Page 18 of Bird on a Blade

I reach down between her legs and tease her clit again.

“Fuuuuuck,” she gasps, flopping back on the oversized couch cushions. I take that as an invitation to pull one of her nipples into my mouth. It’s a perfect little pebble on my tongue, and I suck gently on it, then pull more and more of her tit into my mouth, as much of it as I can.

She groans, a sound that sets all my nerves on fire. I slide two fingers inside her soaking wet cunt and stroke, moving around until the tenor of her moans changes, grows deeper and darker.

“Stop,” she mumbles. “It’s too much. Stop.”

I switch over to her other breast, massaging the first one with my free hand. She seems to melt beneath me, and then she’s making noises but not actually saying anything, just kind of grunting and keening and panting.

Like I said, it’s almost as good as killing. With her, it’s better, because it means she stays with me.

“You’re gonna come for me again.” I speak into the mound of her breasts, breathing in the salty-sweet scent of her sweat. It’s like caramel apples. Like tree sap in the spring. “Three times. Do you understand?”

“I can’t,” she gasps, which is a lie, because I can already feel it building up in her, the way her pussy’s fluttering around my fingers.

“You can.” I lift my head so I can look at her. She’s leaned back on the couch again, her eyes squeezed shut. “You’re almost there, baby.”

It slips out, calling herbaby, but her lips part when I say it and she lets out this small helpless noise that almost makes me come in my jeans.

I work her a little harder, quickening the rhythm of my strokes. Her body goes rigid beneath me, and I’m tired of waiting so I slide my thumb over her clit, giving it a nice firm press. That does it. She completely dissolves, moaning and thrashing. I press into her, keeping her still so I can keep coaxing the orgasm out of her.

“That’s it,” I breathe, slowing my strokes just a little. “That’s it, baby. Keep coming for me.”

“I c-can’t,” she gasps. I pull my fingers out of her and just rub my thumb around her clit. It flutters like a dying pulse. She keens, a sound that’s half pain and half pleasure, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop touching her. Not if she’s going to make sounds like that.

Still, when she sinks back against the couch, gasping and flushed, I lighten my touch a little. I wish we were on a bed or the floor, some place where I could stretch out beside her, one hand between her legs and the other tucked under her neck like a pillow. Instead, we’re in this weird tangle, me half-sitting on her as I work her pussy. It’s making my arm tired.

“You have to s-stop,” she says, voice shuddering. “Please. That, um, the h-head—” The word comes out strangled, like she doesn’t quite want to say it. “Shouldn’t you move it?”

The question’s so unexpected from her, naked and legs spread and soft body sheened with sweat, that I laugh. “Is that what you’re thinking about right now?”

To illustrate my point, I slide a finger back into her pussy.

She gasps, her eyes going wide. “No! I just—What if someone sees it—You need to st?—”

“I’m not going to stop.” I lean over her, brush her cheeks with my lips. She doesn’t pull away from me, the way my victims will when I move in to kill them. “And no one’s gonna see the head. No one comes out here.”

I slide another finger into her, slow and easy. She quakes beneath me, making more of those little pleasure-pain noises. God, I could listen to them all day.

“Besides.” I move my mouth over to her ear, then kiss the side of her throat so I can feel her pulse beating furiously beneath her skin. When I speak, I speak to that pulse, to that wildly pumping blood. “The head was a gift for you.”

She stiffens then, clamps her thighs shut against my hand. Ijust laugh and sit up so I can see her confused, frightened expression.

“Gift?” she whispers.

“Mmhmm.” I pull my hand away and gently pry her thighs apart. She fights me, her quad muscles flexing beneath her skin. I like that, her strong, shapely legs. I like the idea of chasing her through the woods and then fucking her instead of killing her.

I look up at her. “You didn’t recognize him, did you?”

Something shifts in her face. That recognition she’d been missing. Understanding. And then, the best of all: dark lust. It passes over her features like a cloud moving over the sun. It’s only for a second, but I see it.

She liked her gift.

“You can’t leave that here,” she says in a small, terrified voice.

When I reach between her legs, she doesn’t try to close them.

“I won’t,” I tell her, keeping my voice soft and low as I run my fingers up and down her slit, relishing the silky petals of her cunt. “I’ll take it someplace safe for you, though.”

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