He shifted his weight to reach under the mattress, where he stashed his blade at night. Slipping it from between the sheet and the box spring, with the barest of touches, he put the point to the base of her neck.
The fingers of her right hand twitched on the pillow, and theshallow breaths she’d been taking became pants. If he were face-to-face with her, he knew the air she expelled would be warm and wet, her mouth already producing lubrication for him to slide his cock inside it and fuck her face hard. She loved to play on the edge of danger, giving into her dark desires that she would deny to everyone else, yet knowing she was safe to indulge with him.
“That’s it,” he crooned. “Let the fear in. Taste it. Savor it.”
She whimpered, a high gasp, barely audible, but his cue that she followed his lead.
Without warning, he pulled the flannel shirt collar off her skin and proceeded to make a clean slice down the back, the two sides falling out of his hands to expose the smooth expanse of her back. Using the blunt edge of the knife, he drew a curved course between her vertebrae, from the hairline at the top of her neck to the indent at the small of her back.
Turning the blade down and away from her body, he leaned on his fists on the mattress and dragged the flat of his tongue up her spinal column. She tried to buck against him, but couldn’t. Her fingers splayed on the pillow. Soft mewls fell from her mouth.
The key to this game was for her not to move. If she did, she might accidentally nick herself on the tip of the blade, or worse. His famous control allowed him to watch her body, listen to her sounds, and realize when he’d pushed her to the edge. It allowed her to feel safe.
Then, when she reached the end of her ability to stay still, he would put the blade away and fuck her until she was on the edge of consciousness.
“Don’t move,belleza, or the game ends too soon. You know neither of us wants that.”
He felt a tremor race through her body, felt it tickle his balls, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that her pussy had just flooded with arousal. When he cut the pants from her, he’d find the material soaked through to the sheets, and the tops of her thighs slick with her honey.
Way back when, he’d warned her he wasn’t a good man. That he would ruin her.
She hadn’t cared. She allowed him to lure her into his nightmare. Sometimes, she even begged him to do it.
Sitting up on his knees, he pulled the waistband of her pajama pants as far from her skin as he could and brought the knife down, rending the elastic and flannel. The knife clattered to the floor as he stood at the side of the bed, roughly yanking the ripped material down her legs, but leaving her caught in the shirt underneath her.
“Keep your head and your chest on the bed, but get on your knees. I want that ass high in the air for me.”
She tried to follow his orders, but she was breathing so heavily, already gone with arousal, that she struggled to do as he demanded. Climbing back onto the bed behind her, he grabbed her hips and helped her into position in the center of the bed. “Spread your legs for me, Leeza. As far as you can without losing your balance.”
When she’d anchored herself, he looked between her thighs to see a bright sheen from the apex, forming rivulets creeping toward her knees, now that the center of gravity had changed position. His right hand immediately slid between her folds, gathering her juices, and he brought them backward, tracing around her back entrance.
Trepidation laced her plea. “It’s been too long, Fanso.”
“Shh… You used to trust me.” He kissed her just above the valley of her ass. “Can you trust me again? Trust me to know what you can handle,belleza,” he cajoled.
A long sigh passed between her lips. “I trust you.”
And there it was. The real answer to whether or not they could fight their way back to one another.
She was right. This couldn’t be “fixed.” It could only be rebuilt. That started with trust.
He kissed her hip, murmuring praise, taunting her control, encouraging her to hold on, all without letting his lips leave her skin.
His left hand curled around her hip to the front, slid between her legs, then dragged her slick to her clit. He tapped it twice,lightning quick, then swirled around the tiny nub without touching it.
Meanwhile, his right hand went back to its original intention, making sure to coat his middle finger with her wetness and press against her back entrance again. This time, he allowed the tip, only up to the first knuckle, to slip inside. When she moaned at the intrusion, he stopped, reminding her body of what it meant to be touched here once again.
When she settled, he began to ease the tip back and forth, allowing her to get used to the sensations, his other hand still working around her clit to associate the pleasure she felt there with the sensations at her other entrance.
When her whimpers began to ease to something else entirely, he worked the tip in further, as far as the second knuckle. He could tell it pinched based on the hiss of air she sucked in. “Un minuto, belleza. Let me ease it.”
The hand at her front moved between her legs again, this time burying two fingers inside her soaked channel as his thumb spread her fluids around her clit. At the same time, he kissed his way over the span of her lower back, brought his mouth close to the finger buried inside her from behind, and then allowed the saliva pooling in his mouth to coat his finger and her entrance so his shallow thrusts became smoother.
“There’s my girl,” he praised. “You take my fingers so well. Does it feel as good as you remember,belleza?”
“More,” she whispered.
“You want more? What do you say when you want more,mi amor?”
