Page 71 of Betraying Family Vows
His hand tightens on my wrists. The knife trails lower, skimming between my breasts, softly going over my nipples, tracing along my ribcage. My whole body goes tight, trembling.
"I'm not afraid of you," I say, the blade continuing to move over my body.
"Maybe you should be." His eyes hold mine.
"You won't hurt me," I say defiantly.
He stops and presses the tip of the knife into my stomach. I gasp.
"You think you're the first woman to ever call me out? Try to break me."
I swallow hard. "And am I?"
He leans back just enough to meet my gaze. The look in his eyes is pure wildfire. "You're the first to get close."
With a flick of his wrist, he slices through my shirt. The fabric parts in the center.
He drags the knife from left to right, moving the flaps of the torn shirt away to fully reveal my breasts.
He circles my nipples, causing them to get hard. I feel my body heat rising, the blade feeling cooler.
"Is this another opportunity for you?" he asks, his eyes never leaving my chest.
I bite my lip.
"No, but maybe one for you," I say and wrap my right leg around him.
"Fuck," he says, voice ragged. "Stop teasing me, Athena."
His lips find mine in a searing kiss. He releases my arms just long enough to tear the ruined shirt off my shoulders. His hands are rough on me as he caresses my breast, his thumb brushing my nipple until I arch and moan.
He lifts the knife again, the blunt side sliding down my chest, then lower, teasing along the waistband of my leggings.
He holds my gaze. "Last chance to stop me."
I meet his stare, my chin lifting. "I'm not stopping you."
He shoves my underwear and leggings down and I step out of them. He then drags the tip of the knife up my inner thigh, stopping just shy of where I'm wet and wanting. My hips jerk.
"Fuck," he growls. His breath is ragged, eyes molten. "You're dripping for me."
My cheeks burn. But I don't look away.
"Spread your legs," he commands.
I do it, slowly, while holding his gaze.
He brings the knife higher, teasing my sensitive area. He pulls it away and licks the flat side of the blade, tasting me on it.
I bite my lip.
"Turn around. Hands on the wall," he orders, voice rough.
I hesitate, just long enough for him to bring the blade up under my chin, applying a light pressure.
"Turn. Around."
I do, and I feel him behind me, the heat of his body, the hard press of his cock through his jeans.
