“You want to see what you do to me?”I ask, voice rough enough to scrape bone.
She nods.
“Use your words.”
“I… yes.”
That’s all it takes.
Heaving it out, I wrap my hand around my cock, already hard, aching, the kind of ache that turns a man wild.Becki’s eyes drop instantly, pupils blown wide.I stroke once, slow, deliberate, and her whole body jerks like she felt it.
“You see this?”I hiss.
She nods again.
Too breathless to speak.
“This is from you walking around in my shirt.From you smelling like fucking peach shampoo.From you lying in my bed, in my cum, like you’re waiting for me.”
“Royal…” My name is a tremble on her lips.
“You know what knife play is?”I ask.
Her breath stutters.“I think I do.”
“No.You don’t.”
I lean forward, stroking harder now, breath heavier.
“Ain’t just about pain.It’s about control.It’s about trust.It’s about putting the sharpest thing you got against the softest place on someone’s body and knowing they won’t move.”
Her thighs squeeze together at that.
I kick them apart with my boot.
“Don’t hide from me.”
She whimpers.God help me.And it’s the dirtiest, sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.
When I get close, too close, I stop suddenly, breath ragged, the urge to finish clashing with the urge to break her slower.
Cock still out, I stand.
She watches me like she’s starving.
I pull the knife from my pocket.
Her breath trips.
“You said you want to know what I’d do to you,” I murmur, stepping behind her.“If I didn’t stop.”
“I do.”
“Then get on your knees.”
Her chain rattles as she slides off the mattress, kneeling on the cold concrete.
“Take off my shirt,” I demand.
