Page 40 of Brat Baby (Sugar Life #1, #3)

I…I think I might actually like this. The fear, tinged with the beginnings of desire. Is this a thing? Being held hostage, at the mercy of another, while sex occurs, in a slightly less than consensual way?

The knife followed me to my kneeling position, and now his hand flexes beneath my jaw as he guides the pointed tip up to press into the hollow on the underside of my jaw behind my chin, tipping my head back even farther.

Mouth really fucking dry, I swallow, but that only causes the knife to bob up and down.

“Open your mouth. Stick your tongue out.”

With my head tipped back as far as it can possibly go, I slowly open my mouth, forcing the point of the knife to press more firmly into my skin. I pause, lips barely parted, and glare up at him.

I swear that asshole smirks at me before he reduces the pressure, allowing me to get my mouth open the whole way without giving me a new hole to drink with.

“Lace your fingers behind your head.”

My core heats as I think about where this is going.

Blow job at knifepoint? I think I might need a trip to a wellness retreat after this, because holy shit, I am unwell for thinking this is hot.

I do as I’m told, bringing my hands to where his hand is still gripped in my hair, and lace my fingers over his.

But with one hand on the knife and the other in my hair, how is his dick going to get into my mouth at this angle?

Is it going to be like a reverse dunking for apples? I just suck on his balls?

My question is answered not even a second later when the knife is removed from beneath my chin and held up in front of my face. For something so scary, it’s small. The blade isn’t even two inches long, but the edges look fucking sharp. The handle is completely flat.

It’s the weirdest knife I’ve ever seen. Kind of looks like something a spy would carry, tucked into the hem of a jacket or something.

Then it slowly descends toward my tongue.

A spike of fear causes me to flinch, but his grip on my hair tightens and the flat of the blade slides along my tongue.

“Unghh,” I try to protest, but he is applying enough pressure that I can’t move my tongue, or I run the risk of getting cut.

The knife isn’t quite deep enough that it is triggering my gag reflex, but it’s close. Breathing through my nose is the only thing that saves me. With his thumb on the blade, he uses the rest of his hand to grip my chin and pinches the whole thing together in a viselike grip.

He takes a step closer, until his dick is right by my face and dripping with water. The tension on my hair releases, and he pulls that hand free, knowing I’m trapped with the grip of one hand.

Finally, fucking finally, he grabs his dick, lines it up with the handle of the blade, then slides all the way fucking in until my nose is buried in his skin and my throat constricts as the piercing thrusts past my tonsils.

I’m caught completely off guard, having just exhaled, and now with him blocking off my throat, panic signals from my lungs shoot up to my brain. Some of those signals get confused, and my clit starts to throb.

My eyes feel huge, like they are as wide as they can possibly go. From the gagging, from the shock, from the oh-shit-I-can’t-breathe. Pulse pounding in my ears, I try to fight through the fear, knowing he won’t let me suffocate.

Right?

Me being terrified is what he is after. That’s all.

Right?

Just as I’m starting to really fucking wonder if I’ve breathed my last breath, he pulls back, the head of his dick resting on the blade.

My first inhale is a gasping cough. I can’t tell whether my lungs or throat burns worse. Right as I get the coughing under control, he thrusts again, but this time, it’s shallow and he withdraws quickly.

He picks a pace and starts lazily thrusting into my mouth, not quite hitting the back of my throat.

The sensation is so weird, with the knife blocking the feel of the slide.

What I can feel is the way the sharpened edges press into the sides of my tongue, as well as the point.

And how the piercing rubs along the roof of my mouth.

His thumb is still in my mouth, holding everything in place, but one wrong move, and I’m going to end up with a cut. I’ll be fine as long as I stay still and he doesn’t let go.

Closing my eyes, I concentrate on being able to catch my breath, timing it to his rhythm. I need to trust him. Trust that he doesn’t actually need the others to protect me from him. That he is in control of himself.

Trust him.

I reopen my eyes and stare up at him, letting go of the fear about the knife. My neck and shoulders relax as I tip my head farther back, exposing more of my throat to him.

His next thrust slips a bit farther in, and I force a swallow. The motion of his hips stutters, pausing there for an entire heartbeat before pulling back. He repeats his motion, and when he pauses in the same position, I swallow as best I can.

Xavier grunts and then picks up his speed, sometimes pushing all the way in and triggering my gag reflex, but even that is odd. With the knife holding my tongue flat, my throat goes into overdrive on the spasms, but without the full use of my tongue, not much more happens.

But something that is happening is the heat in my pussy.

I am so, so empty. My entrance feels hot and open and ready for a dick.

His dick. I need to feel him stretching me, filling me all the way until I ache.

If I could talk, I’d beg him to fuck me, but I settle for moaning and choking, which only seems to spur him on faster.

My abs and shoulders have begun to ache, and I can barely feel my knees when a slightly metallic taste fills my mouth. Blood. One of us has been cut. At first, I don’t think it is me, but then the knife shifts a little, and a line of fire lights up along the side of my tongue.

He must see something on my face because he pulls out so quickly, I’m left hunched over and gasping. I don’t even have a second to worry about the knife before there is the clink of metal on wet tile.

Xavier squats down in front of me and grips my thighs before heaving me up against his chest. I grab on to his shoulders and wrap my legs around his body, and as soon as I’m looking at him, he closes the distance and kisses me.

His tongue presses against mine, and I can taste blood again. The little zing of the cut being teased and prodded, reopening again and again, so that he can sample the very essence of my life.

With my pussy spread open like this, I can’t help but try to grind on him. I’m so fucking hot and needy that I’ll take a clit orgasm for now and let him stuff me full later.

But he has other plans.

Two steps later, and my back is pressed up against the tiles, neither of us under the spray of water anymore. He releases one of my thighs and reaches down with one hand while urging me higher with the other.

Then his dick is right there, right where I need it. Lowering myself down, I whimper at the stretch, but it feels so fucking good. I’m not going to last long. I’m way too close to the edge. One graze against my clit, and I’m going to explode. I’m sure of it.

Xavier never releases my mouth, his kiss becoming harsher, rougher, until we are barely kissing, just breathing each other’s air as he pins me to the wall and fucks into me. He reaches between us, and then his thumb is circling over and around my clit as he grinds up into me. Fire engulfs me.

I burn from the inside out for this man.

My scream is silent. Mouth open, neck straining, I tip my head back against the wall and stare unseeing at the ceiling as Xavier thrusts unevenly a few more times before a deep groan vibrates from his chest.

He captures my lower lip in a bite hard enough that it hurts, but the pain mixes with the pleasure and shoots off more streaks of pleasure.

As his orgasm fades, he releases my lip and drops his forehead to my shoulder.

I run my fingers into the damp curls at the back of his neck while he still holds me up.

We stay like that for so long, I think I might have started to fall asleep listening to the water fall.

For so long that I’m fairly certain I don’t actually hear him whisper one tiny word.

“Mine.”