His hand comes up to cup the back of my neck, holding me against the wall whilst his other slips away from my body, coming back a moment later. Something sharp is pressed against my rib cage, enough that it bites into my skin but doesn’t cut.
The mix of adrenaline, fear and desire causes my sex to clench, a wash of lust and heat running wild through my body. I can’t think straight, only feel. And I feel everything. Every puff of breath, every twitch of his finger on my neck, the way his hard shaft digs into my back.
“What will you do?” I ask.
“What I want and what I need are two very different things.”
He slides the blade down my body, stopping at the waistband of my shorts.
“So which one will win?”
I’m helpless right now, he has the upper hand with this position and the knife and I’m glad my logical sense is still working, even if it is sluggish and constricted beneath the haze.
“I don’t know,” he admits and for the first time I sense his reluctance here. Something or someone is telling him he has to end me but that’s not what he wants.
I push back against him and he groans, the tip of the blade presses a little harder into my skin. It’ll cut if I’m not careful.
His lips find my throat and presses a gentle kiss there before his teeth sink into my flesh hard. He licks the string immediately before doing it again and again, with each scrape of his teeth comes the soothing caress of his tongue and it works like a damn charm. My insides have knotted so tight I’m not sure I’ll ever come undone on my own. It needs to be him. With each pass of his mouth that blade digs in just a little more.
“Fuck,” I growl, pushing back, “touch me damn it.”
He spins me suddenly and presses me back against the wall, the blade poised in front of him. My chest heaves as I watch him step forward, positioning the sharp edge at the hem of one leg. A quick slice and the fabric opens, he does the same on the other side and I feel rather than watch the thin cotton fall to the floor at my feet. I’m bare to him completely, in just my sports bra which he gets rid of just a moment later in the same fashion.
“You’re so perfect, little bird,” he coos, eyes roaming over every inch of exposed skin. “So pretty.”
His heated stare burns me from the inside out and in the silence the regret of giving him this, this power, starts to churn my insides. With him distracted, I lunge for the blade held loosely in his hand and snatch it away.
I hold it out in front of me, pressing the tip into his abdomen enough that I see blood begin to bloom on his white shirt.
His eyes finally drop from my naked body down to the blade as if only just realizing I have it now.
“Do it, little bird,” he breathes, daring to lift his hands to trace the outline of my body, fingers spread, his palms a whisper away from my skin. Even his phantom touch makes goose bumps chase across my skin.
“Stop calling me that.”
Hearing that name, the one he’s been calling me for days now gives me a fluttery sort of feeling in my stomach and I hate it. I don’t want to feel anything for this man. I want nothing from him.
But I want everything.
“Do it,” he presses, leaning into the blade, dropping his hands.
Shit.
This is it. I could stab him and make a run for it, granted I’d be as naked as the day I was born but I’d be free.
And yet, I can’t fucking do it.
I can’t do it!
His nostrils flare as his eyes level with mine, there is no fear of death in his eyes, just a sense of acceptance. I fucking hate it. I hate it all!
A loud cry leaves me as my fingers open, dropping the knife to the hardwood floor. It clatters loudly in the deafening silence.
And then he’s on me, his tongue pushing between my lips, his cock grinding into my pussy as if he’s starved and the only thing that will sustain him is my body. He lifts me, slamming my back into the wall as my legs go around his hips. In this position the bulge in his pants presses to my swollen clit. Blood and dirt smears against my skin, the grit on him scratching against my skin, rubbing off onto me from him but I don’t care. His kiss claims me, it kills me and brings me back all in the same breath and I let it because I’m weak. Fucking weak.
Pleasure builds in my core with the grind of his hips against my centre and my nails claw at his back, drawing even more blood from him.
“I can’t do it,” he pants against my skin, “I can’t hurt you.”
“Please,” I whimper when he pulls away.
Hands and fingers pull at his belt and buttons and then he’s entering me in one swift movement. His cock fills me until all I can feel is him, pressing into me hard and everything else, all that I was before melts away.