Page 64 of Hunting Pretty

How I wanted to throw her over my knee and smack her ass until it turned as red as her cheeks.

I let go of her neck, reveling in the pretty way she gulped in air.

I reached for my holster. For my other surprise. My… backup plan.

This would scare her. Make her see how serious I was.

This would break her.

Have her crying and begging, have her putty in my hand.

I pulled out my knife and held it up to her face, letting the blade catch the moonlight streaming in through her open curtains.

“Are you sure about that?”

She began to tremble, her body shaking so delicately, her soft breasts shaking in her thin t-shirt as she gasped. She looked so pretty with those glossy pupils blown out with fear.

Before I could stop myself, I traced the flat of the blade against her neck like I was licking her with the cool metal.

The shudder that shook her body vibrated under my thighs and against my cock.

Fuck. Need swelled inside me, clouding my brain.

I traced the blade over the swell of her breast and dragged the tip of the knife lightly over her nipples.

It hardened so pretty for me.

I traced the blade over the other nipple. That, too, tightened into a tiny point.

Her back arched and she bit her lip, muffling a moan.

Fuck. She was too goddamn sexy. I could barely concentrate on what I was here to do.

I had to refocus. To get back to intimidating her. Scaring her into safety.

But I just couldn’t help myself.

I grabbed the hem of her shirt and lashed out with my knife, cutting up her t-shirt.

It fell apart, one side of her shirt falling off one breast to her side.

I pushed the other half of the shirt off her other side, revealing both her pale breasts, her perfect rosy nipples.

She gasped and her breasts shook as she let out a shaky breath.

Fuck yes.

My girl was perfect.

I traced the knife over her breasts, alternating between the borderline painful scratch of the tip, the teasing blunt knife edge, and the cool flat. “You have been such a bad girl. So disobedient.”

“No.” She let out a moan as she writhed under me.

I wasn’t touching her. My knife was. So I wasn’t technically breaking my promise.

But deep down I knew it was a lie. A thin veil holding me back from taking what I wanted.

Her.

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