Page 59 of Deviant Obsession

"Yes."

"And if it becomes too intense?"

"Red means stop everything."

He traces the flat of the blade along his palm, watching my reaction. "Good. Now, tell me why you want to try this. Be honest."

Though I should be used to his curiosity by now, the question catches me off guard, makes me examine the heat building between my legs. "I... I like feeling helpless with you. Knowing you could do anything but choosing to trust you anyway. And the knife..." I swallow hard. "It makes everything more intense. More real. It’s the adrenaline, I guess."

Ethan nods, that slight smile returning. There’s not much I wouldn’t do to earn myself one of those precious rarities. "The psychology of knife play is fascinating, isn't it? The way fear and arousal intertwine, how the threat of pain can be more exciting than pain itself." He stands, blade catching the light. "Are you ready to explore that with me?"

“Yes,” I whisper, the rushing in my veins feeling like I’m standing on a cliff, my toes curled right over the edge. Ethan stands and moves behind me. It’s like being blindfolded all over again, the panic and excitement rearing their heads in equal measure when I can’t see what’s coming next.

The cool metal touches my shoulder blade, and my world narrows to that single point of contact, every nerve ending coming alive. Ethan traces it down my spine with exquisite slowness, barely touching, just enough pressure to make meacutely aware of the knife's presence. I stop breathing for a moment, muscles tensing against the ropes that hold me in place.

"Breathe, little one," he soothes, his free hand coming up to stroke my hair. "Feel how sharp it is? How easily it could slice if I pressed just a little harder?"

A soft moan escapes my throat. The knife travels lower, dancing across the swell of my ass, and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Every sensation feels magnified—the bite of the ropes, the cool air on my exposed flesh, the sharp tease of the blade that doesn’t hurt at all but has my heart pounding with the promise of pain anyway.

"Give me a color, Rhea." Ethan's voice has taken on that hypnotic quality that makes my mind go fuzzy.

"Green," I gasp as he circles around and drags the flat of the blade across my stomach. "So green."

He hums his approval, increasing the pressure ever so slightly. My blood thunders in my ears as he traces abstract patterns across my torso, exploring every inch of skin that peeks between the crisscrossed bindings.

"Look how your body responds," he murmurs. "The way you tremble, how your breath catches. You love this, don't you? Being completely at my mercy?"

I can only nod, lost in the contrast of cool metal and his burning gaze. The knife travels lower, skating across my hip bone, and unconsciously I spread my thighs a little wider.

"Stay still, little one," he commands. The blade stills against my flesh as a warning. "Movement could make accidents happen. Don’t make me bind your legs too."

The threat makes me moan again, frustration mounting with every second my arousal sores to new heights. I force myself to remain motionless as he resumes his exploration, but I can'tsuppress the soft sounds that escape my lips with each new touch.

"Pretty girl," he praises. "I could spend hours like this, watching you react to every little sensation."

The knife traces the curve of my breast, and I bite my lip. Ethan's breathing has grown heavier, his control visibly fraying around the edges as he watches my chest heave. I can only hope his patience is wearing thin. I don’t know exactly what I want him to do, but I want him to do it soon. I want him to push me further.

"Ethan," I sigh.

"Yes, Rhea?" The blade circles my nipple, the sensitive nub pebbling at the slightest touch. "Tell me what you want."

"I... I don't know." I try to conjure a coherent thought as he drags the knife down my sternum. "More. Harder."

He freezes, blade pressed against my skin. "Are you asking me to cut you?"

My heart thunders against my ribs as I consider it. Against all human instinct, I’m not in the slightest bit scared. I’m so turned on I could explode. I want to feel that sharp sting on my skin. I want marks, lasting evidence of pleasing him. I want to surrender completely to his every dark need and then I want to cling onto the physical memory for as long as possible. The memory of being here, in this room, where I am his.

And for a moment, I can pretend that he’s mine.

"I... maybe... Yes, I want to feel more."

A growl rumbles in his chest. "Fuck, you're perfect." He traces the knife to my inner thigh, the sensitive skin there erupting into goosebumps. "So brave, so willing to explore. Don’t worry, little one, I’m in no rush to push the full extent of your limits. But we can move a little faster, if that’s what you want."

He increases the pressure just slightly, enough to leave a white line in my flesh that quickly turns pink. Not breaking skin but promising what could come later. My head drops back as my eyes flutter closed, my entire being floating in this drunken haze of sensation.

"Watch," he orders me. "Watch what I'm doing to you."

I force my eyes open, looking down at where he wields the weapon with such alluring control. Ethan draws the knife up my thigh with tantalizing slowness, leaving another white graze in its wake. My muscles quiver with the effort of staying still, my feet starting to go numb beneath me. Each sharp breath feels like it might shatter me.

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