Then he lowers the knife between my legs, “Since you can’t make any noise, maybe you’ll make some nice faces for me.”
I long blink, breathless when I feel the handle just below my navel. My fingertips go white, pressing against the smooth veneer as he trails the pommel down, straight over my clit. When he pauses to circle it, my jaw falls open with a long, labored breath. A minute later, he slides it further down until I feel him tracing the edges of my entrance.
“You’re so pretty, baby,” Colson hums as he marvels at me. I let out an airy moan as he gently moves the handle over my slick skin, “The most gorgeous pussy I’ve ever seen, and she’s just crying for me.”
He dips the handle past my edges, teasing in the most brutal way. Drunk on dopamine, I roll my free leg to the side, spreading my legs even wider for him. My chest heaves as I try to keep still from the waist down, but the more he moves his knife, the more my core throbs.
I just want him to fill me—with something—before I go completely insane.
Maybe I already am.
“Colson?” my voice cracks.
“Yes, Honeybee?” he raises his eyes, his head still bowed, looking positively sinful, “Tell your stalker what you want him to do to you.”
I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath, “Just do it.”
The corner of his mouth curls, “Do what?” he asks, mocking my evasiveness.
My other hand fidgets uncontrollably and I start running it up and down my torso, as though it’s him who’s touching me, “Just…” My fingertips brush the underside of my breast and when I take a deep breath, the words tumble out in a pained whisper, “just fuck me with your knife.”
I am absolutely certifiable. Game over.
“Thought you’d never ask,” Colson shifts his stance and slides the handle down, notching it in my entrance, “you know I’ll do anything to make my girl happy.”
He gently slides the hard rubber handle halfway inside me and I draw in a long breath, digging my nails into his arm.
“Breathe, baby. Eyes on me,” he murmurs, his gemstone eyes boring into mine, “you’re going to take all of it.”
I’m so entranced, so ensnared by him that I barely realize I’m nodding my head. He slides the handle further in, making my eyes roll and my breath seize, until I feel the warmth of his fist against my skin. He presses his knuckles against me, moving the knife back and forth against the front of my wall. A moment later, I feel his thumb slide up over my clit, sending a rush of warmth through my entire body.
“You’re such a good fucking girl,” he drawls, “you look incredible, taking my knife just as good as my dick.”
I could melt into the goddamn veneer right now.
My eyes flutter and I feel the corner of my mouth twitch, “Your dick’s bigger…” Now I’m just saying nonsense—pure, unrestrained, self-indulgent nonsense.
“You would know,” he looks down at me with a salacious grin. “Do you still want me to leave? You still want me locked up?”
“No,” I shake my head, whimpering through airy moans as he pumps the handle against my wall, “I don’t…”
Colson stills his hand and, keeping his eyes on the knife, slowly lowers my leg back onto the edge of the desk.
He plants his palm on the desk at my chest, “You’re gripping my knife pretty tight. You’re either really scared or you really love it.” He starts circling his thumb over my clit, making me tremble. “You have to give it back eventually, but I promise I’ll let you play with it again.”
I run my hand up his forearm, squeezing my eyes shut, “Why do I let you do this?” I mumble.
“Brett, stop torturing yourself, that’s my job.” He shoots me a dismissive look, “The only person who can ever break through your iron goddamn will is me. And that fact makes me so. Fucking. Hard.” He thrusts the handle into my pussy with each word, so deep I feel his knuckle dip inside me.
Iron will or unmitigated denial—what’s the difference?
Colson gives a nod, “Hands above your head.” When I hesitate, he tightens his jaw, “Now.”
With shaky arms, I comply, silently admonishing myself for the fuzzy feeling I get in the pit of my stomach whenever Colson’s eyes go dark and his voice sounds like the ominous rumble of thunder before the sky opens up.
You need Jesus, Sorensen. Scratch that—a therapist and Jesus.
I lay my hands across the pile of curls tied at the crown of my head. Colson moves over my body like a leopard about to devour its prey, slowly reaching over my head and wrapping his fingers around my wrists, pinning them to the desk.
He tilts his head, gazing down at me like he’s about to eat me alive, “For the next 60 seconds, you need to step outside whatever bullshit you have going on in your head and give in to what you’ve been wishing for since the first moment you saw me downstairs,” he twitches the knife in my pussy, making me flinch, “because this is your new normal, Brett Ashley, with curves like the hull of a racing yacht. It’s me, every day, making your life a paradise or a living hell. But it ends the same way,” his hand starts moving again, and with it, the knife slides deeper inside me, “with you coming all over whatever I decide to fuck you with that particular day.”
The severity of his voice sends a rush through my chest and, I swear, he feels me gush all over his goddamn knife. I draw in a deep breath and gaze back at him, my hips itching to move with his hand if it weren’t for the razor-sharp blade suspended between my legs. I hold my breath, calming my muscles before finally giving a quick nod. And with it, I exhale my apprehension and descend into Colson’s world, if only for a minute.
Pressing my wrists into the wood, he sweeps his tongue over mine in a deep kiss that makes me fight his grip even more. I let my hips open wider as he pumps the knife harder and faster, making my eyes roll as he works my clit.
“This is why you’re still my best girl…” he wrecks me all over again every time he opens his mouth, “my filthy slut, my one and only drug of choice, my obsession who lets her nightmare fuck her however he wants...”
I shudder against his excruciating touch, going out of my mind, “I wish you never left...” I whisper.
I don’t know what I’m saying. It’s insane. And I don’t want to acknowledge any shred of truth behind it.
“Then when are you going to let me take you home to my bed, where you belong? Or maybe you just want me to drag you there, kicking and screaming, so no one has to know how much of a sick little slut you are for me.”
His words push me over the edge. My muscles seize and my jaw drops as I suck in breaths like I’m drowning. He pulses the knife handle quicker and deeper as he vibrates his thumb over my clit. My fingers claw the air for his hand, clamped tight around my wrists, as the orgasm tears through me. I snap my mouth shut, a dull, squeaky hum escaping my throat. My heels press into the back of his knees as I arch my back, trying in vain to keep my lower body still while my breaths turn to chaotic staccato gasps.
When it’s over, Colson leans down and parts my lips with his tongue, still holding the knife handle inside me while I contract around it.
“Next time,” he murmurs, “it’ll be my dick deep inside you while I fuck you within an inch of your life. And when you tell me I’m you’re only, this time you’ll fucking mean it.”
