Page 82 of Bird on a Blade

Sawyer’s still cutting at Scott, making small, precise movements. And like that, I know exactly how I want to drown out Scott’s taste.

“Sawyer.”

He stops immediately and looks over at me. But I’m stilllooking at Scott’s desperate, pleading face. There’s one last thing I want him to see before he dies.

“Come here,” I say.

Sawyer stands and walks over to me, his knife dripping blood across the porch. His free hand hooks around my fingers, a gesture of intimacy, of sweetness, that nearly undoes me. Maybe it does. My knees buckle, and I let them fall so that I kneel in front of him. My boogeyman. My masked killer. My Hunter.

When I touch the button on Sawyer’s blood-soaked jeans, his body jumps in surprise.

“What… are you..?” Scott’s voice drifts through the cold. I yank down Sawyer’s zipper, careful not to catch his enormous erection. He grunts a little. In surprise. Encouragement.

I peel away his underwear to pull out his cock. It’s as hard as I’ve ever seen it: heavy in my hand, bulging with veins. The back of my throat aches to flood my mouth withhistaste.

“Edie!” Scott’s voice is shrill. Panicked. “What are you?—”

I look over at him. I’m scorching with a black fire I never knew existed in me until this moment.

“How about a blowjob?” My voice is calm. Assured. “For old time’s sake.”

Scott’s eyes widen, and I turn away from him to take Sawyer’s cock into my mouth.

Sawyer softly growls out his pleasure, his free hand coming up to cup the back of my head. I moan as I pull his thickness over my tongue, my eyes fluttering closed. I can sense, vaguely, that he’s surprised, but I know he’s pleased as well, especially when I start bobbing my head up and down his length. He holds back, though; this isn’t like before, when he shoved his cock so far down my throat that I couldn’t breathe.

No, he’s letting me have full control tonight.

I brace myself against Sawyer’s blood-soaked thighs, swallowing him as deeply as I can. He brings his other hand up to my head and presses the flat blade of the knife against my scalp. Themetal is cool but sticky, and I’m not worried about him cutting me.

“Edie?” Scott whimpers, and the confusion and fear in his voice just make me wetter.

Sawyer’s grunts grow louder. More urgent. I know that what he’s been doing has turned him on, and he’s going to come fast. I quicken my pace, desperate to flood my mouth with his cum. I suck hard, tracing the veins of his arousal with my tongue. When he presses against my head, stilling me, I know he’s close, and I let him, just for that moment, take over. He thrusts down my throat four times and then stills, his leg muscles tightening against my hands as he unleashes in my mouth. His cum is exactly what I needed, hot and salty as it spills over my tongue, washing away every trace of what Scott did to me.

I swallow it eagerly, moaning around Sawyer’s cock as I clean it. After all, the last thing we want is DNA evidence at a crime scene.

I fall back on my heels, gasping, my lips wet. I can hear Scott, but I don’t give a shit about him. I only care about Sawyer. His mask wears the same expression it always does. But I feel his desire.

He grabs me by the hair and hauls me to my feet, a violent and painful gesture that only makes me groan with lust. He yanks me close to him, his masked forehead pressed against mine, and twines his arm around my back, the knife pressed against my spine.

“I love you,” he whispers, so soft I almost think it’s the wind.

Then he roughly unzips my jeans and shoves his hand inside them, fingers finding my inflamed clit immediately. I rock my hips against him, riding his hand, one leg hoisted up around his hips, my arms hooked around his neck. Scott’s sobbing and choking, but all I care about is Sawyer’s eyes behind his mask as he fingerfucks me to oblivion. It’s oblivion I see in his eyes: the oblivion of death, of murder. Of ecstasy.

My moans match the moans of the snowstorm, and I thrash against him as my orgasm builds, a towering column of heat surging up through the center of my body. I’m aware, distantly, of his hand moving behind my back, but I’m also on the precipice of coming.

“That’s it, baby,” Sawyer rasps into my ear. “That’s it. You’re close. Come on.”

His words urge me on. I let my head drop back, my eyes close, and I thrust against his fingers with abandon as he swirls my clit in furious circles.

“Look,” he growls.

I don’t know what he means at first, but pushes my head to the side, away from his piercing gaze.

To Scott, dying.

I gasp out my pleasure. I’m on the verge, my legs trembling, my pussy clenching and fluttering. Sawyer keeps his thumb on my clit as he slides his fingers in and out of my cunt. He knows the exact right places to touch.

I scream into my orgasm?—

---