Letting her hips sink down further, she pressed her center against the bulge in his sweatpants. He remembered Dragon’s conversation the other day about how Cassandra had reacted to him wearing a pair of them when he joined her for her morning yoga session. Apparently, they were a turn on for women, and he’d raided his friend’s closet to steal a pair when he’d gone through his own to find he didn't own any. Well, none in gray, and he didn't know if the color made a difference or if any sweatpants would do.
Not that he’d known he’d wind up in there.
Maybe subconsciously he had, and when he’d found Whitney sleeping on the floor, he’d stretched out beside her, content to doze and watch over her, unable to leave in case she was sleeping on the floor because she’d been afraid.
From the way her cheeks had reddened when he asked why she wasn't in bed, he didn't think it had anything to do with fear. She was feeling things she’d never experienced before, and it was confusing her. Something he was pretty sure her genius brain wasn't used to.
“More,” she whimpered, pressing harder against his thickening erection.
Happy to oblige, Blade used his grip on her hips to grind her into him, rocking her backward and forward, then circling her slightly. At the same time, he nudged the tip of his tongue against her lips, commanding her to open for him, and she quickly obliged.
Plundering her mouth like it was a trove of treasure, she moaned and thrust her chest forward, and he didn't hesitate to take advantage. Keeping one hand on her hips, moving her against him, his other hand grabbed one of her breasts, kneading it roughly as he closely monitored her reaction. Just because he liked his sex hot and bloody didn't mean he was going to force that on her. If she didn't like it, he’d find a way togive her what she wanted. In the end, she was the sexiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and he was coming regardless.
“More,” she whimpered again.
Framing her face, he pulled her back enough that their gazes could meet. “Are you sure you know what you’re asking for?”
“I kissed you,” she said like that explained everything.
“Going to need more explicit consent than that, darlin’,” he told her. Kissing didn't mean sex, and sex certainly didn't mean playing with his knife.
“You want to cut me,” she said so pragmatically that he almost choked on a laugh.
“And how do you feel about that?” he asked as his thumbs caressed her cheekbones.
“I never thought about it before. I didn't know it was a thing, but then again, I don’t know anything about sex outside of what I've read about the specifics. I know penises go in vaginas, and I know stimulation, both external and internal, can cause a woman to have an orgasm, but I don’t know how to make that translate to like … actual sex,” she finished with a shrug, like she had considered herself and found herself lacking.
With uncharacteristic tenderness, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“When you mentioned that you like using your knife in the bedroom, the tingling between my legs got more intense, so I'm assuming that means I like the idea. I want to do this, Blade.” Lifting her hands, she pressed them to his. “I created that new identity because I wanted to be free, I wanted to be normal, I wanted to live a real life. I want to have sex with you, I don’t think I’ll be very good at it, but I'm always good at everything and … I kind of like the unknown of this.”
“There is no way in hell you won't be perfect, darlin’.” Returning his hands to her hips, he lifted her along with him,carrying her to the bed and tossing her down onto it, making her bounce and then giggle.
The sound was stunning, and it obviously caught them both by surprise because her eyes widened, then softened and grew watery.
“Strip out of those clothes, darlin’, I want you naked,” he told her, and although she blushed, as he’d known she would, she hurried to strip off the fuzzy sleep pants and long-sleeve T-shirt she’d put on when she got ready for bed.
As he watched her, Blade pulled out his knife. It was always with him, even when he hadn't been planning on using it, he just couldn’t seem to go anywhere without it. Now he held it, the point pressing into one of his fingers as he spun it around in circles, watching as Whitney shimmied out of her clothes.
The sight of the thin red lines on her skin from where he’d cut her before stalled his arousal.
Pain.
Not the kind that got him hard, but the kind that destroyed.
What if he hadn't scared Whitney into telling him the truth? Would he have killed her? Taken an innocent life? Deprived the world of something special?
“I understand, Blade,” she said softly, running a finger over the already scabbed-over wound. “You thought I was one of them, and you aren't wrong. Iamone of them. I understand if that means you don’t want?—”
With a growl, he cut her off, shoving off his sweatpants like he found them offensive, and pounced on her. “Don’t want you? Is that what you were going to say, darlin’?” he demanded as he held the knife to her throat.
Although her eyes widened, he quite clearly saw the arousal dancing in them, so he didn't move the knife, and when she gave a shaky nod, a small line of blood appeared on her slender neck.
“I want you more than I want to breathe. You're so innocent. Do you have any idea how badly I want to corrupt you? But make no mistake about it, darlin’, I would be corrupting you. We do this and there’s no going back.”
“Don’t want to go back, never back, only forward.”
Her bravery, her trust, handing something so special to him when he was the least deserving person to take this gift from her, had him growing almost impossibly hard. But he had to prepare her, this wasn't just sex it was her first time, and he wanted it to be everything she deserved.
