Underneath, she has no bra.I swallow as she bares her perfect breasts, remembering the soft fullness under my fingers.Her nipples are tipped in silver rings.Flicking my tongue ring, I know just how that feels.I crave the sensation.
Her hair’s short now, and I find I like it better.Exposes the perfect curve of her long neck and spine.
I crouch behind her, the head of my pierced cock brushing against her shorts.Touching her shoulder, I slide the knife’s blade down her back, not cutting.Not yet.She shivers so hard I feel it in my teeth.
“That’s it,” I whisper.“Stay still.”
“I’m not scared.”
“I know.”
The pride in my voice is dangerous.Addictive.I press the flat of the blade to her skin, dragging slow, deliberate lines over her shoulder, her ribs, the small of her back.She trembles with every inch.
“Power is about showing someone what you could do,” I tell her, breath hot against her ear.“And choosing whether to do it.”
“Royal…” she whispers, voice cracking.
“You feel that?”
“Yes.”
“You trust me not to hurt you?”
She nods.
“Say it.”
“I trust you.”
Those three words hit harder than anything in my life.I shift the knife, press the blunt tip along her lower back, then draw an invisible line.
Another.
A third.
Forming a shape.
An R.
She gasps, sharp, broken, perfect.
“You’re marking me,” she breathes.
“Not the skin,” I murmur, leaning in.“Not yet.”
“Then what?”
“The part of you no one else touches.”
I bend, mouth brushing the trail I drew, tongue tracing the blade’s cold memory into her flesh.
She collapses forward onto her hands, shaking.
“Royal… please…”
I slide one hand down her stomach, stopping just before going into her shorts.Where she wants me most.
“You keep pushing me,” I growl into her ear.“And one day I’m not gonna stop.”
