A dull ache blooms behind my temples, throbbing in rhythm with my pulse. And then, her teeth sink into the other side of my neck, spreading the pain that snaps through me like electricity. Arough groan escapes before I can stop it, caught halfway between restraint and surrender.
My hand finds her arm on instinct. She goes still, her breath hot against my skin. The tension in her body feels dangerous, like a string drawn to the breaking point. I could push—tighten my grip, take control—but instead, I let my hand travel slowly upward until my fingers find her shoulder.
Her inhale quivers, and the sound reverberates through me, stirring something deeper. My fingertips trace the faint ridges of her scars, brushing over them like they’re something sacred. She doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. My heartbeat echoes against the steel’s edge, syncing with the twitch of my cock and the ache that follows it.
It’s a maddening mixture—pleasure and pain folding into each other until I can’t tell where one ends. My body wants to give in, but my mind fights back, desperate to hold the line.
Crossing this line with Estella pulls at me like fire, tempting and sharp, yet I know she won’t welcome it. She started this because she craves control, and even though every part of me aches to reclaim it, for now, I let the illusion stretch, letting her occupy a fragile, invisible bubble of safety.
I don’t want to drive her away. The edge of pain only becomes pleasure when it is consensual, when it belongs to both of us, balanced and exact.
Her teeth find my skin again, sinking harder this time, pulling me back from the thoughts. Her breath quickens, brushing against the trail of marks she’s left behind. Her free hand moves down, slow and certain, until it finds my inner thigh.
The grip she puts on it is firm and possessive, holding me in place while her mouth works against my neck, leaving heat, pressure, and the kind of hunger that doesn’t fade when the lights go out.
My hand slides into her hair, fingers threading through the honey-blonde strands. She lets out a low sound—something between a sigh and a moan—her teeth still grazing my skin. I tighten my grip, pulling her closer, needing more of her warmth, her defiance, the fire she carries like a second skin.
I close my eyes, breath catching as my chest rises against hers. She moves over me, the mattress yielding beneath our weight, as the thick air pulses with static. Her mouth finds the marks she’s left, and when her tongue drags lightly across them, I let out a loud growl.
Each movement blurs the line—the sharp sting of her teeth, the pull of her lips, the slow burn of skin against skin, the steady presence of the blade against my neck. The feeling rises in relentless waves, each one heavier, more consuming than the last, until the world beyond her touch dissolves entirely, leaving only the pulse of her presence and the heat it drags through me.
She tilts her head, pressing closer, her breath brushing the edge of my jaw before she nips at it, sending another flash of pain through my system. My grip tightens in her hair, guiding her back to me.
My eyes are still closed, and I can only feel her hand moving into my pants before she glides it inside my boxers, grabbing my hard cock without a warning. Another growl, a louder one, rips from my heaving chest, and I feel her grinning against my skin, satisfied with the outcome.
There’s something intoxicating about surrendering to her like this—about letting her take control and pull me under. Every nerve in my body responds to her rhythm, every breath feeding the heat between us. Yet beneath it all, something darker stirs, pressing against the edges of my restraint, whispering to take over.
A subtle tremor hums beneath my skin, a sharp flicker of discomfort rising from somewhere I cannot name. Yet herslowness, the deliberate precision of every movement she offers and withholds, swallows it whole, pressing it into the shadows where it can no longer reach me.
Estella doesn’t give me the time to process any of this. The thoughts and fantasies swirl together into a dizzying, chaotic haze as she brushes her fingers across my cock, sliding them up and down slowly. Smearing the pre-cum, she wraps her hand around me, giving me a light stroke.
My body tries to move on instinct as the electric pleasure ripples through me, and I feel the blade pressing even harder. Something hot begins to drip down my neck, and I don’t have to think hard to realize that’s my blood.
“I love this,” she whispers, leaning to the spot. “This doesn’t feel boring.”
Then, her wet tongue drags flatly across my skin, and she moves it up, slowly licking off the blood.
My breathing quickens as I sense the approach of my orgasm. My body coils tight, each pulse of pleasure crashing through me like relentless waves. Her hand gives me light squeezes occasionally before she resumes her pace, steadily stroking me while her body twitches against mine with every movement.
I don’t want to cum yet, but every taut second, every lingering glance, every touch of her lips that I’ve memorized, every thought I’ve chased and lingered over, all of it combines into a force I cannot resist, pulling me forward with a gravity that demands surrender.
The world shatters into fragments of sensation. Her blade bites at my neck, blood glistening as she draws it to her lips with ravenous intent. Her hand presses wrapped around me, anchoring and demanding, while mine remains locked in her hair.
I do not resist.
I do not fucking move.
I exist only in this chaotic, intoxicatingnow.
I break into a thousand fragments as she pushes me over the edge, the climax ripping through me in unstoppable torrents. A dull throb blooms in my skull, a faint headache winding through the haze as my body tenses one last time, tearing a raw moan from my lips.
Electric tremors crawl along my nerves, each pulse matched by the heat of her pressed against me, her body radiating a warmth that drags me deeper into oblivion. Time stretches and unravels, dissolving into nothing, the line between right and wrong erased long ago.
When I finally open my eyes, it’s slow and tentative, each blink heavy with awareness. Her fingers brush my neck in soft, fleeting touches, delicate and teasing. My gaze falls on her, focused entirely on me. The blade hovers nearby, still present, yet it no longer bites into my skin.
The realization drifts in gradually, seeping through me like molten metal, until something fierce coils around my chest and thrums through my veins. Raw hunger rises within me, unyielding even after the intensity of what she just did. I study her, catching the fleeting lapse in her focus, the smallest crack in her control.
Her mistake.
