping for something to hold on to as my knees buckle.

He quickly stands, catching me and holding me up against him, our hands pressed tightly against my pussy as I ride out the waves.

I press my forehead into his chest, squeezing my eyes shut as the remnants of the orgasm slowly fade.