I could teach meditation gurus a thing or two about staying in the present.
It’s easy when the stakes are high.
“Paying attention? This is how you’ll take my cock,” Kai murmurs, sliding the ice pick’s handle all the way to the back of my throat. “Deep and slow.”
I try to speak, but the wooden handle garbles my words. As soon as he slides the ice pick out, I let out a theatrical gag.
“Not unless you want me puking on you,” I say, my voice thick. “I’m not an expert in dick sucking like you?—“
I cut off with a laugh when Kai yanks the ice pick away, his arm uncurling from around my throat. Dragging air gratefully into my lungs, I cup my hand over my throat as I flip around to keep him in sight.
He’s not on the sofa anymore, but he’s still holding the ice pick.
By the handle.
“You had a fuckinggunon me,” he grates. “Think I did that shit willingly?”
“Maybe not at first. But you sure got in the mood real fa?—”
He darts forward, and my teeth clamp shut over what I’d been going to say when that sharp point of metal pricks me beneath my jaw.
I try not to swallow. Try not to move my jaw too much. “Like you’re really gonna hurt me.”
Kai grits his teeth. “Have before.” He scrapes the tip of the ice pick down my throat, to my collarbone. It’s only then that I realize how hard I’m breathing, my chest hitching with every frantic inhale.
He flips the ice pick over in his hand and taps its wooden handle against my collarbone, sending a dull thump through my rib cage with every word.
“What makes you think I’m gonna stop now?”
I’m so fucking tempted to snatch the pick from his hand. But if I’m not fast and accurate as hell, I’ll regret the attempt.
It’s not just fear pumping through my veins right now.
There’s a touch of excitement. Anticipation.
A hint of dark lust.
But I must have given something away, a glimmer in my eyes, maybe a twitch of my lips.
Kai frowns.
Then he smirks as he uses the edge of the ice pick to lift the bottom of my shirt. “Off.”
“Fuck you.”
The point of the ice pick dimples my skin just below my belly button. “Good girls get treats. Bad girls get internal bleeding.”
He tilts his head, sending his eyes into shadow as he angles away from the spotlight. I can’t make out how serious he is right now, but whether or not this is part of the game, I don’t feel the need to test him.
Is it cold in here?
Yes.
Would I prefer to keep my top on?
Maybe. But it’s so damp, I’m not really sure if it’s keeping me warm or making me colder.
Also, I never bothered putting on a bra tonight. Melissa’s jacket was thick enough to hide a nipple stand, and honestly, I’ve gotten used to going around without one. The top was silky enough that the friction wouldn’t annoy me either.
