Page 63 of Stalk Me

The knife’s handle is cool in my palm, and I hold it up to her eyes, watching them dilate with desire and a hint of fear. Slowly, I drag it down her torso, feeling her muscles contract beneath the steel. Her hands clench in the restraints, a soft whimper escaping.

I tug her hair, claiming her lips in a demanding kiss. “Are you ready for the next step,malishka?”

Carefully, deliberately, I draw the knife across her abdomen. Her skin twitches at the razor-thin line I carve, leaving a faint pink trail in its wake. Goose bumps rise along her arms, and she pulls against the restraints, a vulnerable sound escaping her throat.

“Beautiful.” The word rumbles from my chest as I stroke the flat of the blade along her hipbone, bending to nuzzle the spot where her pulse flutters. “Perfectly beautiful.”

Slowly, I work the knife downward, baring her thighs, her soft gasps music to my ears. It’s a dance, a delicate balance ofpleasure and pain, and I lead her expertly, knowing just how far to push.

Using the tip of the knife, I tease her inner thighs, watching her muscles quiver. Her breath quickens, and I know without seeing that her core glistens with need. The knife nicks her skin, drawing a single drop of crimson, and she jerks, a strangled cry ripping from her throat.

“Patience.” I stroke her cheek, gentling her. “Only a little more.”

Fighting for control, she nods, the flush of arousal staining her chest. Eyes closed, she surrenders to the knife’s path down her thigh, teeth biting into her full lower lip. Her body becomes a work of art, graced by the knife’s strokes, and the sight steals my breath.

With a final drag, I drop the knife to the floor. It clatters against the hardwood, forgotten. I press my mouth to her hip, wanting to erase the sting with my tongue. She melts for me, emitting a soft, keening whine. Her hands fidget in the restraints, needing to touch as much as I need to taste.

My tongue traces the path the knife carved, lapping at the thin lines, tasting her. Her hands flex, fingers curling, and I entangle them with mine, fingers locking together.

My mouth wanders, leaving a trail of wet kisses across her stomach, down her quivering abdomen, to her pussy. Her legs part at the lightest touch, a silent plea, and I move between them, worshipping at her core with lips and tongue.

She’s a feast and utterly drenched. I consume her with eager strokes. Her muscles clench around my tongue, and I hold her steady, determined to drive her wild.

Her climax hits suddenly. Her moans echo in the room, shame and inhibition forgotten. Her body shakes as the pleasure crashes over her.

Her climax triggers my own need, a yearning that’s been building since the morning’s argument. The urge to claim, brand, and own this fierce woman is almost unbearable.

My lips continue their assault, mouth moving up her body with intent. She might think I’m the one in control, but every moan and whisper of “please” twists something primal inside me.

“Nikolai...” she gasps as my tongue teases one taut nipple. “Oh, God. Please.”

I lap at her, wanting to brand her with the evidence of my hunger. Her fingers tighten around mine, and she tugs, hungry for more.

“Patience.” I chuckle, dark and rumbling. It’s a struggle to delay my gratification, but this is about her pleasure first. “We’re not done yet,malishka.”

With a deft flick of my wrist, I untie her hands, eager to feel her palms against my skin, those clever fingers dancing over my flesh.

She lunges for me, a wildcat freed, and I capture her wrists again, not ready to relinquish all control. Her nails score my chest as she tries to pull free, a primitive urge to mark me.

“None of that.” My muscles flex, holding her easily. “You’re mine to play with. Remember?”

Her struggles cease. “Yours.”

The victory of that single word sends a spike of lust through me. I release her, drinking in her hurried breaths, the slight tremor of her limbs. She wants, but she waits for my instruction now, that fierce independence yielding to the pleasure I can provide.

“What do you want,malishka?” I stroke her cheek, our eyes locking. “Tell me. Beg for it.”

The challenge ignites a fire in her eyes, and she retaliates with a boldness that makes my cock twitch.

Sitting up, she grasps my length, squeezing firmly as she looks up through her lashes. “This. Always this, inside me. Your cock is what I crave, Daddy.”

Her words are a lithic sin, punchy and potent. Her fingers glide over my shaft with an expert touch, massaging just the right spots. Her thumb swipes over the head, collecting the bead of liquid that gathers there.

Desire claims my voice as I grind into her hand. “Like that,malishka. Keep talking.”

Sofia smiles, playful and brazen. “I want your cock buried deep. Need it, in fact. Filling me up, stretching me until I can’t take any more.” She strokes and teases, drawing a hungry groan from my throat. “Make me take every inch, Nikolai.”

Each filthy plea is a strike to my control. Mymalishkabreaks me down and makes me needy and raw. I’ve never ached like this, never hungered so fiercely.

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