Page 106 of Burdened Bonds

She stands, knife hovering in front of me and then lowers herself back down on my lap, straddling me this time.

“You’d really let me do that?” she says.

“I’d let you do anything you wanted to me,” I say, my voice dangerous.

“Even this,” she says, and, not breaking our eye contact, she leans forward, bringing the knife closer and closer and pressing the point into my neck, the blade slicing against the point where my pulse thuds. I don’t even flinch.

“You like that, little one?” I whisper, sliding my tongue along my bottom lip and tasting her magic as it sizzles.

She nods her head and then she grinds her hips against me, like she’s riding me, except, there are two layers of fucking clothing between us.

And a knife.

I lift my hands to reach for her waist, but she presses the knife deeper into my throat, the pinch of the blade delicious.

“No,” she says, “keep your hands by your sides.”

I swallow.

The knife stings. Her core grinds against me, fondling my cock.

Pleasure and pain. Pain and pleasure. The two are forever intertwined.

She works harder. Up and down my cock. The friction doing something to her too. Her brow’s all damp. Her breath panty. Her skin flushed.

I keep completely still. Let her have her control.

Moans bubble in her throat, and she moves faster. Wilder. Grinding her pussy against me.

“Oh fuck,” she groans.

My fingers twitch.

I want to pick her up, throw her on the table, and bury myself between her legs.

As if reading my twisted mind, she leans forward, her forehead pressed to mine, the knife shaking at my throat.

“No,” she tells me.

“Let me touch you, little rabbit. Let me taste you. Just one little bite.” I snap my teeth together and the little thing comes, jolting around on my lap like I just electrocuted her. (Only without the aroma of burned flesh and the accompanying death gurgle.)

The knife slips under my skin, pain radiates through my veins. I close my eyes and groan.

Nothing ever felt so good.

Her hand rests on my shoulder.

“I cut you!” she pants.

“You did, little rabbit,” my lips curl upwards, “you did. I like it when you’re bad.”

Then I feel something wet against my skin. I open my eyes. The little rabbit has caught the droplet of blood racing down my neck with her tongue. Holding my gaze, she scoops it up and trails her tongue back up to where the knife sliced me. Then she sucks at the wound. I grunt, grinding at her from below.

“Think you could suck that next, little rabbit.”

And to my fucking delight, she slides off the chair and kneels between my thighs.

For all her words, her actions speak louder. Roar into the silence. She can’t keep her hands off me. She wants me. It’s only a matter of time before she has me.