“Yes. I didn’t think I would but… You shaped the future.”
The glint in her eyes should have warned me. Except it didn’t. One second she stood in front of me, and the next she was slithering to the floor.
When she stared at me, her blown-out pupils betrayed her arousal. She spread her legs for better stability, but her tight pencil skirt didn’t have much give.
Reaching into my pocket, attention fixed on her, I pondered the smorgasbord of delights in front of me. Then, coming to a decision, I swept down, grabbed her so fast that she yelped in my ear, and I plunked her on the bed.
There was something about seeing her on the floor… It didn’t do it for me. I wanted her to be comfortable. I craved her pleasure, not her aches and pains.
Once she settled on the mattress, her round eyes found mine again as I enacted my second decision—I handed her my knife. “Cut your skirt,liunissa. Let me see that pretty pussy.”
Tone coy, she teased, “I might be wearing panties.”
“Cut them off too.”
She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth but accepted the knife. Her fingers stroked over the shaft like I wanted them to be stroking my cock.
“What will I wear tomorrow?”
“I packed extra clothes. Luigi will bring them in later.”
“How did you know?—”
“I’m always prepared.”
“That’s fascinating. You were a Boy Scout?”
“I was.” My head tilted to the side. “My knife skills are well earned.”
Both of us hissed as, gazes locked on one another, she set the tip of the blade to the taut central line of her bodice. It slipped through the fabric like butter, slicing the thick material to unveil her new ink to my fascinated stare.
With her tits free, her brand on display, a brand I couldn’t wait to trace with my tongue once it healed, she moved the blade to the skirt of her dress and copied the motion.
Once it gaped, her throat bobbed as she spread her legs wider still. Somehow, the image was a thousand times more powerful thanks to the wrist cuffs she wore.
Another brand.
One only women in our line could and would ever wear from this moment on.
And she was precisely that.
My crest proved it.
Even if we didn’t share last names.
Yet.
Beneath the skirt, in the shadows between her inner thighs, she delighted me by plucking the crotch of her panties away from her slit. I saw it was darker than the rest of the silken fabric—wet for me. I moaned in delight, hungry for the taste of her, desperate for the sight…
My new favorite knife did the work for me. One second, silks and laces covered her from my starved eyes. The next, she revealed her pussy to me. But that wasn’t the best part—she turned the hilt toward her slit and slipped the leather shaft over her clit.
Nostrils flaring, I watched as she rubbed herself with my knife, hips pumping as she caressed the sensitive bud.
“Does it fill you?” I rumbled, wondering if she’d even try.
She settled so that, somehow, her knees rolled inward while her thighs angled outward. That had to be Pilates because one second she knelt, and the next her ass was close to the mattress.
I groaned when she slid the knife farther down and thrust the thick hilt into her cunt until she hit the quillon—the wider crossguard.
