Page 118 of Make You Mine

“Beg.”

I’m the one edging myself at this point. But begging means letting him win this game. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. I don’t⁠—

He clutches my neck harder—barely leaving enough room for me to breathe—and pulling half of the handle out at the same time.

Fuck.

“P-Please,” I whimper.

“Please what, my wife?”

Asshole. “Please, let me come.”

“That’s it. Not so hard, is it?”

He restarts, pushing the knife further and sliding it in and out, doing magic tricks on my swollen pussy again.

I can’t stop myself. I’m digging my nails into his back now, grinding toward the knife and thrusting.

I want this. I need this release. I’ve held it up for so long. I’ve dreamed about this.

I’m. Almost. There.

I’m a mess. Looking into his mask-covered eyes. Then closing my own, and opening them again. Sounds I never thought I’d be able to invent leave my mouth.

“I’m coming.”

I rise on my toes as I let the orgasm take over me, and I ride the wave of pleasure bursting out.

My body shakes, weakening as the sensation peaks. I let myself falter.

He pulls the handle out from inside me, and the fullness is replaced with an immediate void and deep yearning.

This was amazing—my pussy is still throbbing—and yet, it wasn’t enough. Something is wrong with me because I toyed with danger, and I want more.

I want his cock inside me.

He showcases the handle soaked in my fluids, turning it from one side to the other so I can see. Then, he brings the knife to my mouth, carefully holding the start of the blade with his palm, the handle facing me. It’s glistening with the same fluids that are dripping down my thighs.

I’m in the perfect position to press it right into his throat if I catch him unfocused. It would make the perfect mess. The perfect cut. I could be done with him.

But I don’t

“Taste it,” he says, my pussy clenching with his words. “Taste yourself on the knife, my wife. Open wide.”

He pushes the edge of the handle into my mouth, forcing my lips to part.

A mix of saltiness and sweetness hits my tongue and makes me almost gag from how deep he pushes it, yet I comply. He bobs the knife in and out of my mouth, and I suck it.

The thought amuses me.

I am practically giving a blow job to the knife’s handle.

Why is it so hot?

“Look at you, so greedy for it,” he says, his fake voice deeper than usual. “Are you imagining it’s my cock?”

I nod.