Page 82 of The Hunted
He bent down, stealing her breath with a kiss that had her squirming on the bed, desperate to touch him. She fought the emotion swelling inside her. The fact that he seemed to see her even when she tried to hide parts of herself made her want him more than she thought possible. She wanted to believe that they could work long term, but her and Mari hadn’t been able to survive her needs.
Maybe he wouldn’t either.
“Tell me, princess,” he whispered against her lips.
“Don’t stop, even when I say no.” The words were out of her mouth before she took her next breath. “I want you to take it from me. I want it to be by…by….” She tripped over her words, knowing once they were out she couldn’t take them back. “By force. I want you to take me by force. We have to?—”
“Work out the details.” Santino leaned back with a smile on his face. “But I can give that to you, Silva. Once we figure out what we’re both okay with, we can set that up.” He bent back down, kissing her forehead. “Thank you for telling me.” He caressed her cheek with his other hand, as he leaned back again. “I knew you would be perfect for me.”
He got up from the bed and was looming over her. There was a dark glint to his eyes that made her stomach drop. He looked dangerous, a predator finally trapping his prey. The dark gloves and the knife in his hand added to the element of danger that really shouldn’t have had her pussy throbbing, but all she could think about was the outline of his cock and the way it felt inside of her.
“Santino,” she whispered his name. There was a question there, one she hadn’t been able to articulate, but he seemed to know what she wanted.
He flipped the knife in his hand, running the handle across her lips. “I should have gotten you naked before I strapped you to my bed, but…” He pushed the handle inside of her mouth and she eagerly accepted it, wishing it were his cock instead. “Good girl, princess.” She beamed at his praise.
He pulled away too quickly and was already moving toward the end of the bed. “Are you particularly fond of these shorts, and if so, are they still being made?”
She shook her head. “I got these at the mark—” she gasped, watching him use the knife to cut away the material of her loose shorts in two quick strikes. She was impressed but also a little annoyed at how cheaply they had been made.
I paid too much for these, even with the sale price.
“You’re buying me a new pair,” she grumbled.
“Of course,” Santino confirmed. “Everything I break I put back together. Look at how pretty you are. How wet.” He teased her with the handle of the knife. She squirmed, caught between trying to get away and allowing herself to sink into it. “If I’m supposed to keep going even if you say no, what are you going to do to tell me to stop for real?”
“Red,” she whimpered when he slid the knife handle inside of her. “I’ll say red to stop and yellow if I need to slow down.” Her hips shifted back and forth, fucking herself on the handle of his knife while he watched. It wasn’t enough to fill or sate her, but she was getting wetter, her skin growing warmer.
“Good.” Santino’s gaze was fixated between her legs. “You’re so greedy. Have you done this before?” She felt his fingers gently caress the scars on her inner thighs.
She startled at the touch. It was at odds with what he was doing to her with the handle and how he was staring at her like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to fuck her or watch her bleed.
“Silva, I asked you a question.” The command in his voice made her audibly swallow.
Her heart started to pound, and she squirmed on the bed. Her stomach dipped as the first sliver of fear began to bloom. It wasn’t enough for her to use her safe words, but it was enough to build her desire.
“Ye…yes. I have. I’ve been fucked by all sorts of things.” Both willingly and against her will, but she wasn’t getting into that now.
Now was about them and the pleasure they gave each other.
“And knife play?” There was an edge to his voice, like he was teetering over some line he didn’t want to cross. A part of her secretly hoped he would.
“Yes. There isn’t much I haven’t done.” Her voice held steady, even though a part of her wept.
“Okay,” he pulled the handle out of her and used his tongue to lick it clean. His eyes flared. He hummed low in his throat. “You know, I’ve never understood the appeal of oral, but your taste….” He took his gloved hand and inserted two fingers inside of her, slowly stroking her. He pulled out just enough to watch the wetness coat the gloves and then he was diving back in, faster, making her groan.
“You are an enticing and addicting woman, Silva Hunt.” His gaze was on her face, like he was cataloging her features. “I kind of want to leave you here, strapped to my bed and half-naked, while I go about my day, knowing you’re here wet and waiting for me.” He pulled out of her and took a step back.
Warning bells went off in her head and she glared at him. “Santino.” She practically growled. She would kill him if he left her here like this.
He chuckled and walked over to the nightstand to retrieve the bag. He pulled out a purple vibrator that had two attachments to it, probably used for dual sensation. “I wouldn’t just leave you here tied up, of course.” He walked over to her. “I would keep this inside of you while this part teased your clit until you were crying with need for my cock.”
His smile was devious when he kneeled on the bed. He brought the tip of the vibrator toward her entrance and paused to drive her crazy. “Santino,” she whined, not proud of herself. Her hips moved, trying to get it inside of her. Her mind and body banded together with one singular goal in mind:
Do whatever he wants so he can fuck you later.
“You know,” he started. The sound of the vibrator seemed impossibly loud in his room. “Since you didn’t get me the list of things that I wanted, when I asked….” He pushed the vibrator inside of her. The content sigh she let out was cut short when he pulled it out of her and turned it off. “I think I am going to leave you here like this.”
He stood up and walked over to the end of the bed. She was going to kill him, slowly and painfully. “Want to run that by me again?” she growled, her fingers curling into her palms.
