"Take your clothes off," I say once the door is locked. "Now."
"Already?"
"Don't pretend that's not what you came here for," I hiss. "Off. Now. Leave your underwear on. Fold the rest and put them on the couch. Then wait for me on your knees."
"Where are you going?"
"Just do it," I demand as I head to the kitchen. I rummage through the drawers while she strips down and slide something in my pocket. Then I approach her again. For all her faults, at least Dove can fucking listen. She's kneeling in front of the couch, her clothes in a neat pile on the floor beside her. She's wearing lingerie, something ridiculously pink and frilly. "You always wear underwear that makes you look sixteen?"
She pouts, obviously offended by my words, but I don't give a shit. Instead, I kneel next to her, tipping her chin back gently. She looks deep into my eyes, hoping for some romance story I'm not going to give her. Instead, I pull a large kitchen knife from the back of my jeans. I take off the security cover and the steel glints in the dying sunlight pouring through the window.
"See this?" I ask her softly. "Look at it. Watch how the light ricochets off it."
She follows my gaze to the knife, mesmerized by the sight. "Are you going to hurt me?"
I don't answer her. Instead, I grab the front of her bra and pull her toward me, staring into her impossibly pretty, doll-like face. "Why did you come here if not to be hurt? You know what I like, don't you, Dove? You remember our first time. And you still came here... You came even though you knew I was going to hurt you."
She swallows thickly as I put the knife to fabric and slice through the silly pink frills with one movement. I'm not too careful, because I don't need to be, and the knife nicks her, making her cry out.
"Shut up," I tell her, but my tone is gentle as I reach between her little tits and smear her blood on my fingertips. "You like it. You came here for this. You love getting hurt almost as much as I fucking love hurting you, don't you, you horny little bitch?"
She doesn't answer, just stares at me with her eyes wide and hopeful. As if she's still fucking naïve enough to think this will end well for her.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," I go on. "Last chance to leave, little bird. Door's right fucking there."
Her eyes follow my gesture to the front door, and I watch her contemplate her options. Then she gives a barely perceptible shake of her head, and I smirk at her pretty face. She had her chance, but now it's fucking gone, and things are about to get really fucking dark. I've been holding in my urges. Ignoring them. But now it's time to show Dove what happens to pretty girls like her who are just fucking dying to be somebody's victim. I'm more than willing to hurt her. To abuse her. After all, that's why she came here. So I'd give her what no other man in her life could.
I take the knife again and order her to lie down on the floor. The stupid bitch actually does it, spreading her legs for good measure. I grab her panties, snapping the elastic against her skin.
"We have to get rid of these too, don't we?" I ask softly, toying with the knife against her skin. The little cut I gave her is bleeding so prettily, making me so fucking hungry for more. Dove's eyes are feverish, hoping I'll give her more and at the same time scared of it. But I'm nowhere near done yet... The torture's only just begun. "Beg me to slice them off."
"Take them off," she whispers.
"That's not what I fucking asked for, now is it?" My voice is sugary sweet as I toy with the knife against her skin. She gasps when I cut her again. The knife is sharp, but I'm careful enough so she doesn't run off. Not yet. Not until I get what I want. "Ask again."
"Sl... Slice them off, Parker," she whispers, that sweet voice dripping with melodic need. It's like music to my ears, and I smirk at my stepsister's carbon copy as I begin cutting through the frills and lace. This time, I'm careful not to cut her, and she exhales in relief, making me laugh out loud. She's so goddamn naïve. It would almost be cute if it weren’t so goddamn pathetic. "Oh my God, touch me, please..."
"Touch you?" I discard the remnants of her underwear, then press the blade to her skin. She whimpers in fear. Music to my fucking ears. My cock is hard in my pants, straining against the denim fabric. I can barely resist the urge to cut into her skin and mark her up as the whore she so desperately wants to be. "You want to be hurt, don't you? You want to bleed for me?"