Page 184 of Stone: The Precursor

“You know, I remember what it felt like inside my ass. Stretching me so wide. The way you cut your hand while you fucked me with it. The way you ate my ass, tasting your blood and my arousal.”

I won’t last if she keeps narrating that memory. I step closer and she shakes her head. “No. Take a seat.” She gestures behind me, and I look to the left, seeing my large desk chair. I keep my eye trained on her and take a seat in my chair. Her command makes me tremble. I like being in control most of the time, but when she gets like this, I love it too. I like the demanding side of her.

She stands a few feet from me and trails the knife up her belly and between her vest, touching her nipples, and down to her belly button. The sharp point keeps my focus, and when the tip hits her mound, I grab my cock, fisting it.

“I want you to fuck me with the handle first and then I’m going to cut you.”

She walks toward me and hands me the knife, handle side first. The moment I take it from her, she lifts her leg, resting her foot on my thigh. That honeysuckle scent mixed with her arousal reaches my nose. The sight of her swollen tissues holds me hostage.

I flick her nipple with the tip of the blade.

I trail the down over her rib cage and then swirl it around her belly button before I move down and bypass her pussy and move to her inner thigh, tracing her tattoo. My first mark on her body, then down her knee and down her calf, and finally to the arch of her foot, then back up to her pussy and slide two fingers up her wet seam. I bend forward and kiss her softly, lick her slick flesh gently.

“Cut me, please Stefan.”

I take the blade and unsheath it, then lift shiny silver metal to her throat. She starts to tremble, her eyes going wide. She looks scared, and I realize she’s thinking of that bastard. I pick up her hand and wrap it around the handle, covering hers with mine, and lift it, moving it to my own throat. “I would kill myself before I hurt you, Countess. You understand that, right? Let me help erase parts of that night.” She nods, and I bring it back to her neck. “Keep your hands on the handle, help guide me. You’re in control, baby.” We both bring the knife down and circle her nipple. Flicking the knife back and forth over her turgid nipple repeatedly. “Does it hurt?”

She moans and tilts her head back, arching her pretty throat. “Sort of, but I—I like it with you. My adrenaline is rushing through me.”

I guide our hands back up and right over a few of the faint lines. It’s not very clear, but I can see where the tattoos can’t hide all 40 marks. I press inward, adding a bit of tension to her skin. “How does that feel?”

“Good,” she whispers breathlessly.

“That’s what I want, Camryn. I want you to feel good. Knife play is about trust, about knowing that I won’t cross your boundaries. Close your eyes. Concentrate on the feel of it against your skin.”

I move it down to her pussy. “It’s near your pussy now. We are going to take it slow.”

I smell her excitement, the tinge of fear she’s trying to hide.

“Are you afraid?”

“A little.”

“I can smell your pussy from the last time.” I suck the handle into my mouth, collecting any remnants left behind. I’m a dirty fucker because she has no idea how often I’ve smelled the handle, even long after the perfume of her pussy disappeared. Now there’s a chance to saturate the ridged leather again.

I slip it inside her, and she moans. “Pinch your nipples. Use your other hand.”

She does what I ask, squirming, twisting on my lap, legs wide, enjoying her pleasure. She pushes up her breasts, pinching her nipples, and I steadily fuck the knife into her.

When she grabs my wrist, I let her guide me the way she wants. I watch it disappear inside her pink flesh. The last time I couldn’t see this well. The twilight made it harder. Now I can see everything. The way her swollen tissues hold onto the handle, the slippery liquid coating it, and her. I take it out and suck on it, murmuring around the handle. “So wet, so good, baby.” I reinsert it, tilting the handle so I hit the right spot inside. She cries out,

“Please, Stone. More.”

“You need me to play with your clit, Countess?”

“Yes! Please make me feel it, Stone! You’re the only man who can.”

“I’m the only man who ever will. Every ounce of your pleasure is mine, Countess. And will be until you die.”

“Yes.”

“Put your fingers inside, fuck yourself while I take care of your clit.”

She pushes two fingers inside her pussy eagerly, pushing them in. The nasty wet sounds fill my office. I smile, thinking about the audio recording device I have planted around the house. She has no idea that I’m still stalking her. Stalking the love of my life, secretly capturing her every vocal moment. For her birthday, I’m going to play them for her. Fuck her as we listen to her masturbating, her coming on my cock, and tongue, her humming as she paints gorgeous pictures, her talking to my dead sister and niece, telling them about me. The times when she giggles when I tease her. The moments when she chats with her friend Kingsley on the phone about how well I fuck her. Even grumbles when she’s pissed at me make me smile. Her voice, like her body, is another work of art. A symphony of everything I can’t live without.

I press the flat side of the knife against her pussy. She jumps slightly, looking down, watching my slow, deliberate movements. “It’s cold,” she moans. I use the edge and drag it up and down her clit, moving slowly against the engorged tissue. We watch it together.

One wrong move and I’ll cut her badly. We both know it, but there’s determination on her face as she rocks her pussy on the sharp edge, using the unforgiving metal to abrade her clit. She whimpers with each pass of her hips.