"Breathe," he commanded. "Trust me. This is about the edge of danger, the illusion of control. I would never truly hurt you."
The knife continued its journey, mapping my body while his free hand tormented my aching cunt. The combination was overwhelming—pleasure and the threat of pain so intricately woven, I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
After what felt like hours of exquisite torture, the restraints around my wrists clicked open, then my ankles. Suddenly I was free, though I made no move to escape.
"Ride me," he commanded, settling into the chair himself after quickly shedding his clothes. His cock stood proud and ready, and I couldn't suppress a moan at the sight of him.
I straddled him eagerly, my back to the door as he'd positioned himself. The angle let me sink down slowly onto his length, feeling every inch as he filled me completely.
"That's it," he encouraged, his hands gripping my hips when I began to move. "Ride my cock like the perfect little goddess you are."
I established a rhythm that had us both gasping, the knife temporarily forgotten while more primal needs took over. But Alexander wasn't done with his games. I felt cool steel against my back as he traced the blade down my spine while I rode him.
"So beautiful," he breathed, the knife following the curve of my waist. "Taking my cock so perfectly while trusting me with this blade."
I turned in his lap to face him, and the new angle sent shockwaves through my system. His eyes burned into mine, dark with desire and something deeper that made my heart skip.
"Come for me now," he ordered, his thumb finding my clit as I continued to ride him. "Show me how much you love being owned by me."
The command sent me spiralling over the edge. I came with a scream that echoed off the stone walls, my inner walls clenching around him rhythmically as pleasure consumed me.
While our breathing slowly returned to normal, Alexander cupped my face in his hands, his expression serious despite our intimate position.
"Aoife," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I love you."
The words hit me like a physical blow, emotions I'd kept carefully locked away threatening to overwhelm me. "Alexander?—"
A branch snapped outside, the sound sharp in the sudden silence. My breath caught, eyes widening as Alexander tensed beneath me.
The explosion of pain in my side came with the sound of gunfire. I gasped, feeling warmth spreading across my stomach as Alexander's hand came away from my abdomen stained with blood.
"Well, well," came a familiar voice from the doorway, dripping with manic satisfaction. "What a touching scene."
Beatrice stood silhouetted in the entrance, a smoking gun in her trembling hand. Her eyes were wild, her smile delirious.
"Did you really think you could replace me so easily?" she asked, giggling. "Did you think I would just ... disappear?"
My vision blurred as shock and blood loss took hold. The last thing I heard was Beatrice's laughter, high and broken, echoing through the hunting lodge as the darkness claimed me.
Twenty-Five
ALEXANDER MOORE
Time fracturedinto crystalline moments of horror.
Blood. So much fucking blood streaming from the hole in Aoife's abdomen, just below her ribs, pooling beneath us on the stone floor. Her eyes rolled back, consciousness flickering like a candle in the wind.
"Did you really think you could replace me so easily?" Beatrice's shrill voice cut through the roar in my ears. "Did you think I would just ... disappear?"
My hand moved instinctively to the Glock tucked beneath the chair cushion, the weight of it familiar as breathing. The trigger, smooth against my finger.
Beatrice's wild eyes met mine through the gun smoke still curling from her barrel. For a mere moment, I saw her as she truly was—not the polished society wife, not the broken victim, but a rabid animal that had to be put down.
"My turn," I snarled.
The Glock bucked in my hand. Once. Twice. Three times.
The first bullet punched through her sternum with a wet crack, spinning her sideways. Her mouth opened in a perfectO of surprise, gun tumbling from nerveless fingers. The second caught her in the throat, silencing whatever last words she'd planned to spit at us. Blood sprayed across the stone doorframe in an arc of crimson.
