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“Hold it.” I flip the handle over, pressing the worn leather grip directly into her palm. “Hold it to my throat.”

Sloane stares at me. Genuine, unadulterated shock washes over her sharp features, erasing the lingering haze of her orgasm.

“Why?” she breathes.

My chest heaves. Adrenaline pounds a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

“Because I’ve always wanted to use my knives during sex,” I confess, the truth burning its way out of my throat. “And the thought of you holding the blade… the thought of you possessing that much control over my life while you ride me…” I swallow hard, my cock throbbing so violently against my stomach it actually aches. “It makes me want to ruin everything. It makes me want to come right fucking now.”

A nervous, breathy chuckle escapes her mouth. She looks down at the blade. The razor-sharp edge. The deadly point that finds its mark every single night I perform under the Big Top.

Then she looks at my exposed throat.

She shifts her weight, sliding her knees down to bracket my hips. Her long fingers tighten around the hilt. She lowers the blade, and the cold steel presses flush against the frantic pulse point jumping wildly in my neck.

“Like this?”

“Exactly like that.”

I reach down, wrapping my large hands around her bare hips. I guide her down, and she sinks onto my rigid cock, taking the entire thick, aching length of me in one smooth, agonizing glide. The tight, wet heat of her inner walls swallows me whole. The friction is catastrophic. My vision actually blurs at the edges.

She sets the pace. Fast. Relentless.

Every time she thrusts down, the pressure of the blade shifts against my throat. A deadly, intoxicating reminder of exactly who holds the power in this bed. I am the man who throws the knife. Now, I am the target. I am completely surrendered, my life resting in the hands of the one woman in the world who doesn’t bat an eye at flying steel.

“Fuck, Sloane,” I grind my hips up, meeting her downward plunge, burying myself to the hilt. “You feel so fucking good. Tighter than anything I’ve ever felt in my life.”

Her damp blonde hair falls around her face in wild ropes. The severe, guarded lines of her expression vanish entirely, replaced by absolute, filthy lust.

“I’ve got you,” she whispers. Her voice drops an octave, turning dark and rough. The steel bites a fraction deeper into my skin, and I drag a sharp intake of breath into my lungs. “Don’t move. Don’t fight it.”

“I won’t,” I promise. “I’m yours. Do whatever the fuck you want to me.”

She increases her speed, and the wet slap of our bodies colliding fills the quiet trailer. The heat building in the base of my spine turns unbearable, the sensory overload frying my brain. The slick, tight slide of her pussy gripping my cock. The cold, threatening bite of the steel against my jugular. The scent of her damp skin mixed with the sharp tang of cheap beer.

“Look at what you’re doing to me,” I gasp, my hands gripping her thighs. “Fuck, Archer, you’re milking me dry.”

I drag my hands up her torso, cupping her perfect breasts. My thumbs flick roughly over her tight, aching nipples, pinching the sensitive peaks.

She arches her back, a loud, filthy moan tearing from her throat.

The sudden movement causes her hand to slip.

A sharp, stinging burn slices across my neck. She nicks the skin. Just a shallow cut, but a bead of warm blood instantly wells up, trailing a hot path down my collarbone.

Sloane gasps. Her blue eyes go wide with horror. She immediately tries to pull the knife away from my throat.

“No.” I grip her wrist, locking her hand in place, forcing the bloodied blade to stay pressed against my skin. “Keep it there. Don’t stop.”

The thought of my own blood on the edge of my blade, paired with the absolute, predatory focus returning to her gaze, shatters my control completely.

My balls tighten. The pressure hits the absolute breaking point.

“Sloane, I’m coming,” I roar. My voice sounds guttural and raw, bouncing off the thin metal walls of the trailer. “I’m coming right fucking now.”

“Give it to me,” she commands. She bears down hard against my pelvis, grinding her swollen clit directly against my pubic bone. “Now, Cole.”

She hits the perfect angle and screams my name, her inner walls clenching down violently around my cock in rapid, brutal, milking spasms.