“I’m not telling you.” Her back straightens in defiance, and her breasts squish tighter between the ropes.
Jesus fucking Christ. It’s there. The faint ridges and two round edges pressing on the side of her left breast reveal an indent.
“Pervert.” Her cheeks flush.
“You’ve got great tits, Princess. Are they real, or did Daddy buy those too?”
Her eyes hood with anger, and her upper lip rises in a silent snarl.
“Fuck you.”
“I’m sure you want to.”
Her face reddens as her anger radiates like heat, but her pupils dilate.
Good to know I’m not wrong.
“Is that what you want from me, Princess? A good, hard fuck? Do you want to ride this?” My hand lowers to grip my hard cock from beneath my jeans.
“It’s a bit small. I can’t see it.” She smirks up at me, trying to piss me off further.
Damn, the things I could do with that smart mouth…
“There’s something you don’t know, Princess.” Reaching behind me, I slip my knife from the holster.
Her eyes widen as her skin pales. Her gaze is transfixed on the knife as I step closer.
I tilt the blade downward. And plunge
She whimpers as the shred of ripping fabric fills the air. I slice the skirt down the middle, leaving a large slit between her thighs.
“When women are turned on, we can smell it.” I keep the blade between her legs, leaning in closer in case she tries anything dumb. “And you smell, Princess. So. Fucking. Sweet.”
“Go to hell.”
I straighten up as she glares at me. Slipping the blade back into its sheath, I cross my arms and stare down to admire my handiwork. With her upper thighs pressed together, I can’t see her panties, but I was right.
Her musk and vanilla perfume mingle in the air. She smells delicious.
“That’s an interesting piercing.” My eyes dip back to her breast. “In fact, I’d say it’s shaped like a bobby pin.”
Her eyes widen as it dawns on her what I’m saying. “Side boob piercings are all the rage in Europe.”
“We’re not in Europe, Princess. If we were, you wouldn’t be here.” Because healthcare bullshit like this only exists in America. “How about we make a deal?”
I crouch down until we’re eye level and she’s staring at me with caution—as she should. You know, masked serial killer and all.
“What kind of deal?”
“It’s simple. I cuff you to the wall again and untie one of your hands. You give me back the bobby pin. Then I’ll let you untie yourself from the chair.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then my hands get to explore those perfect tits of yours until I’m satisfied there’s nothing else you’re hiding in there.”
Her lips pop open in shock for a moment.
“That’s right. I said perfect.”
