Her breath hitches when I flip the knife, the edge hovering a whisper above her skin. I drag it slowly through the air above both hands. She rolls her wrists, testing the belt’s give.
A shiver runs through her entire body when she finds none, and I can feel her trying to control it, to hide her fear. She’s braver than most, I’ll give her that.
I hadn’t meant to do any of this. Honestly, I wasn’t going to do anything but get my lighter and maybe punish-fuck her beforeforcing her to help me with my mole problem. But the second she lied, even when there was no point, I couldn’t stop myself.
Raven’s bravado keeps pushing me. Making me want to see just how far she’ll let me go. I trace the knife down the center of her body, between her breasts, stopping where her shirt has ridden up her flat stomach.
“I should probably tell you I haven’t decided what to do with you yet.” A lie. But fear is a spice best savored slowly.
My gaze follows the knife’s path, lingering on the rapid pulse visible at the base of her throat. Her breathing turns ragged, her body alternating between tensing and forced relaxation as she tries to master her fear.
I can see the calculation in her eyes. She’s weighing her options, assessing the threat, looking for a way out. There isn’t one.
Not for the first time, she tries to speak, so I decide to let her and remove my hand. “What are you dying to say, Little Thief?”
“I-I’m not scared of you, Matteo,” she spits, each word dripping with contempt and delicious fear.
Sighing, I move one hand to her cheek and cup it. “I know you say that to save face, but it really just makes you seem stupid.”
She bares her teeth, a growl working its way up her throat as she renews her efforts to get me off her. But no matter how much she bucks and thrashes, I’m not going anywhere.
With a dark laugh, I command, “Lie still.”
I hook the tip of my knife under the collar of her shirt and drag it downward, the fabric parting like water. The tearing sound fills the quiet room, punctuated by her sharp intake of breath.
I continue cutting until the shirt falls open on either side of her body, exposing her to my gaze. Her breasts rise and fall fast, my cock hardens further at the sight, remembering how they felt in my mouth that night—cool metal warming against my tongue as she writhed beneath me.
This isn’t about pleasure, though. It’s about power and consequence—my power, her consequence. I slowly move the knife down her stomach, the flat of the blade leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
“I want to make sure you understand the gravity of your crime,” I rasp.
Her stomach muscles clench as the cold steel dips into her navel, then continues lower. I stop just above the waistband of her underwear, the tip of the knife pressing lightly into the soft skin.
“Tell me,” I command, voice dropping to a whisper, “what should I take from you, Raven? What would be a fair trade for my father’s lighter?”
Her eyes widen, genuine fear flashing across her face before she masks it with bravado. “You already have your lighter back,” she says, her voice trembling. “We can just call it even.”
I shake my head slowly. “That’s not how this works. Returning what you stole doesn’t erase the theft.” I drag the knife back up her body, between her breasts where I add just enough pressure for her to shudder as her breathing intensifies. “I think you need to learn your place,” I decide.
I set the knife down on the nightstand and rise to my knees. My cock twitches as I undo the button on my pants before slowly lowering the zipper. The metallic rasp fills the room as her eyes track the movement of my hands.
Her eyes widen—fear or hunger? I can’t tell. They look the same on a woman like her. And both feed the same hunger in me. Raven’s nostrils flare slightly as my length springs free, already hard in my hand.
I move forward on my knees until I’m straddling her ribs, my erection hovering above her chest. She shivers beneath me, and I catch the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips—a reflex she probably doesn’t even realize she’s making.
“Do you plan to talk me to death?” she asks, defiance sharpening her tongue despite her vulnerable position. “Because that might actually be working.”
I smile, cold and deliberate, as I lower myself without putting all my weight on her. I take her breasts in my hands, squeezing them together to create a channel for my cock. The silver barbells roll under my palms, and I tug them just enough to make her gasp.
“I think this is more fitting,” I rasp, pressing my cock between her soft mounds. “Using what’s at my disposal, and, of course, taking back what I’m owed.”
At first, I thrust slowly, sliding between her breasts, the head of my cock approaching her chin with each forward motion. As my cock slides upward on the next thrust, nearly reaching her mouth, Raven suddenly snaps her teeth at me.
A sharp, quick movement that misses by centimeters but makes its point. I hiss, grabbing her jaw with one hand, fingers digging into her cheeks until her lips part in a grimace.
“That was your second strike. You don’t want to know what happens on your third.”
When I release her jaw, angry red marks remain where my fingers pressed. I return my attention to her breasts, but this time I grasp the piercings directly between my thumb and forefinger.
