Page 51 of Vile Boys

He grabs the knife and holds it over my belly, placing the tip between my thighs so it points down at my thighs.

“You want to do this the hard way?” he asks, still licking me like he never intends to stop. “Because I can make it even harder on you.”

“Doubt that,” I rebuke.

Maybe a little too soon.

Because he plucks the knife off my belly, holding the sharp end in his hand, while he slips the handle down my slit.

“You’re going to regret not telling me, little slut.”

He pushes it into me, and I gasp in shock, but then he begins to twist it around along with every stroke of his tongue, and the shock turns into pure and utter denial.

Because I don’t want to be feeling this intense arousal, this need to shove my body further into his face.

What is wrong with me?

“You thought you could resist, but I will bring you to the brink,” he warns, twisting the knife’s handle inside me while licking like a man obsessed. “And you’re going to come all over this knife.”

“No,” I hiss. “This is wrong, and you know it.”

“Wrong? No. Fucked up? Yes,” he says, grinning against my skin as his tongue dips out to playfully curl around my nub. “Now beg.”

“Not a chance,” I say.

“Beg like you begged for him,” he growls.

“No,” I respond.

He bites me again, and I bite my own cheek in response to prevent the squeal from leaving my mouth.

“Fuck you,” I say through gritted teeth.

He chuckles and thrusts the knife handle in and out even faster. “Every time you swear at me, it will only make me harder.”

He’s getting hard from me?

Shit, why am I even thinking about this?

Caleb pulls out the knife, and his tongue hovers over my thumping clit but doesn’t press down, making my whole body quake with need.

How is he doing this? I don’t understand why my body has this reaction to him when I barely even know him. He’s just a goddamnbully, and here I am, wishing he’d finish the job.

His tongue slides across his bottom lips, the tip barely brushing past my most sensitive spot, and I’m about to combust.

“Go on,” he whispers.

“F-ff…”

He fans a breath across my sensitive area, making it throb so badly I cave.

“Please,” I mutter.

“Please, what?”

“Please … make me come.”

Oh God.

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