The cold kiss of steel against fabric. My shirt parts down the middle in a clean, effortless cut. The cool air hits my bare skin, and I suck in a sharp breath, but I don’t move.
Ghost watches me, his expression unreadable as he peels back the fabric, exposing my breasts. My skin is hypersensitive to every movement, every shift of the blade as Ghost drags it down, past my ribs, to my navel. He doesn’t cut. Doesn’t break the skin. But the sheer precision of his control is just as lethal as the edge itself.
“Wow, Doc. You didn’t even flinch.”
I lift my chin. “Are you going to rape me?”
The thought makes my skin prickle and my breathing ragged. He notices. His smirk appears, but his hold on the knife remains steady.
“You can’t rape the willing.”
I glare at him. “I’m not giving my consent.”
“Good. It’ll be more fun that way.”
Ghost rests the knife against my leg, the cool steel a stark contrast to the heat spreading through my skin. Slowly, he drags it upward, the blade’s presence both dangerous and intoxicating. My heart feels like it’s going to explode, but I keep my face impassive, unwilling to give him the reaction he’s looking for.
“Open,” he says, his voice commanding. When I don’t move, he taps my inner thigh with the blade. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Still on my knees, I grip his biceps for support and spread my legs.
“Good girl,” he praises, his voice thick with satisfaction.
I glare at him. “Go to hell.”
“Already there. Because every second I’m not inside you is fucking torture.”
His other hand is rough and warm as he slides it up my ribs, molding to the curves of my breasts. He flicks his thumbs over my nipples, teasing, testing, waiting for me to react. I bite the inside of my cheek, determined not to make a sound.
He chuckles darkly, dipping his head. “Stubborn.”
I inhale sharply as his tongue flicks over my nipple, his teeth grazing just enough to hurt. To punish. Ghost watches me with that lazy, knowing smile, as he pulls my nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. But he’s not in a rush. He’s savoring this.
Savoring me.
I hold his gaze, refusing to break first. Even when he snakes his fingers inside my underwear. He grips the material at the crotch, barely touching me, but somehow making me wet. Then, with a sharp tug, he rips the fabric away like it’s nothing.
I gasp at the burn against my skin and the sudden exposure. Before I can recover, Ghost spreads me. He hums in approval, dragging his fingers along my damp pussy before pressing slow, torturous circles against my clit.
He continues stroking me, the pressure increasing along with his pace. Pleasure builds within me, the intensity almost too much to bear. I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to thrust against his hand, desperate for release.
“You don’t deserve this,” he whispers against my lips. “You ignored me for weeks, after I saved your lifeandmade you come.”
He pulls his fingers away.
I blink at him, lost in a haze of lust. “What…”
Ghost chuckles, roughly gripping my chin, and then using his thumb to smear the effects of my arousal over my lips. He presses his mouth against mine, the kiss hard and bruising. Demanding yet desperate.
I remain still, unresponsive. Even when he flicks his tongue between my lips, coaxing me to taste myself. He wraps his other hand around the back of my neck, pinning me in place as he brings the knife’s handle to my clit.
I wrench back, breaking the kiss. “Don’t,” I gasp, panic flooding me.
“I’m not.Youare.” Ghost presses the handle against me. “Use it.”
The feeling is cold and alien, but as I slowly move against it, the foreign texture rubs against my clit in a way that’s erotic. I do it again, faster and harder to add more pressure, and the friction sends sparks of pleasure through me. Ghost groans when I start panting.
“That’s right,” he growls, his voice rough. “Rub that pussy all over it. Show me how you’re going to do the same to my cock.”
