When his hair was done, she moved to his beard. He’d allowed her to braid it once before but he’d undone it right away.
“May I, Mister Leduc?”
He sighed. “I’m not a Barbie doll, Miss Korsgaard.”
She bit her lip and did her best to look cute. He snorted, but sat back and let her get closer. Standing between his knees, she split his beard in two and took her time braiding each side. There shouldn’t have been anything sexy about his beard being braided, but it somehow made him look more intimidating – maybe because it made it easier to see his chin. Under the beard, his bone structure was strong – frightening and beautiful. Like a brutal, more masculine Loic.
Finished with that too, she admired her handiwork. Just looking at him made something south of her stomach flutter.
Fuck, he was hot. His natural underbite made him look especially vicious.
He leaned in and flicked one of her bells with his tongue, the gentle tug of it on her nipple making her gasp. Gently, he sat her in his lap facing him, her legs spread over his thighs. When he spread his knees apart, it forced her legs apart too.
“Don’t move,” he whispered.
She wasn’t sure where the knife came from – he always seemed to have one. He made them, broke them, made more. Maybe it had been in his boot? She put her hands behind her to clutch his knees. The blade flashed, even in the pale light filtering through the curtains. He tugged the pastel pink lace just far away from her pussy to avoid stabbing her pubic bone. The tip of the blade poked into the delicate fabric and she held very, very still as he sliced downward, parting the lace with precision, like a surgeon with a scalpel.
He plunged a finger into her sore pussy.
“Ugh! Bastard.” The words burst from her, an ill-advised, knee-jerk reaction to her shock.
“You’re complaining about my finger, but we both know you’d let me fuck you with this knife if I wanted to.” His cocky expression made her want to knock him down a peg, but all that came out was a whimper.
Like he’d even try it?
He tapped the bells dangling from her nipples with the tip of the blade, and she held her breath so he didn’t accidentally cut her. The blade turned, and he skimmed the flat of it over her nipple, then down her ribs to her thigh as his index finger explored her pussy with lazy twists and thrusts, filling the otherwise silent room with humiliatingly wet sounds. What they’d done to her the night before had left her pussy raw, and her clit still hurt.
“Please no,” she whimpered. “I’m too sore for whatever you’re thinking, Mister Leduc.”
“Too sore here?” He rubbed the tip of his finger against her g-spot and the dull ache made her grit her teeth.
“Yes!” She gasped.
“Aww, poor baby. All used up?” Of course he pushed another finger inside her, stretching her uncomfortably. The man had huge, rough fingers.
“Uh huh.” She gripped his knees harder as his thumb grazed her clit. It already felt as if it had been sanded.
“You’re awfully wet for a little girl who doesn’t want cock.”
She shuddered, wanting him despite knowing it would be dreadfully unpleasant right then. “I’m wet because you and Rodrigo keep pumping me full of semen,” she groused.
He arched a brow.
“Master,” she amended.
“Shouldn’t you be groveling at my feet and thanking me for the gift of my seed?”
“Yes! Groveling at your feet sounds like a fantastic idea, Mister Leduc.” She tried to edge back to dislodge his finger, but he held her in place, big finger inside her, big thumb pinching against her pubic bone. She now knew how bowling balls must feel. Fucking sore. Slightly aroused – except slightly was the exact opposite word.
He cut through her panties at the hips and the fabric slipped to the ground. Good thing the man constantly bought her new panties because he really loved to destroy them.
His knife slipped toward the inside of her thigh and she stopped even the subtle squirm of her hips. As the knife neared her pussy, he pulled his fingers out of her then presented them to her mouth.
“Clean this mess.”
She licked his fingers clean, too distracted by what his other hand was doing with the knife to taste anything. Her death grip on his knees had to be uncomfortable for him, but she couldn’t help it. A flicker of doubt and fear crept in, making her shiver on the inside, deep in her guts. This was the most terrifying game of chicken she’d ever played. Maybe he thought the knife was too dull to do much damage, but the lace of her panties was proof of how sharp it was. Maybe he thought it was small enough to fit inside her without cutting her? It sure as hell wasn’t.
He growled, giving voice to the aggressive arousal she could feel humming through him.
Closer, closer scraped the blade, along the delicate skin inside her thigh to the apex. The cold edge slid over one of her labia and she fought not to scream.
“I can see you wondering just how sadistic I am, Miss Korsgaard, but I have a secret.” He paused and cocked his head, his cold eyes lit by some sort of creepy internal fire. “Even I’m not sure.”
She opened her mouth wide, about to scream her safeword, but she couldn’t remember how to speak.
A hand wrapped around her hip. In one swift jerk he stabbed into her.
Pain shot through her pussy.
He was several thrusts into fucking her before her scream of terror even found its way out of her mouth.
Cock, not knife.
She almost pissed herself.
She’d heard the blade clatter to the floor, but it hadn’t computed for a long moment.
When had he even unzipped?
She fought him but he kept possession of her hips, holding her easily, like a doll. His dick felt edged and metal, thrusting mind-numbingly deep inside her, stretching her wide, hurting. A low, evil chuckle vibrated in her ear, one that made her almost as afraid as the knife he’d dropped.
“Are you trying to take my tight little cunt away? Such a bad girl.” He bit her neck, and if she hadn’t felt like a clown puppet spitted on its stick, she might have come on the fucking spot.
Her bare feet scrambled for purchase as she tried to make him withdraw. She couldn’t reach the floor, so the backs of his calves were her next try, but even that didn’t lift her far enough off his lap. She brought her legs up and hooked her feet behind her ass, just above his knees. As she tried to squirm up off of him, he pushed down on her hips and thrust up, but allowing her to keep a few inches of cock out of her to preserve her poor, bruised cervix.
“Please, no,” she whimpered.
“Fuck.” He shuddered. “Say it again.”
“You’re hurting me!”
He hummed with approval but then stopped moving, studying her expression. “Are you safewording?”
“I’m very, very sore, Mister Leduc. Please, could I satisfy you some other way? Maybe with my mouth?”
“Maybe your ass would have an easier time satisfying me today.”
“Nooo,” she whined, clamping a hand over her poor, abused asshole. There wasn’t a bit of her that hadn’t been recently abused to slake a man’s lust. Even her jaw ached. Having two virile men to play with sounded like fun until a girl realized they constantly wanted to fuck.
She really should have chosen men with smaller dicks. And fewer muscles. Maybe submissive men she could keep caged until she wanted to use them.
He let her go, but as she pulled off of him his frown said she might be in for a dire punishment. She ground her clit against his cock, dry humping him...well...not-so-dry humping him. The veins of his shaft and the friction from his piercings made her gasp. He grunted, looking confused but not as displeased as he had moments before. Ugh, she was so sore, but she’d gone from horny to scared to really horny, and she needed to come.
She wanted to grab his shoulders and rub against his beautiful chest and lick his fucking tattoos – suck his nipple rings, but he wasn’t quite there yet. Groaning, she
shoved her hips forward and rubbed hard against the shaft of his cock. Her clit screamed with the kind of pain that told her she’d regret the hell out of this later, but damn he felt good. She clutched convulsively at his knees, and squirmed on top of him, checking his expression for any sign he might be freaking out. His eyes went from confused to half lidded, watching her in that way of his that conveyed sexual approval. It always made her want to do something wild and blow his mind. Something hot and slutty.
Carefully, she leaned in and licked the seam of his lips. He deepened the kiss, grabbing her throat but not squeezing. She sucked his tongue, and the squirming of her hips made her pussy slide up and down his whole cock with no real rhythm. When he pulled his mouth from hers and let go of her neck, it was only to watch her, expression heavy with approval. Every trip her clit made up or down his partial Jacob’s ladder had her moaning and whimpering, and she went from trying to put on a show to using his body to chase her own orgasm.
His hands went to her breasts, tugging at her nipples with pinches that were exactly right. She moaned into his mouth, and his hands gave up their torment, cupping her ass instead, controlling her movements, making her slow down right when she was about to come hard.
“Please, Master,” she begged, squirming on him.
“Please what? Please stop?” He stopped, the corner of his mouth quirking as he sank his fingers into the flesh of her ass cheeks to hold her still.
She pouted at him and tried to move. “No!”
“Please throw you down and fuck you?”
“Nooo,” she moaned. “I’m too sore! Please just let me...” She tried to show him what she meant by moving her hips, but he didn’t allow it.
“Let you what?” he said tightly. “Use your words.”
Bastard. He was just trying to get her to say something dirty.
“Let me –” She broke off with a whine she couldn’t contain. “Let me rub my clit on your cock. Please, Master.”
“Get my knife.”
She whined, but got off the bed to go get it. The metal hilt was cool in her hand, and when she handed it to him, she shuddered, but more because he’d kicked off his boots and pulled his jeans all the way off and was in his full, naked glory. He shifted to the middle of the bed and piled the pillows up behind him before he lay back.
“Come take what you want.”
She blushed, the heat of it stinging her neck and ears, but she crawled up on top of him anyway. The knife was at her throat before she was even all the way settled on top of him.
She edged back, but he shook his head. “You probably don’t want to be moving your head too much.”
“But...”
“You have two minutes to make me come.”
“Or?”
“Or I cut you a little.”
“Not my neck!”
“No, not your pretty neck.”
“But two minutes? That’s not fair!”
“My game, my rules.”
“When does the time start?”
“When I told you that you had two minutes.”
“Fuck!” She lined his cock up better with her slit and started to rock against him, stiffly at first, but in no time she’d forgotten about the knife and was squirming and moaning on top of him. She meant to make him come, but she got so distracted by the slick friction on her clit she forgot everything except her need to use his big, hard body as a sex toy.
It didn’t take long for her to learn exactly what he liked. He was breathing hard, and he’d given up the pretense of trying to lie still. Now his hips thrust against her in a parody of fucking. She cupped her breasts and tugged her nipple rings with thumb and forefinger. He seemed to lose track of the knife, or was afraid of cutting her, because it hovered between them several inches away from its original position at her throat. When he seemed close to coming, she was pretty sure she was closer.
Squirm and rock, the bumps of his piercings and the veins in his dick, the lust in his pale blue gaze and the subtle movements of his jaw, the flex of muscle through his body, and he moved against her, making her feel feverish and weak. So sore, and yet she needed an orgasm before her body would let her stop.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She couldn’t come before him. She hadn’t even wanted sex!
Control yourself, Minnow.
The first flutters of her orgasm made her gasp, but she pushed them away, trying to slow her breathing and think of other things, but god, he was hard and his body was straining, and she could feel his dick throbbing between her pussy lips, so hot and impossibly stiff.
If she didn’t think of a cheat fast, she was going to lose.
The knife still gleamed in his hand. It had to have been more than two minutes, but he seemed to have forgotten.
Just thinking about what she meant to do made her hot.
She leaned in and licked the blade from hilt to tip, so fucking slowly, the metal cold and smooth under her tongue. Her orgasm threatened again, hovering far too close.
“Christ, woman.” His voice was strangled, harsh. She whimpered at the sound of it.
She flicked her tongue carefully over the knife tip but then pulled back, just he gave a violent shudder. That movement. Oh fuck. The knot of lust in her belly flared into the orgasm she couldn’t hold off anymore. She came hard, riding him with wanton snaps of her hips, pushing hard against him even though her sore clit was screaming for her to stop, and the wet sounds they were making made her grimace.
Fuck, he felt good. Her pussy clenched, empty and jealous, but the ache her orgasm caused hinted at how much it would have hurt if he’d been inside her. As she fell forward he caught her by the breasts and held her upright while he angled his hips to try to impale her on his dick, digging his heels into the mattress and swearing. He grunted, low and rumbling while hot come spurted from his glorious cock, coating her thighs and his belly and chest, dripping down to her knees. Some of the mess was definitely hers.
“That was four minutes,” he growled.
She gaped at him. “What?”
“Four minutes. You were only allowed to take two.” He picked her up by the waist and threw her onto the mattress next to him. “That means I get to cut you.”
“No!”
He pressed her knees apart and picked up the knife.
“Please, Mister Leduc. I tried my best!”
“That’s bullshit, and we both know it. Were you trying to get me off, or were you worrying about your greedy little cunt?”
She bit her lip and gazed up at him from under her lashes. “But I was just so excited to be alone with you, I couldn’t help it, Mister Leduc.”
He arched a brow and knelt on the back of her thighs, pinning them wide apart and back. She eyed the knife in his hand and shuddered, the sore spot between her legs starting to warm with arousal again before she’d even cooled down.
Damn it. The man could give her a kink for anything.
She flexed her hips toward him, watching him with more enthusiasm than she would have guessed she had for knives. He was always handling them, though. Maybe she was starting to associate the two.
“How bad are you going to cut me, Master?”
“You mean how good?”
She screwed her eyes shut and whined. “Just a little, okay?”
“Just a little,” he agreed. “But you have to watch.”
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and looked up at him. Nude, knife in hand, he was an erotically terrifying sight. And his dick – fuck, he was already getting hard again.
“Stay still, girl.”
“Yes, Mister Leduc.” Her words came out as a shuddery whisper.
“Are you scared?”
“Yes, Master. Horny and scared.”
He held the knife between them, blade upright, as though he was performing a ritual. Maybe he was. He loved inflicting pain so much maybe it was turning into his religion, the bed one of his many altars.
“Just one little cut,” he said quietly, his expressi
on hard to read.
“Yes, Master.”
“Safeword if I don’t stop after one.”
“Mister Leduc,” she said, trying to sound stern instead of frightened. “I’m going to safeword now if you’re not sure you can control yourself.”
The blade came down and kissed the inside of her thigh, cold and unforgiving.
She sobbed in fear.
Severin laughed quietly. She heard it with a prey’s primal senses.
Danger.
Run.
Instead she froze, the doe hoping the wolf didn’t smell her.
Her breath came hot and hectic, and she watched his big hands, his feral eyes, the ugly knife.
Fear and arousal. Terror and desire.
He set the blade to her flesh and slowly, slowly made his cut, parting her skin with a reverence that felt like worship.
She squealed, but more because of nerves and fear than from pain. Blood welled in the shallow cut, just a little. Severin made a strange guttural sound that made her clit throb.
He stared at what he’d done to her, his gaze hot. After a long moment he pushed up to kneel again.
She looked at her thigh in bemusement, wondering why she was so turned on.
He licked the smear of blood off his blade, wincing as he nicked his bottom lip. Expression full of determination, he laid the knife on the nightstand.
His brow furrowed and he looked lost.
“Come here,” she said.
He picked up the knife again and for a moment she thought he was going to want more. Instead, he walked to her dresser and put the knife in her top drawer before coming back. Maybe he didn’t trust himself. Silently, he got into bed, avoiding eye contact.
“Severin,” she said quietly. “Are you okay?”
He nodded, but his jaw was tight.
“I let you.”
“I still shouldn’t have.”
She smeared her finger through the blood on her thigh and held it up to his face. “Is it the blood or the cutting you like?”
He captured her hand and sucked the blood off her finger, making her back arch, but he only looked disgusted with himself.
Tragic King (The Dominant Bastard Duology Book 2) Page 11
